Monogamy Isn't, etc. - The Sequel

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Celeste tries to make the marriage work; will Kent go along?
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A note from the author: I had no intention of doing a sequel when I wrote the original - Monogamy Isn't for Everyone - which you should read first otherwise this story will not make sense. However, both in comments and emails I was encouraged by many people to do a follow-up so I am succumbing to pressure and doing so. If you are satisfied with the way the original story ended then DON'T read this.

****************

It was now fifty five days since I confessed my ten year affair with Justin Danner to my husband Kent Childress. Kent asked that I wait up to thirty five more days before he had to make a decision about whether he wanted a divorce or to stay married. Since he was the aggrieved party I promised him that if he divorced me that I would not seek alimony or anything more than 10% of our wealth, that we could have joint custody, and that I would make dealing with the kids as easy as possible. I told him that if we stayed married that I would give Justin - who I hadn't had any contact with since my confession - up.

It was a Saturday and the kids, sixteen year old Brad and fourteen year old Bernice, had many activities planned. Kent and I had a two hour window of time for a heart-to-heart. He suggested that we go to a local park and talk there. He didn't waste any time with small talk.

"Celeste, you really hurt me with what you have done. Do you know how much?"

"I know that I've hurt you and probably more than you would have hurt me if the tables were turned. All I can say is that the hurt, as opposed to the affair, was not intentional, that my actions were totally selfish, and that my actions indicate a character weakness on my part. I am truly sorry for hurting you - which is why I've agreed to make it as painless as possible for you if you want out of the marriage. No one could blame you if you did," I replied.

"Don't you think that some penance is in order?" Kent asked.

"You mean to stay married?" I replied, "which is what I prefer."

"Even if we don't stay married," he responded.

"The penance if you divorce me is no alimony and only 10% of our joint property. I think that's fair," I quietly said.

"How about penance if we stay married?" Kent inquired with his arms crossed.

"What do you want for penance?" I asked, puzzled.

Kent didn't respond right away. He looked down, then back up, he wrung his hands, and he seemed to trace a line in the ground with the toe of his shoe. Finally he looked me in the eye. He was clearly nervous. "I am having a problem at work. Although I never have told you this before, my earnings have decreased significantly this year for a number of reasons. I had to even remove money from my IRA to keep the business in the black the last few months."

This was news to me; Kent had never complained about finances since our first year of marriage, and especially not since he started what I thought was his very successful business fourteen years ago.

"I am about to close a deal with an old client that will take care of financial problems for the foreseeable future; there is just one complication," he nervously continued.

After a significant delay I said "And?"

After another delay in which Kent seemed to be searching for the right words he continued "Well, uh...you see...well this guy is very odd. Weird, in fact. I have to send a woman dressed as a hooker to his motel room to pick up the contract, and she has to also take off her panties and give them to him." Kent was blushing.

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed.

"Sorry, he is bizarre - but essential to my business. I normally hire a real hooker to do it, but I have decided that I really want to see how much you want to stay married. I want to see if our marriage means so much to you that you're willing to humiliate yourself and do penance. If you are willing to do this then I will make every effort to forgive you for your dalliance with Justin Danner, and I won't file for divorce," he said. When finished he leaned back on the bench with his arms folded.

I detected a subtle, but clearly diabolical, sneer on his face as he sat back on the bench. "I wonder what that's about?" I asked myself. After another prolonged silence he asked "Well?"

"When would I have to do this?"

"Tuesday night - I'll give you the motel and room number tomorrow. You'll have to buy some real hooker clothes since nothing in your wardrobe is suitable," he continued with a crocodile grin.

"You really would humiliate me like that? I thought that you loved me?" I replied with a small tear in one eye.

"You humiliated me by fucking Danner for ten years - this is small penance compared to that," he shot back clearly angry.

"I'll let you know tomorrow night," I dejectedly said.

We did things as a family Saturday night. On Sunday Bernice and I went to a ballet at the local High School while Brad and Kent went to Brad's baseball game. Sunday night we all ate together and played a board game. Sunday night Kent came into my room and fucked me hard while I lay on my stomach, fingering my asshole as he did so. He really seemed to enjoy himself, but left about ten minutes after ejaculating into me.

