Be Careful What You Wish For

I would like to thank Andrew John again for a wonderful job editing my story. Again my story would have never made it to publication without him.

Thank you Andrew...

*****

Be careful what you wish for

Although I didn't want to go, here I was attending a week-long seminar in Atlanta that my boss, James Johnson, demanded I attend. I had worked for James for almost five years, and I had been happily married for almost the same length of time. I loved my wife, my job, and my town. Life was good.

In fact, my sex life was better than good. My wife, Anna, had never, in the six years I have known her, refused me sex. We've had the most active sex life that I could imagine. Certainly better than most couples, if the conversations between other men, overheard at work, in restaurants, or in bars about how their 'old lady' rarely 'put out', were to be believed.

Every night, Anna was up for it, and not just a quickie either. She liked to dress up in sexy, slutty clothing and pretend to be anything that she thought I would want. From a slut or whore, to an innocent little virgin and more. Role-playing was almost a nightly occurrence.

Sometimes we would stage our role-plays outside the safety of our home. On many occasions, I have 'picked her up' in bars. We've also role-played at restaurants, and even on street corners. In case you're thinking that I was responsible for initiating these games, you would be wrong. Most of the time it was Anna who chose the role-playing scenario. Her favorites were forced sex, bondage, and being a submissive little slut.

The trouble started when she raised the idea about sharing her with another man. The wife sharing role-plays were a huge turn-on for me. I don't know why, but they were. The sad thing was, once they were over, I felt shame and guilt and knew that they must remain strictly a fantasy. When each role-play finished, I would make certain she knew that it had been very exciting to imagine, but never to ask me to make it real. She seemed to agree.

The conversations about 'other men' continued to develop over a few months. Anna even role-played cheating on me. When I came home, she would relate details of her latest fabricated encounter. It made me indescribably hot, and we would ravish each other passionately. Each time, however, I made her understand that, although I loved the role-play, I could never actually do it.

It was while I was on this forced business trip, that I received a a text message from an unknown number which said, 'Your fantasy will happen this week.'

I texted back, 'LOL I think you have the wrong number.'

'No, I don't have the wrong number. Check your email, Roy,' was the reply.

I checked my email account using my laptop. Sure enough I'd received an email from a unique address annaspleasure222@yahoo.com

The email message read, 'Notice the number 222? That's your street house number, isn't it? That's where I am going to fuck your wife. I plan to be fucking her by Wednesday. You won't be home till Friday night, so she will be really satisfied by the time you get back.

Don't worry, I will give you updates through the week. I may even send some photos for you to enjoy.'

The message in the email shocked me, so I called Anna to ask what was going on.

"Nothing is going on. I just got home from work to an empty house. What about you, found a girlfriend in Atlanta yet?"

"No, my girlfriend is at home, and don't you ever forget it. Between her and my wife, I have no desire for anyone else."

She laughed, and then worried me by saying, "Baby, how would you feel if I surprised the hell out of you when you get home?"

Momentarily speechless, I finally asked, "Just how do you plan to do that?"

"You always wanted to find out what sloppy seconds felt like, didn't you?" she asked.

My eyes widened, and I managed to choke out, "Honey, that was just role-play. I hope that you aren't going to really do that, are you?"

Her voice became husky, "Why not? I bet you're as hard as a rock just talking about it." She paused, then added, "Aren't you?"

I had to touch myself to find out, since it didn't feel like my cock was attached to me anymore. When I found it was like steel, I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice, "Yes".

She laughed, "So, what do you say?"

"Honey, I really don't want you to go further than just the role-play and teasing on this one. I could never share you. You are mine. I've been terrified, since reading the email, that you're about to ruin our marriage."

"What email?" she asked.

I explained, "I got a text message, from an unknown number, that said my fantasy was about to come true, and to check my email account. I found an email, I thought from you, pretending to be a guy planning to fuck you."

"No, I didn't send any email to you, but I like the idea. Maybe I should start," she teased.

We talked for a while longer. I promised to let her know if I got any more text messages or emails.

Not one minute after I hung up, I got another text. The message was 'I hear you are having second thoughts but, don't worry, she may still want you after I am done with her.'

