Did My Wife Fuc Tyler Jones?

Did My Wife Fuck Tyler Jones? Ch. 02

by

Ephesus14

©

This is a re-post

I recommend you read Did my wife fuck Tyler Jones? before reading this. It will make more sense. If you were happy with the way it ended then you might not care for this chapter. There is little sex herein.

*****

She stepped toward me. "Andy... I..."

I held up my hand to stop her. Then I spoke.

"Well, you got your wish."

"What are you talking about?"

I took the sticker out of my pocket.

"You said you wanted to fuck me and you certainly did." I wadded the sticker into a small ball and dropped it at her feet. I walked back to the bar and started cleaning up.

"Andy. Please."

"What's going on?" Asked Tyler Jones as he stepped toward Lenny.

"Get away from me." She pushed him and came over to me. "Andy, it was just one time. Please talk to me."

"What do you mean, one time?" Asked Jones. "It's been at least six, and why the fuck are you telling Andy? Come on, let's go."

"Get away from me."

"You weren't saying that when I was dicking your ass."

I spoke. "So this is the waitress you were telling me about. The best pussy you've ever had?"

"That's it, buddy. Now she wants to act all high and mighty. She wasn't all that when she was on her knees sucking my dick."

I hadn't stopped looking at Lenny. At Jones' last statement, she just crumpled to the floor. In the place she and I worked...in front of our co-workers and patrons, Jones had announced that he had anal sex with her and she had sucked his cock. It was almost unbearably embarrassing for everyone except, apparently, Jones.

He went over to her. "Are you coming?"

She shook her head no.

"Well, fuck it. You can have her Andy. She's good, but not that good."

"No, you take her. I don't want her anymore."

"Anymore? Have you been fucking her, too?"

"Yeah. For over three years. She's my wife; but not for long."

"Your wife? Holy shit."

I never saw anyone move so fast in my life. I yelled after him. "Hey, come back and get her. She's yours now."

"Fuck her. I don't want her."

Gill, the night manager went to her. "I think you should leave." And he motioned for two other employees to escort her out.

My mind was filled with visions of my wife and Jones but at the same time it was devoid of thought, if that makes any sense. I robotically cleaned the bar area trying to get a handle on my emotions and feelings. Gill came to me. "Go home. Take some time off. Call me when you're ready to come back."

I did what he suggested; I went home. When I got inside, I made sure to lock the deadbolt. She wasn't getting in to get her stuff until I was ready. It wasn't an hour before I heard her key in the door. Then I heard a knock.

"Andy? Andy? Let me in. Please Andy."

"Go away. You don't live here anymore."

"Andy, please, at least let me get some of my things."

"Why? You took your makeup when you left and whores don't need any clothes, so you're all set."

"I'm not a whore."

"Oh, that's right. Whores get paid. You did it for fun with someone other than your husband, so I guess that makes you a slut."

Her voice got louder. "I'm not a slut."

"Go away. You can get your stuff tomorrow. Be here at nine because by 10 anything of yours that's left will be in the dumpster."

"Andy, PLEASE?"

"Take your cheating ass away from here."

The knock came shortly before nine the next morning. I looked through the small glass in the door. I didn't see Lenny, but I saw Charlotte. I opened the door.

"What do you want?"

"I came to get Lenny's things."

I pointed to several garbage bags I had filled with her stuff. "There they are. She can have her pick of furniture as long as it's out of here in an hour."

"She can't do that."

"Why not?"

"She's sick."

"Sick? What's her problem? Lack O'Peter?" Peter was her pet name for penis.

"Come on, Andy. She drank a full bottle of Vodka last night and she's in bad shape."

"She's in bad shape? What do I look like, Charlotte? And you... her best friend... you helped her fuck over her husband. For what? For who? A smooth talking pussy hound creep who described to an audience in detail how he fucked her? Then he comes into her place of employment proclaiming in front of her husband and a dozen or so other witnesses that he needed some of her pussy. Yeah. She's sick all right. And so are you. Now take her shit and get out."

She started moving the bags to the door.

"And you can tell her I want my grandmother's rings back."