Every waking minute that I was not otherwise occupied since our talk on the park bench my mind was grinding away. I was very uneasy. Things that Kent had told me about his relationships with and responses to competitors and some co-workers in the distant past leapt to the forefront of my mind. However, I decided that I'd go along with what he asked, but be cautious.

***************

Monday morning I went to our safe deposit box. Kent had placed a list of all of our brokerage accounts contact information in it in case something happened to him since I never handled our finances. When I signed in I saw that he had been there last week. The original contact information sheet was gone but I had made a copy and placed it in an envelope with my will, so I fished out the copy.

I went to the local library and on a computer there checked out our brokerage accounts, most in Kent's name alone, and printed out some relevant information.

I activated the camera - which had date and time information associated with it - on my computer in "stealth mode." I don't know if that's the correct term, but that's what I call it; you don't know that the computer's camera is on, but it is.

I went to see my best friend Sybil and, with her permission, removed an article of clothing from her laundry hamper. I also borrowed one of her husband's implements.

I went to an electronics store and made a couple of purchases, and then went to a costume shop and got the skankiest looking outfit that they had, complete with five inch hooker heels.

By late Monday afternoon I had decided that I'd do Kent's penance in the hopes that it really would save our marriage.

**************

After the kids went to bed Monday night Kent and I sat at the kitchen table. He wanted to sit in the den, but I insisted that we sit there. I placed him at the head of the table.

"Tell me again what you want me to do for my penance," I demurely asked.

"I want you to dress like a hooker, go to my client James' motel room tomorrow night after the kids go to bed, pick up an envelope from him, take your panties off and give them to him, and if he asks let him kiss you, maybe even squeeze one of those fabulous tits of yours," Kent rattled off with a twinkle in his eye.

"You didn't say anything about a kiss or tit mauling yesterday," I indignantly replied.

"After giving it up to Danner, that can't be a deal breaker for you, can it?" he mocked.

I stewed a little, and then said "What's in the envelope?"

"The signed contract that I need to save my business - our financial future, including the kids' college funds, depends upon that contract," he shot back.

"There's nothing hinky about this?" I skeptically asked.

"The only 'hinky' thing is my client. Like I said he's a weirdo, but essential to my business. Oh, and one other thing; don't let him know that you're my wife. As far as he knows you're a hooker, got it?" Kent said smugly.

After a delay, where I shifted my eyes to him, to the table, and back to him, Kent huffily said "If this is too much to ask of you to save our marriage then it isn't worth saving."

"I do want to save our marriage," I said, tenderly touching his hand. "You'll do your best to forgive me if I do this, and we'll stay married?" I inquired.

"That's the deal," he replied.

"OK, shake," I said, forcing a smile while holding out my hand.

"We're sealing it with a fuck, not a handshake," he growled. He grabbed my outstretched arm and led me upstairs.

In my bedroom he unceremoniously removed both of our clothes, not taking any care to insure that they didn't rip. He laid my back on the bed, while he stood, lifted my heels onto his shoulders, and without any foreplay shoved his rock hard cock into my surprisingly moist pussy. As he had since I confessed my affair with Danner he fucked me hard and fast. I still had a nice orgasm when he got his rocks off.

He turned off the light, got into bed with me, sucked my tits and fingered my pussy for another half hour or so, then turned me onto my stomach and fucked me again - even harder. I was almost out of it after the second fuck but was aware enough to recognize that he had left the room shortly after blasting into my cunt the second time.

****************

Kent was pleased with my skank outfit, which I put on after the kids went to bed Tuesday night. "You look like a real tramp," he cackled, "good job."

I smiled weakly, and then said "I feel so cheap; but I want our marriage to work."

It was clear that he wanted to make a witty retort to my "cheap" comment, but exercised restraint, and instead just wickedly grinned.

"He's on the first floor at the Courtyard Marriott," Kent said, "Room 133. It's at the back so you might not get spotted by too many people. I was hoping that the kids' teachers would see you, but I guess I can't have everything," he chuckled.

