I Call Dibs

The stories were about lots of things that would never happen in real life like going to a dance club and having your wife walk away with a pro athlete while you were at the table waiting for her. There was another one about some guy whose wife cheated, but he was ex-CIA so he went full 007 on his wife and the other man who he had sent to Turkish Prison and the wife sold to a Mexican whorehouse. Yeah. That happened. NOT! I rolled my eyes, but the stories were interesting and I became addicted to reading them.

Anyway, after wasting two fucking hours, I hit the back button and hit some factual type sites about what I would be in for if Brittany was cheating. I knew I had to be careful. She worked for a powerful sleazebag and needed all my ducks in a row.

I kept on reading the internet stories and I got hooked into that. Why the hell did I just read a story about some idiot that sits in the corner and watches his wife get fucked by a black guy with a twelve-inch penis? I have no idea, but there seemed to be two dozen or so common themes like the husband coming home early or the wife is going out but is going on a date with another man. The ones with some idiot sitting in the corner while his wife gets plowed annoyed me the most and yet I read them. I'm an 'A' grade idiot, but I do know what a cock cage is!

Thursday, November 23, 2017

Brittany's mood had improved markedly since the previous Thursday but my radar was now active. Something was up, but it really could have been anything except my inner voice was nagging me. It was also Thanksgiving and we had dinner with my parents who came from Sarasota to visit.

Brittany was nice... too nice. I was the only one who saw it. It was such a subtle thing that only a husband who had lived with his wife for years would notice it.

The holiday itself was nice and it was wonderful to see my parents. My brother had joined us for that dinner and it was a good holiday except for that little voice. My mom spent half the evening prodding my wife and me to have grandkids for her and for my brother to actually settle down and marry... and have grandkids for her.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

I received a terse text during lunch, 'Going out with my friends for a girls night out. I'll be home before midnight.

No, I did not like the abruptness of the text, nor did I like anything going on. My mental radar was fully active. The thing is: she got home at a quarter past eleven and was even fairly pleasant to me. She did take a shower but came near me first to kiss me hello a bit friendlier than the recent past. She did not smell any different. Not freshly showered, not overly perfumed, not like cologne.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

I again got a terse text at lunch, "Girls night out again tonight. Why don't you have dinner with your brother?"

Again she was home at a reasonable hour and did not rush up to take a shower or anything. Brittany came home, kissed me, and even talked a few minutes before taking her shower. She smelled like Brittany. I went into the bathroom to 'brush my teeth' Her panties were on the floor and no, they were not crusty. They smelled like sweaty pussy.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

The Christmas party was different this year. William DeBaugh was not guiding a woman around the room by her ass and this was the first year that happened. A few people were looking at me funny but there was nothing apparent. I took it as bad news, but again, nothing clearly inappropriate happened. Brittany was with me the whole time and William DeBaugh did not have ten words with my wife.

There were a bunch of stupid games and raffles. We received two dozen gift cards worth over four grand. We received more than any other non-C level couple. That made my radar go up. The raffles and games seemed rigged. A thousand dollars at Nordstroms? Yeah, that isn't suspicious. I did win two one hundred dollar Home Depot gift cards for winning a 'guess the number of jelly beans in the jar' and a one hundred dollar gift card for Best Buy for throwing the football the farthest.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Brittany was occasionally overly critical then sometimes overly nice. The thing is... I looked around and found nothing. Her girls nights out really were with the girls and were never at a dance club or strip club. I wore a disguise (Panthers hat, faux John Lennon Glasses, and fake blonde hair on top of my own brown hair) a few times and she was just with her friends. I even saw her turn down a guy. I showed up a few times at her work to surprise her for lunch and she came right out and was even nice to me, even as she grew more distant other times.

Thursday, February 15 2018

I was in Gastonia walking in town on Main Avenue when a man came up to me and said, "My wife works with your wife but we need her income. You never saw me. Read the note."

The man hurried away and turned down an alley to the next street over. I did not follow. I almost crumpled the paper and tossed it, but there was something about the man's voice and it was combined with him mentioning someone who worked with my wife. The note was short.

'Your wife is going to be the next mistress of William DeBaugh. Guard yourself as William has many connections. You have about a week to prepare.'