I immediately went from concerned, confused and horny to feeling outright pissed. Either Anna was fucking with me, and lied about the messages, or she had lied by omission about being alone. If Anna was with a guy, then she had either lied by omission about their intentions, or she was unaware that he was trying to seduce her.

I sat there getting more and more angry.

Finally, I went into the conference, but I paid no attention to what was happening.

That night, after I got back to my room, I was in a daze. Fearing what might be happening at home, I was about to make the nightly call to my wife, when I got a text from the unknown number. The message read, 'Your wife will be busy tonight, we are going out. Wish me luck.' He included a photo of my wife in a sexy red dress with the text.

I called my home number as planned, but there was no answer after almost a dozen rings. It seemed that she wasn't at home, so I called her cell which went straight to voicemail. I didn't leave a message.

Almost two hours later, I got another text message. It read, 'second base' with an attached photo of my wife's dress pulled down to expose her breasts. She was sitting in a stranger's car, judging by the interior, with a baseball field as a backdrop. Her nipples were hard, and there seemed to be a small hickey on her left breast. I could see the wedding ring on her left hand. I was furious.

I kept staring at the dark spot on her breast, knowing that someone else was enjoying her charms. It felt like my heart was being torn from my chest. Then I got another text. This time it was a photo of my wife holding her dress above her hips, legs opened, and pussy obviously dripping wet. The text read, 'Third base. I didn't expect third till tomorrow.'

I felt nauseous but was unable to throw up.

It was time for action. I opened my laptop and started searching airlines, looking for a flight home. The earliest flight wouldn't leave until 4 am.

I contacted two male colleagues, who were also attending the conference, and they agreed to cover for me. I went to the hotel for a power nap, setting the alarm for 3 am, but was disturbed by another text message. It said, 'I am going to fuck her tonight. She already told me she was more than willing. I am going to bet you that you jack off thinking about what I am doing to your woman. Don't worry I will take good care of her.'

My heart was breaking. I started to cry in helpless frustration, my tears wetting the pillow. I turned the phone to 'Do not disturb', so it wouldn't wake me until I had to get up at 3am.

After a restless sleep, my alarm woke me. I was dressed and ready to go in moments, having already showered and packed before my nap. While in the cab to the airport, I looked at my phone for the first time since waking. There were numerous text messages from 'him'. Most of the messages contained photos of my naked wife in various positions, with her legs spread for him. Her pussy was gaping and red, obviously well used. Some showed cum on her ass, tits and her stomach.

One of the texts asked, 'Did you jack off knowing that your wife is being so well fucked?'

Replying to this message, I texted, 'Well 'jack-off', let's just say that, when I find you, it will be you who is 'fucked'.'

The flight landed at 7 am. I ran to baggage claim to get my bags. From there I went to long-term parking to retrieve my Harley-Davidson Softail. I secured the saddle bags, jumped on the motorcycle and roared home as fast as legally possible.

Arriving at the top of the hill on my street, I pulled over and cut the engine. I could see a familiar car in my driveway, but it didn't belong there when I was away from home. I activated the camera function on my phone, pushed the Harley forward, coasted to the driveway, turned in, and stopped. With the camera, I took several shots of the car, including the license plates.

Setting the camera to record, I pressed the start button on the bike. I revved the Harley's engine twice, as I did every time that I started it. The exhaust roared loudly, which made it clear that I was home. The camera was focused on my bedroom window. The curtains were flung open, revealing my naked wife standing at the window, with a look of astonishment on her face. Behind her was my boss, James Johnson, with an expression on his face that was a mixture of arrogance and superiority.

This time I didn't have any trouble throwing up. I heaved several times then looked up, just in time to see my wife run from the room. I put the camera in my pocket, pulled in the clutch, put the Softail in gear, let out the clutch, and started up the street.

I heard my wife scream from the front doorstep, "No, wait. Let me explain. Stop."

Not even glancing back, I roared away. Briefly, I wondered if she bothered to put on a robe, or if she was giving the whole block a show. Anna was smoking hot, so I am sure the neighbors would have enjoyed it.

