A Husband's Revenge - Sequel

This story is an homage to Raulmerez1's story "A Wife's Revenge, Chap.1." It is an excellent story: I hated it. I hate cheaters, and with all due respect, the husband cheated. I think he got what he deserved, as far as the wife hating him and making his life miserable as far as it went. But the retribution went over the top and lasted much too long. The story was well written and very well laid out. That's why I hated it. The was no way out for the husband, no moral high ground for the wife, no finish. It just didn't seem right to me. Either gut the poor guy or reconcile. Divorce, or not.

I have been in touch with Raulmerez1, and he has agreed to my updating the story, and is looking forward to reading it. I believe I have done all the censoring required, and look forward to it being published.

That's what prompted this sequel. I urge anyone interested in this part to spend the time and read the first one. Enjoy. (I hope!!)

LT56linebacker- The BEAR

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It went on like this for two 1/2 years. The visits to Susie's parents got less and less. At least for her. I went pretty often and always had the girls with me. Her parents were getting more and more upset with her for not coming.

She started doing things for work, like trips out of town and out of state. I settled into boredom and despair. I took my daughters to school functions and different after-hour events. They often asked where their mother was, and I told them she was 'busy.'

She got several more tattoos on hidden parts of her body, which she proudly showcased to me. I kept getting texts and brief videos from her and her friend. I started saving all of them to my computer and then onto thumb drives. I was building a case if I was ever able to divorce her.

Two 1/2 more years passed, and my daughters grew more distant from their mother. I refused all sexual relations with her. GOD only knew what she might have picked up. She got one tattoo that she almost tried to push into my face. Literally. A small heart with Darren's name inscribed in it, right on her pudenda, which she kept shaved now all the time. She snickered when she showed me.

"It matches my hot wife ring. Do you like it??"

"No, I don't. When is this going to end? Release me from hell, please."

"When I say it will end, cuck. I'm having too much fun." The tears at night got less and less from her side of the bed. She replaced them with smirks and moans as she pleasured herself. Like she didn't even need ME anymore.

I had stopped sleeping in the master bedroom about six months before. The kids had commented but had not pushed it. She went ballistic. I didn't care. Fuck her.

Two and 1/2 more years passed; she starting using drugs. Marijuana mostly, but also snorting cocaine and liberally using ecstasy. She would come home high most times, when she came home at all. I tried to keep the kids isolated from her, but they knew there was a problem. The texts and videos kept coming, and I kept downloading them and saving them.

She wanted to take the girls on a trip to Europe, at Christmas, but I didn't think it would be a good idea. That's when shithead got involved again. "I think it would be in your best interests to allow this to happen," he said over the phone. "She wants this, and if she wants it, she gets it. UNDERSTOOD??"

She and the kids went to France for two weeks. When they got back, I figured it would be over for me. I had lost everything. I contemplated suicide.

Then my daughters surprised the living shit out of me.

"Where were you, Daddy?" asked my younger daughter, Taylor, in tears.

"I was not invited." I was dying inside. "Your mother didn't want me there."

"We wanted to go to church at the Cathedral of Notre Dame, on Christmas, but they couldn't be bothered," said Amanda.

"Dad, what the hell is going on??" asked Amanda.

I blanched as they talked to me.

When they had come home, shithead's limousine just pulled up, and my daughters got out, were given their luggage, and then the car and their mother left. I had been devastated.

"Kids, your mother and I are having some problems. I'm trying to rectify it, but I'm not having much luck. I'm sorry, truly I am. Understand that I love you with all my being, and I'll be here for you."

My girls broke down in tears and smothered me in hugs and kisses.

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Two more years passed, and things deteriorated even more. My wife had two abortions that I knew of and numerous sexual diseases. She was hardly ever home, definitely not for me. I was becoming more and more morose and retreating from family and friends in general.

She had several surgical procedures- breast augmentations, lifts, liposuction, butt lifts-to augment her new 'social status.' Our lives as husband and wife were, for all intents and purposes destroyed, and done. Still, she continued to flaunt her lifestyle.

