Desperate Exchange

No one under eighteen years old in sexual situations. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This is fantasy, not reality. Please keep comments nice

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Sometimes it is better to be lucky than good. When I married Michelle, we moved into a lovely new home, one that was way too big for us. We had, at that time, thought it was just right for two children and us. It even had an in-law cottage for visiting in-laws. Who could have predicted that my folks would pass away in a horrible air crash a year before the wedding?

The entire family was devastated by this terrible tragedy. It almost seemed like they knew that something was going to happen because they had done meticulous estate planning concerning their deaths. They knew something I did not know. Damned if I knew HOW they knew! Perhaps they had psychic powers that they never told me about.

So, in essence, my folks would pass on the old family home and family fortune, but they had a brilliant and visionary lawyer who had the entire thing wrapped up in a very tight trust fund.

I'm not sure about the reasons why they did this. One explanation was to bypass probate and tax ramifications. The other crazy idea was they did not remotely trust my (then) girlfriend Michelle, who would thus eventually become my wife. For some reason, they knew she was bad news, and they were determined to protect me as best they could. The funds were protected from any type of divorce action because, in essence... I had not yet actually received any money! So a lawyer or an ex-spouse could go pound sand. My parents and their lawyer were brilliant.

I say thank you for having such foresight, mom and dad. You were right about her. I was so wrong. Love is so blind and stupid as shit too. How could I have missed all the obvious signs? Not because I was stupid... More because I was too trusting and naive.

I mean, you love and trust your spouse, right?

Ironically, it was her parents that pushed for an ironclad prenuptial agreement for us before we wed. I didn't think that we needed one, but her father was into stocks and bonds, and had a lot more money to lose than my tiny business and my folks' modestly successful business. I told him and his wife that I had no intention of taking one thin dime from them, either in the regular course of the marriage or through a divorce if that should ever happen. I made the simple suggestion that for whatever reason we ever break up, what was ours stays ours, what we earned during the union we split 50/50. Totally fair. He made the stipulation that if cheating were involved, then the cheater would only receive 20 percent, and the cheated-on partner would get the lion's share of 80 percent. I suppose he thought that there was a high possibility of me cheating on his daughter.

I did not think it would ever apply to us, so I signed off on the prenup, as did my fiancee. Thank you, my kind and loving father-in-law! The lovely man saved me tens of thousands of dollars! Did not do so much for his cheating daughter, though! But then, she kinda made her own bed; let the cheating bitch lay in it!

Well, after five years of wedded bliss, or perhaps it would have been better to say the illusion of that state of matrimony, things started to unravel. I was concerned that we were still childless after all this time. We wanted children, or at least I wanted them. She said she did, but not with the conviction one would expect from a wife who wanted to be a mom. The fact is that no matter how much we fucked, took her temperature, and followed the fertility books suggestions... She was not pregnant. We should have had five kids by now!

On the plus side however, she never complained about all the sex to make a baby. Not once! Hell, I fucked her sometimes four or five times a day, without a trace of complaints, only smiles! She did not mind having lots and lots of wonderful orgasms every day.

So I went to seek out medical help. Checking out my little swimmers took a single visit. If the numbers are to be believed, I had enough sperm to repopulate half the world. I had the test late in the afternoon, so my sperm count should have been at it's lowest (we had sex four times throughout the day) and we had sex about an hour before that, so my numbers should have been at their lowest, but my numbers and quality of sperm were still quite high! In other words, I was pretty much normal, perhaps in the top three percent of men in terms of sperm count and density. My motility was good as well. The doctor mentioned that I would be a great sperm DONER as my sperm looked quite healthy, and I was consistently high in count... I don't think I have any issues with becoming a dad. So we had half the problem licked right away.

The nurse actually made a critical suggestion that the doctor had not thought of. I was going to have my wife Michelle come in for the requisite fertility tests, but the nurse pointed out that certain types of medication could greatly affect a woman's fertility. She said to simply check out the medicines in my wife's medicine cabinet! Quick, easy, and painless! Take photos of everything for the doctor to check out.

