Author's note: No new ground here. I'm just playing on the ballfield already built. No bitches burned. No cucks. No RAAC. No kung fu army rangers either. Just a story. There is a bit of general political nonsense, but there are no specific political parties burned either. Enjoy - BH
*****
I was watching the breaking news on television when my wife got home late from work.
"Boyd, you're never going to believe who hired me to defend them today."
"David Bridges," I answered.
"How did you know?"
"You're on the news," I pointed at the television on the wall.
She looked at the TV, and there she was. Granted, it was an older picture they must've pulled from the firm's website, but it was out there. She was the latest addition to David Bridges' team of lawyers.
It didn't surprise me. She had been one of the best celebrity defense lawyers in the country before I demanded she quit working one-hundred hours a week.
I wasn't some Cro-Magnon asshole who didn't want his wife to work. I just wanted to see her more than once a month.
*****
That was two years ago. She was defending a Senator accused of murdering one of his staffers.
I could tell he was guilty as sin, and I was sure she wasn't convinced of his innocence either. That didn't stop her from pouring over every piece of evidence for ungodly amounts of time to find the slightest hint of something to use.
She eventually got the bastard off with a hung jury. The DA elected to not retry him, which shocked the nation.
It was on the third day of three consecutive days of sleeping in her office, during that trial, when I served her with divorce papers.
Eventually, she asked what she could do to not lose me. I told her to quit her job.
Even with us in our late thirties, we had more money than we could ever spend. Some of that came from her clients, but I did pretty well as a radio talk show host. I had a syndicated political talk show that was in the top ten across the country, and number one in several markets.
She agreed to cut her hours into a consulting role, and also agreed to finally start our family.
*****
I held our son, Mikey, while she watched the pundits talk about her client and if she could help get him off.
I hated that term--get him off. It sounded too sexual.
I never suspected her of having affairs. She cared about her reputation too much to cheat on me, so she'd never risk a bad news story about her. My problem was she just worked too damn much.
You may have noticed I didn't say she loved me too much to ever cheat on me. That I didn't believe. Oh, I was certain she loved me, but she loved her job more than anything.
When she started doing the consulting, she became a darling for the TV talk shows when they needed legal analysis. There were times when she was on TV every day--and, boy, did she love that.
"Are you upset?" She asked when they went to commercials.
"What do you think?" I grunted. "Mikey needs changing."
I took my son to his room and left her not knowing how to handle me.
Which was good. I loved to keep her on her toes. She was a control freak, and I relished the times I could throw a wrench in her gears.
She chose to follow me, and as I tried to not get peed on, she said, "It won't be like before. I'm just part of the team. I'm not the lead."
"Mm, hm," I shrugged. "There you go, little man. All fresh and dry."
Mikey laughed as I tickled him, which made me smile.
I blew a raspberry on his chubby tummy, making him giggle more.
"Boyd, it's only a tax evasion case. They just need me to help select the jury."
"Of course," I said as I walked past her back to the family room.
"You're overreacting," she argued.
"No, I don't think so," I countered back childishly.
"This will be huge for us. The name recognition alone will..."
"Not us!" I snapped after putting Mikey in his playpen.
"What?"
"Not us, Alicia. It's good for you. I have a feeling this will end us."
She yelled, "Bullshit!"
I shook my head and grabbed my keys off the credenza.
"Your dinner is in the oven staying warm. I'm going to the lounge."
*****
David Bridges was the former Governor of our home state. As soon as he announced his candidacy for the next Presidential election, mud was slung at him from every angle.
They eventually indicted him for not claiming millions of dollars he allegedly got from some foreign company for some reason no one can explain, on his tax returns, along with a bunch of election interference charges relating to his last run for Governor.
It would be an interesting trial; I just didn't want my wife to practice law again.
I lit my Davidoff Churchill in the private room of a nice cigar lounge by my studio. There were a few smokers there, but outside of saying hello, we'd leave each other in peace unless one was invited to join someone.
Even though I was a celebrity, most everyone was used to me popping in there a few times a week. The novelty of "Boyd Baxter, radio personality" being a patron wore off rather quickly.
"Boyd, help yourself to some of my scotch," a gentleman I recognized but whose name I couldn't remember called out.
"Thanks," I waved and poured a healthy glassful from his decanter on the table in front of him.
"I saw the news. I figure you could use a good belt," he added.
"Yeah, you figured right," I said, before I offered him an air toast and walked to the most desolate corner of the room.
I took a long puff and exhaled deeply. I briefly wondered if I overreacted, but I concluded I hadn't.
