You Should Have Told Me 1

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

Very little sex. Everyone is over 18. Bitch gets burned. The inspiration for this came from reading too many stories where the wife's lover gets to do things that the husband never gets. It just seemed unfair that the husband never gets the chance to get any of that. I wanted to write something where the husband gets what his wife always denied him, but gave freely to her lover.

*

I could have been an actor, but I wound up here.

I don't have to look good; I just have to appear.

The lyrics to 'Dirty Laundry' were bouncing through my head. They seemed appropriate. After all, I had done a marvelous job of acting for the last few months. Those drama classes in high school and college were paying off. Hell, I needed a couple of art electives, and I figured drama would be more interesting than Art History.

As for the second line, I really didn't have to look good. I was far from Fugly, but I was no movie star. At 6'2" and 200-pounds, I was in decent shape, but working in an office hadn't helped keep me in top physical shape. No, I wasn't really what would be considered fat. I did work out a couple times a week, but my passion for a good beer and a sedentary lifestyle gave me a couple extra pounds that I didn't really need. As far as my face goes, it isn't really that striking. More average, most people would say. As for appearing, I did that to a tee. She never even suspected that I wasn't really there. Oh, physically I was, just not in the mental capacity she believed I was.

OK. I was finally completing the final details. This was our eighth anniversary. There wouldn't be a ninth. I kind of felt that it would be poetic to end our marriage on the same day that it began. She would remember this anniversary for the rest of her life. I would as well, but for entirely different reasons.

OK, so you are wondering what's going on. Well, you should already have figured out that I am divorcing my wife. You probably even suspect that she has no clue, and I will be blindsiding her as well. That's all true. She's also going to find out just how painful it will be. I'm one of those assholes who believes that you should hurt someone worse than they hurt you. In foreign policy, our recent series of presidents have gone with what is known as an 'appropriate response' to an attack on us. For instance, a country sent small inflatable speedboats filled with explosives and attacked one of our navy ships. They managed to damage the ship and kill a couple of our military members. Our response was a missile in the middle of the night to one of their military installations. Fuck that! If I was the president, I would have sent a couple hundred cruise missiles into every military installation they had. All in the middle of the day to take out as many of their top brass as I could. You don't fight to win the battle at hand, you fight to win the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that. You fight a battle in a way that makes the enemy not even consider having another battle.

OK. Rant over. So, what's going on here? The answer is simple. I found out about three months ago that my wife was cheating on me. I also found out that it was because she was stupid. She didn't do it because she fell in love with the other guy. In fact, she really didn't even like him that much. It wasn't because she was really bored with our sex life. She actually really enjoyed having sex with me. It wasn't because she needed more sex. She even admitted that she was fully satisfied with how much sex we were having. No, she was cheating on me because she stupidly never confided in me what she wanted. I would have been thrilled to give her what she wanted. The problem is that I'm not a mind reader, and she never even gave me a clue.

OK, so I'm Bobby Daniels. I already described myself above. Well except for one thing. Since y'all are reading this on an erotica story site, you are probably expecting be to describe my 18-inch cock that is a thick as a telephone pole. Sorry, that just ain't realistic. Furthermore, there isn't a woman on the planet that could take that. Nope, I am just a bit above average at 7-inches. I'm also not as thick as a beer can. While not really having an interest in what is average, I have had no complaints as far as my thickness is concerned. There, you have all the info you need. It really has no bearing on this story. The measurements of my cock were not an issue in the least.

My wife, Kelly, is a 5'4" beautiful brunette. Her measurements are 38-26-34. She has a wonderful set of C-cup boobs. Trimmed triangle, if you need to know. Let's see, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, slim nose, and puffy, kissable lips. Yes, she is very pretty. Oh, I should mention her ass. It is a work of art. It was formed by the Greek Gods to be worshiped my us mere mortals. She works on it too. Four days in the gym, doing about a gazillion squats and lunges.