Michelle was an absolutely terrible hypochondriac. She loved drugs of any and all persuasion. She swallowed vitamins by the fistful. She should start a disease of the month club! She may wind up as a medical professional from her first hand study of every single disease known to mankind! She always thought she was coming down with this disease, or that horrible condition. In truth, she was as healthy as a horse.

Me? I got tons of headaches listening to all that bullshit. I didn't rain on her parade, I just took her to the doctor a lot. I took her so many times, the nurses and I were on a first name basis, and I knew their husband's names and their children too. I spent way too much time at that doctor's office.

The doc pulled me aside and we chatted about my wife's imaginary affliction du jour, and he asked me if I was aware of it. I told him I was, but short of me going to med school, I didn't see what I could do about it. I told him my only worry was what if she really picked up some kind of bug... if we treated her like the hypochondriac she is, she might really be sick! He pointed out that she had forty-five visits and as near as he could tell, she was as healthy as a horse. She got it into her head somehow that she was sick. He suggested I keep some B vitamins available and give her one or two when she got sick. See if she recovered. He called it the power of suggestion, and it might help her, or maybe not, but it might cut down on her office visits.

But... It was fun to start talking about strange and weird symptoms in her presence. She would invariably get them! I faked reading in the newspaper about a rare virus that made people's left arm get numb, and in later stages the arm would shake. Care to guess what happened next? Her left arm and hand got numb, and sure enough, she had a palsy in her left arm, and it shook like a leaf! This was very mean on my part, but it was sorta fun.

I could see Michelle was very distressed so I "read" that treatment was simply vitamin C tabs and bed rest. Next day after a few vitamins and bed rest she was fine! I think that she was a hypochondriac because she was easily suggestable. Meaning she did not need to be very deeply hypnotized for her to accept spoken commands and suggestions!

Perhaps that contributed to the demise of our union? The bastard made some very salacious suggestions... and she did them all. I'll never know that for sure. I can only surmise. It pissed me off for sure.

The thing about suggestion and hypnosis is, if there is something that you don't want to do, something that you know is very wrong, you won't do it! Period, the end. No amount of hypnosis or suggestion can change this one basic fact. So... if you do something very bad, or disruptive to your marriage or relationship... Then you were absolutely okay with that action before the hypnosis or suggestion took place! In other words, hypnosis and suggestion cannot be used as an excuse for bad behavior. This is an important distinction in responsibility for behavior. You cannot say, oh I was mesmerized or hypnotized and I didn't know what I was doing, so that's why I did that! It won't wash.

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In the meantime, I was doing a physical inventory of my wife's huge drug collection.

Our shared medicine cabinet could easily be converted to a pharmacy, and her bedside stand would be a well equipped annex to that.

The nurse said just use the cell phone to take pics of each and every drug and vitamin she could possibly consume. Michelle would still need to undergo the requisite fertility testing procedure, but this would eliminate the easy reasons for her possible infertility. Easy peasy! Or so I thought.

I went home while Mich was still at her real estate job to make a thorough and complete accounting of her vast drug inventory. Was I in for a huge surprise!

The medicine cabinet's contents were typical cold remedies, antihistamines and so forth for allergies, and ten different types of pain killer drugs. A big huge bottle of Tums. I did notice something that was very disquieting. Many of the prescription meds were not in her married name, Michelle McFarland but in her maiden name, Michelle DuBois! The dates on the meds were current, not from before we met, but from the last five months or so! That, in and of itself, should have set off a few alarm bells, but I was not looking for any type of incriminating evidence of anything... I did not know that there was a situation that was ongoing, and perhaps even then was already in the end stages of Michelle's devious plan. Maybe if I would have known I might have been able to stop it. Who knows? Shoulda-coulda-woulda? I would pay dearly for my kind and trusting nature. Live and learn. Some lessons are harder than others, like this one. And some pills are very bitter to swallow. Like the destruction of my marriage.

