More Than a Divorce Statistic

This story was pulled by an editor at Literotica. The implication is that I plagiarized all or part of this story. I assure you that I wrote this story from scratch and have read nothing remotely like it on this website. I am extremely upset at the implication being leveled at me and would love to understand why this story was pulled.

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My name is Mike Adams, and my psychiatrist told me to keep this journal of my thoughts and feelings. I had just gone through a traumatic divorce and was having a hard time dealing with it. The doctor told me to tell my story, including what I was thinking and feeling at the time. He explained that it would help me come to grips with my trauma. It helped, and keeping the journal just became a daily habit after that.

Let me start by saying that I feel like I'm nothing more than a sad divorce statistic. I caught my wife, Kerry, cheating on me, and now I'm divorced. I suppose it should have made a difference that her lover, my boss, Justin Boszner, was blackmailing her. But it didn't make one bit of difference to me. I couldn't get the image of them having sex in my marital bed out of my mind.

Apparently, Justin had gotten my wife drunk at a company party I couldn't attend and had taken advantage of her. He took pictures and used them to coerce her into having sex with him several times after that. I'm also a criminal statistic because I beat the ever-loving crap out of him and got arrested.

Fortunately, I had an excellent attorney, my brother, Tom. He was able to argue temporary insanity, and I was acquitted. Then my former boss tried to sue me for damages. When the jury heard the entire story, they awarded damages to me. But the judge told them that they weren't allowed to do that. So, taking the hint, I sued him for damages. This time the jury nailed him, and I was awarded a six-figure settlement. Then I sued our mutual employer for not enforcing the morals clause in their employee's handbook. I won a seven-figure settlement. Financially, I came out of this mess, smelling like a rose, but I was still divorced and lonely.

Kerry had been the love of my life. For eight years, life had been as close to perfect as any husband could expect of their wife. It was only by accident that I discovered what my boss was doing. When Kerry's phone had been ringing one day, and she hadn't been in the shower, I answered it. I just said, "Hey," and the voice on the other end said, "I can't wait to get my cock in your pussy."

I recognized the voice immediately at that of my boss. I was so shocked that I just hung up. A few minutes later, he called back, and my wife answered. I could tell by her expression that she was distressed by the call, but at the end of it, she simply said, "Okay."

That night, Kerry said that she wanted to go visit a girlfriend. I said that was fine with me. We didn't have any kids, so it was no problem if one of us wanted to go out. I suppose, at this point, I should identify myself. I'm Michael Millbrook, an accountant with a mid-sized firm. Most people call me Mike. I'm good at what I do, but I can't say that my job really thrills me.

My wife, Kerry, is a dental hygienist for a local dentist. I guess most people would say that she was more cute than beautiful. But to me, she was the most beautiful person that I had ever known. Of course, I'm prejudiced; I had loved her to bits from the first time I saw her. But after that phone call, I began to wonder if I knew my wife at all. Suddenly, she wasn't as beautiful as I thought she was. I began to wonder if anything in our three years of married life was real. At that point, I had to find out if she was really cheating on me.

When my wife left that night, I was immediately in my car and followed her until she stopped at a motel. I watched her walk up to a door and knock. When the door opened, I saw my boss there with just a towel around him. He grabbed my wife and hugged her. She pushed him away but went into the room. What could my wife possibly see in this guy? He was fat and bald.

I waited for about fifteen minutes and then went to the door. I knocked and said in a fake voice, "front office, there may be a problem in your room."

A few moments later, Justin opened the door, and I forced my way in. I found my wife in one of the beds without any clothes on. Her eyes flashed with terror when she saw that it was me.

"Oh God," She screamed. "Mike, this isn't what it looks like. I didn't want to be here, but I didn't have a choice."

