My Too Beautiful Wife - FTDS

Beauty is only skin deep, if that - my ending to hopelesslydevoted's My Beautiful Wife

URL: http://www.literotica.com/s/my-beautiful-wife-1

hopelesslydevoted's My Beautiful Wife is a twist on a cheating slut story. His wife decides she's going to bat for the other team with a colleague of her husband's, and decides to do it at a party his company is having to celebrate a recent success.

They don't hide anything, with the wife freely admitting she's the other woman's date, dancing with her, ignoring her husband, and finally telling him to go home, she's going to go up to the woman's room, and bed her. All she tells her husband, when he argues, is to tell him to go home, that she's going to do it no matter what he says, and that in the morning he'd agree it was for the best.

Maybe not.

There are too damn many intriguing stories that are never completed, or left hanging with disgusting endings. If I find a story that's been abandoned for too long, I'll give you my idea of an ending. Fair warning though, I don't write about total wimps. May not be BTB, all nuclear and shit, but no voluntary cucks, or whiny simpering wimps.

For Information on how I choose which stories to continue, please read my profile.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Ending to My Beautiful Wife

I pleaded - there's no other word for it. "Jan, don't do this."

She stroked my cheek and said, "I love you. I'm not leaving you. But tonight I'm going to bed with Jessica. We'll talk in the morning and you'll agree it's for the best."

"I won't."

She kissed me on my forehead as you would a small child. "You will. At the moment you don't understand and you're hurt, but I promise you you'll agree with me. Goodnight"

She turned to go. The two of them looked so good - so beautiful, so sexy and quite clearly had nothing but each other on their minds. How could I stop them? Why should I stop them?

"Jan ..." I called - pleaded.

She looked to see what I had to say, but I had nothing coherent to offer. She blew me a kiss, turned again and was gone.

I was stunned and humiliated. Not just that she chose to do it. That she chose to do it here, now, in the presence of all the people I worked with, that was more than I could bear.

I loved the gorgeous bitch, I did, but there's only so much a man can take. And this was way over the line.

I walked over to the elevator that they'd chosen, and watched the numbers change before it stopped on the seventh floor. She was serious. The fucking cheating slut was serious!

Marching back into the main lounge, I picked up my iPhone and called my cousin Frank.

"Hey Andy, how's it going?" he asked.

"For shit, Frank. Absolute shit."

"What? Why? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Jan is cheating on me. She has been for a while. I need you to do me a huge favor."

"Whatever, Andy, you know that. Whatever I can, I owe you."

I wasn't going to bring that up, but he did owe me, big time. I was hoping that would be all it took. "Great, I appreciate this more than I can say. I need you to go over to my house now, tonight, as soon as possible. Go out to my garage and on the shelf above my toolbox are all the old locks for my house, from when we first moved in. I need you to take off the new ones, and put the old one's back in place. It's just the front door, the back door, and the door to the garage. Shouldn't take more than half an hour or so. They should pop right into place. Can you do that for me?"

"You're gonna lock her out?"

"For now. I'll deal with the fallout later."

"Anything else?" he asked.

That was all I had really planned, but if he was offering . . . . "Yeah, if you don't mind. Grab some of the old moving boxes out of the garage, and dump her stuff in them. Everything from her dresser, her side of the sink, and her closet. You don't have to be neat about it. Actually, I'd prefer it you weren't."

"Shit. You're serious. You're not just locking her out, you're throwing her out!"

"Abso-fucking-lutely. I'm taking control of this crap before it goes any further. She's cheating on me, and she went out of her way to humiliate me tonight. It's time she learned a lesson!"

I noticed more than a few people looking my way as I got more animated and louder, speaking into the phone. "Listen Frank, I appreciate you taking my call. Just do it if you can, alright?"

"Got it. Consider it done. I'm leaving now."

With step one taken care of. I hunted down Dennis in HR. It only took me a minute or so to confirm what I already knew. Our company was old, and old fashioned in its views. It was reflected in the employee handbook.

I stopped at the hotel desk, and it only took a little bit of lying to confirm that we had eighteen rooms that were taking advantage of the company's subsidized discounted rate. From there it was easy to get a list of the rooms, but no names. I didn't make a fuss, that was enough for me. Room numbers were all I needed. There were only three on the seventh floor. The second call from the house phone hit the jackpot when Jessica answered. I hung up. Room 704. That's where the lying cheating cunts were holed up.