Three days later, half of our furniture was gone. Anything she liked, including our bed, I had put at the curb available to anyone who wanted it. I had no idea if she fucked Jones, or anyone else, on the bed so I got rid of it.

Then came the pounding on the door.

I looked and it was Lenny. I let her in.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked. "People are down there taking my furniture."

"It isn't your furniture. You walked out of this apartment and deserted me and the furniture, so you no longer have a claim to it. And give me my grandmother's rings."

"You gave them to me. They're mine."

"Give them to me or I will rip your fucking finger off and take them. Those are meant for the woman who will be my wife forever. Not some slut who can be talked into fucking some barroom bozo who spends his life seeing how much pussy he can get. Now give them to me."

She started backing toward the door and pulling the rings off at the same time. I would never hurt her, but I was pissed. She got them off and threw them on the floor. I picked them up and put them in my pocket.

"I thought we could talk about things," she said.

"No way in hell. Go talk to Tyler Jones. He's a good talker. He talked you into fucking him. Is he the only one who was able to talk you into cheating or were there others?"

Her back was to the door now and she slid down until she was on the floor. And the tears started.

"I just wanted some fun, Andy. He came to the bar and started talking to me. You were there the first couple of times, but there were so many customers, you never noticed him. After several times there, he offered to buy me a drink someplace else. You were working nights so I met him. He had a gift of gab and before long he was playing with my tits. You know how I get when you pinch my nipples. Well, he pinched them and I went crazy. Then he finger touched me. He did that on the dance floor. It was so exciting to have his finger in my pussy while people watched. God, it was hot."

"Are you telling me that anybody who gets close enough to you to pinch your nipples can fuck you?"

"No, but..."

"Who are you? What happened to my wife?"

"Charlotte said... oh, never mind."

"Charlotte said what?"

"She fucks lots of guys. Every time we go out, she tries to hook me up. She says you are an asshole and don't want me to have any fun."

"Did she also tell you that she's been trying to fuck me since I've known you? She grabs my dick every time she's around me and you're not looking. I told you to stay away from her."

"She's my best friend. She takes care of me."

"Taking care of you used to be my job. How many guys has she hooked you up with? I assume you hooked up with Jones on your own."

"Andy..."

"How many guys has she hooked you up with?"

"Please."

"Two? Five? Ten? More than ten?"

"I..."

"Forget it. I don't want to know. You need to leave."

She slowly made her way to her feet. "May I at least walk through and see if there is anything else of mine?"

"I can assure you, there is nothing of yours in this apartment."

"What about the title to my car?"

"It's in one of the bags Charlotte took. Along with your pictures, except for our wedding album... I threw that away."

She was standing in front of the door. I pulled her away, opened it and indicated the way out.

She looked at me. "Andy, please..."

"Get out."

Her head was down and she was crying as she stepped into the hall. I closed the door on our marriage.

I went back to work. It was hard looking out over at the dance floor where our confrontation had taken place. Gill, the night manager sat at the bar. I gave him a glass of ice water.

"You know, Andy, we own the bar and restaurant in the Capitol International Hotel downtown. It's called the Oriskany. It also has live piano music every night and a small dance floor. If you would like, we can transfer you down there. It's more upscale than here and the pay is better plus it gets you away from here."

Three days later, I was in my new bar. I met the day manager and she introduced me to the staff before we opened for the day. I was to work days to start. Days meant we got there at 10, readied the place, opened the doors at 11 and worked until 7. The night shift started at 7 and worked until closing which was normally 2AM, but sometimes went a bit longer. The International Hotel was very upscale and I liked being there.

The day before I started my new job, I initiated divorce proceedings and I decided to stop shaving and grow a beard.

We didn't have much, Lenny and I. As a matter of fact, when I went online to check our bank account, over half of it was gone. Lenny had gotten advice from someone... probably Charlotte.

Oh, well, the courts would have given it to her anyway. Then I did the routine things like the credit card. I say card because we only had one. I cancelled it and applied for a new account. Until I got the card, I could only use cash. The phones were in her name, so I opened my own account for that, too.

She was served at Charlotte's. I have no idea how she reacted.

It dawned on me one day that Jones said he had fucked Lenny at least six times. That meant that I had fucked her after he, and God knows how many others, had fucked her.

