Out of Focus Pt. 02

I also opened my 'contingency fund' account and began to liquidate whatever assets I could in order to feather my nest for what was coming over the next few weeks following my 'return.' Francine even mentioned a few days after this had started that I seemed to be making ATM withdrawals more frequently and she hoped that I was not becoming a wasteful spender.

Francine!

She was still the same as I remembered from before the divorce. She was still harping on me all the time, and demanding 'her way or nothing' in all the decisions concerning our family.

The only weapon I had in my defense, given my still-somewhat-meek personality, was information. I knew the 'what' and the 'when' of the pending storm. But, THIS time, I was a little bit better prepared. Nevertheless, preparing still was not the same as preventing; and it had already been too late when I had found myself 'back' at this slightly earlier point in my life.

Francine still only agreed to sex about once every ten-to-fifteen days; and she still insisted that I wear a condom. What she did not realize was that I had finally developed enough anger for what I knew was on the horizon that I had changed the plan for our next sexual encounter following my recent 'return.'

I had only been 'back' about a week, when Francine broached the dreaded subject. "Lou, what is wrong with you?" Naturally, she said it without any frame of reference to anything we had been discussing that night after we got home or had supper or evening activities before we had sent the girls off to bed. She just laid it out there.

"Nothing is wrong, Sweetheart," I said, pouring all the faux Southern charm I could into that endearment. "Why do you ask?"

"You just come across as ... as ... well ... moody, I guess you would say. That's it; moody." She actually nodded as she finally settled on what she was describing.

I actually smiled then and said, "Well, Sugar, if you must know; it HAS been over two weeks since we made love. You know that horniness can make a man a bit testy. Maybe that's all it is."

Francine could see what was coming and I could see the cloud descend over her expression. Then she must have decided that I needed to be placated a bit--what with the grand scheme that she and her father were about to spring on me; because she sighed and put down her magazine.

"Okay, I guess we can do it tonight. Just give me at least fifteen minutes to get ready before coming up." With that, she stood up to head upstairs. I noted that she went over to her purse and reached in to get her cell phone on the way to the stairway; and I was hit suddenly with a premonition.

Needless to say, Francine was barely up the stairs before I leapt up and removed my shoes so as not to make any noise as I dashed up the stairs and down the hallway to a spot just outside our bedroom. From there, I could hear her speaking in a low voice, almost a whisper.

"Yes, you know that I have to do this a few more times.

"If I don't, then Lou-Zer will suspect that something is up. That means that I still have to play the part of the loving wife and give it up once in a while.

"Of course I still make him wear a condom. You know that yours is the only love juice that I like to have in my body." Well, that confirmed what I had suspected about her infidelity. Amazingly, though, I had absolutely no sense of outrage--simply resignation to what was, and evidently had been, happening.

"But it won't be long, My Love. Then Frankie can come back to her Stud Man." I shook my head in disgust. While I was not yet 100% sure that she was talking to her old beau, Steadman Carstairs, the nickname she was using for whoever was on the other end of her call seemed to indicate that.

Yeah; this marriage was SO dead. And it had evidently been dead for quite a while. Before my 'return,' I simply had not paid close enough attention to my relationship with Francine. Either she, or my own timidity, had kept my attention focused elsewhere--like in emotional self-defense from her constant brow-beating. Not now, so much; I mean that I was still not prepared to stage a confrontation. But I was not as devastatingly upset as I would have been before the 'return.'

"Look; I gotta run. He'll be up here any minute and I will have to give him another mercy fuck ... No; of course I don't do anything with him besides the basics. You know that I reserve myself and everything else for you, Sugar." So, Francine was not simply an ice queen when it came to sex--as long as it was with someone other than her loving husband. I was simply someone to be placated in bed while she enjoyed sex with wild abandon with her lover--or lovers.

Not tonight, 'My Dear,' I thought.

****

"Whew!" sighed Francine after she had experienced a mild orgasm. I was somewhat surprised, since it did not happen often when we had sex. I guess the special attention that I had paid to her breasts--biting her nipple just as she seemed to be getting wetter during our fucking--must have sent her over.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself so far, Sweetheart," I said, withdrawing my condom-covered six-and-a-half-inch cock from her pussy and watching her catch her breath. In the past, I had noted that, in the few instances when Francine had experienced orgasm with me, she would be like a limp noodle for about a minute or so afterward.

That was what I was taking advantage of now. I pulled away and, before she could get her wits about her, I had flipped her over and raised her hips so that her weight was supported by her knees and upper body.

Francine suddenly realized that she was in a different position; and I guess it must have registered to her that I had not ejaculated yet. "Lou ... what ...? What do you think you are doing, Lou? You know I don't ... we don't ..."

Too late! Before she could move away, or complete her objection, I had already positioned my stiff cock, stripped off the condom before she could see it, gripped her waist above her hips to hold her in place, and ... I slammed my cock all the way into her wet pussy, savoring the feel of bareback sex for the first time in several years.

The forceful entry must have felt good to Francine, despite her previous determination to keep things plain vanilla--meaning missionary. She sighed with what I could tell was pleasure. I guess she actually liked the forceful entry sometimes. It is just a shame that she had not been enjoying it with me ... until tonight, that is.

I began to jackhammer my cock into my bitch of a wife, taking her as a man should.

