The bitch was texting me again and as usual, a feeling of dread enveloped me as I opened the messaging app. She was having trouble with the garage door opener in her car again. We've been divorced for almost four years and she still felt I was obligated to come to her aid when any of life's problems arose.
I sent her a text back, "We're divorced, remember?"
"Why do you have to be such a dick, you can do it in minutes, and it would take me a half hour to find the right u-tube video."
"Get one of your boy toys to do it."
"I keep telling you I haven't had another man in my life in almost four years."
This is what my life has devolved to. Usually, a couple of times a week, I would receive these "please help" messages and usually I would cave, depending on the ask. Something simple like this I would probably swing by on my way home from work and take care of it for her. Once she wanted me to paint what had been our master bedroom for her. Fuck you bitch.
Flash back five years ago and our youngest is heading off to college. Long before that she became a bitch but with the kids gone, she took it to a whole new level. I'll admit that my reactions sometimes were not consistent with what she said or did. I tried explaining to my son one time that it was like stubbing your toe on a piece of furniture, even a slight stub the next day was going to cause great pain.
After two months of nuclear warfare between the bitch and myself, I packed my shit while she was at work and headed to our vacation home. I worked from home, and it didn't matter where that home was. I didn't even tell her I was leaving. Two days later she called me.
"You fucking asshole, did you go to Florida without telling me?"
"We need a break from each other Jesse."
"You could have discussed it with me first Jack."
"We don't discuss Jesse, I say something, and you explain why I'm a fucking idiot for thinking or feeling something. You haven't agreed with me since you said yes to my proposal."
"Fuck you Jack, same old shit again."
"Exactly my point Jesse, same old shit again and again and nothing ever changes."
She hung up on me.
A month later, the kids were coming home from college for the holidays in a few weeks and I wanted to spend time with them. I sent Jesse a text telling her I would be home the week before Christmas. She told me I better find a hotel because I wasn't coming and going as I please. We were filing for divorce a week later.
Things were messy and we finally compromised on a lot of things, she got the family home, I got the vacation home. Instead of child support or other payments, I would continue to pay the kids college tuition. I would not have any faith that she could keep up her end. The hardest part of the divorce was not seeing my kids on Christmas.
I think the kids were home for a week when my daughter called me.
"Dad, can I come stay with you in Florida. Mom's new boyfriend is always here and he's always staring at me the wrong way, staring at my tits and ass. I'm uncomfortable leaving my room."
"Did you discuss this with your mother?"
"Yes, she said I'm making a big deal out of nothing."
"Ok, I'll call you back with the flight information."
"Dad, the brother wants to come down. There's something about mom's boyfriend that freaks him out too."
"Ok, I'll book you both flights and send you the details."
To my amazement, the bitch sent my daughter a text apologizing for not taking her seriously. The last day my daughter was home, she watched her boyfriend follow my daughter around the house, staring at her ass.
The bitch still let the guy stay there and the 'please help' messages began. I wasn't going to help her; she had a man there to take care of her needs. Plus, I was a thousand miles away. She eventually threw the guy out, but she replaced him with an equally inept guy, old enough to be her father according to my kids. She always had a long honey do list for my son when he came home from school.
The divorce was finalized that spring, about the same time my boss called and said I needed to come into the office the next day for a meeting to discuss an upcoming reorganization. I told him I was in Florida and could attend by zoom. He gave me the okay for that meeting and then explained that the new position he had me penciled in for wouldn't allow full time work from home. My only other option was being considered redundant.
After hanging up, I screamed Fuck until I was out of breath.
Almost nine months after leaving my home, and two months after my call with boss, I was moving into a small condo in the same town my ex-wife was living in. The big advantage was that it made it easier to see my kids when they came home, and it was a short commute to work. It was hard getting used to actually having to get dressed and go to work almost every day.
But now there was no longer a thousand miles between the bitch and I, so the 'please help' messages escalated.
Sometimes it was just easier to help her, especially if it was easy. Fixing the garage door opener was quicker than having another fight, although I always enjoyed telling her no.
About a year ago or three years after my great escape, she called me because there was smoke coming out of the ceiling fan in the bedroom. I told her to turn it off and hung up. She called me right back.
"Of course I turned it off, I'm not a fucking idiot Jack, can you replace it.?
She knew I could. I probably installed that one twenty years ago at least.
"Was it making any noise before it started smoking?"
"Yes, and it wobbled."
The following weekend, I'm on a ladder removing the old ceiling fan and I ask the bitch to hand me a screwdriver.
