Surprise, Surprise

Ann walked to the exterior entrance marked 121 and knocked. I began to snap pictures. If I had any hopes that I had assumed the wrong thing, they were dashed when a man opened the door to the unit and Ann fell into his arms, giving him a hug and a passionate kiss that lasted far too long to just be friendly. His arms wrapped around her and soon dropped to her ass, his hands cupping her buttocks and pulling her toward him. I snapped off frame after frame as quick as the auto-wind mechanism could work, until he pulled her inside and closed the door. My watch read 1:39 P.M.

I knew the bastard who had opened the door. His name was Tom Glidden but his friends called him Flash because he was supposed to be fast in his playing days. He was the soccer coach for Amy's team the last three years. I wondered how much of that time he had been screwing my wife. And just how often she was doing it with him. All this time she was too ... involved to have time to fuck me. No, that's not true - she apparently was fucking me royally. It just didn't happen to result in my pleasure.

Seething inwardly, I settled down to watch. I could have stormed the room and perhaps stopped whatever was going on but I had decided if she was fucking around, that would be the end of our marriage. I didn't see how it could be repaired if that was the case. Of course what evidence I had was still circumstantial. I wondered how she knew which room to go to.

At 5:33, the door to unit 121 suddenly opened and Ann started out. The bastard was standing right behind her, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Ann turned to kiss him, then started to her car but not before he grabbed a handful of her ass and she left giggling. I didn't bother to follow her.

Hastily I made the switch in vehicles and headed home. I was in a very depressed state of mind. I didn't have to be in that room to know what had happened. No way would that meeting have taken place without something happening that shouldn't have.

When I arrived home to find Ann cheerfully cooking dinner, I couldn't make myself match her spirit. I mumbled something about not feeling good, which wasn't a lie, and then retired to the basement after the dishes were cleared away. After witnessing the afternoon assignation, I didn't expect to see any activity except housework on the cameras in the house. Imagine my surprise when the machine showed a lot more activity than usual housecleaning would require.

I set up my small viewing TV and pressed play. Everything was normal until just after 9:30, when the doorbell rang. Ann rushed breathlessly to the door and welcomed a man who lived in the next block down. I knew him well enough to wave at him when we passed on the streets but not well enough to know his name.

When the downstairs cameras went blank, I switched to the upstairs cameras. For a while I could not see them but I heard Ann as she told the children to go to the basement to play until she called them later. Not a good sign.

A few seconds later, Ann and Glen Watkins, as I later determined his name to be, entered our bedroom, hugging and kissing with hands roving all over each other. Clothes began to come off and there was no doubt where this was headed. But, boy, was I in for some surprises. Barely had Glen's erection popped into view when Ann dropped to her knees and began to stroke him. In just seconds, she stuck out her tongue and began to wash his probe, then closed her mouth over him and gave him a blow job like she had never done for me. All I could think was "That damned bitch! That Damned Bitch!"

He picked her up and tossed her on the bed, then straddled her and began to eat her pussy while she resumed sucking his cock. From her sounds and threshing, I'd say he made her cum three, maybe four, times before he blew his load - right down her throat. She gulped down every single drop and then had the unmitigated gall to smack her lips and act like she wanted more.

I literally cried through the next 40 minutes. They cuddled and kissed like two people in love. Her tongue must have explored his tonsils and vice versa. She shifted until she could feed him her tits and, from her words of encouragement, he couldn't suck them hard enough. She squirmed and wiggled and rubbed her body all over him until he was hard again. She climbed on his shaft and rode him like a real equestrian for 38 minutes by the camera's clock while she came twice more. She had never been able to ride me like that for more than eight to ten minutes before she got leg cramps. That damned bitch! That Damned Bitch!

She slumped to his chest and kissed him for nearly 10 minutes before she said ... she wanted him to fuck her ... in the ass! That damned bitch! She produced the lube and slathered his cock while he fingered her anus. Then, while she raised her ass on face and knees, he got behind her and pierced her with nary a grunt of displeasure. That son-of-a-bitch proceeded to take what she would never give me. Now she was dispensing it greedily to that bastard. And she came four more times before he filled her ass with cum ... there wasn't any doubt about it because when he pulled out of her, his cum was oozing out of her ass hole.

