Family Disrupted

Warning: This is an interracial cheating wives story about the dissolution of the family unit. If those themes are disturbing to you, please do not read ahead. All characters in sexual scenarios are 18+. If you enjoy, please leave a rating and comment

--

"Alexa and Carl broke up."

"Huh? Divorce?"

"Something like that."

"We were just at their house last week for their BBQ. Everything seemed fine. How did this happen so quickly?"

My wife, Samantha, raised her eyebrows in confusion. She was a gorgeous woman in her early thirties: black hair, tan skin, and a curvy body that featured the finest pair of breasts in our town. Not only was Samantha stacked, she had the perkiness of a girl just finishing puberty. When she opened the freezer in the grocery store, the stock boys gathered round with their hands down their pants.

"Stuff with them had been stale for a long time. You couldn't tell?"

"No?"

Samantha curled up at the edge of the bed. I was standing in the doorway between our master bathroom and the bedroom, brushing my teeth. I noticed in the mirror that I was looking particularly balding, and I tried to covert it quickly.

Samantha gave a little excited giggle, ready to gossip.

"Carl hadn't been fucking her in ages," she said, "And when they did, it wasn't very good."

Carl had been my business partner for many years. We had met in business school. I never expected to hear about his sex life like that. I didn't know his wife was talking to anyone about it, nevertheless my wife.

"She said he had a shrinky little dick," Samantha said, pinching her fingers. It seemed extra crass for my wife to use a word like that. Dick. She was usually so much more reserved.

"Didn't they want to make it work? Even for the boys?" Like Samantha and me, Alexa and Carl had two young boys.

Samantha just shrugged. "You know Alexa. She gets what she wants."

I did remember business trips with Carl, where he complained about his wife. She was a smoke show: a gorgeous blond with a body that looked fit and sexy even after pumping out two kids. But she nagged about every little thing. Spent his money on clothes and jewelry. I know he slept around: heck, I visited some of the strip clubs with him when we were truly far out of the vicinity of our wives.

Shit, had Alexa found out about that? Was that why they had so quickly split? And if so... had she told my Samantha about my little transgressions?

"I honestly don't know that much about it," Samantha said, as if reading my mind.

I finished brushing my teeth, and got into bed. I ran my fingers through my wife's hair, squeezing her warm body close to me.

My wife Samantha had a considerable bust: a pair just as perky and juicy as the day I met her. As I drew her closer to me, I felt her nipples harden between my fingers.

Her phone rang, startling her out of my arms.

"It's Alexa," she said, getting out of bed to take the call, "I should be there for her."

My wife left me alone in bed, hard-on pressing against my boxers.

I thought about what she said Alexa had told her about Carl's performance in bed. The last time Samantha and I slept together, she had definitely finished, right? I remembered feeling her contract against me as she smothered my face between her breasts.

I felt myself growing harder remembering the darkness of my wife's cleavage, my face against those soft breasts, and, believe it or not, I began stroking off to the thoughts of my own wife!

I could hear the little sounds of her voice in the study talking to her bitchy friend Alexa. I just spit into my hand and stroked, hoping she would come back soon and dangle those big breasts in front of my face...

"Oh my god," she said after a while, "You will not believe what Alexa just told me."

So engrossed in her gossip, she didn't even notice me stroking on our marital bed.

"So she's not just divorcing Carl," Samantha said, "Carl's in prison."

"What?"

"Apparently, the feds showed up to his house the other day and took him away in handcuffs. In front of his wife and kids, they dragged him out of his home like he was a dirty tissue."

"Jesus."

"It was apparently quite the scene. Alexa was in the tub when she heard the commotion, so she burst into the hallway wearing only the remnants of her bubble bath as fifteen burly FBI agents were dragging her husband across their marble tiled entryway."

"Whoa."

"Her two sons just stared, watching their mother plead with the agents not to take him away. It sounded like a mess."

"No shit."

"She seems fine now," Samantha said with a coy smile, "Though I have to imagine that's a facade."

What had Carl done? How could this have happened?

"And she invited us over," Samantha said, "For BBQ this Sunday afternoon."

BBQ? Again, like we had just had when she and Carl had been together last week? How was she in such a celebratory mood?

"Won't it be awkward?"