I needed to see a doctor. I'd had no symptoms, but then I had no idea what kind of symptoms STD's had or what their incubation period(s) was/were. The results sucked. Gonorrhea. The fucking 'clap'. I wanted to kill her! I said before that I would never hurt her, but when I heard I had 'the clap' all bets were off. I could easily have strangled her; not to mention that lowlife Jones.

I could never blame a man, or woman, for wanting more sex. But to actively seek out married women, or men, is absolutely reprehensible. It takes a certain kind of scum to do that. And then to be so careless, or uncaring, as to give them an STD was beyond the pale.

I started to call Lenny and tell her how I felt about getting an STD from her, but why bother? Her pussy could rot off as far as I was concerned.

It was a few days later, that her brother came pounding on my door. I had just gotten back from getting shots for the STD. I let him in.

"You son of a bitch. You cheated on my sister and now she has one of those sex things. I ought to kill you." There was murder in his eyes and he scared the shit out of me.

"Whoa, tiger," I said backing away from him. "If you're talking about an STD, you have it backwards. Your sister cheated on me with at least one guy. She gave me the disease."

"That's a lie. She said you would say that. I'm going to kick your ass."

He started towards me and I started backing away again, but there was really no place to go.

"Well," I said as calmly as I could, "before you do that, there are a dozen or more witnesses who heard a man say that he fucked her at least six times and she didn't deny it. Then she told me that she 'did it for fun'. For fun Jimmy (that's his name). She cheated on me with a no-good son of a bitch 'for fun'. And Charlotte helped her. Helped her, hell. Encouraged her." He looked as if he had calmed down. Jimmy has had some problems in his life. He did time in prison for assault so I knew he wouldn't hesitate beating me to a pulp. "I know you have no reason to believe me and not your sister, but you know me. And you know that I'm not a liar; and I'm certainly not a cheater. The guy you need to talk to is Tyler Jones." I told him where Jones worked. "And if you have any influence over your sister, you will try to get her away from Charlotte. I tried for years, but she wouldn't listen to me."

He glared at me not wanting to believe me, but after a few seconds, turned and stalked out.

Four days later, I read in a newspaper which had been left on the bar, that a prospective car buyer was test driving a new car from a local dealership. He was accompanied by salesman Tyler Jones. The prospective buyer stopped the car claiming to have heard a noise. Both he and Jones got out of the car where he proceeded to beat Jones almost to death. He left Jones by the side of the road and returned the car to the dealership. The news report stated that Jones would most likely lose his testicles, but he probably would never have hemorrhoid problems because the tire iron which was found stuck up his ass would take care of that. The article never said it in those exact words, but the implication was certainly there. The newspaper quoted the police as saying 'Mr. Jones was a local Casanova known to have been responsible for several marriage breakups over the last couple of years'. Blood tests indicated that he had several different STDs among which were syphilis and gonorrhea.

'Way to go, Jimmy', and whoever gave Jones those diseases I thought while reading the article and laughing. I wondered how many of them Lenny had. The same newspaper reported that a trailer owned by a Miss Charlotte Williams was completely destroyed by fire. The trailer was uninsured and was a total loss.

One of these days, I'm going to have a serious chat with Jimmy about his anger managements issues... then I'll buy him a few drinks.

I had a thought about where Charlotte was going to live now and if Lenny was going to move in with her; then I realized I didn't care.

I expected to be interviewed by the police about Jones and I was, but nothing ever came of it. I got the impression that finding who beat him up was somewhere along the same priority as chasing down jaywalkers.

Time went on and I liked my new bar more and more. I also liked my new beard. At first I kept it a bit on the scraggly side, but decided to trim it. After I did that, I got lots of comments from my female customers. I also liked the fact that my divorce was finalized. Apparently, when Lenny got the papers, she signed them and sent them back. She didn't bother to show up in court the day it went in front of the judge.

My antibiotic shots had done the trick and I was declared disease free, but socializing never seemed to appear on my radar screen.