I got into my car with the items that I had removed from Sybil's house and drove the five miles to the Courtyard Marriott. I swung around the back, trying to be inconspicuous, until I found Room 133. Unfortunately there was a bright outdoor light in front of that room, and several guys walking back and forth; but I knew what I had to do so I exited my vehicle and knocked on the door.

Within seconds a rough looking hairy big fat guy with a two day growth and a wife beater shirt on answered. "Well, look who's here," he growled. "Come on in honey - what's your name?"

As I walked into the room I tried not to come into contact with him, but had to brush him slightly. With a fake smile plastered on my face I said "I'm Amber. I came to pick up an envelope for Mr. Childress."

"All in good time," he murmured and then proceeded with sexual-innuendo laced small talk, every once in a while stroking one of my arms. I was grossed out, but kept the fake smile plastered on my face. Finally I said, "I need to go, I have an appointment. Can you give me the envelope?"

"I get something from you, first," he cackled.

I reached under my hooker skirt and produced a pair of soiled panties. He quickly grabbed them from me and put them up to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Nothing like the smell of a dirty cunt, is there?" he snickered.

Then he picked up a sealed envelope off the nightstand and held it my way. When I grabbed onto it he didn't release it, but instead pulled me toward his blubbery, smelly stomach, and said, "Not so fast. I need a little sugar."

Then he kissed me and grabbed a tit. I remained passive, hoping that it would soon be over. However, when he broke his kiss he kept his hand on my tit and said "You're the best looking hooker Kent has ever sent. Let's fuck."

With that I pulled Sybil's husband's Baby Browning .25 caliber pocket pistol out of my purse and stuck it into his crotch. "This probably won't kill you," I grunted, "but I guarantee that you won't fuck anyone ever again. Now move away from me and let the envelope loose."

He must have seen from the look on my face that I wasn't kidding - in fact I was dead serious. After he backed off he said "Come on Amber, be friendly; I'll give you $500."

When I sniggered he said "$1,000...$1500."

"Sorry," I said trying to re-plaster a fake smile on my face, "like I said I have an appointment with a regular client. It's been nice doing business with you. Maybe next time."

Then I backed out of the room, still pointing the gun at his crotch. I didn't put it back in my purse until I got outside the door, still facing the inside. Once the gun was back in my purse I turned to face away from the door, leaned back on the wall of the motel and let out a sigh with my eyes closed while clutching the envelope.

Several twenties-something guys were walking nearby. "Hey, how about a bj?" was the nicest thing that they said to me.

"Go fuck yourself," I shouted back at them with a surly expression, ready to reach into my purse for the Browning again. Then I got in my car, shaking both from nervousness and because I wasn't used to five inch hooker heels, and drove off.

"I do believe that asshole would have raped me," rolled in my mind as I thought about the experience and the events leading up to my encounter with the big smelly fat man. The only upside - "at least I know now that I'm worth $1500 if I ever have to start hooking," I grimly laughed to myself.

Kent seemed surprised when I pulled into the garage. "Home already?" he asked.

"Yeah," was my terse reply.

"Everything go smoothly?" was his next question.

"Uh-huh," was my second terse reply. "Here's the contract," I said, holding out the sealed envelope.

Instead of taking it he said, "Please just put it on your desk, next to your computer, for no;, my hands are wet."

They didn't look wet to me, but I said "OK," and did as asked.

I was emotionally wrung out. "I'm showering and going to bed," I grumbled. I saw a glint in his eye. "No fucking tonight, I'm strung out. That was a hell of a lot more humiliating and draining than I thought that it would be."

After I showered I locked my bedroom door. Kent knocked on it. "Go away," was my reply. I had a troubled sleep with a premonition of bad things to come.

*************

The next morning at breakfast Kent had another surprise. "Hon, I'd like to have a follow-up chat. I'll come home from lunch if you'll be here."

"I'll be here," I replied as I hustled out the door to drive Bernice to school and yelled for Brad that he was going to be late if he didn't get a move on.

My foreboding turned out to be real when Kent got home for lunch. Again he wanted to sit in the den, but once more I insisted that it be at the kitchen table.

"First, let me say that it's really been fun fucking you hard the last few weeks. I can see why Danner was so enamored of you; you probably were his best fuck ever," he snickered.

