Introduction
Ordinarily I am not a fan of stories about cheating wives, humiliation, or revenge. But I saw so many references to "February Sucks" that I wanted to find out what the excitement was about. I read the original story and a few of the follow-ups, and now I get it. George Anderson deserves a lot of credit for devising a story that pushes peoples' buttons so strongly. The emotional impact of the first three pages is very effective, and it reminds me of an old-fashioned Hollywood melodrama. This is my attempt to lighten up the melodrama.
I recommend reading the original story first if you haven't already. Here is a link to "February Sucks":
https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks
My version picks up when Jim gets back to the hotel room alone after telling his friends they should pay for "the slut I came with". To set the scene, the following paragraph in quotes is lifted from the George Anderson original.
"I turned on the light, and shut the door behind me. Suddenly, I was weary beyond the telling. I dropped my winter coat on the floor and slouched toward the bedroom. There was a Godiva chocolate on each pillow. Laid out in the middle of the bed was a bra and panty set that I hadn't seen before. They were dark blue, darker than her dress, edged with black lace. In my mind's eye, I could see her modeling them, with that combination of love and sensuality in her eyes that was all her own, that had been all mine until tonight."
FEBRUARY SUCKS, BUT YOU'LL MISS IT WHEN IT'S GONE
By ListenHere99
"All Mine Until Tonight" was like the title of an old torch song. Where did these words come from? I was sick with self-pity. I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror and hardly recognized the solemn, frowning old man who looked back at me. "The slut I came with." The strained, unnatural sound of my own voice echoed in my ears. Who was I performing for? I couldn't maintain the sadness and rage forever. I didn't have an audience now and my act wasn't doing much for me alone. I told myself not to be such a pussy. Linda had given me a shock but it wasn't as if one of my kids died or I got hit by a car. Something clicked inside me and I felt part of the weight lift from my heart. So my wife was a slut, big fucking deal! I was still pissed at Linda and our so-called friends for the way they set me up, but I guessed she was making a point.
Before tonight I would have said we were happy, but now I had to admit our marriage was boring on some level. We were like an uptight couple in a soap opera, straight as nails and bland as oatmeal. What if Linda wanted to break out of that mold? I thought we were pretty good in bed, but there are only so many ways you can do it with one person. This thought had sometimes occurred to me and apparently it occurred to Linda too. She was the first to do something about it. It was not like her to be so bold, but the big asshole jock forced the issue. Maybe she liked them big and never told me. Why would she? We didn't talk about that kind of thing. We only had eyes for each other, or at least that was the facade. I almost believed it until now. I had to give Linda some credit. She was making me think about our relationship from a new angle. Our marriage was due for a shakeup. Change was part of life and sometimes you had to roll with it to survive.
I decided to lighten up and look on the sunny side. Dee was a twit but she was right about one thing: I wouldn't divorce Linda over this if she wanted to stay together. We had ten years of shared experience and the two kids. We consoled each other in hard times and laughed at each other's bad jokes. Linda was a good mother, a decent cook and a fine piece of ass. If she wanted to share that ass with others, who was I to stand in the way? I wasn't thrilled that she was sharing it with Asshole, but that was her choice. Sure, he was a football star and a great dancer and all that shit, but it didn't really matter who he was. He was a stranger. Under her prim exterior, the mother of my children was horny and wanted some strange dick. In a way I could relate to that. All the horseshit about marital fidelity was for squares and hypocrites and I wasn't going to be one of those anymore.
Still looking in the mirror, I said, "We'll always have Wendy's, sweetheart." I tried to sound like Humphrey Bogart in "Casablanca". It was corny, but I smiled at myself. I even laughed a little. It was a much better look.
I ate the Godiva chocolates and sat down at the desk. What should I do now? I had a nice hotel room, might as well make use of it. I could jerk off to a dirty movie but that seemed too pathetic given what my wife was up to. I got out my phone...
THE NEXT DAY
Linda was tired and only a little nervous when the cab dropped her off at home. She knew Jim was going to be angry, but sooner or later he would forgive her. It was just one night, and it turned out not to be anything special. Well, she did come several times but it was just sex, more workout than romance.
Marc LaValliere was well endowed and had no trouble getting it up but he wasn't particularly sensitive to her feelings once he got her clothes off. First she pleasured him orally until he came in her mouth. Linda was hoping he would return the favor but he wanted to get right down to business as soon as he was hard again. He flipped her over and took her from behind, groaning "oh shit!" at his moment of climax. She wished he wouldn't curse, but boys will be boys. Throughout the night he did her vigorously in numerous other positions until she felt like a well-used toy in his big hands, sore but satisfied. Linda enjoyed it, at least her body did, but it wasn't an experience to cherish for the rest of her life or even for the next week. It reminded her of the big, dumb frat boy she dated in college before she met Jim.