It was also time for my lease to expire, so I found an apartment closer to work. I hadn't replaced much of the furniture I tossed out, but I had bought a new bed. My new apartment was so small that the queen-sized bed took up most of the bedroom and carrying it up three flights of stairs was difficult. Fortunately, I had friends who helped me. One of them, Georgie Patterson and I had been friends for a long time. We grew up in the same neighborhood; as did Lenny, Charlotte, and several other friends. When I called and asked if he could help me move, he showed up with a friend of his. Bryce, was his name and, when Georgie introduced us, Bryce said.

"Andy Buckles? You're Andy Buckles?"

"I am."

"Holy shit. I know your wife."

"My ex-wife," I corrected him. "Have you fucked you, too?"

"Me? Hell, no. But I'm married to Charlotte's cousin and I've certainly heard your name bandied about."

He didn't like Charlotte very much and started bringing me up to date on the happenings around him. He told me that after Charlotte's trailer burned, she and Lenny rented a furnished one in the same trailer park.

He told me that the couple of times he had been in the company of Charlotte and Lenny together, that Lenny was erratic in her comments about me. When she was sober, I was a total asshole; but when she had a few drinks, there were lots of tears and thinking of ways to get me back. Charlotte kept telling her I didn't deserve her, but, and again, this was when she was drunk, Lenny defended me and admitted that it was all her fault.

Another tidbit he shared was that both Lenny and Charlotte blamed me for what happened to Jones.

I asked him if Jones still came around.

"Nah," he said. "I think he called Lenny a couple of times before he got his ass kicked, but she wasn't interested."

He also told me that Lenny was working as a server and gave me the name of the place. On my next night off I went there. I went in, looked around and saw her waiting tables. With my new beard, I figured she wouldn't recognize me. She moved from table to table as efficiently as she always had and openly joked with her customers. Twice I saw her smack roving hands away from her ass; something she had to do virtually all of her bar waitressing life.

I could also see and hear her joking with them as long as either she or they were talking, but the minute she turned away from them, the smile disappeared and a slight sadness took over her face. The smile returned the second she started chatting with another customer.

I had no idea why I was there watching her, so I left.

I was working night shift

when Lenny came in and she was with a man. She looked like she had lost a few pounds.

As far as I knew, she had no idea I worked there.

I took a piece of notepaper from under the bar and wrote a note. 'I don't know if you are aware, but the woman you are with cheated on her husband and gave him an STD. Proceed at your own risk'. I would occasionally step from behind the bar and walk to where I could see into the restaurant dining area.

Between their salad and entree, I saw that Lenny had excused herself to use the ladies' room. I folded up my note and walked to their table. "Excuse me, sir," I said. "But someone gave me this to give you." I handed him the note.

By the time I got back to the bar, he was walking out of the restaurant. I walked back to where I could see their table. I watched as Lenny sat down and picked up the note her date had put where she could see it. She appeared to read it, wadded it up, stood and walked out. She walked within 10 feet of me and didn't recognize me, but I could see the tears in her eyes.

Their server was standing by their table holding their entrees not knowing what to do with them. I went over to her.

"They both left, but I know where you can send their bill."

Part of me enjoyed giving the note and seeing the results, but another part thought it was a cheap shot and something only an asshole would do. I didn't think I would ever do it again; once was enough.

The call came two days later. It was Lenny. "I know it was you."

"You know what was me?"

"You sent the note."

I lied. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"It has to be you."

"Goddamnit, what are you talking about?"

"Every time I get a new job, somebody calls and tells them I have STD's and they fire me. When I go out with a guy, someone tells him I'm a cheater and have STD's."

"What, exactly, does that have to do with me?"

"It's you. I know it's you. I know you hate me, but please, I'm begging you, please stop it. I need to work. I need a job. Please, Andy."

"Why do you think it's me? I have no contact with you so I have no idea where you work so you're barking up the wrong tree. It's probably Tyler Jones trying to get even with you for not fucking him anymore. Or are you? Are you still fucking him? He said you were the best he ever had, which leads me to believe that he hasn't had much because you were always just kind of mediocre as far as I was concerned. Since our divorce, I've found out what good pussy is like and it is nothing like yours."

"No, I'm not fucking him and you caused that, too." Was she saying that she would still be fucking him if he were able to?