Candid Camera

My cock thought that was a truly great idea.

After I ripped off Gloria's shorts and undies I went right for her honey pot. I didn't know why she was so sexually provocative that afternoon, but she was as wet as I ever remember. I normally lick, suck, and finger her through two orgasms, but her first one was so acute, and my cock so needed attention, that I completely buried myself in one thrust. Burying my hog in one thrust wasn't normal, but she was so lubricated that's what happened, accompanied by a scream from her.

I gave Gloria everything that I had, while she uncharacteristically swore, wrapped her thighs tightly around me, and bounced with more ferocity than I could remember. We came in perfect sync (that obviously doesn't always happen) and if we lived next to a graveyard her scream would have woken the dead.

When we both were mentally with it again, and I was reflexively sucking on her tits she got this evil look on her face and said "Which did you enjoy more, eating your creampie or sloppy seconds?"

I looked at her puzzled, actually leaning on an elbow. "What?" was my clever rejoinder.

"Well since you obviously have fucked that slut Britta, I thought that I should get fucked and give you a creampie and sloppy seconds," she replied with a diabolical grin.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked with a raised voice, but not yet yelling since I thought -- and hoped -- that she might be kidding.

"Don't play innocent with me, you bastard," she snarled, actually slapping me on the face for the first time in our relationship knowing that I'd never strike her in anger. "You were seen kissing that tramp in a park a week ago, then riding off with her to who the fuck knows where yesterday and getting other kisses, and then of course there are -- or rather were -- those naked photos of her in your desk drawer. Plus you made a fool of yourself sniffing her butt at the company party, following her around the pool."

"I was helping her out, bitch, not having an affair," I yelled.

"Bullshit -- well know you know what it's like to eat a creampie and get sloppy seconds," she yelled back.

Apparently she interpreted my expression of confusion for one of disbelief so she snatched up her phone from her purse on the floor, went to her gallery, and said "See for yourself; there from earlier today."

There were a couple of photos of her sucking the cock of a guy whose face was not visible and then a short video of her getting fucked -- no mistake. Everything was dated today and she had her rings on and her hair done exactly as it was today.

I immediately got up and sent the photos to my phone despite her attempt to stop me from doing it. I simply went into the bathroom and leaned against the door and she wasn't nearly strong enough to push it open.

When I opened up the bathroom door she was defiant. "So you think that you can fuck around but don't like it when I do?"

In as calm a voice as I could muster I said "The reason that your friends or spies saw Britta giving me pecks on the lips were to thank me for getting the nude photos you saw in my desk removed from the Internet. They were posted there without her permission and when I found them -- since as you know and have never objected I do look at porn sometimes -- I told her about them. I'm going to call her now and you're going to talk to her otherwise I'll throw your naked ass out the fucking window."

I had never talked to Gloria like that before, and I could see a combination of fear, apprehension, and defiance in her eyes.

I pushed her down on the bed, put my phone in my pants pocket as I pulled my pants back on, and then used the landline to call Britta's cellphone. Fortunately she picked up.

"Hi Van, what's up?" she greeted me, obviously having seen on caller ID who the call was from.

"Hi Britta; listen I need you to tell Gloria everything about the naked photos of you, our interactions, where they were posted, how we got them removed, everything. It is really important that you tell her the truth about everything."

"Uh...OK...I guess," was her tentative reply.

"I'm handing her the phone now," I continued, and then handed Gloria the receiver.

I had no desire to hang around. I took a quick shower, got completely dressed, sent the marriage-killing photos that Gloria had shown me to my computer, and then went out to go drinking for the first time since college.

I ended up with a buzz on, something that I swore I never would have again after graduation. I took an Uber home so that I wouldn't get a DUI. I was surprised when the Uber was pulling up to see Britta's car backing out of my driveway and going the other way.

As I stumbled into the house I was met by a contrite Gloria. I gave her a dagger stare. "I...I...owe you an apology," she sniffled.

"Oh really, why the fuck do you?" I snarled.

