More Than 50 Ways ...

By the end of the nine days, I looked like hell. I hadn't slept hardly at all.

We had been home about an hour from Cleveland when Traci pulled up in the driveway. The kids ran out of the house to happily greet her, chattering away about our great weekend.

After she dropped her bags off by the stairs, Traci came into the family room to greet me, as I didn't go to greet her as normal. I didn't put my recliner down, get up, and kiss her either. She stood by the foot of the chair for about five seconds, looking at me. My lack of action wasn't lost on her.

"So that's how this is going to be?" she asked.

"Are you really going to play the injured party here, Trace?" I snapped. "Against my expressed wishes, the three of you go off on a nine-day fuckfest to get you knocked up with his baby, while I babysit our kids and pretend to them that nothing's wrong. That's not love as I understand it.

"How many times did you let him fuck you? How many different positions did you do? How many times did you even give a shit about me and the kids?

"I wasn't put here to be anybody's punching bag, dish rag, or cuckold. Don't you dare talk to me about love, because if you really loved me, you wouldn't have spent nine days being Dave and Karen's slut.

"This had nothing to do with love, and you know it. You wanted him, you got him. Just don't expect me to sit still for this bullshit."

"You're wrong about this week because you're afraid of losing me. That's not going to happen, Roger!" Traci cried.

"You daft bitch! It already has happened. You chose him over me this week. And you'll choose him over me next month if you're not pregnant. And what happens if you have a girl? Have you already made a contingency plan to do this again to give him a boy?"

Apparently I hit the nail right on the head on that one because Traci flamed red and started checking out the carpet with her eyes.

"Son of a bitch!" How could you do this to us? To me? To our family? You stupid, fucking cunt!"

Traci backed up a few steps as I railed at her. I had never said anything like that to her before, and I could see the fear of recognition on her face. This problem wasn't going to go away with her pouty-face.

"So are you trying to turn the kids against me by being the fun parent?" Traci quizzed in an effort to change the conversation a bit.

I shrugged.

Traci's looked morphed from one of sadness to one of anger. She sleeps with another man -- for whatever reason -- and has the temerity to be angry with me? Will wonders never cease?

My response to Traci came the next day when she was served at work. When I got home, she was already there, and the manila envelope was resting on the counter when I walked in the door. The kids greeted me with their brand of dad's home mania for about 15 minutes, then they moved off. Traci had watched me the whole time I was engaged with the kids, staying her distance, but watching intensely nonetheless.

"Couldn't wait to have me served until I got home?" she finally asked with a resigned sadness in her voice.

"Since I have had very little dealings with an attorney, I wasn't a high priority for them to get the petition done earlier. This was the first chance they had to get it served. Not wanting to waste additional time ..."

"This is not going to happen, Roger. There will be no divorce. I told you: I love you, and only you. I will not let you destroy us, our family, for your jealousy and ego-driven insecurity. You'll thank me someday," she said.

I exhaled deeply. "Jealousy and ego-drive insecurity. God, how I love those terms. Best defense is a good offense, I suppose."

I explained to the kids what was happening over dinner. I told them and Traci I would be moving out by the weekend, but they could still see me anytime they wanted. I think all four of us cried at one point or another. The most poignant moment came when Jeremy asked why I was divorcing Traci. He's pretty astute for a 9-year-old, so I figured I could tell him a sanitized version of the truth.

"We can't be married anymore because Mommy broke Daddy's heart," I said simply.

Jeremy simply nodded.

"But Mommy's not going to let a divorce happen," Traci intervened. "We'll all be a family again pretty soon."

She gave me a smug, confident look. I twisted my mouth and gave her an exasperated look.

After dinner, I got two large suitcases from the closet and loaded a week's clothing and other stuff I thought I would need into them. Traci watched me from the doorway with a look that at best was irritation.

"We'll still be here when you get over your mad," Traci said when I grabbed my keys and headed for my car.

I kissed both kids and told them I loved them. I told them they would still see me a lot as I was going to be around for them.