I went to the cheapest no-tell motel I could find and checked in for cash. Then I walked to a liquor store, bought a bottle of Jim Beam, took it to my room, and proceeded to get drunk. To tell you the truth, I wanted to drink myself to death. Unfortunately, I failed.

When I woke, or regained consciousness if you like, I turned on my phone and called a friend of mine. I told him that I needed a good divorce lawyer and, knowing that he had just gone through a horribly painful divorce, I thought of him.

He gave me his ex-wife's lawyer's number instead of his. "You want a good one, don't you?" he asked.

I had to laugh. It was good to know that he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

I was able to make an appointment for the next day, then I drove to an office supplies store. I bought a printer, some good quality photo paper, and a few other things I would need. Then I went back to my seedy motel room and began documenting a case against my wife and my boss. I had them cold, but still needed to fit everything together. I printed copies of the emails and text messages I had received.

There was a recorder on my phone, so I could transcribe the conversations, or my wife's lies, from our calls.

After building my case as best I could, I got drunk again.

I woke in plenty of time to clean up, then go to my new lawyer's office. I went to the bank first and withdrew half the money from our joint savings account. We had our own checking accounts, so that money was protected.

I arrived early for the appointment. When I was finally shown in to her office, I noticed that, although she had been highly recommended, she didn't look imposing.

I handed over my attempted documentation of the case, which she accepted with approval. She asked me a few questions which I answered accurately as possible.

Then she came to one of the photos that I had taken at the house.

"Is this the man?" she quickly asked.

"Yes, that's him."

She slammed the file closed and jumped away from it. She gave me a look that I couldn't read, not that I could read people very well, and said, "I will be back in a moment. Don't leave."

It took her almost half an hour before she walked in and handed me an address and phone number. She returned my file and told me, "I must advise you to choose a different lawyer, I cannot take your case. Go out the door, turn right to the steps, go down the steps, and turn left. Talk to the man waiting for you at the other end of the hall... I NEVER SPOKE WITH YOU. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Ok," I said, a little confused, but getting up and following her directions.

Before I reached the end of the hall, I noticed a short, balding man looking at me with eager anticipation. He invited me into an office and asked for the folder. As he looked through the file, he asked me a few questions, which I did my best to answer. He took his time reading and sorting through the documents and photographs in the file.

Finally, I asked, "How much is it going to cost to get my divorce?"

He smiled and said, "I will handle your divorce pro bono. He pulled a standard form from a desk drawer. He quickly wrote on it, then slid it across the desk to me. "Like I said, the divorce I can do pro bono but, from the lawsuit, I am going to keep forty-five percent. Plus expenses. Sign here."

I asked. "Lawsuit?"

"Yea," he said with a grin. "Yea, we got the bastard. Tell me, are you ready for retirement?"

When I left the lawyers' offices, I thought to myself, 'What do I do now? I need a new job, and somewhere to live.'

The next morning, I rang Anna's workplace and asked to speak to her. The receptionist transferred my call to her desk. The instant that I heard Anna's voice, I disconnected. Knowing that she was at work, I casually rode my Harley to the house I used to live in. I went inside and packed my clothes, but there was not much more that I wanted. I hitched my trailer to my pickup and loaded on the Harley. Finally, I dragged what used to be our marital bed: mattress, frame, and bedding out to the driveway. Then I poured on some gasoline, stood well back, and threw a lit match at the pile. The fire took off, instantly.

I got in my pickup and left.

I went to Albuquerque, New Mexico looking for work. A few months before, I had done a favor for a firm that was located there. Based on the relationships that I'd established, I thought there was a good chance of picking up a job.

The job interview was nothing more than a formality. I filled out the necessary papers and HR told me to start Monday, giving me time to get myself settled in.

After the interview, I went looking for somewhere to live. I found a one-bedroom apartment, in what seemed a decent area, then I found a good storage unit for my Harley.

I bought a bed and a sofa after seeing a furniture store's advertisement in the Albuquerque Journal, then went grocery shopping and tried to settle into my new life.

Settling down was harder than I expected. I missed my wife and soul mate terribly so, instead, I started grieving my loss.