To be honest, I've wanted to have her ass from the first time I saw her. She has always firmly denied that to me. It was 'Exit Only' as she insisted. Blowjobs? Yes, she would suck on it, but never to completion. Also, it would always be in the foreplay area. She wouldn't ever let it near her mouth once it has penetrated her pussy. Actually, she was pretty vanilla in bed. Sure, we would do different positions. It wasn't all missionary. We would do doggie, cowgirl, and occasionally reverse cowgirl, but that was it. A few times I tried to bring up some other things, but I was always shut down -- HARD. Only sluts did those things, and did I think she was a slut? I learned quickly to keep my thoughts to myself. I was satisfied with what I had. We would usually have at least two rounds whenever we did make love. I should stress here that we did make love. It was never fucking. Only sluts just fucked.

I'm not going to go into a long, drawn-out explanation of how we met and our courtship. Suffice to say that we met at a party in college. We hit it off and began dating. After graduating, I proposed. She accepted. A year later, and we were married. We both had good jobs and managed to purchase a small house when the real estate market was down. We were holding off on kids until our careers were established. By this time, we were in serious discussions on when to beginning the family. We had agreed to start right after our eighth anniversary. She would be 29, and I would be 30.

Look, I'm a guy. We are generally clueless about a lot of things. It isn't because we don't care about our partners, it's just that we seriously don't care about the small shit. Paint the spare room whatever color you want. You want a double oven, and we can afford it? Fine. You don't like the couch? As long as it is comfortable enough for my butt while watching the football game, get whatever you want. I did make a point of always observing her hair, nails, clothes, etc. Here's a hint, guys; pay attention and always complement her on every slight change in her hairstyle. Note any new dress she is wearing. It goes a long way.

So, it did take me a while. As I said, I'm generally clueless on these things. Yes, I did catch the subtle change in her hair. I noticed the new dresses she wore. What took me a bit was the other shit. It gradually dawned on me that the bedroom began to have a faint smell of air freshener in our bedroom occasionally when I got home from work. It took me a couple weeks to notice that the bed sheets were being changed more often. It took a while before I began to notice that her hair smelled stronger of her shampoo when I got home than it normally would have after a full day. Her perfume was also a bit stronger than it normally should have been when I got home from work. It was a lot of little things, but I began noticing them.

Something wasn't right. Yes, I know that these were very minor things, but they were adding up. I had a pretty good idea that if anything was going on, it was at our house. Why else would there be air freshener sprayed in the bedroom? Why else would the bed sheets need to be changed twice a week?

I didn't bother with a PI. Hell, I didn't even need to go online or anywhere else to purchase recorders or spy cameras. Most people have all they need at home in the first place. Fuck, I even used the shit that actually belonged to my wife -- and she had no fucking clue! I just used her iPad, laptop, and cell phone. Being in the IT Security field with a degree in Software Engineering kind of helped me in this.

It is ridiculously easy to get the software to install on these items in order to turn them into your personal spyware. Kelly likes to read at night on her iPad before falling to sleep. A quick download of an app while she is out shopping, then making sure that the device is propped up beside the bed. I could turn on the built-in camera remotely. Another program installed on her laptop, then making sure that it was opened up and siting on the desk in the home office. The office was a spare bedroom right across the hall from our bedroom. We usually keep that door open. It's right across the hall from our bedroom, so it gives a really good view into the bedroom if both doors are open. Another hidden app was installed on her cellphone while Kelly was in the shower. Again, this would allow me to remotely access her camera and microphone without her knowing.

Having become a bit more observant lately, I quickly discovered that the air freshener and sheet changing had a distinct pattern to it. It was always on Wednesdays. That narrowed it down significantly. Once I had everything loaded onto the devices, I simply had to wait until the next Wednesday. That morning, I got up normally, showered, shaved, and got dressed as usual. Kelly entered the bathroom to get herself ready as I walked out. While she was otherwise occupied, I propped her iPad up to get a good view of the bed. Then walked across the hall to open her laptop on the desk and turn it to face the bedroom. The rest of the morning went normally. Coffee, breakfast, filled Go cup with coffee, kiss goodbye, and out the door.