After that, I proceeded to do a number on my boss. I lashed out and immediately broke his nose. I could hear the bone crack when I hit him. Immediately, blood splattered all over. I then kicked him in the nuts, which was especially painful for the prick since he had no protection. He didn't even have a pair of underwear on. All he had was a towel, and that did nothing to deflect the power of my foot hitting his balls. He collapsed at that point, curling into a fetal position. But I wasn't finished with him. I forced his legs apart and kicked him six or seven times more in the nuts. Then I knelt down next to him and punched his face bloody. He looked like a piece of ground meat when I got finished with him.

Then I turned to my wife, who was, by then, in shock. "You said that you didn't have any choice. Now here's something that you do have a choice about, whether to come home or not. I strongly suggest that you don't."

With that last warning, I walked out of the room and headed home. Once there, I got myself a glass of scotch and drained it. Then I poured myself another and settled down in my lounge chair in the family room. About thirty minutes later, there was a pounding on the front door. I knew who it was, it was the police.

After confirming who I was, I was put in handcuffs and taken to the county stockade. I've heard stories about how rough it can be on the inside. A rational man would have been scared; I wasn't. I was still so pissed that I didn't care about anything or anyone. Unfortunately, some asshole decided that he was going to make me his bitch. I beat him so badly that they had to take him to the county hospital. Fortunately for me, there was a camera in the cell, and it clearly showed that the other inmate started the fight. In the opinion of the police, I was just defending myself.

I was two for two that night. Both of the men I had beaten had to go to the hospital. In Justin's case, they had to remove one of his testicles, and they weren't sure the other would ever work properly. For that, I was happy that the asshole probably wouldn't be producing any future assholes to bother women. In addition to costing my boss at least one of his testicles, I also learned that I had cost him six teeth, a spleen, and a fractured jaw that would cause him constant future pain. The funny thing is that I'm not a fighter. I'm a little over six feet tall and weigh about a hundred and seventy pounds. However, when I was young, my father had taught all his boys to box. But outside of sparing a little with my brothers, I had never been in a real fight.

Despite all the suffering I had inflicted on my boss, it was nothing compared to my pain. The woman I loved above all others had proven to me that she was nothing more than a cheat. Kerry tried to see or call me over the next few days, but I shut myself off from her and tried to bury my pain. I never wanted to be hurt this bad ever again.

When my brother arrived, he brought me up to date on what had transpired. He quickly arranged for my bail and then took me home to stay with him and his wife, Susan. They were very kind to me, but I was in so much pain that I was a total bastard.

Finally, Susan pulled me aside one night and read me the riot act. "Mike, I know that you're hurting, but your brother and I aren't the bad guys. If you're going to be a total asshole, then you can go home to your cheating wife or get a hotel room."

I apologized, and from that day forward, I screwed my head back on the right way. My sister-in-law and my brother were my safe harbor. And I treated them as such.

Tom filed divorce papers for me and filed suit against my employer at the same time. Within days, my ex-boss had filed suit against me for the injuries I had visited on his body. Tom was smart. He got the lawsuit against me postponed until the criminal charges were adjudicated. Once I was found not guilty because of temporary insanity, Tom turned his sights on my boss.

Justin was smirking when the trial began. He thought he was going to hang me out to dry. However, my ex-boss had no idea how deeply my brother had dug for information. By the time the criminal case against me was finished, Tom had found several former female employees of the firm to corroborate that Justin had done the same to them. And as I mentioned, when the trial was over, the jury wanted to award me damages. Of course, Justin was immediately fired, but that wasn't the worst for him. He was arrested for rape.

The problem with the case against Justin was that there was no physical evidence. However, six women testified against him, telling the same story. I did not follow the case because I was totally consumed by my divorce. I remember that I read where he had been found guilty of something, but it wasn't rape. It didn't matter to me other than he would be going to prison. I know that Kerry was called as a witness and, in fact, attended each day of Justin's trial. I do remember that everyone was greatly disappointed that he only got seven years.

Even though it had been proven that Kerry had been preyed upon, I couldn't let it go. All I could think of was my wife and Justin in bed together. So, I went forward with the divorce. I tried to look at it from Kerry's point of view, but I couldn't. If she had just trusted me and told me the truth, I would have dealt with Justin. But she didn't, and the fact that she went back for more made me think that maybe deep down, Kerry liked what she was doing.