I knew this fit in with what I had seen and I started looking for ways to prepare myself for an upcoming shitstorm.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

When I walked out to my truck, there was a folded piece of paper stuck in my door handle. It said: 'Your wife is going to tell you tomorrow about William. Be prepared.'

I could have reviewed our security cams, but did not want to bite the hand that may have helped me. I figured it was the same guy as before. Someone's husband and that someone had information from the inside.

Friday, February 23, 2018

I told Margaret I had to leave early and she read me like a book and asked, "Who killed your dog?"

I gave her only a brief overview that my wife was apparently going to cheat on me with her boss but had to confront her to confirm it. She looked angry and perhaps a bit sad for me then nodded and I was out the door.

Right on schedule at half past four, I came home and saw my wife sitting at the table in an evening dress. It was blue and had a deep V-neck showing the wonderful valley between her double D's. She had two shots of Macallan Double Cask18-Year-Old Single Malt Scotch in front of her.

I had figured the two notes I had received were real and was as prepared as I would ever be. Divorce was the answer. If she told me she was going to be someone's mistress, the marriage was over. It hurt quite a bit, but I am not going to make her stay married to me. I would tell her it was over and then let her do whatever she was going to do because this is a home, not a prison cell. She was wearing an evening dress for going out and I have not been told I am going out. Five hundred dollar a bottle Scotch from my personal collection. Yeah, I know. We all know what was coming next.

I was as ready as I was ever going to be. Damn, I hated life, but I'm not going to be a cuck. If that is your thing... whatever, but don't try to tell me I should try it. Yeah I know, for some people, there is no explanation needed, and for others, no explanation is possible. Put me in the 'No explanation possible' category and call it a day. To me, marriage is an exchange. Her vagina is mine. My dick is hers and I was taking my dick back. Her soon-to-be cheating pussy was hers again. Marriage is all in or all out and I was out.

She looked at me and said, "Joshua, I love you."

Yeah, I know. Bullshit. I'm not dumb enough to get violent. That only leads me to jail and lots of counseling about how I am a violent oppressor. I mean come on; My life is ending up like some kind of internet story. I wonder how many cliches she will cover before she is done with this bullshit.

I had read too many of those internet stories and I was waiting for the shoe to drop. I sighed and smiled ironically saying, "Well golly dear. I love you too. What do you have to tell me?"

My sarcasm was just a tad on the high side and yeah, I get a bit sarcastic when I'm pissed.

She sighed, "I'm going out with my boss this weekend and will be home again Sunday. We can discuss the new arrangement in detail when I get back."

GUUUUUR-gle!

I rolled my eyes. Damn. Now? I had to take a crap. NOW? I have to take a monster fucking crap now?

Brittany started again and said, "William is taking me to a hotel for the weekend and..."

Damn. The crap was not going to wait.

GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRGLE!!! Then a nice fart, silent and super violent, Pffft!

DAMN! My fart stench could melt glass. I winced. Brittany caught a whiff, tried to ignore it then looked at me like I was a bigfoot. Lore says bigfoots smell... er, big feet? Fuck it, Sasquatches, smell. I can guarantee that any Sasquatch smells less than that fart.

I held up my hand to stop her and said, "Speaking of William DeBaugh, er Billy Douchebag... I have to take a crap. Wait on the couch. We will pick back up in a few."

I got up and went to the bathroom. I really did have to take a monster shit. The fumes damn near killed me and peeled the paint off the walls. Remind me to not eat Mexican food out of a truck again, especially since La Hacienda is right down the road and fucking amazing! Anyway, I came back with my phone with a recording app going so I would be able to review the delightful play-by-play later. Yeah, I know that I should have had it going since the beginning. Sue me for not thinking of it sooner.

Brittany said, "As I said. We will talk about how things are going to be from now on."

I sat and mulled a second then saw the futility in any direction I took it, "So you have been cheating on me."

She shook her head and said, "We have only had lunch, but I am going to be his personal assistant and travel with him two weekends a month plus his working vacation in The South of France for six weeks during the summer. This weekend will be our first time being intimate."

An ambulance-chasing shyster has a 'working vacation' in France? Boool Sheet!

Yeah, I know. Futile, so I said, "Then we will just divorce. You take your shit and I take mine."