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It had been almost twelve and a half years since our marriage came to a screeching halt. On a Thursday morning, I finalized some bids on landscaping proposals and had cleared my desk. I thought I would go home and try to unwind a bit before the girls got home from school.

Taylor had just turned sixteen, and Amanda was over eighteen. They were handling our situation as well as could be expected. Amanda would tell me that it was like having a single-parent family, seeing as their mother was seldom around. They said they didn't care; they would rather be with their grandparents and me. The girls stayed over a lot with friends, and several of the parents asked me what the hell was going on with my wife.

I drove my fifteen-year-old F-150 pick-up home. With her taking whatever she wanted from our joint account, I had managed to divert some of the family funds to a separate account under my older daughter's name. I almost had enough for us to leave. I had plans to sell the company to my employees and for the girls and me to disappear.

I needed some support, though, and I felt it was time to reach out to my in-laws. A worse possible scenario, they would step up to care for my kids after their grandfather shot me and kicked me out.

I drove home and pulled into the drive. I got out, went in the side door to the kitchen, and walked into the living room to find my two daughters sitting on our couch.

'What were they doing home from school?' I thought.

"Dad, we have to talk," said my older daughter. "WE want to know what the hell is going on, and we want the whole truth. I know you will tell us the truth as opposed to the shit we will get from Mother. So spill it."

I took a deep breath and looked at my daughters. The girls looked at each other, and finally, Taylor said, "Are you and Mommy going to divorce??"

I took a deep breath, looked at both my daughters and nodded my head. Then I told them the whole story, just cleaning up the details.

I told them what we did to try to get over it and thought everything was getting better. I knew mommy was still mad at me and was making things challenging, but I thought she was getting over it, too.

Then the night when my world came to an end. I told them about the confrontation with their mother and her boss and the ultimatum she had delivered to me. I told them about how she left and how she had 'sold' my guns 'because she didn't want me to do anything stupid.'

"I was devastated, and I tried to do anything to react to it. I couldn't get a private investigator to follow them because her boss had them all bought off. I tried to get an attorney, but he had them all on retainer. They put liens on my business, and they froze our bank accounts so that I had trouble getting money out."

Taylor's eyes teared up, and she started to sniffle. Amanda was shooting daggers and was beginning to fume.

"I got drunk that first night, trashed the t.v. and put holes in the wall. I burned our wedding pictures and went downstairs and destroyed all the beautiful custom wooden furniture I was making for your mother. I got drunk, really drunk, and passed out. I woke to find a man standing over me. He was the P/I I had talked to and tried to hire.

He said your 'mother' was concerned that she hadn't seen me and thought I might have hurt myself. It turns out she has cameras in the house and was watching me.

"I finally went out and walked. I walked for a while. The P/I followed me, and I finally ducked into a store. I went out the back door and caught a bus. I rode it downtown and got off in the park. There I met a young lady ......We talked for a while, and she said that I looked liked I had been shit on and thrown away. But I was too drunk to do anything and too miserable with what your mother did to me.

So she took me for a drink and some food. We went, and she changed her clothes at her apartment, and I gave her some money to pay her rent .

"She was a wonderful person and a friend.

"NOTHING HAPPENED!! I SWEAR TO GOD.!!!

"She let me cry and held me.

"The following day, we had breakfast and went out and walked. Then, I saw the P/I; he had found me and spent the night. I went into the restaurant and got three coffees, one for him and one each for Jan and myself. That's her name, Jan. I offered her some money, and she refused. I was impressed with her spirit and determination and told her not to give up on her dream of improving herself.

"She laughed and said 'Yeah, right,' and waved as she turned and walked away. After that, I never saw or talked to her again, although we had exchanged phone numbers. I walked home, and soon after I had arrived, your mother showed up.

"We went to pick you guys up at gram and gramps.

"Your grandmother knew that something was up but couldn't get her to admit to anything. Your grandfather was a little irked but figured it was between us or a lady thing, so he didn't push it.

"When we got home, it just got worse. I hated them both.

"Now, I tolerate it. When I get anything on my phone or the computer, I download it and transfer it to a zip drive. I'm just building up evidence for the divorce.

