Thief

Wife's lover hates me for no reason. Well, I'll just give him a reason.

"You are fine!" my drunken wife said to me. "And, you are finer!" She said to her dance partner, turning her back to me and embracing him with both her arms, one leg and an open mouthed kiss, rubbing her pussy on his thigh right there in the bar next to the dance floor.

He, her dance partner, Lance Preston, was my nemesis in high school. We'd competed for Lori's attention throughout the four years and I'd finally won, it seemed. She married me, anyhow.

He'd gotten caught by Lori's best friend fucking her nemesis, Katie Holmestead.

Lance hated me after that with a vengeance. He suspected that I'd set him up to get caught, and I had; but he didn't really know that for sure, and he couldn't prove anything. It sealed the deal for me, winning Lori's hand after a tough high school long battle with him over her.

The trouble was, she was wild. I'd have been better off letting him have her, because she never cared for anyone but herself. She loved the battles we had over her, fueling the flames many times.

But, when Lance was caught with Katie Holmestead, it thoroughly pissed her off at Lance and she chose me to get even with him. There really were no winners, at all, as it turned out.

So, it was two years of wedded bliss. We were all twenty one, old enough to go to the bars and drink, not old enough to handle it.

Her insult to me, "you are fine, but you are finer" turning and kissing Lance was the turning point. Lance hadn't let up. He didn't really want her, he just wanted to deny me her. We were long standing enemies and now I'd finish this battle once and for all.

And, she loved the attention. She had no intention of making a marriage to me work, and she proved it time and again over our two years.

When I finished with this, Lance would be in ruins, Lori would be broken and shamed; and I'd be on with my life, a little sadder but a lot wiser.

After we got married, Lance never quit trying with Lori. She loved to taunt me with his attention. She and I hardly had a good day in those two years of marriage. She was wild, she'd go out and party with her girlfriends, come home drunk and never made an attempt at making a home or a life with me.

I don't think she ever slept with anyone else, but I wasn't honestly for sure about it. I was sure she hadn't slept with Lance yet, because she was still so angry with him, but tonight would be the night.

I slipped her a tab of ecstacy when we got to the bar and I got her first drink.

Earlier in the week she'd come home drunk and managed to fall into bed and pass out with her clothes on. I took a vial of human papillomavirus types 6 and 11, that I'd stolen from my job at the research lab. I put the q-tip in the vial and then directly into her pussy, pushing it up inside her as far as it'd go, four times.

She'd cut me off weeks earlier when I argued with her about going out so much with her friends. She told me, "If you'd be more of a man, I'd have a reason to stay home with you, but....." She sneered.

"Ok," I reasoned, "let's wind this up then."

Human papillomavirus types 6 and 11 are the kinds that cause genital warts. Other strains cause cervical cancer and other very serious diseases. But, types 6 and 11 were labeled and kept apart from the others, as others were kept from each other type as well.

The warts would forever embarrass each of them, inhibit their sex lives and maybe stop their sex lives all together. They are painful periodically and incurable. Yep, this would be sweet, and they'd both think the other one gave it to them.

In a few weeks, she wanted to make up and have sex. I saw the warts on her pussy and refused her, accusing her of marital high crimes and misdemeanors. She reeled in horror and I filed for divorce on grounds of adultery.

We didn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, so there wasn't much to split. If she'd ever gotten a job, we might have had something, but as it was, she just partied up what meager money I could come up with for her.

Lance would once again suspect me, but not be able to prove it. He hates me, always has. I might as well give him a reason. Now he has it.

Thanks for reading my story,

-Pultoy