"Hush," Samantha said, "Alexa is my friend and we should go to support her. Plus, if she is a mess, I want to see it."

As troubling as my friend's arrest sounded, at least there was no mention of his and my wild nights with strippers on our trips.

"I'm exhausted," my wife said, jumping into bed in a way that her big breasts jiggled around in her bedtime nightie, "I'm turning off the lights and going to sleep."

Ah. So much for getting laid tonight. I closed my eyes in the darkness, my hard on sticking up in the sheets, imagining what must have happened between Carl and Alexa in the last week for this all to happen. Eventually, cock still hard, I fell asleep.

--

The next day, the house phone rang when Samantha was in the shower. It was the principal of the school where our boys went. Apparently, our older son had gotten into some trouble and they needed to meet with the parents.

I groaned. Samantha was already so rattled from the news about Alexa and Carl. Knowing there was a problem with the kids would make her even crazier.

"I'll handle it," I said, and arranged to head to the school.

I found my oldest son, still in middle school, sitting in a waiting room in the school office with his head hanging down, avoiding any eye contact. The administrator ushered me in.

I had never met my son's school staff before and was amazed that the woman standing before me was not a student. She couldn't have been more than 21 years old, with that dewy fresh skin that only young women who are used to taking care of their appearance can have. Wearing her shiny white blouse and tight pencil skirt and stockings, she looked more like a sorority girl in a Halloween costume than a teacher.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Lokkens," she began, very seriously, "Your son has been causing some trouble for the other students."

I groaned. "What's the problem?"

"It's a little sensitive."

"Okay..."

"You'll of course remember that we have one of the best basketball teams in the state," she said. I guess I did know that but I wasn't sure why she brought it up. My son didn't play basketball.

"Our players are star athletes, young, but full of potential. They're the future leaders of the world, real assets to our school."

"Okay. What does this have to do with my son?"

"Well, your son has been getting in their way."

"Getting in their way?"

The pretty young teacher nodded.

"It's happened a few times. Once, a few weeks ago, he was walking slowly in the hallway and they had to shove him to get out of their way as they were going to practice."

"They shoved him?!"

"Yes, he was just moving so slowly and they needed to get to practice. Then, later, he was apparently talking to a girl on the cheerleading squad at lunch."

"The cheerleading squad?"

"Yes, well, it's an unofficial thing, but the cheerleaders are often our most desirable students and the basketball players usually enjoy the company of those girls. They didn't like to see someone like your son talking to them."

"Excuse me, what are you talking about?"

"Then, this morning, it really came to a head," she said, "Your son came to my office and brought me this."

She slid a face down piece of paper across the table. I gulped as I turned it upwards. It was a glossy photograph of a stunning young woman in lingerie. Her skin was tan and sexy, her long legs curled under a stool, her fingers crossing her delicate ribcage and her nipples hard and visible under the sheer of her bra.

This picture was of the school administrator sitting in front of me.

"Jesus... this is... you?"

The teacher nodded.

"This is a photo I shared with the coach of the basketball team. Now, if he shared it with his team members, that's his business. But there's no reason someone like your son should be in possession of this. He came to me to try to tattle on the players, to get them in trouble for possessing this photo of me. And just, I don't know if there's room for a student who tattles at our school."

My jaw was on the floor. How could these incidents be a reason that my son was in trouble? It sounded like he was the victim!

"Look, Mr. Lokkens, I've called you in here because your pudgy little boy--sorry-- the student in question... this is his final warning. He needs to learn his place, or else, he'll lose it. Do you understand?"

Somewhere along the line, the teacher had begun scolding me, as if I were the one in trouble!

"Do I make myself clear?" she asked, her eyes sternly staring at me as she took the raunchy photo of herself away.

"Yes ma'am," I found myself saying. Now I could barely make eye contact with her.

"Good," she said, "Now be on your way. I'm busy."

I left the school without talking to my son, deeply troubled by what I heard. Still, the image of the teacher's young perky breasts was stained on my mind, and I was curious to see if I could one day learn more about her.

--

On Sunday, I drove Samantha and the boys over to Alexa's house for the BBQ. We had warned them that their friends' father would not be there anymore, and that the reason was that he had committed a horrible crime and was in jail.