The final hearing for the divorce was unbelievably traumatic. Kerry was there with her lawyer, and she kept trying to get me alone before the hearing. I made sure that didn't happen. Then throughout the hearing, Kerry kept trying to catch my eye. The one time I glanced at her, there was a pleading in her eyes. But I was too hurt to care.

When the judge granted our divorce, Kerry went hysterical. Eventually, they had to call for an ambulance. I thought I would never see her again, but I was wrong.

With the last of my legal actions completed, I had to get on with my life. When all the suits were settled, I had a net worth close to almost three million dollars. This was even after I paid my brother thirty percent of everything that was awarded to me. He didn't want to take it, but I forced him to do so.

Now I was divorced and well to do, but what was I going to do now? I couldn't go back to my previous job. They were not happy with me, to say the least, and I wasn't interested in working for them in any case. My life was just drifting at this point, and I was still hurting.

It was Susan who came up with the idea that would change my life. But for a long time, I didn't know whether the change was good or not. She suggested that I take a trip to Europe. She reminded me that I had always wanted to travel, and now I had the means to do so. Of course, when I had made those comments, I had always assumed that Kerry would accompany me. If I did travel now, Kerry, for sure, was not going to be with me.

I started my journey in Italy. Everyone I had talked to loved the country. I was impressed by the historic sites, and the wine was excellent, but on the whole, I was disappointed. Next, I traveled by train to Germany. On the train, I met a lovely English woman, Sarah Smythe. She turned out to be a good traveling companion and a first-class travel guide. Sarah was also easy on the eyes with short blonde hair and soft brown eyes. She was a tiny thing standing only five foot three with a terrific figure, but it was her bubbling enthusiasm for everything that I enjoyed the most. It was a welcome change from the dour existence I had suffered over the last six months.

As it turned out, Sarah was a teacher at some school called Ludgrove. She said the name like I should recognize it, but it meant nothing to me. Still, I asked all sorts of questions about the subjects Sarah taught and about her in general. I was a little surprised to learn that she taught math and science to children between eight and thirteen years of age. And from the gleam in her eyes, I could see that she loved what she did.

As far as I was concerned, Germany would have been a waste of time except for Sarah. Sarah was a wealth of knowledge about the Second World War. I had never really been that interested in World War Two, but Sarah made the subject come alive. And to actually be visiting the places where it took place was fascinating.

Before anyone starts thinking about a romance between Sarah and me, that was taken off the table immediately. When we first struck up a conversation, she informed me that she had just broken up with a long-term boyfriend. It had been a traumatic separation, and Sarah was not looking to get into another relationship for a while. On the other hand, I was quick to assure her that I was equally not interested in finding a new girlfriend. I went into chapter and verse about my recent divorce. I was, however, surprised by Sarah's compassion for my ex-wife. That I just filed under that heading of women defending women and let it go.

Even though I was not looking in any way, shape, or form for a new girlfriend, I was surprised by the number of women that flirted with me. I wondered if it was the "bad boy" look I had acquired. I always seemed to have a couple days of growth on my face. Also, I had let my hair grow longer than I had ever before. I can assure you that this was not by design. I had just become kind of lazy concerning my hair grooming since I no longer had to worry about a job.

The flirting did bother me, however, and I was constantly apologizing to Sarah about it. I was embarrassed because some of these women would flirt right in front of her, not knowing our relationship. Sarah just laughed about it and even teased me when another woman would start eyeing me. In fairness, though, Sarah had an equal number of admirers, and she was equally as embarrassed when they came on to her. I, of course, teased her back about that.

From Germany, I went on to Sweden and Denmark by myself. Sarah had booked an apartment in Paris for two weeks, so she headed there. I thoroughly enjoyed both of the two Scandinavian countries I visited. I found the people warm and friendly. The language barrier was a little difficult without Sarah; she spoke four languages in addition to English -- Italian, French, German, and Spanish. Still, even without Sarah, I was able to make myself understood.

