My Best Friend Derails My Life Pt. 05

It was almost 6am by the time Sara got into bed. She fell asleep immediately, and I realized that she and Adrian had stayed up all night in the Honeymoon Suite. It really bothered me that Adrian had enjoyed Sara all night, especially as I knew she had purchased some new lingerie to wear for me. No doubt he had fucked her while she wore it.

Also, she had got her schoolgirl uniform back from the dry-cleaners, and was planning on giving me my first blowjob to completion. I am sure she knelt before him and sucked his huge black cock, as he admired her plaid hair bows that held her pigtails in place.

What bothered me the most though, was the nagging doubt over who had paid for the hotel room. The charge hadn't appeared on my credit card yet, and it was eating me alive. I ended up leaving the house at 6.30am and driving to the hotel. The reservation was initially made in my name, so the check-in desk had no problem printing me an itemized bill, after they asked me for identification.

The young receptionist handed me the bill and I left the hotel to dissect it. Well, the bill had definitely been settled using my credit card. That prick, Adrian, had enjoyed my wife all night, and allowed me to pick up the tab for the room. As I looked over the itemization, I could feel myself getting more enraged.

They had ordered two bottles of Dom Perignon, strawberries and whipped cream, some Godiva chocolates and three adult movies. Adrian had turned a $299 hotel stay into a $950 bill on my credit card. I sat in my car and couldn't contain my curiosity. I know it is detrimental to my well-being to obsess about Adrian's affair with my wife, but I needed to know.

I reentered the hotel and approached the young lady at the check-in desk. She was very accommodating, if not a little surprised at my request to know which adult movies had been viewed. Especially, as she had checked Sara and Adrian out of the hotel, less than two hours before my arrival. Aware, as she was, that I had paid for another man to stay in the Honeymoon Suite, she kept it professional.

After a few keystrokes on the computer, the young woman reached for a piece of hotel stationary, and hand-wrote the three titles on it. She folded the piece of paper in two, handed it to me, and told me to have a nice day. She then turned and left the reception area, stating to no-one in particular, that she was going to take her break. It was still early in the morning, and nobody else was checking out yet, so I figured she just wanted to extricate herself from my increasingly strange line of questioning.

I left the hotel and went back to my car. I opened the piece of paper and my mouth fell open as I read the titles of the porn movies my wife and Adrian had rented. Clearly selected to elicit some reaction from me, if I saw them itemized on the bill I was paying, they were "My wife and her black boyfriend," "Dreams of a cuckold," and "A blonde schoolgirl takes a black lover."

Later that morning I had an appointment with the bank manager. My plan was to apply for a home-equity line of credit. I knew that we didn't have much equity in our home, as the current depressed housing market had reduced its value. However, if I could tap the estimated forty thousand dollars of home-equity, it would definitely take some of the financial pressure off of me.

I had a good banking relationship with my mortgage holder, and I knew the Manager personally. He told me that he would expedite the appraisal, and I should have an approval within three days. This was the first good news I had heard in a while, and I was in a good mood when I got home. This elevated mood didn't last long unfortunately, as my doorbell rang mid-morning and it wasn't good news.

There was a process-server on my doorstep and as soon as he said "you have been served" I knew he was holding a lawsuit. I took the envelope inside wondering who the hell was suing me, and for what? I got my answer seconds later as I read the preamble of the legal document.

In short, Adrian was suing me for an injury he sustained in my home, on the night of our threesome. My blood was boiling as I continued to read the legalese. Apparently, Adrian had tripped over the carpet in my home-office, and sustained a groin injury. A groin injury for fuck's sake. Ironically, the only person who sustained a groin injury that night was Sara, from being fucked all night in multiple positions, by Adrian.

My insurance company was very sympathetic, telling me that there are a lot of frivolous personal injury claims. They knew I had security cameras in my home-office. I had disclosed this to them, on the advice of my insurance agent, to reduce my insurance premium. They told me to forward them the footage from my office cameras, from the night in question. They could then review the tapes, and determine if Adrian had actually tripped over. If he had not fallen over, they might even be able to prosecute him for insurance fraud.

Adrian, as always, was one step ahead of me. There was no way I could turn over those tapes, and he knew it. When I told my insurance agent that I wasn't willing to release the footage to the insurance company, he was very understanding. He told me that many people have concerns about their privacy, and are reluctant to hand over footage from inside their homes.

He offered to come to my home and view the tapes. Then he could write a report stating what he had seen. Many times, he told me, the mere mention of security cameras result in the withdrawal of personal injury lawsuits. I had known my insurance agent for almost thirty years, and trusted him implicitly. When I told him I couldn't let him even view the tapes, he seemed very confused. He told me that my insurance company wasn't obligated to settle the claim, or even defend me against it, if I refused to co-operate with them.

My head was spinning now, but it got worse. Shortly after lunch, I got served with a second lawsuit. Adrian was now claiming that Sara had damaged the side of his limousine, in my driveway, on the same night as our threesome. This second accident had happened a few hours later, according to the lawsuit.

The document stated that Sara had walked Adrian out to his car, and had tripped on her high-heeled shoes. She had apparently stumbled forward and landed on her knees. As she tried to get up from her kneeling position, the lawsuit maintained, she had scratched the side of his limousine.

I knew that sneaky fucker had me cornered again. Part of the legal accusation was true. Sara had been on her knees next to the shiny black limo, but she hadn't tripped to get there. She had sunk slowly to her knees on Adrian's command of "kneel". It was conceivable that she had scratched the paint on his limo, as she had slumped against the car, after she had orgasmed one last time for Adrian.

Once again I called my insurance agent. We had a very similar conversation as before, although he could not understand why I wouldn't release the exterior camera footage. Or even let him view it, at my house. He called me later that day, to let me know that the insurance company had closed both lawsuit investigations, based on my non-compliance with the requests for security footage. Effectively, I was on my own to defend against these two lawsuits.

It got worse. Adrian texted me to let me know that if I took another job, he would send some more photos to my new coworkers. The new photos would instantly reveal me as "the submissive ass-eater". This threat eliminated the option of new employment for me, for the foreseeable future, as any company would expect a senior manager to update their LinkedIn profile, upon getting hired. There was no way I could keep my new job a secret from Adrian, in the age of social media.

Then, the straw that broke the camel's back. My mortgage company called to let me know they couldn't process my home-equity loan application, until the two pending lawsuits had been satisfactorily resolved. This meant either settled, withdrawn or dismissed by a judge.

My life was circling around the drain, and with no options left, I went to Adrian with my cap in hand.

"Did you bring your Barbie Pink lipgloss?" was the first thing that asshole asked me.

He made me detail all of my financial and legal woes, as he sat impassively behind his massive leather topped desk. I knew that he had fucked Sara over that desk yesterday, after I had left to get some fresh air. I tried to put it out of my mind. Without success! Lewd thoughts of my wife's form-fitting silk dress riding up over her tight little ass, and exposing the straps of her garter belt, filled my mind. Adrian's hands were all over her, as they fucked and he spanked her ass. He had ripped her panties off and discarded them on the floor.

My eyes scanned the room and I saw a large leather sofa. It matched the description of the furniture on which the District Manager had sat, as Sara gave him an over the clothes handjob. Adrian, that asshole, had even positioned the cushion on which Sara had knelt, on the floor, right next to the sofa. As if to scream, Sara knelt here! I was imagining her tiny manicured hands, teasing John's cock through the pants of his suit, as she knelt before him.

Adrian snapped his fingers and brought me back to reality.

"Focus," he said in a commanding voice. "Tell me what you want from me, and what you are willing to give up."