"Change your attitude," I snarled. "If we're going to make the marriage work this is the last I want to hear about Danner."

"Did you really think that I'd try to make the marriage work after what you did you fucking whore," he barked. "Apparently you don't know me. I want sole custody of the kids and I'll get it now or your reputation will be trashed."

"How so?" I asked with a pit in my stomach.

He pulled two documents out of his coat pocket. "Here's your email correspondence with James setting up your money-for-fucking tryst, hooker," he giggled. "He's ready to testify that he fucked you for money, and your and his fingerprints are the only ones on the envelope with $500 cash in it - the same amount mentioned in your email to him. Also, he has your panties - with your DNA on them - as proof."

I had really hoped that Kent wasn't capable of something like this; I guess that I was wrong.

"So, cunt, what do you think the Court will do about custody? Give it to a hooker, especially when Bernice is fourteen and so impressionable; or to me, a respected businessman?" Then he burst out laughing.

"You'd lie to the Court and our kids? You'd really do that when I offered you a divorce with joint custody and you get 90% of our assets? You'd perjure yourself, and have your buddy James perjure himself too?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"You bet your sweet ass, bitch - and I'll expose your boyfriend Danner once I'm through with you."

Now I smiled. "I'm giving you one last chance to accept my offer about a divorce. We are NOT staying married after this stunt. Joint custody, you get 90% of the assets. Final deal!"

"I get sole custody and 90% bitch," he snarled.

"Good luck, you fucking asshole," I said, standing up and glaring at him.

Kent jumped up and slapped me in the face. I ran to my car as he yelled after me "You'll be sorry, cunt, when I get through dragging you through the mud."

*************

I had underestimated Kent, but planned ahead.

Kent had underestimated me, and had not planned ahead.

The slap was just a bonus that made things go more easily.

I drove straight to Janet's, my attorney's, office. I gave her the financial information I had, including about the brokerage accounts; they were loaded with money. Being poor was just one of Kent's many lies. Janet said that she could get a hold put on all of the accounts.

I gave Janet the time stamped video from my computer showing Kent sending the email about fucking James for $500. It even showed him deleting it, but not removing it from trash, after he printed it, and James' reply, out.

Janet and I remotely uploaded the interactions between Kent and me on Monday night, Tuesday after I got back from seeing his buddy, and from lunch that day, Wednesday, that had been recorded by the electronic equipment I had purchased Monday morning. The sound and video in the kitchen were both crystal clear.

As a bonus we could hear Kent on the phone Tuesday night, after I went upstairs. Although you couldn't see him because the phone was out of the viewing range of the two kitchen cameras, you could clearly hear him. "Hey, James, why didn't you rape the bitch like I told you to?...What, a fucking handgun?...Was it real?...She wouldn't have shot you, you wimp...No I've never seen her eyes with pure hate - maybe she would have shot you. I hope that at least you got her panties...OK, remember the story when you have to testify. Tomorrow I'll give you the $5,000 cash first installment we agreed upon, and after you testify the other $20,000 in cash...No I'm not going to sweeten in because you didn't get to rape her, that was your goddamn problem."

Before Kent started home from his office that Wednesday afternoon he was served with a Court Order of Protection. With the slap, and the words that followed it, recorded earlier that day Janet had no problem getting a Judge to sign it on an emergency basis. The Court Order precluded Kent from coming within 500 feet of me or the house or the kids until a hearing in two weeks. If a Marshal accompanied him he could remove possessions from the home.

Not taking a chance, I had an armed security guard sitting in our driveway. Kent, the dumb bastard, tried to come into the house despite the Court Order. The security guard stopped him at gunpoint and called the cops. When I gave the two police officers a copy of the Court Order and the certification of service they took Kent away in cuffs. It didn't help his cause for the future when he swore vengeance at the top of his lungs in the presence of the two cops and the security guard.

Pursuant to the plan that Janet and I discussed I didn't file for divorce on Thursday, the next day. When Kent stupidly filed for divorce on Friday, asking for sole custody and alleging that I was a prostitute, Janet immediately scheduled depositions of him and James.

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