I moved into a small apartment about 15 minutes away from our house and I continued to do the usual dad things like coach my son's Little League team and take my daughter to dance class. Because Traci fought the divorce so hard, it took almost a year to get it done.

Dave's swimmers didn't get the job done the first month, so Traci went for round two a month later. Although I didn't have the room in my apartment for the three of us, the kids and I did the best we could for another two weekends, treating the time as if it was some sort of giant camping trip. When I brought the kids home Sunday afternoon, Traci still wasn't home, so we hung out for a while just like we used to. When she finally showed up, we just looked at each other. Well, actually, I glared at her, while she just looked at me like a disappointed parent looks at an underachieving child.

Traci's pregnancy started to show in her third month. The little bump in the middle of her body brought back memories of better times for the two of us. Those quickly faded as my anger built at the fact that I was not the father of that bump.

At six months, Traci was pretty large, like she was when she carried our two. I have to admit, I always thought she was incredibly sexy pregnant, and this time was no different. I brought Jeremy home after ball practice one day, and Traci invited me to dinner. Having no other plans, I agreed. After eating, the kids drifted off, but Traci brought out some coffee and apple pie, so I hung around a bit. Before I knew it, we were in what used to be our bedroom, and I was running my hands up and down over her belly. Hey, I'm human, and if she was going to put it out there, I was going to enjoy it. She was going to enjoy it, too, and after a couple of orgasms from my mouth, Traci got up on all fours and I put it to her solidly from behind, being careful not to be too aggressive.

After a few minutes, I introduced my fingers to her clit, at which point she came twice more before I finally got off. I was way surprised I lasted as long as I did, because that was the first time I had had sex since leaving home seven months before. As we were recovering and breathing heavily, she looked at me and said, "Damn, Rog, that was good. I miss this. Are you sure about this divorce? Don't you still love me?"

"I supposed I'll always love you, Traci. That's the problem. I still love you. But you apparently don't love me enough."

"Not true, Roger. Come home. Let's be a family again," she said.

"What made you think I would let you fuck another man, especially when I told you I wasn't going to let that happen. You know me better than that, Babe. Why?"

She didn't answer, but her blush told me a lot. She honestly thought I was going to give her a hall pass on this.

"We made vows, Babe," I whispered. "You ripped my heart out with your little stunt."

A couple of months later, I had the kids for the weekend as Traci delivered her baby ... well, technically, Karen and Dave's baby. I didn't inquire about it, but the next time I had the kids they told me all about it. I pretended to be interested in their new cousin.

A week later, I got what I considered a surprise phone call from Traci.

"What, no flowers, no phone call? Not even a baby gift for your new niece," she said in an offhand manner when I picked up. "I would have thought better of you."

"You apparently think much better of me than I think of me," I replied. "For the little bit left of our marriage, I don't believe I qualify as an uncle, and as for sending you flowers ... you still don't get it. You don't get to break my heart and keep all of my love. That's not how this game is played."

The divorce was finalized a month later. Traci got the kids, the house, child support, and some alimony since I made more than she did. Apparently, she also got the friends, because I noticed that very few of "our" friends kept in touch. I didn't notice it at first, but then little things started to add up, like many of the husbands hardly even acknowledging me when we saw each other at the children's events. After getting snubbed on several occasions, I finally was mad enough to ask one of those longtime friends if I was radioactive or had a body odor problem.

"Aw man, you blew it on the baby thing. How could you be such a selfish prick?" Rick Jensen asked me when I cornered him one night at the Cluster Cluck.

"So you and all the other guys think I should have become a cuck just so that bastard Dave could get a kid?" I asked incredulously.

"Cuck? What the fuck are you talking about, Roger? Just let Traci carry his baby. If she wants to do it, all you have to do is support her and you're a Goddamned hero. This has nothing to do with being a cuck."

"Then she's not telling everyone the whole story," I said with more than a little irritation. "How do you think she got pregnant? The three of them did a little threesome thing, even though I warned her that I would divorce her ass if she did. She just doesn't think she can do anything wrong."

"No shit! Seriously?" he blurted out. "Well, fuck that noise. I guess there's a bunch of us who owe you an apology."