"Britta played me the recordings of her meetings with you, and it's clear that you and she weren't having an affair and you were just helping her out. But you should have told me..."

It was news to me that Britta had recorded our conversations. I guess it was technically a violation of law since our state is a two party consent state, but I had nothing to hide and now I was glad that she did. Despite my condition I was aware enough to interrupt Gloria and yelled "Yeah, you going out to get fucked and then having me eat a creampie and get sloppy seconds was a completely normal reaction on your part -- I'm soooo fucking sorry for trying to prevent Britta being embarrassed any more than she already was by not telling you what I was doing, you fucking bitch."

With that I stumbled into the guest bedroom, locked the door, put on headphones, and fell into a troubled sleep.

***********

While I didn't know it for sure Monday morning when I woke up with a hangover that was the end of my marriage. Gloria's failure to talk to me and then her extreme ignorant response was too much for me to take. While I did go with her to three counselling sessions they were of no help. I just couldn't take it. So without ever touching her again a month after that Monday morning I filed for divorce.

I tried to get Gloria to give up who her fuck buddy was. Even when I lied and said that it might save the marriage she apparently didn't believe me and she knew damn well that I'd beat the shit out of him so she never gave it up. Once I had her served I informed her "Be sure to tell your fuck buddy that if I ever find out who he is I will beat him within an inch of his life. Since it's not in me to hit a woman, he gets to take your place."

After that Gloria realized that there was no apology, or anything else she could do, to save our relationship so the divorce went through quickly, splitting everything 50-50, with no alimony either way. We sold out condo and moved into apartments at the opposite ends of the city center. At that point I was really happy that we never had kids.

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

Britta and I remained friendly while my divorce was proceeding, and she even joined some of my friends taking me out to a ball game -- I wasn't ever drinking again -- to celebrate my divorce coming through a mere four months after Gloria was served. We never did discuss the circumstances surrounding my divorce in any detail, but it was clear from the fact that she met with Gloria in person that infamous Sunday that she knew most of it.

Then, two months after my divorce Britta came to my office on a Thursday -- something I don't remember her doing before -- and closed the door. "Van, can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night? There is something really important that I need to talk with you about."

I had plans, but you bet your sweet ass that I'd cancel them both because I'd get to ogle Britta and because my curiosity was aroused. "Uh...sure," I replied. "When and where?"

"How about we meet at Morton's on Vine at 7:00 p. m., smart casual dress," she smiled.

"Great -- see you then," I replied.

She smiled again and then exited my room, leaving the door open like she found it.

It was obvious that Britta was nervous during dinner. In fact she lost her nerve to tell me what she wanted while at the restaurant, in part because we were seated close to several other couples. She suggested that we talk in my car. I tried to pay at least half of the dinner bill but she refused.

There are somethings in life you can easily predict; others aren't actually predictable but are not greatly surprising; others hit you like a thunderbolt thrown by Zeus. What Britta wanted to talk about falls into the latter category.

Since the outside temperature was pleasant we cracked our windows and she mostly stared straight ahead while she talked, occasionally making eye contact with me since I was looking at her the entire time. The meat of her remarks, as best that I can recall them I was so shocked, were:

"Carl keeps begging me not to divorce him, and is doing everything he can to gum up the works. He simply doesn't believe that I don't trust him anymore and that it will do him no good to fight a divorce."

"Is this because of the Internet posting of your photos and video?" I asked.

"That's a big part of it because that is such a violation of trust that it boggles my mind. However, it's also because he doesn't think that was such a big deal, in other dealings I have seen him have with other people he is far from honorable, and in general his character is not what I thought it was when we married," Britta said then sighed. "Also, I want kids, and soon; even though he said he wanted them before we got married he's welching on that now. Finally -- and I probably shouldn't tell you this -- sex with him is more like Labor Day than the Fourth of July."

That was TMI, but I didn't visibly react. "So what do you want to talk to me about?"

"Well I've figured out a way to make it crystal clear to him that we're done so he does not to fight the divorce -- which I filed the papers for last week, although we're still living in the house together. Since you are the only man I know -- I guess except Damon, but he doesn't fit the bill -- who has seen me naked, at least in photos, you're the person for the job."