I had been in New Mexico for almost three weeks before I checked my email account. I guess I was trying to ignore my obligations, and I didn't want to face the fact that I'd lost my wife to another man. There were numerous emails from my lawyer.

I opened the last one first, and it simply said, "Call me. Very important."

So I used my new cell phone to make the call.

"Blake and Cox, law offices," a friendly woman answered.

"Yes, my name is Roy Belton. I got an email requesting that I call Mr. Blake."

"I'll put you right through, Mr. Belton. He is expecting your call."

Moments later, the lawyer came on the line. "Roy, I was afraid I had lost you. Where are you?"

"I moved to Albuquerque, got a new job, and just settled into an apartment. Do you need my address?"

"Yes, I do. Give it to my secretary when we are done here. Look, Mr. Belton, your wife wants to meet with you. In fact, she is outright demanding it. When can you make it?"

"Mr. Blake, I live in Albuquerque now. It would be a great hardship to drive all the way to you. Can't you take care of it? Just tell her that she's already made her choice."

"Well, I understand you just started a new job, and can't take personal leave yet. So, tell you what...when are you off next?"

"I work Monday through Friday."

"What time do you get off work?"

"Usually about five."

"Ok, tell you what we will do. I will contact your wife's attorney, and we'll set up a day, time and place to meet with you."

I interrupted. "I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I just can't leave right now."

"You won't have to leave Albuquerque. We will set up an appointment there, Mr. Belton. It won't be a problem for me, or them, to travel to you for the meeting."

"Uh ... this isn't an expense that you're going to bill me for is it."

"No, your ex-boss, Mr. Johnson, will be paying for this expense."

My stomach clenched thinking about that son-of-a-bitch. "Why would he pay for this? I don't want to have to sit through a meeting with that son-of-a-bitch gloating over making me a cuckold, while my wife belittles my manhood. Mr. Blake, I really don't need that sort of grief. I really don't want to have this meeting."

"Mr. Belton, I want to assure you that you are on top of this situation. Trust me when I say that Mr. Johnson will be the person being humiliated here. Not you."

I certainly wasn't convinced. "He fucked my wife, in my bed, behind my back, then gloated when I caught him. How can I be on top of that?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Now that I have your number, I'll call you and let you know when we will be there," Mr. Blake told me firmly.

Two days later, a large amount of mail was delivered to my apartment. All from my attorney. I had no idea that there was so much paperwork involved in a divorce. Personally, I thought that obtaining a divorce was just a waiting game. I tossed the letters into a corner of my office. Actually, I had set up my office in the bedroom, whereas, I slept in the living room, since I never had visitors.

True to his word, Mr. Blake called to inform me that the meeting would be at the Four Seasons banquet room at six o'clock on Saturday evening. A meal would be provided, if I wanted it, so I wouldn't need to prepare dinner. However, I really needed to prepare myself for the confrontation. Every time I thought about this meeting, I would also think about Johnson's superior sneer, as he arrogantly looked at me through my bedroom window.

Finally, one of the longest weeks of my life came to an end. I set the alarm for 4pm and chilled in my apartment, waiting for the evening's event.

When the alarm sounded, I freshened up, then headed to the Four Seasons. I entered the banquet room, seeing my wife for the first time in months. Across the room I saw my ex-boss, James Johnson. Also present were many well-dressed people, in designer dresses and suits, milling around.

The moment I walked through the door, two big, and I mean linebacker big, suits approached me, as I stared at Johnson with murder on my mind. I was ready to charge him and kick the smile off his face, hopefully killing him in the process.

The linebacker-types asked if I was Roy Belton, and when I replied, "Yes, I am," instantly moved into position on either side of me.

I asked, "What are you doing?"

"We've been hired to make sure you don't do something that could get you into trouble," one of the linebackers replied.

About this time, Anna saw me. I noticed she wanted to rush right over, but she was stopped by the lady lawyer I'd first met at Blake and Cox. I figured that she was representing Anna.

Anna was arguing with her lawyer, who was preventing her from approaching me. I didn't understand why Anna was so desperate to talk, but I knew that I didn't want anything to do with her, after she had fucked another man in our bed. That was pretty much unforgivable but, looking at her, I realized I was still in love.