Within weeks virtually all of our former friends called me to apologize, and suddenly I had a social life again. But things really heated up for me when the next Little League season started. Since I was always married before, I never really looked at all the single mothers watching their kids during the games, but now that I was single, it seemed like one in three women at the games wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I came away with a new phone number handed to me at every game.

Traci hadn't shown up for any of Jeremy's first five games of the season, but she was in the stands for the sixth contest. I always coach from the third base box, and when I crossed the diamond to get back to our dugout on the first-base side, she was sitting about halfway up in the stands, looking more than a little hot in shorts that were probably a little too short and tight for the crowd we were in. I tried my best not to stare, but I know she caught me looking at her great legs ... and her crotch. Actually, it seems that she was watching me watch her throughout the game. I knew that was lame, but I just couldn't help myself. She even gave me a smug, knowing smile a couple of times, and if I could have, I would have kicked myself.

We won the game, 6-3, and Jeremy had a couple of hits. Right after the game, I was talking with a couple of parents about heading over to the concession stand for ice cream cones for the kids to celebrate, when I spotted Traci making her way toward me. I really didn't want to talk to her, but I didn't see any way out of it ... until Jessica Beal swooped in to save the day.

Jessica was the mother of my right fielder, a skinny 10-year towhead named Justin. Jessica was divorced for several years now after her dickhead husband cheated on her. She was a tall blonde with a big rack and the curves of a goddess and was probably the subject of a lot of wet dreams among all the dads at the ballpark. We had talked from time to time, but I really didn't know much about her. But just before Traci got up to me, Jessica bounced into view right in front of me.

"Oh, hi Jess. How are you?" I asked as I tried not to drool. "Justin looked pretty good at the plate tonight, don't you think?"

"Yeah, he did," she answered. "Would you have a minute where we could talk? I need to ask a big favor."

"Well, if you folks would excuse me for a minute," I said to the parents I was talking with. "How about stepping into my office?"

I pointed to a spot a few feet away.

It seems that Jessica was an assistant vice president at one of the banks in town, and they had a summer outing coming up in a few weeks. She usually attended solo, she said, but since I was no longer married she hoped I would attend as her plus 1.

"Oh, hell yeah," I said with a chuckle.

She smiled back at me, gave me a card with her number on it, and leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. As she departed, I saw her look at Traci and give her a small shake of the head. I had no clue as to what that was about.

I had a good time with Jessica at the outing a few weeks later, and we dated on and off for a while. I also dated some of the other women who approached me at either the games or the practices. Who knew there was such a thing as Little League parents hooking up? I guess I never paid too much attention to what was going on around me because my marriage was so great.

Fortunately for me, I always kept myself in pretty good condition and watched my weight, so at least that wasn't a problem for me, but after being out of the game for the last 15 years, the social aspect of dating was daunting. Plus I know I was carrying around a lot of baggage. I thought Traci and I had the perfect marriage, and I was devastated when I found out differently. Right at that time, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to trust another woman to hold my heart.

My kids were too young to talk to about the problem, and at this stage of their lives, I'm not really sure they grasped the full significance of what was happening. Traci spent a lot of time with Karen and David and the baby, and I think both of my kids were enjoying the concept of the new little one. I, on the other hand, viewed the baby as the physical manifestation of Traci's betrayal, and while the rational part of me knew the baby wasn't to blame, I still wanted nothing to do with it. The rest of Traci's family just thought the kid was dipped in gold and that I was still the unreasonable one.

As I figured would happen, Traci went back to the well and carried a second child for Karen and Dave. At least she had the decency to look guilty on the few times I saw her over those nine months. Jeremy and Sandy told me she had another girl. I'll admit I smiled inside.

Traci and the kids and Karen and Dave and their kids moved into a bigger house together in the same neighborhood, so with my half of the proceeds from the house, Traci sold I was at least able to move into a bigger apartment, which made it a little easier for when the kids stayed with me.

