Life has a Wicked Curveball

Author's note: This short story has been running around in my head for quite some time. I was reading a story on here where the wife blurts out during a party some dirty laundry that should have been kept private. I don't want to give too much away, but that action inspired this story. I would like to give credit where credit is due, but enough time has passed between the posting of that story (and its sequel) and now, that I don't recall the name of the story's title or the author. I apologize!

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"God, you're the best cock sucking bitch that I know!"

This only seemed to encourage and inspire the brunette sucking on the man's cock. She hollowed out her cheeks and increased the rhythm of her head bob as if to show her appreciation from being given such praise. She didn't seem to mind having her hair roughly pulled back into a pony tail, or as some might imagine, a reign so that the brutish oaf could control the speed in which he fucked her face. Gagging noises filled the locker room became louder and louder with each inch of the man's cock he tried to stuff down her throat. She took in a huge gasp of air as tears rolled down her cheek when he suddenly pulled out. From her kneeling position, she looked up to the muscle bound Adonis with a lustful smile.

"What's wrong, baby?" she inquired, perhaps allowing for some of her insecurities to surface.

"Nothing," responded the man with a grunt. With another tug on the woman's hair, he pulls her up to her feet and spins her around so that she's now leaning forward against one of the steel gym lockers. "I just want to fuck that pussy."

The woman smiled with selfish pride, knowing that this hunk of a man wanted her. She shook her ass with a shimmy as if to encourage the man to come get her dripping wet sex. She braced herself against the locker while bending over to make it easy to be taken from behind. With very little warning, the jock jammed his cock into her sex. Their combined groans echoed through the room as he encountered very little resistance. Fortunately, her saliva and her own juices had her well lubricated. Once his cock was buried to the hilt, there were very little pretenses. He started thrusting like a piston with very little mercy, not that she was complaining.

Her vaginal muscles were getting quite the work out as she did all she could to cling onto the male member, so that it felt tight. She also pushed back against his thrust in an effort to somehow drive his cock even deeper than the previous stroke. The slapping of skin on skin, mixed with their guttural cries of pleasure, sounded like a tribal cacophony. There was no fear in getting caught, or hesitation between the two. Wanton abandon ruled their lustful coupling.

She could feel each and every inch enter inside her pussy. Each time that his groin slammed into her ass, her eyes fluttered into the back of her head and made her emit incoherent cries of pleasure. Though it's probably been only a minute or two, she could already feel that orgasm brewing within her. When the man inserted his thumb up her ass, the sensation of being completely full exploded in her brain. It sparked the wave of ecstasy. She let out a wail that would let everyone in close proximity know that she was being fucked. Her fingers tried to dig into the cold hard steel of the locker, while her toes curled against the cheap carpeting.

He unleashed a hot spray of cum deep inside the womb of the woman, knowing that he successfully gave her a powerful orgasm. His male ego took pride in conquering this woman yet again, claiming her pussy as his own. He smiled with contempt, knowing that this woman belonged to another.

"So whose cock do you love, baby?"

Without hesitation, she responded, "Yours, Jim." She panted heavily, doing her best to try to catch her breath. "God, I love your cock and what you do to me."

"What about your husband?"

She rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed that the topic is even being brought up, "Please, he'd rather jerk off to porn than fuck his wife."

"The guy is fucking nuts. If you were my wife, I'd be fucking you all day and all night!"

Unceremoniously, he pulled out his cock; however, she doesn't even have time to relent the sudden emptiness. He spanks her ass, causing her to yelp and tighten her vaginal muscles once more as her lower muscles flinch. "Clean my cock, bitch!"

Lovingly, she lowered herself down to her knees. Taking hold at the base of his shaft, she looked up at the man with lust in her eyes. Her tongue slowly licked the underside of his penis. She could taste his cum mixed with her own. The mushroom tip of the cock entered her mouth as she savored the salty flavor of their union. She purred with delight, worshipping this manly cock.