"You can say please Jack."
"Fine Jesse, I'll say 'please hand me a screwdriver.' But I want you to know that means, hand me a screwdriver you fucking bitch."
I started to leave, she was screaming about the mess I was leaving, there were exposed wires hanging from the ceiling, tools were everywhere, and the ladder was still in the middle of her bedroom. She was screaming through voice mails and text messages all week, complaining that she had to sleep in our daughter's room. I refused to respond.
By the next weekend, she was apologizing for the 'please' bullshit and realized since I was doing her a favor by installing the ceiling fan, I shouldn't have to say please when requesting a screwdriver.
I need to point out that Jesse hasn't apologized to me in maybe twenty years. But I still wasn't going to install the fucking ceiling fan. Twice a day she would ask the same question and reminding me she apologized. I kept saying no.
"What's it going to take Jack, to finish the job. Do you want me to get on my knees and beg. I can't afford to have an electrician come in and do it."
As I said, sometimes my reactions to Jesse were not consistent with what she said or did and in a fit of anger I said, "Well, if you're so willing to get on your knees and beg, you can suck my dick while you're down there."
I did not I really expect her to suck my dick. When I was in Florida, there were a lot of single women willing to suck my dick and my sex life was the best it had been since the kids were born. But I had been in a drought since I came back. There was a long delay before Jesse responded and I began to like the idea of some head."
"Your fucking kidding me Jack, you expect me to suck you off, so you'll install the ceiling fan. I already told you I was sorry. What kind of woman do you think I am?"
"Not only do I want you to suck me off, I want you to swallow too. As far as what kind of woman you are, let me ask the boytoy you had moved in before my side of the bed got cold."
"It wasn't that soon Jack."
"I still have the video from the doorbell cam. He had some nice luggage."
There was 24 hours of silence before she said, "Fine, install the ceiling fan and I'll suck you off. I can't spend another night in our daughter's bed. It's too small."
"To be clear, I'll install the ceiling fan after you suck me off. And I recommend wearing something sexy to speed things up."
"You are a fucking asshole."
"And you're a fucking bitch Jesse. Do you want to keep calling each other names or do you want to move this business relationship forward?"
It was Friday before she agreed, and I would be over around noon the next day.
It was my expectation that Jesse would try and find a way out of sucking my dick. I think I married her because she seemed to like giving head and always swallowed. Maybe about ten years into our marriage, she decided she was no longer going to swallow, and I didn't want her to suck me off if she didn't. That was the end of blowjobs in my house. I don't know what she was doing with her boytoys.
Saturday morning, Jesse greeted me at the door wearing a short robe over very sexy teddy. She dropped the robe as soon as I came in and asked me where I wanted to do this and suggested the love seat in the living room. I went to undo my pants before I sat down, but Jesse had already dropped to her knees and began undoing my belt. Once my trousers and underwear were around my ankles, my cock was in her mouth. I never had a chance to sit down. Back in the old days I would guide her head back and forth on my cock. Jesse was sucking with the same enthusiasm she had before we were married. It didn't take long for me to come, and she sucked every drop out of me.
"I've forgotten how much I liked that," Jesse said.
"You didn't do that for your boy toys?"
"Those fucking losers, no fucking way. Jack, do you remember how hot it made when I sucked you off, would you return the favor?"
There was a voice in the back of my head screaming to tell her no, but then she slipped off the tiny g-string she was wearing, sat in the love seat and tossed her legs over arms of the chair exposing her very wet pussy. Like a fool, I dropped to my knees and in a few minutes, Jesse was bucking and screaming, holding my face tight against her pussy. Finally, she pushed me off and I wiped my face on my shirt.
"That was fantastic Jack, I've also forgotten the fireworks you can create. Remember how I would always lick my juices off your face?"
I had no idea how to respond so I said, "We should get to work Jesse."
Maybe she was disappointed, but she stood up and said, "Let me fix you a cup of coffee while you get started."
Jesse handed me a cup a coffee and we got started on the ceiling fan again. She had slipped the g-string back on but stayed in the teddy. In the months or years leading up to our divorce, Jesse had begun to let herself go. I noticed she had really slimmed down since then. She caught me checking her out several times while we worked.
"You started running again Jesse?"
"Yes, thank you for noticing, I was really dumb for stopping in the first place. It was such a hurdle to get started again. Doesn't look like you ever stopped."
"Having to actually go into the office almost every day makes it more difficult, but they do have a nice gym."