"Lou ... no ... I don't want ... Oh ... yes ..." Francine moaned as her tone went from one of objection to acquiescence. I smirked as I noted that she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. Then, surprisingly, she began to get vocal and nasty, in a manner that was very un-Francine-like.

"Yes ... Fuck me ... Do me harder ... Yes ... yes ... AAAaaahhhhh!" She actually had another mild orgasm and I still had not let loose my load yet. This was getting interesting.

Then, she just had to say it. "Oh ... Fuck me, Stud Man ... Take that pussy ..."

Under other circumstances, hearing her call out to someone else, along with her other nasty talk, might have caused me to lose my firmness and that would be that.

Not this time! I was enraged to hear her call on her lover to give her pleasure while her husband ... her supposed only lover ... her supposed teammate and partner in life ... was making love to her.

In my anger, I picked up the pace and the forcefulness and simply pounded her hard. I could hear the sharp smacks as my hips popped against her beautiful ass cheeks. I could hear myself growl in a low snarl of carnal enjoyment. Francine actually began to get louder and move in a rhythm with me. She shook violently as the big one finally hit her. "Oooohhhh ... AAAAHHhhhhh!!!"

Before she could collapse, I grabbed a pillow and jammed it under her tummy so that I could keep her hips up and not slip out. I continued for another twenty seconds or so, rapidly pounding that pussy that was supposed to be exclusively mine ... but evidently was not.

When I came, I could see stars; it was so intense. My loud growl sounded almost like that of an animal; even to me. It felt as if I had unloaded about a quarter of the national Strategic Reserves into my unfaithful wife's grasping pussy. My groin pulsed and it pulsed ... and it pulsed again for about four or five times, I guess, before I stopped jamming my cock in and out of her cunt.

Pulling out and rolling away finally, I breathed out a loud satisfied sigh, saying, "Honey, that was wonderful." Then I mustered what I believed to be my best adoring look and turned to face her, saying, "You are wonderful! Oh, Honey, I just love you!" Then I kissed her, having a difficult time, since quite a bit of her face was still down in her pillow and she was only about three-quarters turned toward me.

After a few seconds of lip contact, Francine suddenly jerked away from me and looked startled. She swung away from me to put her feet on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed. From the way she was moving, I could gather that she was actually touching her pussy and discovering my unwelcome deposit.

"Lou!" Francine almost screamed, as she stood and gave me an eyeful of her complete nakedness. Whatever degree of a bitch this woman was, she was still extremely beautiful and sexy. I would miss that quite a bit when this was all over. And it would be over in a few more weeks, I knew.

"What were you thinking? Cumming in me? Not using a condom?" She was thoroughly enraged now. I simply put on my shrink-away-in-fear-and-submission look. It wasn't hard; after all, I had had a lot of practice. I then tried for 'hurt,' but I don't know if I succeeded, as the mirror for the dresser was behind me, not behind her.

"You IDIOT! What if I were to get pregnant? What if ..." and she was off to the races with her 'what-ifs' while I did my best to show the face of a husband being rightfully chastised by a 'wronged' spouse during an intimate moment.

But inside, I was, surprisingly, in a 'peaceful place.'

****

I had done some research in advance of the anticipated figurative sounding of the death knell for my marriage. HR for our company was outsourced for us under contract and I made a surprise visit to the company that was doing it. I had my lawyer--a much more experienced one than in my previous reality--meet me there. He was already on retainer, in preparation for what he thought was my expected request for a divorce from my wife--I couldn't let him know that I knew she was about to serve me!

"Just why are we here, Lou?" my attorney, John London, asked.

"Well, John, there seems to be a string of malicious rumors going around the company about alleged inappropriate activities on my part. I just want to check out something for the record and I felt that I needed you to be with me in case I ran into any stonewalling in getting what I need today," I said.

John simply shrugged and said, "If you say so," as he looked at his chronometer--a stylish lawyer would not stoop to wearing a simple 'watch.' I guess he was counting up the billable hours he was charging to this wasteful client.

I was the only one who knew that the payout as a result of this visit could very well offset his legal cost many times over when the truth finally came out.

John followed me into the offices of the contract HR firm and watched as I identified myself and requested the job history of one Joan Hartmann with the Thompson Corporation; submitting the proper forms and showing my company identification to authenticate my access to the records. The young intern working the counter was just full of Southern hospitality and a willingness to please; I did not even need to introduce my attorney.

Twenty minutes later, I stood beside my car in the parking lot outside with paper copies of the records of Joan Hartmann, who had indeed worked for Thompson Company a while back. It turns out that, when she had left the Thompson Company--FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER, even before the small firm I had been with at the time had been absorbed by Thompson--she had become Joan Burns, having married someone not associated with the company. There was even a copy of the glowing letter of recommendation for her--if she ever sought employment elsewhere--that had been forwarded to her new address ... in Tacoma, Washington.

"Okay," my attorney asked at last. "You obviously did not need my help getting this. Now what? I mean what does this all have to do with your seeking to divorce your wife?"

I simply smiled and said, "John, I wanted you to see me obtain these files legitimately and firsthand." I breathed deeply of the fresh air and said, "I just have a feeling that these documents are going to come in really handy in a short while. So, you make sure that you protect them at all costs. You heah?"

'My client definitely has a screw loose,' is what his expression said silently to me. Nevertheless, he tucked the papers into his valise, shook my hand, and bade me goodbye.

****

To Be Continued ...