By then, that's all she was to me ... an ass hole. If I had owned a gun, she might not have lived to see another sunrise. No, I wouldn't do that. She wasn't worth the price of a bullet!

I needed to get some things rolling the next day and had to maintain my composure. I went up to bed, pretending to be asleep when she climbed in. Not that it would have mattered - she turned away from me without even a kiss. The Damned Bitch!

I dressed for work in the morning and headed out early. After changing cars, I went back to the electronics supplier and purchased two more cameras and recorders. At the motel, I knocked on the door of #121 but no one answered. From the looks of the parking lot, they probably had been no more than one-third full overnight anyway.

The locks were the old key style instead of the newer card key. Given the construction of the place, it was the work of seconds to slip the corner of a credit card in behind the lock and force it open. I had to work quickly before the housekeepers found me in the room. Fortunately it had not been used so I might have a little extra time.

The sub-miniature cameras were easy to hide. I could either use their magnets to attach them to a metal surface or a peal-off sticky pad to stick them to a non-metallic surface. I put one on the top of a picture frame facing the side of the bed while the other was concealed nicely in the plate that held the TV on a low-boy dresser. Since the place had drop-in ceiling tiles, it was an easy matter to lift the tiles and place the recorders on the cross-members that supported the tiles. I was out of the room in 22 minutes.

As soon as my bank opened, I walked into an officer's cubicle and began moving money from savings and checking accounts. After that, I called my broker and completely changed my investment accounts to protect what I had accumulated.

I had used an attorney only a half-dozen times over the years but when I called and asked him to see me, he gave me a late-morning time slot. I was there a few minutes early and surprisingly his secretary showed me right in.

I described the situation to him, explaining that I had some evidence but suspected there was more to the story than what I knew. I asked him to prepare divorce proceedings with a petition for full custody of our children on the basis of her exposing them to an immoral and illicit situation. He thought there was a good chance of getting full custody with some visitation rights. I also told him that I wanted to file alienation of affection charges against the two men, although that could come later. We spent a few minutes talking about protecting assets although he warned me that I was treading on sandy ground so I had best be careful.

By the time we finished, it was time to head back home for a little surveillance. The GPS told me that Ann's car was still at home so I picked a different spot and parked the car, eating lunch while I waited. At 1:35, the little machine began its intermittent beeping but the car turned the opposite direction from the day before. I gave her plenty of room and then followed, secure in the knowledge that she could not evade me. I was slightly surprised when she wound her way to the home of her second oldest sister, Dee Dee, dropped the kids and drove away.

Ann retraced her path and pulled into the garage at home, seemingly just going about normal business. A few minutes later, a man came strolling along the street, obviously trying to look inconspicuous but failing miserably. It was Joe Petoski, Eddie's T-ball manager. After a surreptitious look around the neighborhood, he darted around to the back of the house. He didn't appear again until 5:21. That damned bitch! That Damned Bitch!

After changing cars, I got home for dinner. Ann was in a cheerful mood but my arrival didn't even warrant a kiss - at least I didn't have to contend with that embarrassment. After dinner, I went to the basement and viewed the DVDs. I shouldn't have been surprised when I found that she'd taken another lover that morning. Amy's basketball coach, Chris Stephens, had appeared at the door to be greeted by Ann with much more enthusiasm than she showed me. She sent the kids to the basement again to play while she and Chris fucked themselves silly in our bed. Not until just before noon did she hurry him off with a promise of "more next time" and then she changed the sheets, sending the soiled ones down the laundry chute to be covered by a couple of my old shirts.

Sure enough, that was followed just a couple hours later with Petoski. Just as she had done with Watkins, she screwed this guy's head off. She gave him everything I had ever wanted from her. She even begged him to spank her before he fucked her ass and she went stark-raving crazy when he stuck his cock in her. She had orgasm after orgasm and didn't want him to leave her when he came. She had become a nymphomaniac. That damned bitch! That Damned Bitch!