Once his cock was clean, he tucked himself back in to his sweat pants and exited the locker room. This left her all alone with her thoughts.

God, I love fucking him. He makes me feel sexy and wanted. He's so domineering and passionate. He didn't care that we fucked in public. He wanted me, and so he took me. Shit, I'm still horny.

Janice, the adulterous housewife in question, entered the shower stall to clean up any remnants of her extra-marital tryst and the sweat residue from her gym work out. The warmth of the water washed over her as her thoughts turned towards her husband.

That asshole doesn't know a good thing when he has one. Well, if he wants to jerk off to those fake tits in those porno videos, fine. My pussy belongs to Jim. Hell, he hasn't even noticed that I've been going to the gym every day now. He hasn't even noticed that I've been losing weight. I'm actually back down to my pre-pregnancy weight. The fucker doesn't compliment me. He doesn't notice me. I bet I could walk into the house completely naked, and he wouldn't do a damned thing.

---

When Janice arrived at home after her much needed "workout at the gym", she expected to find her daughter plastered in front of the television set watching Frozen for the umpteenth time. Instead, the house was dark except for a single candle on the kitchen room table. In the candle light, she could see a typed letter and several discs in jewel cases.

The letter read:

My dearest Janice,

I thought I would give us some alone time tonight, so I took Gabby over to your mother's house.

Tonight, I was thinking about when we first met, and when we were first falling in love. The rest of our life was in front of us. We had the zest for life and the energy to do whatever it is we wanted to do. Even when life knocked us down, we had the strength and the will to get back up and fight back. We were an unstoppable duo. Our friends marveled at our love, our passion, and our compatibility.

I remember when one of my ex-girlfriends tried to claim what she lost when she dumped me for another guy. Before meeting you, I would have sucked up my pride, swallowed my dignity, and taken her back though I knew she couldn't be trusted. I remembered when you even offered an 'olive branch' and invited her over for dinner. The look on her face was priceless when you kissed me with such vigor right there at the dinner table, and then staked your claim by stating, "He's mine, Gretchen, and there's nothing that you can say or do to get him back."

You gave me a sense of confidence that I never had before. I was that nerd in high school that found his way inside many lockers from bullies and jocks that didn't have anything better to do. My geeky science friends all said that I would marry the first girl that ever kissed me. I was either destined to be alone, or desperate for the first girl that ever showed an interest in me, like Gretchen. You were my Rock of Gibraltar. You were my guiding light, my northern star.

When you took my hand in marriage, I felt so complete. I felt like together we could take on the world, and that nothing could hold us back from achieving our goals and living our dreams. When I slid that wedding ring on your finger, I knew that you were the one for me. You were my soulmate. When we made love that evening, it was an extension of our bonding. It was the physical manifestation of our romance and our love. Regardless of how many times you cried out denoting your religious beliefs, or how many times the people in the other room pounded on their wall to tell us to keep it down, everything felt right.

Even when life threw us its first curve ball, I still felt like we were strong enough to handle any adversity - not that our daughter is adverse in any way. But we were young and not ready to be parents, but we chose to keep our love child, our baby. Sure, it meant that I had to drop out of college and start working full time in order to provide for the family, but I did so willingly and gladly. I did so out of love, and a strong sense of purpose. We were going to be a family. With you by my side, we would grow to become a set of loving parents that would nurture and care for our baby girl.

But somewhere along the way, life continued to get in the way. There's no one to blame. I was working long hours, twelve to fourteen hour shifts. I would come home tired and exhausted, just wanting to sleep or vegetate on the couch and not do anything. You were a stay at home mother that struggled with a crying child. You had to play the role of mother, yearning to feel like your old self again. You viewed me as your relief from your day to day struggles, hoping that I would give you a break from Gabby. Neither one of us got the break we needed to recharge our souls. Rather than find a way to overcome this, we started taking it out on one another.