I filed for a divorce because she worked too much when she had big cases. I only agreed to take her back after the promise to quit.
I didn't feel bad for making that my condition. She had a decade of success at the highest levels, and I wanted to have kids while we still could.
And then, she took on another big trial without asking my opinion? Yeah, that was a slap in the face I didn't see coming.
Hell, I might have said yes, but probably not, if she had asked. I still would've liked to be included in the decision.
The TV across the room caught my eye.
There was Alicia, with a big smile, on TV again. I saw the painting behind her and knew she was in our living room. I hoped Mikey would start crying.
She ate those hosts up. She manipulated them into believing she answered their questions without coming close to giving them what they wanted. It was masterful.
Then the host, who was a golfing buddy of mine, asked, "Will your husband be re-filing the divorce paperwork?"
"Excuse me?" Alicia demanded, shocked.
"Well, a condition of your husband dropping his divorce proceeding against you was that you don't take any more trial clients. This seems like it violates your agreement."
I shot him a text, "I owe you a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle for that ambush."
"I assure you my husband is fully on-board with my career decisions."
She was flustered, and I loved it.
"No, he isn't," I said out loud, making the guys who knew it was my wife laugh.
Seconds later, my phone rang, "Boyd, it's Dana Collins from The Times. Can I ask you a few questions and get your reaction to your wife breaking your agreement?"
"Hi, Dana. It's been too long, we should get together for lunch soon, maybe have you on the show again."
She said, "I'd like that. How about those questions?"
"No, but I'll give you a statement."
"Okay."
"I was completely blindsided."
"That'll probably be the headline of my article. Do you have anything to add? Maybe as background?"
"Look, she hasn't done anything to dredge up those old issues yet. We are happily in love."
"Thanks, Boyd. Talk to you soon."
Dana was a smoking hot up and comer in the news world. I'd had her on my show a few times as a favor to her boss. He and I had an arrangement that was mutually beneficial.
My phone rang again, and I turned it off. I knew I wouldn't get any peace otherwise. The media vultures were circling. Especially since I was one of their own. Fucking cannibals.
*****
"It's not going to be like before," Alicia said when I walked into our bedroom, later that night.
She looked damn good in a floor length black satin nightgown. The slit on its left ended at mid-thigh, and its lace breast cups didn't hide her pink areola at all. It was not meant for sleeping.
"Doesn't matter if it is or not," I said trying to not look at her, "you know the stakes."
"It's different now. We have Mikey."
I laughed.
"If you think the fact that we have a son will stop me from wanting a wife who doesn't put her career first, you've got another thing coming. If you revert back to your old ways, you're out the door."
"Baby, we're taking this too far. I don't want to fight."
"Alicia, the time to discuss it was before you took the job. Now we are in the fallout phase."
"We will be fine, you'll see. Now come to bed, I want to show you how much I love you."
I knew when she saw my comments to The Times the next day, she'd be angry. I figured I'd take advantage of having a sexy wife while I still could.
She dropped to her knees before me and slid off my shorts and boxers.
"Looks like you like the nightgown," she teased as my hard cock bobbed in front of her, millimeters from her lips.
She stuck her tongue out and licked around my head, wet with precum. Her lips then enveloped me, and she sucked just hard enough to let me know she was there.
"Mm," she moaned, then took me farther into her warm, wet mouth.
"Oh, Alicia, baby."
She stroked me with both hands as she licked and sucked my top third. It would be all she took into her mouth. She hated blow jobs, but she pretended to enjoy them while they lasted.
"I need you inside of me," she whispered after pulling off with a pop.
I took off my shirt and stepped out of my pants while she dropped the nightgown to the floor.
We embraced and kissed, then fell onto the bed, where I rose to my knees, lifted her left leg to my shoulder, and pressed my hardness into her wetness.
"Oh, Boyd, yes," she hissed when I entered her.
The softness of her nylon on my cheek drove me mad as I thrust in and out of her sweet pussy. Her juices pooled between us, and the resulting squishing and sloshing sounds egged us both on to go further, faster, harder.
"Fuck, honey," she moaned. "Harder, faster. I'm not gonna break tonight."
I roughly flipped her over and drove back into her depths with no mercy. I gave her the pounding she craved, knowing exactly what she wanted. Sometimes she wanted to be pounded into the mattress, and I had no problem complying with that demand.
"Oh, shit," she screamed. "Just...like...that! Oh, God, yes!"
I couldn't hold back any longer and just as her legs weakened and she fell forward, I began cumming and stroked myself to completion on her beautiful ass cheeks.
"I wanted that inside me," she pouted.