I didn't know how much more I could stand. I had promised myself that I would watch her for the two weeks I had taken off and then make a decision about the rest of my life. Now I didn't know if I could take that much more of it. My wife - my ever loving wife, with all of her religious beliefs - had become the world's biggest slut. To every man except me, it seemed. Buck up, I told myself. You've got to get through this week at least. Take it one day at a time and then see what happens. I fell asleep in my chair in the basement, my mind a jumble of disconcerting thoughts.

When Ann asked why I hadn't come to bed the next morning, I tried to act sheepishly about falling asleep and not waking until morning. In reality I had been awake several times and come have climbed the stairs. However the idea of climbing into bed with her, even if we didn't even touch, was repugnant.

There were no surprises the rest of the week - I was so inured by her outrageous behaviour that every revelation just added to the list of her transgressions but didn't shock me.

On Wednesday morning, she screwed Glidden again in our bed. That afternoon, she was visited by a man I had met a few times at her church, David Kolp, whom she took to our bed and shared everything she had. I wondered what kind of doctrine he was spreading.

Thursday morning, she opened her arms and her legs to John Foltz, a contractor who had done some finish work in our basement a few years before. That afternoon, she went back to unit 121 at the motel and fucked Watkins.

Friday morning was a repeat performance with Kolp, followed by an afternoon session with Petoski. Then Saturday morning she drove back to the motel and checked into room 121 where she was met a few minutes later by Marty McKenna, the soccer coach for Eddie's team.

After she left, I was so depressed and sick to my stomach, I decided I couldn't stand following her another week. I used a plastic card to admit myself to the room, pulled out my cameras and recorders and left the place, totally dejected. My loving wife had turned into a total nymphomaniac, seemingly with no compunction about fucking anybody except her legal husband.

I dialed Missy's cell phone. When she answered, I said, "Hi. It's me."

"Ted! It is so good to hear from you. Are you all right? Are things working out?"

"Actually, no. Things have fallen apart. I ... well, I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do but I need a little help. I've got some video and picture files that I need edited into a single presentation and ... I hate to ask but ... do you know how to do that? Could you show me what to do?"

"Do you have them on DVD's?"

"Yes."

"Where are you now?"

"I just left a motel at Five Corners."

"Oh, Ted! I'm so sorry! Do you want to bring them over here? I've got software we can use to put them together."

"Would you mind? I hate to intrude."

"Don't worry about it, Ted. Just bring them to my place. You know where I live, don't you?"

"Yeah. Remember I brought those project specs by a few months ago."

"That's right. Come on over and we'll see what we can do."

"Missy?"

"Yeah?"

"I warn you. This is not pretty stuff. It is very graphic, very ... explicit sex."

"Oh, honey, I know all about sex. Bring it over."

The door opened almost the instant I touched the buzzer. Missy was dressed casually in loose shorts, a T-shirt that left a bit of her midriff bare, and flip-flops. She greeted me with a smile and invited me into her home office, a bedroom that had been converted for other uses.

She asked for my media and I handed her a sack that had all the discs that I had recorded. Before I let go, I again warned her about what she was about to see and said that she didn't have to do it. She scoffed and took out the discs, sorting them by dates. One by one she began to load the files into her computer and then started viewing them.

I was ashamed to look up but occasionally sneaked a glance at Missy. Her lips were pursed in concentration as she viewed the material and began to work at putting them together into one file. Once she had a master file, it had to be edited down into a smaller file or it would have taken about 36 hours to view it all. She was very good at picking the most telling spots.

At one point when Ann was lost in wildly riding one of the guys, Missy asked, "Let me guess. You're not getting much of this, are you?"

I just hung my head.

"None of it?"

When I looked at her, I think she read the answer in my eyes. She almost cried as she pulled me into an embrace. She whispered, "Oh, baby! I am so sorry!"

It was late afternoon by the time we finished. At my request, Missy made six copies of the final disc, containing the consolidated show, the full length file, and each of the individual files.

Missy offered me a cup of coffee and I followed her into the kitchen and watched as she started a fresh pot. We sat at her little table and she asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure. The divorce will be filed Monday. I am asking for full custody with a restraining order to keep her away from my kids. Later on, I intend to sue every one of the bastards she's been fucking."