By prior agreement, I met Sarah at her apartment for the last three days of her holiday. Paris is a magnificent city, but I wouldn't give you two cents for the people who live there. I know that's unfair, judging all by the few that I encountered. But to me, there seemed to be some deep-seated resentment to Americans amongst the Parisians. And I found the French men to be obnoxious. The attentions Sarah had received in other countries paled in comparison to the aggression of the Frenchmen. One even sat down at our table during dinner and began talking to Sarah in French. That ended badly for the Frenchman when Sarah threw a glass of wine in his face. He just laughed and sneered at me. However, when I stood up, and he realized I towered over him by several inches, he finally got the hint and left.

The second night in Paris, I took Sarah out to dinner and for a stroll along the Seine. It was a beautiful night, and the moon was almost full. We paused to watch a few boats move on by. For the first time since my marriage had imploded, I felt at ease.

"Sarah," I said, turning to her, "I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. You've turned what would have been a miserable trip into something enjoyable. It was exactly what I needed." I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. A second later, Sarah put her two hands on my face and kissed me on the lips. I'll admit it, I kissed her back.

When we broke apart, neither of us said anything about the kiss. Instead, Sarah began to talk about the city's history and some of the landmarks we were passing. I went to bed that night, confused but not unhappy.

For our last night in Paris, Sarah cooked us a wonderful dinner in her apartment. We sat on her balcony, talking for hours. But then I reminded her that we had to be up early the next morning to catch our flight back to London.

As I passed Sarah's room, on the way to the bathroom, her door opened. She was wearing a beautiful white negligee. With the light from her room silhouetting behind her, I could make out her beautiful body. She moved into my arms and kissed me passionately. I, of course, responded. Before I realized it, we were on her bed, and I was massaging her breasts. Sarah was moaning, and she pulled the negligee off. I began to run my hand down her stomach as I kissed her neck. But suddenly, I stopped and stood up.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," I said with a strangled voice, "I can't do this. It's too soon."

I could see the disappointment in her eyes, but Sarah stood slowly and hugged me. "I understand. It's just that I think I could fall in love with you."

"You're a wonderful, wonderful woman," I assured her. "I'm just so confused, and the last thing I want to do is to hurt you."

She kissed me on the cheek, and I went to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. As I stood there brushing my teeth, I kept wondering if I was a class A fool for turning Sarah down. Neither of us said anything about our encounter the next day.

When we landed back in London, Sarah and I said our goodbyes, each of us got our own cabs. I again thanked Sarah for being such a wonderful guide, and then she kissed me on the cheek. Of course, we exchanged addresses before separating. We promised to write, but I was sure that was never going to happen. However, I did ask her to have dinner with me on the last night of my vacation, and she agreed.

I still had two weeks left on my schedule. So, I rented a Range Rover and decided to take a swing around Great Britain. I planned to hit some of the major cities in England and then head up to Scotland. I had been told that the countryside was beautiful. Then I planned to turn back south and visit Wales. I had requested the Range Rover because I was told that some of Scotland's roads could get quite steep. That was my plan, at least, but it never happened.

I was cursing myself as I tried to find my way out of London the following evening. I had been delayed at the bank as I tried to ensure that additional funds would be available when I got to Scotland. Not only that, but I had apparently packed my cellphone power cord in one of my suitcases, not realizing the battery was dead. Instead of stopping and looking for it in my luggage, I decided to use a paper map. That proved to be a bad decision or a good decision based on how you wanted to look at what happened.

It was just at closing time when I got away from the bank. I studied the map for about five minutes before deciding which way to go. However, an hour later, and I was hopelessly lost. I made it outside of London but had absolutely no idea where I was. I stopped and asked for directions, which only served to get me even more lost. Frustrated, I pulled off the road I was on and pulled under a line of trees. I remembered the names of the last few roads I'd been on and thought to find them on the map. But twenty minutes later, none of those roads were listed on my map.