Brittany said, "No. That is not going to happen. I need a home and William only wants me part-time."

What the everliving fuck, a part-time whore. Note that she is a part-time whore. Whores are paid, sluts are not. Let's keep that clear, my soon-to-be ex-wife is a paid whore, not an unpaid slut.

I said calmly, "Yeah. It will."

Brittany said, "William is a powerful lawyer and they will find kiddie porn on your computers or fingerprints on a gun used in a murder and he owns the judges throughout the state. We will have you sent to prison for decades... Or the other prisoners will cut your life short. Same thing if you tell his wife anything. He will get you in court and keep getting you. In the unlikely event you beat him, his friends will get you."

I think I read a couple of stories with that trope. How cute. I was getting a real-life version of an internet story that isn't even supposed to be possible. Unfortunately, Brit-whore is right. William was in the front row of the Governor's inauguration audience. He's part owner of the governor... and the mayor... and the county officials. Sigh.

Ugh. So we are going for the blackmail the unwilling cuck husband trope. Really!? I've read the stories. They are not supposed to actually happen. Fuck this!

I set my sarcasm setting to maximum and said, "No. This is not correct. You are not following your script properly."

She looked at me quizzically and asked, "Script?"

I said, "Yeah. I'm sure you practiced telling me about this weekend right."

I had her backpedaling a bit, "Uh, yeah."

I said, "Well first you forgot to tell me that 'It is just sex' and two... Billy isn't black."

Brittany said, "William, not Billy. You've met him. No. He is not black."

I faux pondered and said, "Well. Your lover in this situation is supposed to be black with a twelve-inch cock! You got the threats part correct, but your lover is definitely supposed to be black. "

Brittany was wondering where this is going, "No. William is white and a powerful lawyer."

She rolled her eyes and looked at me, "Ass. You've met him and know what he looks like."

I shook my head and said, "No. He is definitely supposed to be black."

I executed a perfect and I mean perfect pause for drama and followed it with Oscar-good fake enthusiasm, "WAIT!!!!"

I paused for a second dramatic effect, "Did he have a cock transplant? Maybe Billy had a twelve in black cock transplanted! Yeah!"

Brittany rolled her eyes again and said, "William does not have a twelve in co... er penis. Stop this stupidity. I need to get going and this is delaying things."

I shook my head and then asked, "So where is my cock cage? You were definitely supposed to bring me a cock cage to humiliate me even more!"

Brittany was now firmly trying to regain control but was obviously curious what a cock cage was and asked, "What is a cock cage?"

I looked at her as if she were a clueless idiot instead of an adulteress whore and said, "A cage for my cock to keep me from jacking off while I fantasize about you fucking Billy and his twelve-inch monster black cock! Don't forget two buckets. One gallon for his cum and one gallon for yours. You will need the gallon buckets, because quart buckets would be too small for all the hot cum!"

I just kept going with it and added, "Don't forget to have sex right before you come home so I can lick it out of your hot pussy!"

I had fake enthusiasm, "That should be extra yummy! Maybe we should save it instead and use it like mayo for sandwiches!"

Brittany was getting ever more angry at my sarcasm, organized her thoughts for a second, and said, "William does not have a black cock nor is it twelve inches and I have no interest in cock cages."

I shook my head and said, "See! You are off script!"

"Shit!"

Brittany sighed, rolled her eyes, and asked, "What NOW?"

I can't believe she has not stood up and walked away yet. Hey, I was on a roll and I may as well annoy her anyway. Honestly, I was surprised she did not immediately stand up and walk away in a huff after my first little quip.

I asked, "Is William a Yogi? Not Yogi Bear with a 'pickinick' basket. A Yogi as in a Yoga master. The script definitely needs a Yogi. Not the bear kind, the yoga kind."

I thought for a second and was quite proud of myself, "Oh and he can paint too right? He has painted a five-foot-long painting of you nude with your legs spread right? He needs to be from Canada!"

Brittany shook her head and said, "NO!"

I pursed my lips and pretended to ponder. I said, "Well let me pack for the weekend and I'll be right down. We can go over the script as we head to wherever we are going. You realize it needs to be on the far side of a wooden bridge so it can be set on fire?"