Even when we finally acknowledged that there was an issue, and that we needed to reconnect as husband and wife, instead of diligent worker or busy first time mother, Gabby soon became the "kissing police". You found it cute that she didn't want Daddy to be eating mommy's face, and encouraged her to sit between us during movie time. My complaints and concerns were met with a rebuttal that not everything is about sex.

Back rubs, which usually was a good way to get you in the mood, simply became tokens of affection to make you feel good after a long day with Gabby. When we would have our date nights, which were infrequent due to the inability to pay for a baby sitter, you would often be distracted. You were more worried about Gabby than you were with me. If I would bring this up, you would accuse me of being selfish and self-centered. You accused me of being a horrible father because I wanted you as a wife, first, and as a mother, second.

This is when looking at porn became much easier for me. I didn't have to worry about performing a loving task or spending a nice night out on the town, only to be turned down and rejected in the bed. I could sneak away to the computer, watch a video or two, look at some pictures, and jack off. Five minutes, maybe ten and I was done. No rejection. No going through the motions, only to be blue balled by the woman I loved.

You always claimed that you were in competition with these girls. That couldn't have been farther from the truth. Those girls were silicone and hair dye. They had very little personality. Most of them were probably into drugs or were gold diggers, or both. And most importantly, THEY WERE NOT REAL! They were nothing more than masturbation fodder on the computer screen. And you certainly didn't need to worry about them trying to steal me from you, because by the time you claim that I was looking at porn more than I did at you, my physique was looking more and more like the Michelin Man.

All I wanted was the attention of the woman I loved, the wife that I married. I wanted you to put aside your role as mother long enough to realize that we're also husband and wife. But unfortunately, life got in the way.

Beside this note, you will find a collection of DVDs. On those DVDs, you will find a personal collection of pornographic film. No, these are not my stash of trash. Though, the main star of those DVDs was the one that I wished would fuck me every night. Whoever did the cinematography was rather amateurish, but he caught your best sides. And the screen writer, his use of dialogue reflecting how the male lover was better equipped than your husband really drove home the plot of the story. The director knew all the vanilla positions that you and I performed when we did make love, because he made sure that you pushed the envelope in the DVDs and assumed more kinky positions.

I guess if this is your way to reach out to me by becoming an amateur porn star, your tactic worked. It definitely woke me up to the truth. I believed we could have worked this out, or could have gone to counseling, or done something to find a way to get past this; however, these DVDs put a nail in that coffin. I had no idea that you held very little respect for me.

Some will say that I took the cowardly way out by simply leaving a letter and not confronting you personally regarding this. The nice thing about writing a letter is that I can write and scream and cuss, and then delete it to get it out of my system. It allows me to convey what needs to be said in a calm, rational state when inside I'm dying inside. Most importantly, the worst thing I can give you is a paper cut from the paper. No matter how much I hate you right now, you're still the mother of our child. No matter how much I want to strangle you until your eyes bulge out of your sockets, a letter prevents me from making a mistake that I would later regret.

Some will say that I should hunt down your male lover, Jim Reese, and show him that it's not wise to mess with another man's woman. And while that may give me some instant gratification and satisfaction, I saw his physique in the videos. More than likely, if we got into a fist-a-cuff, he'd knock me into the middle of next week. Fortunately, I would be smarter than that, and I would bring an equalizer to that fist fight. They make bats and even hand guns for a reason. But see, this takes me back to my previous point; a letter to you prevents me from making a mistake that I would later regret. I won't do Gabby a bit of good if I'm locked up in jail.

So no, I will tell you painlessly and quietly and away from you to avoid any stupid excuse that you might give. A one night stand I might have gotten over with a lot of screaming and yelling. But there was enough footage of you and Jim together to fill up several DVDs. Judging by the camera angles; I'm going to guess you didn't know about them. When you do ask Jim about the DVDs, you may want to ask him about his other starlets that he has. These DVDs only contain footage of you in all of your glory.