Once I got to the office, I activated the cameras on the iPad and laptop. I didn't think that Kelly would notice them, but it was good to check. As expected, they just showed the empty room. Kelly leaves the house a few minutes after I do. I also activated her phone finder app to see where she was. One of the cool things about my job was that I had three computers running and six separate monitors. I minimized the screens with the laptop and tablet cameras, then kept the phone finder app running on one screen. I didn't know what time her suspected tryst was, so I wanted to keep track of her location.

It was about noon when I noticed her phone's location beginning to move. I quickly opened the app for her phone's camera and microphone. My suspicions were sadly confirmed.

"God. I can't wait to sink my cock into that hot ass again." An unknown male voice sounded.

"Well, you know that it's all yours. I never even let my husband have that." Kelly replied.

"He doesn't deserve it. He's a wimp."

"No. It's not that. He's definitely not a wimp, and if he ever found out about this, he would beat your ass so bad that your grandkids would be born black and blue."

"Oh yeah? Then why don't you give him your ass? I know how much you love that. You cum harder with my cock in your ass than you do when I fuck that cheating cunt of yours."

"I don't let him fuck my ass, because I don't want him to think I'm a slut. He loves me so much that I don't want to diminish his opinion of me at all."

"Whatever. I'm just glad that I know how you like to be treated."

"I don't always like to be treated as a slut. I love when Bobby makes passionate love to me and treats me like a princess. It's just that I occasionally like to be just fucked and used. I wouldn't even be doing this with you if I could have Bobby treat me like that sometimes."

"Well, lucky me that he's just too clueless to know how you need to be treated."

It was much the same for the entire trip back to the house. When I saw on the app that they were arriving at our house, I opened up the apps on the tablet and laptop. They went straight to the bedroom. I watched as my loving wife did things for her lover that she had always vehemently denied me. Typically, she insists that the lights be off when we make love. Here, it was broad daylight. He sat back and watched as she did a sensual strip for him. She never did that for me. Strippers are whores, she would insist. She was wearing lacy lingerie that I had never seen. She dresses for comfort, not to look like a slut. She sucked him off -- and even made a big show of swallowing his load. She never even sucked me to completion. After he shot a load into her cunt, she licked and sucked his cock clean. Of course, she let him fuck her ass, then shocked me by turning around and taking it in her mouth to suck it clean again. I did take some satisfaction that he was a couple inches smaller than me and thinner. Both in the size of his dick and body. Yes, I said dick. I overheard a couple girls in college talking once. They were having an argument about a guy that they had both had sex with. One girl called it a cock, and the other girl replied that it was called a dick unless it was over 6-inches long and at least an inch thick. Then it could be called a cock. Oh, and anything less than 4-inches was a penis. I laughed about that for a month.

"So, what will happen if your husband ever finds out? Aren't you worried about that?"

"Terrified, actually. I have no idea what he would do. I would be destroyed if he ever left me. That's why I'm always nervous about doing this here. There's always a chance that he could come home and catch us."

"I thought that you had a tracking app on his phone that would alert you if he was getting close."

"I do, but there is still a chance. He could accidentally leave his phone at work, or the battery could die and shut his phone off."

"Well, we can't use a hotel, because that can be tracked, and we can't use my place because my wife is there."

"I know, Derrick. We just have to continue to be careful."

OK, so now I knew who the asshole was. Derrick West. He was also married. This could be good. I could fuck him in the ass like he was doing to my wife. Or, more precisely, have his wife fuck in in the ass. It seemed like he was using Kelly like a slut because his wife refused to let him treat her the same way. An evil plan was beginning to form in my brain.

Now, all you legal eagles out there are probably screaming about how this evidence is not admissible in court. You are probably right about that. The thing is, I was not going to use it in court. This is one of those feminazi states where the divorce laws give the wife the gold mine and the husband gets the shaft. It doesn't matter if the whore fucks the entire local college football team, she still gets half, plus alimony. In other words, the poor bastard who has done nothing wrong gets the privilege of paying the ex-slut to continue whoring around on his dime. There are very few ways to come out ahead in this game, and most are illegal. The legal ways take time and patience.