"What did he do?" my youngest son asked.

"Something very bad," Samantha said sharply, for of course, neither she nor I knew the answer to that question.

Alexa and Carl had had two boys, the same ages as Samantha and my boys. Upon pulling up in the driveway of the big house, we were surprised to see both boys standing outside on the steps of the home. When we parked our car, the two of them shuffled over to us quickly, opening the car door first for my wife and then for me.

"Thank you," Samantha said, leaning over and tussling their hair, "What fine gentlemen."

"Yes ma'am," they said in unison.

This was a huge contrast with the behavior we were used to. Usually, they ran out of the house to find their friends and the four of them ran off into the backyard or into the basement to play some silly games. This time, they didn't even greet my boys. They just waited patiently and opened the front door for us, closing it without coming inside.

"Welcome welcome welcome!" came a loud voice from around the corner. The click clap of high heels on the marble tile echoed as she approached.

It was Alexa Triton, wearing a loose blue dress with a plunging neckline that reveal a V shape of tan skin all the way down her naval. She had on numerous necklaces, all thin and dangly, plus a pair of tinted lavender sunglasses with gold frames. She looked like some kind of movie star from the 70's, or maybe a comfort girl from an airport lounge, or somewhere in between. Definitely not the uptight spoiled mother we had known for years.

"So good to see you," she said, leaning forward and kissing my wife on each cheek before doing the same to me. I was flattered and startled. Up close, it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples were hard!

Compared to my wife, in her frumpy flowery blouse and white slacks, Alexa Triton exuded youth and vitality.

"I've had a crazy week," she said, understatement of a lifetime. This was the same woman who had chased the FBI around her house naked while her sons watched their father get arrested?

"Oh gee," she said, looking down at my two confused kids for the first time, "I forgot you'd be bringing--them." She waved her finger around like she was pointing at rats that had crawled onto a ship.

"You two stay out in the front with the other boys, okay?" she said in a sing songy voice. My kids shrugged and left out the front door with a slam.

"We've been doing a 'no kids' inside rule lately," she said, "It's quite nice. The house gets to be an adult space again."

Where to even begin--who is 'we'? No kids inside?

"Where do they, uh, sleep?" my wife asked.

"Oh I don't know," Alexa said, waving her hand around, "Maybe in that shed out front, the gardening one? They're fine."

With that, she led us into the kitchen where she had a big pitcher of sangria waiting. She poured and we both sipped--it was insanely strong!

After she downed her drink, Alexa paused for a moment, smiling at us. Samantha took this opportunity to grab her friend's hand and give her a concerned look.

"Sweetie," my wife said, "We know you've had a huge life change recently. Are you... are you sure you're okay?"

Alexa looked at my wife confused and then burst into laughter.

"Oh Sam, I've never been better!" she said, laughing on and on.

My wife looked at me confused.

"But then... you must be in shock. Your husband being arrested..."

"Good riddance!" she said, waving her hand over her face like dismissing a fart, "Couldn't have happened any sooner."

"What exactly happened to Carl?" I asked. It was jarring to see this previously devoted wife now celebrating her husband's demise.

"It was all in the taxes," Alexa said, "He had been screwing the government for years. Guess the bastard never thought he'd get caught. Well, they figured it out, took him away, and sentenced him to 200 years of hard time all within a single day."

"Jesus."

"I know. I admit, when I heard the judge say the sentence and imagined my poor Carly locked behind bars for the rest of his days, getting abused and spit on by those other terrible criminals, my heart broke. I drove behind his jail transport in my Audi and waited the hour for them to process him before it was visiting time."

"And then?"

"He was a blubbering mess. Honestly, my husband was never much of a man, but he looked even more like a little girl when I saw him through the glass. It was honestly kind of pathetic. You ever feel your sexual desire for someone evaporate all at once? That was how I felt seeing Carl in jail."

I watched my wife Samantha nodding in understanding.

"So he's crying and crying about how sorry he is. And at this point, I'm just like--please! I don't care how scared you are right now. I need to know about the money--where's the money that the feds can't touch?

"He wrote it on a piece of paper and slid it to me. As soon as I had those instructions, I was gone. I didn't want to see him like that now, or, really, ever again. As long as I had the money, what else did I need?"

