Author's Note:
I'm getting away from my usual consensual extra-marital sharing with this story and exploring my own version of a 'Burn the Bitch' scenario. All of the sex in this story is consensual and involving those over the age of eighteen.
******
Prologue
My mother always taught us boys to treat women with respect. After she passed, in memory of her, I promised myself I'd try. But my ex-wife was making it tough to keep that promise.
Then with most of our parents' generation dead and buried, the shit hit the fan.
We knew the story of how our dad took our mom to the hospital when she delivered baby Bill. She always made a big stink about it when complaining how dad just dropped her off at the hospital door and went off to work. He always said in his defense it was because they were struggling for money, and they needed those wages.
Ours was not a tight-knit family, but normally rather cold and unemotional. Dad was a rather sullen man, working two jobs to provide us with a good house and comfortable life. And mom was the one who stayed at home to take care of us kids. But she always seemed to treat dad with contempt, which may be why he spent so much time working ... to stay away from her. Even our extended family of aunts and uncles lacked any positive feelings. They were always squabbling about something. There were tensions at the family reunions when visiting the grandparents, arguments which none of us at the cousin level ever understood. Then when our grandparents died, the reunions stopped, and we never saw our aunts, uncles, or cousins again.
Now, years later after mom died, and with dad dying just two years ago, out of the blue I got a call from my younger brother, Bill. He was sending me an ancestry DNA kit he wanted me to use.
I thought it was a strange request coming from my brother. He was always the one interested in our family history and could have easily traced our family roots using his own spit. Bill just said that he found something interesting in dad's old stuff, and he was checking a theory. So, I did as instructed, appropriately swabbing the back of my mouth, and sent the kit off for analysis.
A few weeks later, when the results came, I logged onto the website and realized why he wanted my DNA. It showed my brother Bill was my HALF-BROTHER! That meant we didn't have the same father. And one of Uncle Albert's kids was Bill's half-sister, which meant Uncle Albert, married to one of dad's sisters, was the one who knocked up mom!
There were a few other relationship surprises in the DNA evidence of our family links (Bill had been busy sending out those kits to others.) But suffice it to say, mom's directive to respect women went into the trash bin! She fucked her brother-in-law! The myth of marital monogamy exploded with the revelation of the number of half-siblings in our supposedly nuclear families of aunts, uncles, cousins, and neighbors, with proof of their extra-marital activities! And those pregnancies were probably just the "tip of the iceberg" of their fucking around!
Its little wonder why family reunions were always tense and sometimes broke out into fights. And I could now guess why there were so many drunken brawls in our neighborhood.
Bill's suspicions started when he found a note in dad's old belongings. It was an I.O.U. for a loan mom took from her brother-in-law, Uncle Albert. Apparently, dad didn't know about it until Uncle Albert gave him the note, with "services rendered" written across it. He signed and dated it five months before Bill was born, probably when mom was obviously showing. We don't know if dad ever found out what mom did with the money. But thinking back, for some reason, dad always hated the neighbor husband, and we never knew why. It's just a guess, but I wonder if he was blackmailing mom for her indescretions.
Monogamous marriage was a thing of the future, an ideal our parents pushed for the next generation to achieve! It certainly wasn't a thing of the past, since it seemed like our parents' generation fucked around for any number of reasons!
But I didn't learn any of that until after my own disaster.
Intro
'Love, honor, and obey, 'til death do us part?
'
Thinking back, it's now obvious why she insisted on leaving out the word
'obey'
from our marriage vows. Now, I'm even surprised she repeated the words
'love and honor'.
When we were dating, I didn't see any signs of her militant feminism. I should have guessed something was amiss when as a thirty-year-old woman, she was single and had no lasting relationships before me. And with her mentioning her biological clock ticking, that was the writing on the wall which I missed. She never had any intention of listening to me or agreeing with anything I wanted after we married.
So, why did I marry her? The sex was great, I wanted to have a loving family, ... and Sarah said "Yes." But I learned the hard way what selfish women will do when they want to get pregnant and have kids.
***
All of the girls I knew in high school went off to different colleges or married and settled down with their steady boyfriends after graduation. So, for years after, I played around in my own college experiences and afterwards, trying to find someone compatible who wanted to settle down. Many of the women I met during my early twenties were also playing the field and not interested in any monogamous relationships.
One girl I dated for months seemed like a good match. But I was still young and far too trusting. After two glasses of wine over dinner, she was ready to fuck. And over the next two months, I naively believed she was exclusive with me. After a shot of penicillin, she apologized for giving me an STD, saying it was just once with a guy at a bar. I thought we were back on track, with her promising that she wouldn't fuck around anymore. But I started using condoms with her after that. Then another two months later I knew I didn't use any defective condoms with her, and she again used the excuse "It was just one time at a bar." So, I ended that farce of a relationship with my now pregnant ex-girlfriend, leaving her to handle her own mistake. I advised her to go back to the bar and try to remember who might be the real father.