"When you guys got back from France at Christmas, I thought I had lost you.

"I'm sorry, but I knew I couldn't compete with stuff like that. So again, I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm so proud of you. Please know that I love you more than life itself. It's been more than thirteen years, and I just can't take any more."

Taylor was a mess, sobbing and crying like there was no tomorrow. On the other hand, Amanda had a look that would sour milk, and her lips were constantly twitching. I just prayed that the face was not directed at me.

It wasn't.

"I hate her, dad. More than you can imagine, I hate her. She has torn our family apart, destroyed our love for her, and almost killed you. Look at you; you are a shell of your former self. We need to fix this and fix it right now."

"How??" was all I could ask.

"We are going to gram and gramps. We need an ally; they are the only ones we can trust and count on to have our backs."

My girls, my babies; I am so glad I stayed for them. It made everything else worthwhile. If this ends up with me out on my ass as far as my in-laws are concerned, at least they will take care of my children.

My girls launched themselves into my arms, driving me back into my seat. I hugged them like there was no tomorrow.

Taylor stopped crying; Amanda retook charge.

"O.K., Dad, go throw some clothes together; Tay, let's get a couple of overnight bags together and grab our emergency stash and anything else we can think of that we might need. Also, Dad, grab any important papers or correspondence, especially from the bitch, and your firearms paperwork. Also, don't forget that sticky note she left you."

We scrambled to get everything together. Finally, we adjourned to my truck, and as I started it up, Amanda said, "Dad, give me your phone." She took it and did that swiping and magic stuff that teenagers do and finally said, "AHA!!!" I looked at her, and she smirked, the first humor I had seen on her face all afternoon.

She said, "Locator app. I disabled it." Then she shut the phone off, popped the back-off, removed the battery, and looked in the back. "Hunh!" she said. She pulled a small chip out of the back. She held it up, showing it to me. Then she took it between her fingers and snapped it in two.

"Another bug. Did you say a private investigator followed you for a while??"

"Yeah, but not for the last three-four years. I figure they got tired of me being dull."

"Uhunh. Let's get downtown to the Sound Shop."

"You mean that car stereo shop on Dallas Street?"

"That the one, Dad."

Taylor piped up, "Ohhh, are we going to see Antonio?"

"Shut up, twerp," as she poked her sister in the ribs and blushed.

'Antonio??' I thought. 'Who the hell is Antonio??'

We went downtown to the Sound Shop, an old refurbished gas station on the corner of Dallas and Smith Street. I pulled in, and Amanda got out and rushed into the shop area. I opened my door and got out to see my oldest baby come out with a handsome-looking Hispanic male, about six ft. two in. tall, broad shoulders and an aw-shucks look on his face.

'This must be Antonio,' I figured. They walked towards the truck, my daughter having a very proprietary hold on his left arm and a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Daddy, this is Antonio Garza, my friend." Antonio blushed and held out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. Amanda has told me a lot about you."

Now, this kid was buff and had about two inches on me; but I worked for a living and had the muscles to show for it. So I took his hand and shook it. I didn't crush it but gave him a firm, solid handshake. To his credit, he returned it in kind. I liked him.

I'm going to have to have two long conversations after this shit is over - one with him and one with my oldest daughter.

"Amanda says you might have an infestation problem?" Antonio said.

"Hunnh??" I said.

"Bugged, sir."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

"Can I get you to pop the hood?"

I reached into the cab and pulled the hood release. The hood came open, and Antonio raised it and started to go over the engine compartment with a small black box.

"So, Antonio??" to my oldest daughter. I arched an eyebrow and looked at my daughter, then glanced towards the young man in question.

She blushed. "Antonio is in my class at school. He is the valedictorian and Captain of the football team. He has a full four-year scholarship to M.I.T. to study electrical engineering after graduation. He also has a summer internship with N.A.S.A." She paused "-And he likes me." She grinned.

O.K., maybe he's too good for my daughter.

"His mother said she thinks I'm a good influence on him, and she likes me. Antonio says his dad thinks he should behave himself around me. He should treat me like his sisters, or his mother. He is very proper with me and would rather die than disappoint his folks.- And I like him."