I was thankful that Jessica had encouraged me to speak with Richard, the main board director and his cronies. After spending an hour or so talking with him and some of our senior people, I felt he'd be willing to listen to what I had to say. The man was 'old school', had been with the company forever, and from our conversation seemed very straight-laced.

To say that he and one of the other men were interested was an understatement. They agreed to follow me. I couldn't have asked for more. I invited Matthew along for shits and grins. He could confirm everything that had happened earlier, if there were any questions. I stopped at the bar and ordered a bottle of champagne, paying twice what it should have cost, but not concerned about that in the least. No, money was not one of my current concerns.

We took the elevator to the seventh floor. Outside of room 704, I hushed my acquaintances, and knocked. I saw the peephole darken, and stood to the side, holding up the champagne for them to see.

Jessica's voice spoke up. "Who is it?"

"I haff a bottle of champagne for Jesseeca and Jan, from a Meester Andrew Devon," I answered in a bad Spanish accent. "There eees a message."

I heard whispering on the other side of the door, and then it opened. "Come in."

I walked in, pushing past a stunned Jessica, to find my naked wife lying on the bed, trying to cover herself with the bedspread. I turned to face Richard.

"As I explained. The naked adulteress on the bed is my wife. Jessica, the slut in the robe, has been seducing her, and is now engaged in an affair with her. Against my wishes. Here, at a company sponsored event, in a company subsidized room."

Jessica was trying to hold her hotel supplied robe closed, her clothing scattered across the floor. My wife was sobbing, yelling at me, while Richard and the other member of the senior team seemed to be enjoying the show.

"You certainly have a lovely wife," Richard said, eying Jan's bare breasts. They certainly were a sight.

"All too true. She's gorgeous. It's funny, isn't it, the level of entitlement that beautiful women think they're due?"

"What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Anderson?" he asked, facing Jessica.

"What we do is nobody's business," she insisted. "We are both consenting adults. You have no right to be in here."

"Funny, I'm quite certain you invited us in," I said. "Isn't that what you heard, Richard?"

"Quite clearly. 'Come in', she said. Sounds like an invitation to me. Besides, we're paying for two thirds of the room. I suspect that our legal department could work that in our favor," he said, grinning. "What do you think, David?"

David, our company's senior legal counsel was quite firm. "There was a clear invitation issued. Also, there is an implied consent between a husband and wife in a shared domicile."

Richard nodded and addressed Jessica. "I'd like you to report to my office, first thing Monday morning. We'll address any possibility of you retaining your job at that point. Our company has clear rules about this type of thing. We will not allow one employee to treat another this way. It's not how we do things. Your type of morals are not approved of, and are not desired. Am I clear?"

Jessica hung her pretty head, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes sir."

I turned to face my terrified wife. "You. Do not come home. You have a room you can use in the hotel if you wish, for tonight. After that, you're on your own. I will not share a roof with a cheating slut."

"It's not like that, Andy," she sobbed.

"It definitely is. You've been cheating on me ever since I was sent on travel. With this stupid cunt I work with. Deny it."

She shook her head. "It didn't start that way, you have to understand. I . . . I let her talk me into it. She assured me you'd love it. All men do. You'd get to watch us. She said—"

"She lied to you, you idiot. I have no interest in seeing you with anyone else. You were my wife, damn it! Now you're just another cheating slut!" I guess I was raising my voice. Richard patted me on the shoulder.

"Come on, Andy, not now. You've made your point. Let me buy you a drink, and we can discuss that idea you had a little more in depth."

His intentions were obvious, and I allowed him to usher me out of the room. He grinned. "I like a man of action. No bullshit. I'm sorry that the company travel allowed someone like Jessica to use your absence as a way to interfere with your marriage. I have no patience whatever for that type of deceit, trickery and betrayal. Trust me on this, she won't be getting off easy."

"Thank you. I appreciate your going along with this."

He laughed. "Most entertaining Christmas party in at least ten years. Don't let it get to you. My only suggestion is next time, marry an ugly woman. Have you seen Margie, my third? Best decision I ever made. If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife."