"What the fuck!" kept caroming through my brain, but I didn't say it aloud.

Britta nervously looked at me, then turned away and continued. "I want Carl to find us in my bedroom naked, looking like we just had sex. Actually, you could keep your boxers on since we can pretend that we're starting to get dressed after fucking. Anyway," Britta continues, her voice exhibiting apprehension, resolve, and nervousness all at the same time, "that would do the trick."

"Would he get violent?" I asked.

"He's not a violent person, plus he doesn't own a gun or any other weapon -- there are none in the house except kitchen knives which I will hide -- and you're four inches taller, thirty pounds heavier, and from our time at the gym I know that you're in shape and he's not and you are twice as strong as he is," Britta blurted out all in one sentence, obviously highly anxious.

"I'll have to think about it," I said.

"You might do it -- if you can't, I have to find something else and I can't think of anything nearly as effective," she quickly responded.

"Yes -- I might."

"Would dancing relax you and help you decide?"

"I think that it would help," I smiled at her.

"Then let's go to that new dance club on Brighton Street," she grinned.

We did.

I had a blast. Britta is an excellent dancer and during Latin dances and slow songs she fit into my arms perfectly. Since she weighed about 150 pounds (not large for someone six feet, since she had no excess fat as was clear when I saw her in a bathing suit and at the gym) she wasn't used to someone strong enough to do lifts with her, like I could.

While I didn't drink, and Britta normally doesn't, I think that she was agitated in view of our conversation in the car and was using booze to settle her down. By the time we left the club at 1 a. m. she was legitimately buzzed.

I didn't want Britta to drive, even the mile from the restaurant where her car was from her house, but she said she needed her car early the next morning. Therefore I dropped her at her house (getting a quick kiss on the lips and a "thank you"), got her keys from her, walked the mile back to the restaurant, then drove her car to her house and put her keys through the mail slot.

The mile walk to her car gave me time to think. After batting things back and forth my divorced uninhibited self said to my more cautious self "At least you get to see her naked live. You can prevent yourself from acting like an asshole, so do it. Who knows..." The rest I tried hard not to think about.

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

Sunday night I called Britta and told her "I'm in with your plan -- if you still want to go ahead and think that it will work."

"Thank you so much, Van. Yes, I want to do it and I know that it will work," she virtually smiled over the phone.

And so, Friday afternoon I was at Britta's house by 4 p. m.

I was nervous, Britta was nervous, even inanimate objects in the master bedroom seemed nervous, as we waited for Carl to come home. I probably asked four or five times when he was likely to get there, but Britta didn't get miffed in having to answer, maybe because of her nervousness she didn't remember that I asked before. "Anytime between 4:30 and 5:00," she said.

I was naked except for my boxers, but I had the rest of my clothes laid out to allow me to dress quickly. It was important to try and keep my crotch turned away from Britta because it was almost impossible to keep my cock from sticking through the fly in my boxers.

My cock probably would have exploded except for the fact that Britta had a shorty robe on, covering her otherwise naked body.

I'm sure that I was flushed, but at least I wasn't sweating.

About 4:40 we heard the outer garage door open, then the inside garage door open and close, and something like a briefcase being placed on the kitchen table. When we heard footsteps on the stairs Britta took her robe off and as planned I pretended to be putting the first leg of my pants on. I tried not to look at Britta but it was impossible; she looked even better in real life than in her photos -- it was clear that there had been no reason to touch up her photos.

When Carl pushed open the half-closed master bedroom door he was saying "Britta are you here..." When he entered his eyes frogged out. Britta gasped (good acting) then said "I'm sorry you had to see this Carl but I told you that we're done; you have to accept it."

He got a forlorn look on his face that -- had I not known all of the many good reasons that Britta was divorcing him -- would have caused me to feel sorry for him. He let out his own gasp -- not acting -- and a spontaneous sound that was somewhere between a yelp, sob, and cry, staggered for a few seconds, then turned around and left.