Other relationships over the next few years were equally disastrous. I seemed to meet women who were selfish, demanding, or drama queens. One went out of her way to flirt with other guys when we were out on a date, trying to set me up for fights over her. Another would break down crying over any disagreement, which I realized was her way of manipulating me to always agree with her.
After those years of playing around as a single male in my twenties I finally found the
'love of my life'
with Sarah.
"Love?" What is love? I thought it was what I felt at the time! But that was just me.
Sarah had a degree in psychology, and worked as a counselor at a women's center, handling cases of women escaping abusive relationships. We met at a bar, dated for over a year, and she seemed like she wasn't playing the field. She was a responsible adult! I felt 'LOVE' for her.
After we married, when the honeymoon with Sarah was over (literally, after a one-month honeymoon together), she was pregnant and our sex life ground to a grudging halt.
When the baby was born, Sarah quit her job to be a stay-at-home mom. Sex with my wife picked up a little after she delivered our first child, but it was usually limited with the excuses of being tired at the end of the day or the baby needing attention, all of which kept me frustrated most of the time. And just when our two-year old toddler was beginning to show some independence and was enrolled in daycare, Sarah got pregnant again.
The third time it happened, I decided we had as many kids as my job could support, so I had a vasectomy to ensure Sarah's leash on me wasn't going to get any longer. I considered it a leash, because my "loving" family was hardly welcoming when I came home from work each day. They were just there, with my wife avoiding me and the kids growing up with that same indifference toward their provider.
Since I couldn't get her pregnant anymore, Sarah's attitude toward me changed. She was easily angered at anything I said or did. So, our sex life after that vasectomy diminished to maybe once a month, even after the kids were older. Once the kids were old enough and in school, Sarah decided to go back to "work" volunteering her time at the women's center in an unpaid position.
You know the feminist saying, "her body, her rules." In Sarah's mind, that meant she held our marriage license as a contract, giving her ownership of my cock, and just not allowing it inside her!
To make this long story short, our marriage was one of me tolerating her selfish, feminist bullshit, so I wouldn't lose contact with our three kids in a divorce.
Then after seventeen years of that near sexless existence, at age fifty-one, the useless cunt filed for divorce. Her stated reason for divorce was based on "irreconcilable differences", which I knew in her mind was
'I'm a
man
, and she's not!'
She waited until we still had one child under eighteen, to ensure her hold over the house because our teenage son lived there. The judge awarded her custody of our underage son, the large house and new car, half of all of our savings, and half of my retirement accounts. I was awarded all of the debts, paying child support until our youngest was eighteen, and paying the bitch alimony until she remarries.
Our sons all sided with their mom during the divorce, ignoring me since she had the house for them when they would come home from college! Boys don't like to imagine their dad using their mother's pussy, so they're easily swayed and blank out any mention of sex as the reason for divorce. I just never realized I raised such ignorant basement dwellers.
As she was walking out of the divorce court, my now ex-wife, declared she was "retiring early". Really? Retiring from WHAT? She was a stay-at-home mom and a volunteer! She underscored that by saying; "In one more year, when our last son leaves for college, I plan to travel around the world" ... on MY MONEY!
Marriage; the bane of my existence! Even in divorce, there was no escape. Now, anger management is the one thing I'm still struggling to get under control.
Time Wounds All Heals
It was just over a year after our divorce, and our youngest son was now settled in a dorm room at college. My former child support payments transitioned into me still helping pay his college expenses, along with our second kid's junior year of college. Kids are expensive, even though they barely acknowledge my existence. But at least the oldest is now done with school and gainfully employed. So, there's a light at the end of that four-year tunnel. And who knows, maybe someday they'll appreciate their father.
You would think that with over a year after our divorce, things would begin to get better. But my ex-wife had a way of twisting the knife in my back. I think our boys reported to her that I wasn't very successful at finding other women to date. So, Sarah would sometimes send a drunk text after an evening out with her girlfriends, asking
'How's my little man doing? Find anyone yet to touch your pee-pee? Don't forget to send my check.'
How do you even respond to some ignorant shit like that? I felt like putting the next alimony check into a freezer bag and pissing in it to send to her. But the bitch would probably report it to the post office, and I'd find the police knocking on my door.
With my past history of dating fiascos and a long, failed marriage, I wondered if there ever was any real "love" between us. As far as I could tell, it was just my lust for sex, which my now ex-wife schemed back then to use against me. She got me to propose, so she could wind down her biological clock and take my money.