In her nightstand, things were even more interesting. She had a diaphragm, and spermicide, and she had packs and packs of birth control pills! And the kicker for me, several big BOXES of prophylactics... At least 200 rubbers! Probably more, but that was just a rough estimate. All shapes and sizes. Now just having an item doesn't mean she is using that item, but she had got the items five months ago. The receipt was taped to the box. And the patient's name was her maiden name again! There were lots of other medicines and quite a few pill bottles that had a man's name (Steven Watson) on the bottle. Again, current dates on his meds. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Perhaps Mr. Watson was a fabulous hypochondriac as well? What were HIS meds doing in my medicine cabinet? I wondered if they could both drop dead from some psychosomatic imaginary dread disease. At least in my evil imagination! Finally at the bottom of the drawer was her passport, and a credit card and driver's license, all in her maiden name. I understand that women lose the married name when they divorce, but to change it back BEFORE the divorce is even spoken of? I guess she is just very meticulous in her planning, she would get around to telling me in her own good time. It seemed to me she was getting ready to fly the coop, and having my baby would have complicated things too much for her.

I think she really WANTED desperately for me to find out the truth this way, rather than have a huge acrimonious confrontation.

I'm guessing here, but she hated big angry confrontations. Too bad we were going to have a whopper of a face-to-face. I was thinking the info I was collecting was going first to my lawyer and then to my doctor. I might have a private investigator in on this too. No, that's not right, I had to know. There would be an investigator for sure!

She looked to me as a woman who wanted to desperately exchange a gift gone wrong... and I was the gift, and Mr Steven Watson was the replacement. What a stab to my heart this information was. It hurt terribly.

At least she was trying to NOT get pregnant with OTHER men, and maybe she took some precautions against STDs. Thank God for small favors! I don't need an STD from the bitch, or for her to get pregnant by me (or him) during our upcoming divorce. So in a weird way she actually was protecting me! I doubt she sees it that way and realistically, neither do I. But hey, thank God for small favors.

In practice however, her affair with Steven Watson put a real damper on our relationship. It destroyed my life, and my love for her. I just did not understand why she chose him over me. Will I ever find out the true story of WHY she did what she did? I doubt it. Would it really make a big difference? How? Done is done, and it is what it is. No use crying over spilled milk... And the platitudes keep on coming!

The thought of having any little ones suddenly diminished greatly in both importance and likelihood. I was crushed beyond belief by her actions... and more than that, her lying and cheating! She clearly did not want to be with me anymore. Her actions and behavior were academy award winning! You would never believe that she was playing around outside of the marriage. I did wonder about the reasons for her behavior. Why not just tell me and be done with it? Why lie? Why wait? If she hated my guts she could not have excoriated my poor heart any better. Or perhaps I mean worse? The dagger of her betrayal hurt me deeply, extremely deeply.

She had never, ever turned me down for sex, even during her woman's monthly ritual. She would blow me, masturbate me, let me fuck her lovely tight behind (She actually came very hard during anal sex, but claimed she didn't like it and only did it for me!) She even put old towels down and fucked me hard on her period now and then, and she had colossal climaxes that were a literal bloody mess! I did not push the issue, and just thanked her time after time for letting me "ride the red river" during her periods.

She actually enjoyed the bloody menstrual sex sessions more than I did, as the hard pounding I gave her seemed to really help with her painful abdominal cramping. She would scream at me to fuck her harder and faster, until I pounded the shit out of her, sometimes literally! How did this brutal, bloody sex help with her cramping? Damned if I know, but she said it did, and she had me bang her silly just about every month in the red river!

Her being little-red-riding-hood once a month did nothing to slow down her raging sexuality. I think she secretly liked it MORE than the regular sex. We did not do it every single month, but now in hindsight...was there someone else in her red river besides me?

She just refused to admit that she loved it. But now I know, so everything seems to reflect her cheating. Go figure.

The woman loved to fuck! Any time, anywhere and now I find out... Pretty much anyone who has a good size cock! Who would have known!? I wish I could have known this BEFORE I put the ring on her finger. Oh well. Live and learn!