Half an hour later, we were drinking our single malt scotches, and singing obnoxiously loud to the old Jimmy Soul tune.

If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life

Never make a pretty woman your wife

So from my personal point of view

Get an ugly girl to marry you

A pretty woman makes her husband look small

And very often causes his downfall

As soon as he marries her then she starts

To do the things that will break his heart

Richard's wife was giving him some pretty harsh glares. I imagined he'd be getting an earful later. David wasn't doing much better. His wife was a two hundred pound battle ax, but at least her glances our way were much more tolerant. Perhaps it was because they heard the praises their inebriated husbands cast their way. Loving, adoring, smart, kind, affectionate, tolerant, supportive were just a few of the words they used.

I got misty eyed, looking at those good women, loving women, knowing I'd traded off those kind of attributes for facial symmetry and a great body. It hardly seemed worth it. When David's wife stopped by the table, talking softly to her husband, reminding him that it was a company function, her love and concern for her husband simply radiated from her.

It was too much, and I broke down. Never, in all my years of marriage had my wife looked at me like that. I felt soft arms envelop me. "It'll be Okay, Andy," she whispered, pressing me against her soft matronly bosom, where I would have been content to stay forever.

I turned and my face sank into her ample cleavage, giving my anguish free rein. She cooed to me, petting my hair, and in just a few moment, I felt more loved than I ever had in my marriage.

David put a hand around my shoulders, once I'd almost calmed down. "Watch yourself, old man," he said, his voice sounding more amused than anything else. "This one's taken. Very."

Her arms slowly released me, and I finally realized the inappropriateness of my behavior. I pulled my face out of her cleavage, and looked up in fear. She smiled, leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "It'll get better. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but it will get better, I promise."

In that moment she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I confessed drunkenly to this woman who I barely knew, another man's wife. "God, I wish my wife was half as beautiful as you are."

She blushed adorably. "Now I know you've had enough to drink."

"If you weren't married . . ."

She pulled my arms away from her body. "But I am married, Andrew. Very happily married. I'll give you a free pass this time, you're hurting, and drunk. This idiot husband of mine has certainly contributed to your current state. You need to understand, I love my David, and would never do anything to bring shame, pain, or doubt into our relationship. Never. Not even for a handsome, up-and-coming young man like you. So you need to pull your act together and behave yourself. People are watching."

I looked around, and felt the eyes upon me. "I'm sorry." I turned to David, my new best friend. "I'm sorry, Dave. Didn't mean nothin' you know? I wouldn't, I couldn't take her. You know that, right? So sorry."

He stood and gave his wife a hug, and a loving kiss. "I know. There isn't a man alive that could take her from me. Not because I'm all that, but because she is."

I knew it was true, and found myself crying in my beer again.

The last thing I recalled of that episode was asking her if she had a sister.

~ * ~ * ~

Much later I allowed my new best friends to pour me into a taxi which delivered me to the front of a house I could no longer get into, since I didn't have a key for the locks. So much for my wonderful plans.

I managed, somehow to convince Siri to call Frank. He was unhappy to be woken after two in the morning, to say the least. "Damn it, Andy," he growled. "The key is in the mailbox, where you told me to put it."

"Sorry, ol' buddy," I slurred. "Got rid of the bitch, though. Made some new friends. You wanna be happy for the rest a your life, never make a pretty woman your wife," I told him. My newfound wisdom was dazzling.

"Go to bed, Andy. And don't do anything stupid tomorrow."

Somehow I managed to find the key and even get the door open. I almost broke my neck on the stack of boxes in the entrance, but found my way past them, and up the stairs where I collapsed in the same bed my cheating bitch wife had fucked her gorgeous lover in. Without me. Slut.

~ * ~ * ~

I woke with a pounding headache, a mouthful of cotton, and my evil soon-to-be ex-wife sitting on the bed looking down at me.

Fuck. So much for changing the door locks. I guess I forgot to lock up the night before.

I didn't wake up with amnesia. I remembered everything she'd done. And I wasn't happy to see her. No way.