So, it was time for the games to begin. I had to use the skills I learned in my drama classes from high school and college. The key was acting as close to normal as possible. Yes, I would continue to have sex with her. It seemed that they were in an exclusive affair, meaning that they were only cheating with each other. This meant that the odds of either of them picking up and STD was very slight. I would, however, just be fucking her, not making love. Besides, she's really attractive, and she would get suspicious if I stopped having sex with her.

Next up, finances. That was the part that would take time. If it wasn't for wanting to give her the least amount of money as possible, I would have simply walked away right now. No, I wanted to walk with myself financially OK. That was going to take some time and effort. Yeah, it was going to cost me a bit as well, but it would cost her more.

It was after dinner when I started.

"Hey Kelly. We've been discussing having some upgrades and an addition done on the house since we are about ready to start a family. I had some spare time today, so I did some checking on real estate prices on similar houses. We have a bit of equity, and mortgage rates are lower now as well. I think we can pull out about $90,000 to get the work done if we refinance."

"But wouldn't that reset our mortgage for another thirty years? We'd never get it paid off."

"Oh no. I looked at that too. With the lower rate and the fact that we've both been promoted and gotten big raises since we first bout it, we could go with a 15-year mortgage. Besides, the improvements would add value to the house if we ever decided to sell and upgrade."

We discussed that for quite a while, but eventually agreed to do it. After the appraisal and everything, we ended up getting a check for $92,670. Some went to pay of some debt that we had acquired, but most of it went to a local contractor for the work. I realized that the improvements wouldn't be completed before I ended things, but it would be far enough along that it couldn't just be stopped. Besides, by the time we had to sell the house, the improvements would just be completing.

The next thing was to begin hitting ATMs around town. Every few days, I would stop and pull out $200 from our savings. There was a private safe deposit box company in town. They never asked for ID. Their motto was 'Your name is not our business'. Yeah, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who their clients are. Yeah, I was one of them.

Here's an interesting thing about no fault divorce. Theoretically, everything is put into the pot and split 50/50. The reality is a bit different. Clothes. Clothes are almost never included in the split. Not the actual articles or their value. A woman can easily have over $100,000 worth of designer clothes in her closet, but that is not counted in the financials. Here's how it works; a woman goes into an upscale clothing store, buys a few dresses, brings home the receipt and even shows the dresses to her husband. Two days later, she returns the dresses for cash. Yes, there is sometimes a small restocking charge, but the woman still leaves with cash. She then hides that cash. She does this several more times. When the divorce happens, the clothes get overlooked, and she has several thousand dollars in cash that no one knows about.

So, why is the above important? This isn't usually something a guy could do. I had to modify it a bit. I began going to some of the more upscale men's stores. I would buy a couple pairs of high-end designer jeans and a couple pairs of slacks, as well as a few really nice dress shirts. I took great pride in showing them to my wife. A few days later, I returned them -- for cash. The difference is that I was paying cash for them. Remember those visits to the ATM? It's called money laundering. Once I got the cash back, I went over to the lower end stores, like Kohls and bought similar stuff for a fraction of the cost. The extra money went into my new no-name safe deposit box. I did this with a few other things as well. I 'needed' a couple of heavy weight shelving units for the garage. Made sure that she saw the boxes, then returned them. She rarely noticed anything I did in the garage anyway. "Need' a new drill. She had no freeing idea what tools I had anyway. Most of my tools were mine before I even met her, so those would be exempt in the divorce. After a few months, I had a pretty nice pile of cash.

All this time, I continued to gather more audio and video. I had also met with my lawyer and had the papers ready. They were filed in the morning of our eighth anniversary. It was on a Friday. I had leased an apartment and had been slowly moving my stuff over there. I would finish packing most of what I needed and moving over there later that night. First off, I needed to do a couple things.