We were frozen as we heard him go down the stairs, heard the indoor garage door open and close again, his car start, the outer garage door close, and then there was silence.

During this time I expected that Britta would have started getting dressed. She didn't; she was still completely naked as I hallucinated that her prominent labia were moaning "fuck me!"

Then she walked right up to me and said "I'm sorry it was so sad, but it had to be done. Thank you for your help."

In that position her pussy was almost level with my mouth as I continued to sit on the mattress. Her perfect tits loomed above me.

Maybe there is a hetero guy somewhere who, like me, despite not having been laid in more than four months, and despite thinking that Britta was the sexiest woman on the planet, and with her naked body in close proximity and seemingly begging for attention, could resist her. I'm not strong enough to be that guy. I grabbed her perfect ass and pulled her pussy to my mouth and then started licking, sucking, and fingering like a madman.

Britta simply put her fingers in my hair and moaned "Oh God...Oh Yes" a few times as I performed cunnilingus with an enthusiasm I had never before exhibited. Once she had her first orgasm it was so powerful that I actually had to hold her up to keep her from falling on the floor. In a smooth motion I pivoted her and laid her on her back on her bed.

I yanked my boxers off as I positioned her on the mattress and then went after her pussy again. After her second even more powerful climax she was barely able to speak, but my brain heard "Fuck me!" while my cock was about to burst, so despite the tightness of her pussy it wasn't long before I was completely buried.

My psyche and body were at odds when I started stroking back-and-forth while she squeezed and released her pc muscles. My cock wanted to pound and get quick relief. My brain told me "admit your infatuation with this woman and make love to her, don't treat her like a cheap fuck."

My brain won out -- sort of. As I leisurely stroked I massaged her boobs and kissed her lips until her pussy started spasming and she let out little yelps that couldn't be smothered by my lips on hers. My last half dozen strokes were powerful as we climaxed her first, and me less than two seconds later. It was magical, and debilitating.

It was a long indeterminate period of time before we both were completely cognizant and stopped moaning. Britta spoke first. "Thank you, Van; that was miraculous!"

I chuckled. "I must be having an out-of-body experience because I thought I just heard the hottest woman on earth give me the experience of my life and then thank me!"

"Can't we thank each other?" she chortled.

"Hell yes -- thank you, goddess."

After some pleasant pillow talk she got a shy look on her face. "Uh...Van...uh...I have a confession to make. Uh...I...was hoping that things might end up this way."

"There is no way in hell that I could resist you," I replied and then passionately kissed her while twisting a nipple.

"As I recall a big bone of contention between you and your ex-wife was your desire to have kids, and her desire not to."

"And correct me if I'm wrong but don't you have the same desire as I do and Carl the same desire as Gloria?"

Britta got a big smile on her face. "Think we will want to make babies together?"

"I know I will -- but let me romance you first. Since Carl will likely be back sometime, why don't you pack a weekend bag and come to my apartment this weekend?"

"Is there room in your bed for me?" she giggled.

"It's a king size, so if we mess up one side we just go to the other."

"Works for me," she laughed.

We got dressed, I changed the sheets on her bed and put the ones we made love on in her laundry room while she packed a bag. She followed me to my apartment in her car. After I made her an easily digestible dinner we got to the serious task of using the rest of the weekend to determine our sexual compatibility.

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

While our little stunt for Carl's benefit was cruel, he got the message. Britta spent most of the four months that their divorce made its way through the judicial system in my apartment. We made out a plan to test our compatibility and we stuck to it.

Fortunately, there wasn't much doubt after the first month that we were as sexually compatible as possible. There were no major problems outside of bed either. Our biological clocks seemed to be in sync, as well as our libidos, and we had lots of things in common as well as enough differences to really make things interesting.

Since we worked in different areas of the company, and were not on the same management tree, there was no adverse effect on our jobs as a result of our relationship, which we didn't hide so our co-workers quickly found out. There were some disappointed people, however, who would have liked a shot at Britta or me, but they were politely discouraged by the intensity of our joining.