Tomorrow, you will be served divorce papers. And before you can even think about draining the bank accounts, not that we had much in there to begin with, but I have already documented the full amount and equally divided the amounts into a his and her account. As you can see, I'd much rather live in poverty and in the basement of my parents' house than live another minute with you. Unfortunately, the victim in all of this will be Gabby. Hopefully, she will get through this, but as people always say, it's better that we get a divorce rather than continue this façade. An unhealthy relationship is not good for Gabby to see.

Signed,

Your Daughter's Father

The world came crashing down upon the housewife with each sentence she read. Despite the animosity and hatred that was filling her thoughts not a half hour ago; Janice fell to her knees in tears. This letter came from the man that she loved. While her infidelity may have made her love for her husband difficult to see, she truly did love him. Even now with the prospect of divorce papers being served in less than twenty four hours, she wished it was her husband who had fucked her in the locker room gym. Steve was right. Life had gotten in the way. They had drifted apart. Rather than talk about their issues as husband and wife, it became a petty battle of snarky comments or inconsiderate actions.

Maybe I can apologize to him and make him see that we can work this out, and that I can make this right. She issued her little prayer of hope as she searched for her cell phone. In a flash, her phone was dialing his number. Unfortunately, the blue grass sound bite that he used specifically for her calls could be heard in the living room.

~~Oh, little girl of mine in Tennessee. I know that she's waiting there for me. Someday I'll settle down in that little country town with that little girl of mine in Tennessee~~

Turning on the lights, Janice found that his phone was sitting on top of a pile of photos. The photos showed her in various states of dress (or undress) with Jim, the guy from the gym. She didn't recognize herself in those pictures. It was as if she was looking at a slut who had no respect for herself. She hated the way she looked, and realized for the first time that Jim was simply using her as a cock sheath. She saw the contempt in his smile. She saw the way that this beast of a man cared very little for her, using her only as a sexual conquest.

She wanted to burn all those pictures right then and there. She wanted to go back in time and prevent all this from happening. She wanted to go back to the way things were before. She wanted the love of her life back. She took him for granted, and now he's gone.

Before she could compose a single thought of what to do next, her phone chirped with a text message from an unknown phone number.

> You may want to take a look at this link.

Without even thinking about whether or not the text could be a virus, she clicked on the link. The browser opened up a web page that showed 'Real Girlfriends Fucking'. One of the thumb nails had the name 'Janie' underneath it. The small avatar looked like her. Upon clicking that thumb nail, a video of her fucking Jim started playing. Her heart stopped and her breath escaped her. She dropped her phone and immediately looked over to the counter once more. Those DVDs loomed large now.

Was I really that stupid? Was I really that blind to what was happening around me? Where's Steve? Where's my knight in shining armor, which would protect me from myself? Oh, God! Steve! I'm so sorry! Where are you? God, please let it not be too late!

As if answering her prayer, a thought popped into her head. She quickly grabbed her phone, and dialed the number of whoever sent that text. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. That number just rang and rang. Her shoulders slouched in despair. Another chirp from her phone brought a glimmer of hope.

> Funny, isn't it? You hated it when Steve looked at porn, but you're the porn star!

Janice quickly replied, demanding to know who was texting her and where was her husband; however, the silence from the phone was deafening. Each second that ticked by felt like an eternity. After five minutes with bated breath, Janice assumed that there would be no further response. She was doomed to live out this fate.

---

Steve and Janice were divorced in six months, with most of that time being spent determining child support and visitation rights. Janice tried to push for marriage counseling to salvage their marriage; however, Steve threatened her with being an unfit mother since she was a porn star. She backed off from any further attempts, which allowed for a relatively amicable split.

---

Janice's lawyer, however, filed cyber-harassment charges against Jim Reese for posting the videos to that website without Janice's consent. The proceedings proved to be quite interesting. Janice's lawyer was able to prove that Jim, indeed, had a huge collection of homemade pornographic video of him with multiple women. It was also proven that Jim uploaded those videos to the porn site from his IP address at his home. And using Janice's divorce proceedings, it was proven that these videos caused irreparable and emotional harm to Janice.