"Why, Andy? Why couldn't you—"

I held up one hand, rolled out of bed, staggered to the bathroom, and threw up a cheap chicken dinner, at least a dozen shots of single malt scotch, and three feet of my lower intestines. Luckily I had good aim and hit the toilet. Once I'd had enough of the dry heaves, I took a piss, and stepped under the cold shower. Ten minutes, five aspirin, and two glasses of water later, I still felt like shit, inside and out.

I braced myself to confront the bitch. She was sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked about as bad as I felt. Still wearing that hideously expensive dress I'd bought her. A waste of perfectly good money. It would be stupid to throw good money after bad. I might be a lot of things, but I'm not stupid.

I crawled back into bed.

"Why, Andy?" she started again. "Why couldn't you trust me? Everything was gonna be wonderful, I swear," she said.

"Wonderful for you, maybe," I said, trying to cover my eyes from the obnoxious daylight. "You get two lovers, while I get half of one. Maybe. You're a liar, a cheat, a slut, and a lousy wife, Jan. You humiliated me in front of the people I work with, damn you! Now you can take your skanky ass out of this house, and get lost. I'll start the paperwork on Monday."

"No. This is my house as well as yours. We're not getting divorced over something as stupid as this. I never cheated on you damn it! I was with Jessica, not some man. It's not the same, and you know it! I can't believe you're blowing this all out of proportion."

"Get out Jan. I'm not going to say it again. I'm furious with you. You're a beautiful woman. Too beautiful, so you think you can do whatever you want and get away with it. Not with me, not anymore. You'll find some other poor sucker soon enough. Leave."

"No!" she shrieked. "This is my home too!"

I sat up and shouted in her face. "Damn it, you ignorant bitch! I'm trying to help you here. Leave, before I make a mess out of that gorgeous face. I want to do nothing more right now than punch you in the mug over and over again, until you are as hideous on the outside as on the inside!" I sneered at her. My rage was overwhelming, and my headache wasn't helping things. I grabbed her by the neck with one hand, and made a fist, raising it. "Making you ugly might help a lot. Get your fucking ego down to where it belongs. Maybe then you'd be a decent wife."

I guess she realized I was telling the truth. Not that I was ever likely to hit her, but I damn sure wanted to. She struggled away from me, backed off the bed nervously, and when I crawled off after her, she took off like a shot, running down the stairs, and out of the house.

It took a few minutes to move her boxes out the door, then lock up behind her. Good riddance.

~ * ~ * ~

Of course nothing's ever that easy. Jessica wasn't fired, but she caught holy hell for her actions, was reprimanded, and sent on the road, to keep her out my hair I'm assuming. As for me, my ideas were looked upon very favorably, and within a month I was tasked with carrying them out, with a new promotion and a new title. At least business wise, my world was looking up.

Jan wouldn't let it go. She called, she sent her envoys, she worked on my parents. She sent letters, flowers, and gifts. I didn't get it. She could move on easily enough. Men hit on her all of the time. It was obvious I wasn't enough for her. Why fight the inevitable?

She had received the divorce paperwork, and after a couple of weeks of delay offered to sign it, if I would just speak with her face-to-face. Honestly, after six weeks, I was past that initial blinding anger. The humiliation I'd felt had been turned around on her and Jessica. My response had been overwhelming, and the talk of the office. How I'd handled it was common news, and apparently very appreciated by most of my peers. Beautiful women like Jessica piss off a lot of people with their attitude, and taking her down made me a hero. My new responsibilities, and casual friendship with the powers within the business made me the envy of the firm. I was suddenly of great interest to many of the ladies, and was seriously considering doing something about that.

I decided to deal with the flood of reconciliation efforts by my wife, and responded to Jan's email. I told her I would be available the next day. She had been decent enough not to make a big deal out of me throwing her out of the house. She could have fought it easily enough. I had no legal right to evict her, but she didn't challenge it, and I appreciated that. Other than that complete mess at the Christmas party, she'd gone out of her way to be a good sport about everything. Except signing the divorce papers.

The next evening rolled around, and I'd made an effort to clean up the place. I dumped the empty pizza boxes and fast food bags, and filled the recycling bin with beer bottles and soda cans. I even vacuumed and did the dishes, spraying a can of Febreeze around to deal with the stale food smell. I didn't want it to look like I was suffering without her. I had packed up a box of the things she'd left behind, much more orderly this time. I even cooked up a light dinner.