I loved that woman with all of my heart, and over the course of years we must have made love twenty thousand times. We sometimes fucked five or six times in a day. Or maybe it just felt like that to me. I guess all good things must eventually come to an end, and she had finally replaced me. I just had not got the memo yet.

Funny that right up until the actual physical confrontation, she was still balling my brains out, and telling me just how much she loved me, yada, yada, yada! I suspect she just really meant to say she "loathed" me. An easy mistake to make. The sex was only a way to assuage her own guilty conscience! She must have felt very guilty for the amazing amount of sex she wanted. I'll give the bitch credit where credit is due, she was, and still is the best fuck I've ever been with, period, end of story. Or in this case, (her)period... Just part of the story! I have never been with another woman who enjoyed the red badge of courage as much as she did. I was under the impression that most women were way too sensitive at that time of the month. Not her!

During better times (aka the times she was still loyal to me), we had sex more often than I ever requested it, sometimes even seven days a week! Frequently she woke me up with a fantastic blowjob, and then great sex followed. She loved it when I licked and sucked her pussy, and her big hard clit. Her clit was very large, and exquisitely sensitive. She looked into my eyes as I ate her out and always thanked me profusely afterwards. I had made it my mission in life to make damn sure that she got off good. I loved it when she came good and hard. Life was good, or so I thought. Little did I know.

Oh yeah, how wrong I was. Maybe it was good in the beginning. She gave me my own matrimonial reality check. Maybe she just got bored with the same old dick and wanted some fresh meat? Who cares? She certainly didn't. Those were only my thoughts. Saying things like that, well you can't just un-ring a bell. Too hurtful to say. She certainly can't "un-fuck" the guy. Not sure that she would if she could. What are her true feelings about him and more importantly, about me? I just don't know. Maybe I never will.

One question I did have, if she is still fucking me many times during the day, when was she balling Steven? The only time could be when she was at work. Did she even DO any work?

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The Trouble :

I am mostly Irish. My last name of McFarland gave my heritage away. Mark McFarland, and I didn't have the somewhat common red hair, but the more rare and uncommon jet black hair. I don't know which is more common. But everyone in my family seems to be a redhead but me. My blue eyes made me stand out from my green eyed friends and relatives, who said I must have been the postman's kid. Ha ha. Yeah so funny. Fights ensued after several remarks like that. We Irish like a good knock down, drag out fight. It's good to clear the air, get all of the secrets and issues out in the open, and resolve the same issues. I think it's just a healthy way to live.

This time with my wife, however, I decided that as in "the art of war", you absolutely must KNOW YOUR ENEMY. It was more than just a silly little catchphrase. Michelle was so beautiful but she has obviously got some kind of serious sexual issues that she will eventually face, but it will be post-divorce, so I won't be a part of that. It will be her boyfriend's problem! I'd bet the house that sooner or later she will be cheating on that bastard. Perhaps he will return the favor! Oh sweet revenge, thy name is Karma, and you are a bitch!

I won't be a part of it, as Irish tradition has it that if you wish ill on someone, the good lord sees to it that it comes back on you ten times as hard. Some folks say it's only three times, but I'm not going to test God Almighty. It's just as easy not to wish anything bad on someone. If you're pissed at a guy, just go break his nose, but don't wish bad things for him.

Passive-aggressive behavior is not a thing for the Irish. We believe in aggressive behavior, period! Let's go, have the confrontation and be done with it. Gimme a good bare knuckle fight any day!

I was madder than hell. But I needed way, way more information. What if I was totally wrong? I had to know for sure. Why had Michelle done this? Were we done and finished then? I do suppose the answer to that question was really mostly my difficult decision as well.

How do I begin to forgive the cheating bitch? Once we separate, I doubt we will ever get back together. Our marriage, our relationship, our time together all hung by a single thread: that was that she confessed her adultery and showed some kind of contrition. Would she say that she was sorry? Only time will tell.