This is fiction. The facts have some basis in reality but are modified to fit this story.
A happy marriage went badly wrong. He wanted revenge which uncovered the true reason. With help he brought the edifice down. His friends learned more so he was persuaded to support her. Can they ever recover or even be better? (No BTB)
Life as we all know can be quite bloody awful at times. Shite would be an understatement! What I never realised was that even when you thought it couldn't get any worse, it does. How do I know this? Read on.
My name is Michael. I'm a twenty-eight-year-old painter and decorator. Not the most glamorous of the trades and one lots of people think they can do just as well. I'm fortunate that my father was a skilled painter and decorator himself so showed me the tricks of the trade early. I'm told I'm one of the best in the area. My reputation is such, I do have requests from further afield so I do travel on occasion. Especially as much of my work is corporate and they often have multiple places of business.
My home life had started off great, a highly sexed, if not very adventurous wife, but once she started her new job it had become fairly dull and predictable to be honest. More recently it had been highly argumentative. We stopped doing most things together. I now had great concerns for our marriage.
I'll let you know what we did before the rot set in. You may understand why I hoped things would improve.
My wife Dorothy is lovely, not a classical beauty. A face full of mischief with eyes which can reach into your soul. I was sure they could cast spells. Before I recognised it, I was fucking her senseless. I'd have no clue how that happened. When you add that her body is awesome, you can understand why many of my friends wondered about her sanity when she became my girlfriend, let alone married me. She's 5'6", slim with long brunette hair which reaches below her mid back. She'd often tease me with her hair covering her naked breasts. Her breasts are WOW! WOW!! They are a stunning 36E with large ruby coloured nipples. Those nipples grew as she was aroused and often poked out of her hair. Her areolas are about two inches wide and a rosé which darkens considerably as she gets aroused.
She has a slim 24-inch waist, a flat stomach leading to an enticing pussy. Mostly her pussy lips are bare but she will have a landing strip or be trimmed on her mons. Her pussy lips are as rosé as her areolas and boy, do they love being licked and fucked. She's almost drowned me on many occasions. Her pussy is incredibly tight. I have to plead with her not to wank my cock too much once he's embedded in her as otherwise I cum far too quickly. Sometimes, she listens but other times she smiles before she rides me so hard I have to cum and cum. She's the only lover I've had that has the power to keep me hard after I've cum. Her bum is a trim 34-inches, firm, soft, alluring. I can't choose between missionary, lying on her breasts after cumming or doggy as I grope those breasts with my cock in that inferno. Anal isn't a subject for discussion nor unfortunately roleplay or even fulfilling even minor fantasies.
Dorothy loves to tie me up and edge me before fucking herself, using me as human dildo. I'm no adonis but muscular with a seven-and-a-half-inch thick cock. I can normally manage twice, on occasion three fucks at one prolonged session, especially if she blows me. Her eyes never leave mine as she does. It's only a few times a year at best. I get my own back by tying her up and doing the same. Her language when she demands she is fucked and I ignore her is choice! These would be at the weekend. It was once, maybe twice at best, three or four nights during the week. Or had been!
In the last nine months our sex life has gone from bloody good to okay to non-existent. It wasn't only our sex life but our whole life. We seldom did anything together and even having friends over or joining them for a drink or meal was too much trouble latterly. I have tried to get Dorothy to sit and discuss what was happening. We've had a few deep discussions where I made it clear I wasn't happy. I was convinced it was caused by her work. She'd move nine months ago to a new firm in the town. She's an administrative assistant. Her role seems to have changed as in the last five months she'd be away overnight every few weeks. I wasn't happy which led to us rowing frequently, something we had never done.
It was six weeks before the shit hit the proverbial fan, as we discussed our marriage, our words going around in circles, I finally shouted out what my deepest darkest thought was, "Are you fucking someone else?"
This led to the fight to end all fights. The verbal abuse from her would have shocked both a miner and a docker. She was so angry she tried to hit me. When I wouldn't back down, she ran to our bedroom and slammed the door. The whole house shook. I'm sure half the cul-de-sac now knew we were in serious trouble.
I've never been in that bedroom since other than to collect my clothes.
We seldom spoke on the rare occasions we occupied the same space. Both of us were so angry at the other neither would back down. I knew where we were heading so I did everything I could to protect my assets. The house was mine prior to our marriage. There was no mortgage. My mother Yvonne had died from cancer when she was forty. After a few years, dad Harry decided to retire to southern Spain, to decorate in the heat and play the field. He'd gifted the house to me as I was an only child. He'd never remarry as he would never find someone else. He still loved and missed mum. I did as well. She'd have been so helpful to me now.
Fast forward six weeks. It was a Tuesday evening, I was working about three hours away at an hotel. It was part of a small chain which I had done a lot of work for over a few years. It was the low season and they wished three main rooms decorated in time for the main busy period. To reduce their costs, they provided me with a room and meals. The first room to be decorated was the ballroom, though I didn't think it was as grand as that. The ceiling was far too low, maybe twelve feet not fifty. It made it far easier to paint. It holds about three hundred people apparently. They must be stick thin. I arrived on the Sunday night. I spent all Monday till about 10pm working on it. That night, I finished around 7.30pm. It was finished. I was happy with the result. I'm kind of a perfectionist. I collected all my gear together so I could move to the next room the next day. It was to be the main dining room. The last would be the reception, main bar.
I was making my way to my room when I saw the back of a woman who looked extraordinarily like Dorothy in the arms of a man. His hand was grasping her bum. Dorothy wouldn't have allowed that. They were booking in. Both had overnight cases. One was like the pair we had. He was grinning and pulled her to him to kiss her. I briefly saw her face fully. Fucking hell, it was Dorothy! This appeared to be normal, to kiss him. Despite the shock, I recognised he must have been from her office. I wish I had my camera as her face when I shouted, "Is this the arsehole you're fucking Dorothy?" was a picture and a half.
Her eyes shot open. She turned towards me and the colour drained from her face. She looked like she was about to collapse. Arsehole looked at me. His face one big sneer! His suit probably cost the same if not more than my car. He had me on sartorial elegance as decorator's overalls are not a designer look.
I was striding purposefully towards them. I admit I was looking to smash the arsehole's face in but two security guys stopped me. Arsehole came up to me and yelled, "Fuck off little man. She's mine. You're nothing!"
I looked at Dorothy. Everyone nearby heard my anger, my revulsion at her, "You've traded down. I'll have all your things bagged for you. The divorce papers will be filed tomorrow."
Oh, I did want to say more, a lot fucking more, but when you're being held by two burly guys just looking to beat you to fuck and have around thirty others looking at you, you'd don't say anything which gives away what you will do to the arsehole. It could come back and haunt you!