Missy nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Then she asked, "Are you considering revenge?"

"Oh, trust me! I've thought long and hard about revenge. I just haven't been able to come up with anything that seemed very satisfying."

"Hm, have you thought about taking a lover like she's done?"

"Oh, yeah. And that would be very satisfying but I don't think that wouldn't hurt her now, given the way she is. I don't think she cares."

"Oh, I'll bet she does, honey. You just have to make it painfully obvious to her."

"How?"

"Well ... I would suggest arranging to have sex where she has no alternative but to watch."

"But ... how can I do that ... short of ... doing it in our house?"

"That's just what I was thinking."

"Yeah, I'd love to do that. But I don't know any woman I could ask to take that risk."

She looked at me with wide eyes. "You don't? I think you do."

"I don't ... NO! You don't mean you would do it? Do you?"

Missy giggled, "Oh, yes, I would, sugar. Any woman who treated you like this deserves it."

We talked for a few more minutes, close enough that anyone who saw us would have thought we were already intimate. I had assumed that, because of the way she seemed to use the motel, Ann seemed to be on a set schedule of some sort. So I figured our best time would be Tuesday afternoon. When we decided on the plan, Missy wrapped her arms around me and lifted her face to mine. I couldn't help myself - I kissed her as passionately as I've ever kissed a woman.

Ann didn't even bother to ask me why I was late arriving home that evening.

Sunday was a struggle to get through because I wanted to lash out at her. I found a few things to occupy my time, including taking the kids to the park and playing catch so I didn't have to be around Ann.

Monday morning I drove to the office, turned in my rental car and went to work. The day passed fast enough while I tried to catch up on the project's progress. Missy was something of a distraction but a pleasant one. I have to admit that I found myself daydreaming about her volunteering to be my partner.

Tuesday afternoon, Missy made plans to leave the office an hour early. We drove to my house, parking on the cul-de-sac so that the car was left facing the front of our house. Sure enough a few minutes after five o'clock, Petoski came running out of the house, climbed into his car and sped off.

Quickly Missy and I got out of my car and jogged across the street. No one was in sight so we bounded up the stairs, taking off our clothes as we went. I led her into the master bedroom, by then down to our underwear.

There was Ann, stripping the sheets off the bed. She was shocked to see anyone else in the house, let alone me with a woman.

Ann screamed, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to get some pussy," I said.

"Oh, no, you're not, mister," she said, pulling her robe closed around her.

"Not you, bitch. With someone who cares."

She looked like I had struck her a physical blow. As I unhooked Missy's bra, Ann backed away from us as if we had a disease.

I asked Missy if she'd mind using the bare mattress and she said it didn't matter to her. She dropped her panties and climbed naked into the middle of the bed. I dropped my shorts and climbed onto the bed as Missy spread her legs, making it obvious where she wanted me to start.

Just as I dipped my head toward Missy's pussy, I heard a banshee scream from Ann's direction and felt a blast against my middle back. Fortunately she had aimed high and, since I had been ducking, the blow glanced off my back without doing much harm.

Quickly I sat up and grabbed the Little League baseball bat from her hands. She was so surprised that she hadn't knocked me over that she was barely holding the bat. Jerking it from her grasp, I turned the barrel toward her and jabbed ... maybe harder than I intended. With a whoosh of air, she suddenly looked like a deflating balloon. She folded up and sat on the floor against the drapes, gulping for air and not finding enough to fill her lungs.

"Now sit down and shut up, bitch. And watch this." I walked to the sack I had dropped just inside the door, removed one of the DVD's and stuck it in the player at the end of our bed. Two quick pokes of buttons and the TV came on, starting the lead-in from the DVD. The pictures of her walking to room 121 of the motel and being greeted by her lover were clear and unmistakeable.

I climbed onto the bed and buried my face in Missy's pussy. She was already dripping wet and her scent was a heady fragrance that went straight to my brain and then to my cock, making it throb with desire. Occasionally I would raise my head and look at Ann but she sat docilely, watching the images of her and her lovers unfold on the wide screen TV. There were tears streaming down her eyes but it didn't engender any emotion in me - other than the hate that had been building the last few days.