All this time, the young man was crawling all over the front end of my truck- into the fender wells, under the front suspension, the doors, front and rear. Then he started on the bed of the truck. First, he went over it and the tools I had in it. Then he slid under the frame and checked the fame rails.

"There it is," he exclaimed. He crawled out from under the truck holding a small box with an antenna coming out one end and a large magnet on the bottom.

"This is top of the line, sir; state of the art. It broadcasts to the cloud—virtually unlimited range. Somebody wanted to keep an eye on you, sir. I'll get rid of it for you."

I thought for a moment.

"No, I'll take care of it. Thank you very much, son. What do I owe you?"

"No charge, sir. It's a favor for Amanda." He looked at Amanda, grinned, and kissed her nose. Amanda stood on tip-toes and kissed his cheek. He blushed: how sweet.

"Thank you, Tony."

We piled into the truck amidst much ribbing from her younger sister, and we got on the highway, headed north.

"So, about this, 'Antonio,' " I said.

"Not now, Dad," said Amanda. She was really blushing now.

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About twenty-five five miles north, we exited at the Buc-Ees' service area. We pulled around to the big rigs service area and found a Mack truck cab with California plates, connected to a sixty-five-foot trailer with a San Francisco company logo. I pulled up to the backside of the truck, made sure no one was around, slid under the cab, and attached the tracker to the frame. Then we left and made our way south to gram and gramps's house.

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We pulled into gram and gramps's gravel driveway and started to the house.

Now the thing about my father-in-law, Bill Watson, is he was retired from the Texas Rangers with the rank of Captain. He was severely injured breaking up a restaurant holdup. However, he shot and killed two would-be robbers and held three others until the cavalry arrived. He was wounded in the leg, retired with honors, and was somewhat of a legend in the Commanche County area. He was a little skeptical about me marrying his only child but seemed to accept me for producing his wonderful granddaughters. My mother-in-law was always there for me and was a little more tolerant than her husband. Only because her daughter was a pig-headed bitch at times. But she also loved her granddaughters no end.

So I pulled up to their thirty-five hundred sq. ft. log ranch house with a certain amount of trepidation. This confrontation would be complicated and challenging.

To say the least.

They met us at the door with hugs and grins. My girls were grinning and chattering to the endless enjoyment of their grandparents. We went into the spacious family room, and the girls put their bags down. My father-in-law sized me up and said, "Alright, what's goin' on?"

I can't put anything over on him.

"I've come become we need your help. I need your help. Your daughter is out of control, and it's partially my fault. But I need your help to protect your granddaughters. It's a long story, and it's not very pretty."

Amanda led everyone to the dining room table and set up her laptop. He glared at me in his lawman mode and said, "Go ahead, I'm listening." I sat down and started to explain.

My father-in-law sat next to me, and his wife sat down off to one side, hugging my youngest daughter.

I laid it all out, about my cheating ten years ago, our rocky spot in our marriage, how I thought we had gotten past it, and then the crushing blow that one night. I told about everything, about the P/I, not being able to get a lawyer, selling my guns, the threats, the constant belittling and cuckolding that they were subjecting me to, and the effect on our marriage and our children. I told them about her drug use, the tattoos, the piercings, the frequent trips out of town and out of the country.

Amanda told her grandparents that her mother was out of control and was slowly killing me.

Grandpa was doing a slow burn, and I was the immediate target. Grandma was getting antsy, and she said, "I don't understand any of this."

I told my mother-in-law to take Taylor into the living room,so she wouldn't have to see any of this. I figured Amanda was old enough, at eighteen and ahalf, to know what was what.

My father-in-law looked at me, then reached into the box and grabbed a thumb drive. He gave it to Amanda, and she loaded it into her computer. She pushed play, and there, in all her naked glory, was their daughter, my wife, getting made airtight with FOUR guys, two in her snatch, one in her ass, and one in her mouth. A fifth guy suddenly unloaded all over her tits, and the sound effects were appropriate. My father-in-law grunted, and croaked "OH, MY HEAVENLY GOD!!!"