It was incredible to see Alexa so callous about her husband. I expected my wife Samantha to be as shocked as I was. But she was nodding in perfect understanding.

"He crossed a line. I don't blame you one bit." Sometimes, my wife humored her wild and crazy friend. But I could tell my Samantha was being completely serious.

"That's when it happened," Alexa continued, "I was in the parking lot, walking to the car where my boys were waiting in the backseat, and the big wire gates of the prison lawn opened. It was so loud that I turned to look. A single person was walking out, wearing an old suit that looked like it was made in the 90's. The man turned to me as soon as he saw me and asked for a ride."

"Who was he?" my wife asked, totally intrigued. I was kind of creeped out.

"Well," Alexa said, grinning like a school girl, "His name is Tyson. He had been locked in there for over 25 years! And that day, just as I was walking in the parking lot, was the day he was finally released. This poor man had not been out in the real world in almost three decades and there I was, ready to help him out!"

So many questions were running through my mind. What the fuck had this man done to be locked away for 25 years? What were his intentions before seeing Alexa?

My wife asked the one question that was not even remotely on my mind. "What did he look like?"

Alexa laughed. "Oh, go see for yourself. He's out back grilling now!"

My wife stood up, alarmed, and walked through the long kitchen, me following her. Out through the veranda doors, though which Carl and the kids used to race around during BBQ days, we stepped onto the patio out back. And there was Tyson, grilling sausages on the big propane barbecue, smiling.

Tyson was an enormous man: at least 300 lbs, well over 6.5 feet tall. His big head of shaved bald and he had a nicely trimmed rugged beard that was jet black. His body shape was somewhere between the carefully toned muscles of a professional athlete and a fat man: he had big pads of muscle all down his chest and his legs were like jack hammers. Tyson's skin was medium-dark black, covered in tattoos that blended into his already shiny skin. With his sunglasses and toothy white smile, Tyson had an immediately noticeable winner's energy.

That wasn't the first thing you noticed about him though. Because, while he did wear a silky blue shirt unbuttoned entirely and at risk of slipping off his shoulders, he wasn't wearing much else. The tiny stretch of elastic fiber covering his crotch looked like it was about to snap off like a rubber band. The pouch of fabric had just been stretched too thin. It was like he had stuffed a bundle of plantains down there, the tropical ones, which already feel thicker in the hand than usual grocery store bananas.

"Hi sweetheart," Alexa said, skipping over to him in her heels and dangling herself over him like a fawning crushing girl.

"Hey baby. These your friends?"

"Yes, meet the Lokkens, Samantha and Drew."

The ex-con extended his hand for me to shake. The size difference between his massive paw and mine was freakish, and the strength he used crushed my right palm.

"How you doing, baby?" he asked Samantha. One of his big arms curled my wife close to him, tugging her body against his, as he gave her a too-friendly kiss on the cheek.

"Hi there," my wife cooed, and I frowned as Alexa giggled.

"Take a seat," Alexa said to me and my wife, "Tyson is just finishing up the grilling."

Alexa led us to the table out on the other side of the pool. We were out of earshot of Tyson, but not out of view: both women kept stealing glances over to watch the massive man as he flexed around the barbecue.

"Alexa," my wife asked, "Did you seriously meet this man as he was let out of prison?"

"Yep! He said he needed a ride, so I gave him the front seat next to me. He said he was going to go to this crummy motel, but I said that was preposterous, not when I had all this space in my mansion."

"So he's staying with you?" I asked, "In, like, the guest house?"

"Well," Alexa said, blushing, "At first he was in the guest house. I let him shower in there, get set up. But the first night, when he invited him into the main house for dinner, there was an episode."

"An episode?" my wife asked, intrigued.

"My sons were misbehaving," she continued, "And there was this moment when Tyson slammed his fist down on the table and told them to shut the fuck up. Usually, I wouldn't condone that kind of language in my house, but hearing it come from a big man like Tyson, it just seemed natural. I think the boys got the message too: this was a man who was used to shiving the people who disturbed him during his meals and they certainly didn't want any of that. He pointed his finger out to the sliding glass doors by the pool and immediately my boys just obeyed... they followed his guide out the door and shut it behind them. Finally, I could just have a meal in peace!"