Brittany sighed and said, "I am going to the Chester Valley Lodge, not you."

Bingo. She gave me valuable intel. I had to think fast to keep her from realizing it, "No. I am definitely supposed to be tied to a chair to watch and be humiliated while I secretly love to watch but cannot jack off because I am in a cock cage."

Brittany was now angry, "Stop your bullshit! You are not coming along!"

I kept going anyway, "No. I'm supposed to be tied in a chair in the corner while he is fucking you, he is supposed to be calling me names like cuck, wimp, and saying you need a real man."

She just glared so I kept going, "You have a strong rope to keep me tied down while Billy calls me cuck and insults me. I might get angry so you need a good rope. Billy kind of looks scrawny and we need rope to keep me tied down so I don't beat his ass and I definitely don't want to beat his ass because I would end up in prison."

I paused and looked faux disappointed then as if I had remembered something else important and added, "Well make sure you come back pregnant. We definitely need to take the breeding fetish angle. Remember. You are supposed to force me to raise another man's child!"

Brittany sighed and said, "I'm on birth control. Idiot."

I shook my head and said, "No. You are supposed to be blackmailing me to raise William's child. You keep going off script."

Brittany finally had enough, got up, and shouted, "Enough!" She started walking toward our bedroom.

I quipped to her back, "OK, maybe if I'm not going, I'm supposed to go to his house and mow his lawn for him!"

She went upstairs as I got the words about the lawn out. I called up one more trope and shouted up the stairs, "Wait!! Maybe I am an ex-CIA superspy and supposed to go all burn the bitch! Let me check the backyard for my helicopter!"

Yeah, I know, she likely had zero idea where half of my sarcastic throwaway lines came from. She came down with her suitcase and an overnight bag. I realized this was the last time we were together as husband and wife and I just shook my head and deflated. Suddenly I was exhausted and I got up and went to the kitchen. I wasn't going to watch her leave. I had loved her. I was an all-in or all-out kind of guy when it came to marriage. I was all in, until then. At that moment... I was all out.

I was hoping they would just leave, but Billy rang the bell and my wife let him in and he walked right into the kitchen with a smirk. I would imagine he was hoping I would come after him, but I was smarter than that. He smirked, "I'm taking her now. I will bring her back on Sunday."

I gave no reaction. Petty little douchebag. I didn't take the bait and he looked disappointed then left. It was five o'clock exactly and as soon as she was out the door, I began my phase of 'all out' and started demolishing my marriage.

They were barely away when I called my brother in for a favor. He lived an hour away and fortunately for me, closer to where my cheating wife was headed. I said, Stephen. I need a huuuuge favor. My wife is cheating with her boss and she is going to Chester Valley Lodge with him."

My brother said, "Bullshit."

I said, "Bro for real. Please. I need your help. I only need the room number and photographic proof. Don't do anything else until I have everything planned. Her boss is a very rich, powerful, and connected man. I can deal with this, but only after I have all my ducks in a row and I need the pictures just in case she tries to spin this on me."

My brother is an asswipe, but he is family and once I had convinced him this was not some sick bullshit joke he said, "What a fuckhead. I'm the only one allowed to make your life hell. I got your back."

I probably couldn't actually win against Billy. He is part owner of the damn governor, but I could put him off. I had what I needed if he tried the blackmail shit. It was a quarter to five and I texted Margaret, 'Will need you to look up divorce lawyers for me. I'm fried and just can't.'

It was twenty after five that evening when the doorbell rang. I briefly thought maybe Brittany changed her mind then dismissed it. The marriage was dead, even if it had not sunk completely yet. She was not only cheating, she was in on a plot to possibly send me to prison. I went to the door, Margaret smiled at me and said, "You should not be alone."

I smiled ruefully, "She did it and she's gone. I am alone."

I held it together... barely then Margaret started crying and said, "I'm sorry."

One of the smartest things I ever did was hire Margaret. I realized she was a friend and ally as well as my office manager. I said, "First, this is not your fight. Second, you shouldn't be here alone without your husband in another man's house. Bad optics."

Margaret laughed while still crying a bit and said, "Greg knows exactly where I am and with whom. Neither of us has any worries about you trying anything. You are family to my husband and I. I love my job and that is thanks to you."