Despite the fact that we shared the kids, there were long periods of time when I didn't see Traci, which suited me just fine actually. And the kids and I didn't talk too much about the things they did at "their house" as I preferred to live in the moment and make my own memories with my kids. So I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised at Sandy's dance recital a couple of years later when Traci walked in looking like she was pregnant again. She had never completely lost the pregnancy weight from her second child for Karen and Dave, and she looked dumpy, uncomfortable, and tired, to tell the truth.

She must have seen the surprised look on my face because instead of staying away from me, I guess she felt she needed to explain herself to me.

"Remember when I said I wouldn't be carrying a baby for Karen and Dave when I was 40? Well, apparently I lied. They persuaded me to try for a boy one more time. I'll be 41 when this kid's born," she said.

"The things you do for love, huh," I responded with more than a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

Six months later Traci gave birth to a third girl for Karen and Dave. I have to admit I poured myself a big glass of Glenmorangie single malt to celebrate that one.

I was sitting with a few buddies tasting tequila shots at The Cluck about six months after that on a Friday night when Karen walked into the bar with a couple of friends. We spotted each other and I gave her a small wave, then I continued talking with my friends and she went off to a table toward the back. I didn't give it a second thought until about 90 minutes later when an apparently inebriated Karen sat down in the empty chair to my right at the table where my friends and I were drinking. Judging by the fact that she smelled like she was wearing gin-based perfume, I gathered she had at least one too many martinis.

"Thank you very much for ruining my life, you fucking Boy Scout!" she said in a voice loud enough to be heard by about half of the bar. "If you would just gone along with the baby thing and not have divorced my bitch of a sister, Dave and I wouldn't be divorcing and I wouldn't be stuck with her three brats!"

"Whoa, babe, what the fuck are you talking about," I asked defensively.

"She was just going to fuck him for a week or two, that's all, and then carry the baby. But no, Mr. Boy Scout divorces her, and she winds up with me and Dave. And he's banging her about half the time, and what can I say, nothing, because she's going to have the baby for us. But I get home from work tonight and they're already in the sack and he's telling her he loves her more than me. So now I've got three little ones running around and a husband that loves my baby-machine sister more than he loves me, his wife of 15 years. All because you just wouldn't let her fuck him for a week or two. You selfish prick!"

It had gotten pretty quiet in the bar as Karen blurted out her story. I was pretty sure everyone was looking at the two of us. I gestured to Carol behind the bar to give me another shot of Don Julio and another of whatever martini Karen was drinking. Carol get our drinks in record time and told me to keep Karen's outbursts down or she would throw her out of the bar.

Karen is three years younger than Traci at 38, and in both looks and body could compare well to my ex-wife until age and having three late children caught up with Traci. Karen was leaning into me holding her drink when she apparently decided the rest of the bar needed to hear the rest of the story, so she started to raise her voice. Caught between a rock and a hard place, I did the only thing I could think of to shut her up: I kissed her. But not just a little kiss. I opened my mouth wide enough to match her open mouth, and when I locked onto her lips her tongue practically jumped into my mouth. I met that challenge head-on, if you will, and responded in kind. Thirty seconds later we were in my car, heading to my apartment.

I have no rational explanation for what followed, but I spent the next two hours devouring Karen's body like a starving group of ants at a picnic. We barely got through the doorway before I had her naked, then I sucked her nipples while using my fingers to give her a series of orgasms. The screaming started on her third orgasm.

Sometime after her sixth orgasm, I scooted down my bed and found her sopping wet pussy with my mouth. Thirty seconds later, she screamed out, "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" and tried to put me in the hospital with a concussion as she rammed her pussy into my face repeatedly. At one point she locked her thighs around my head and tried to suffocate me while spasming in double-time. Then just as she looked like she was going to run out of gas, I pulled her up onto her hands and knees and took her doggy, getting one more weak orgasm out of her.

"Holy shit, Roger! Do you do that with all your women, or was that some kind of revenge sex scenario we just acted out? That was fucking amazing! Dave's never done anything like that to me before. It's usually just about him sticking that big tool in me and pounding me hard until he comes. That was ... thank you!"