Script Flipped

"Oh, fuck, Markley, you are still the absolute best pussy licker in the whole wide world!" Traci shrieked ebulliently as she came for the sixth time of the evening at the end of my fingers and tongue.

That was the good news.

It was also the bad news.

As I was about to go diving into her sweet pussy once again, her compliment hit me like a 2-by-4 to the head, and I immediately pulled up short while sucking air like a Hoover. Wait a fucking minute! We've been married 29 years. She shouldn't even remember what another man's tongue feels like, let alone be commenting on it out loud during what had been a great sex session.

"Oh my God, Markley, you sure know how to rock my world!" Traci exclaimed some more.

I just continued to lay with my head on her left thigh, breathing heavily, with a combination of her juices and K-Y lube on my face. I made no move to climb on top of her and put my six inches between her warm, waiting folds.

Traci laid there for about another 30 seconds, breathing heavily as well. I wondered if she had any clue as to what she just announced.

"Aren't you going to finish?" she asked, looking slightly bewildered.

I always finished ... until tonight.

"Nah, I'm beat, Babe. You took it all out of me. I've got nothing."

Traci slowly moved toward my lower extremities and reached for my now flaccid dick. She pumped a few times, and when I didn't respond, leaned over and kissed me before laying back down on her back. Normally, after I finished, we would cuddle for a while and then finally head into the bathroom to do a little clean-up, but with me just lying in the bed and not making a move to get up, Traci just drifted off, and a minute later I heard the soft sound of her rhythmic sleep breathing. I quietly got up, went into the bathroom and cleaned up a bit, then headed downstairs to my liquor cabinet.

Sometimes it's a real bitch to have a genius level IQ that doesn't shut off very often. Most guys would have been too wrapped up in what they were doing to really have heard, let alone pay attention, to what Traci was saying. But I'm not most other guys. As I sat in my robe drinking a shot of Staley Rye Whiskey, I wracked my brain looking for clues that I obviously missed that would have pointed me toward seeing that my marriage was lacking something. But nothing seems to have been out of kilter, except for the fact that Traci and I were having sex more often than in recent years. I attributed that to being empty-nesters now that the younger child went off to college six months ago, leaving Traci and I alone for the first time in 25 years.

Traci had lost 20 pounds in those six months, and had started to dress a little sexier to show the world she was back to her college weight of 120 ... and what she put into those 120 pounds! At 51, Traci had the body of a goddess, with 38DD tits and a small waistline, on top of great legs for someone of average height. She has always been a beauty in the looks department, and for her age her skin is amazing, inheriting the great looks and skin from her mother, who looks pretty good for 78, if I might say so.

Even with the extra 20 pounds she carried for several years until recently, Traci has always been a head-turner, and I knew that was always going to be the case when we first hooked up as college sophomores. We dated for two years before finally tying the knot at 22. She was always a bit of a flirt, probably because she could be with those looks, but I never once worried about her crossing the imaginary line ... until just a few minutes ago. Ah shit.

++++++++++

"That cow! She thinks that just because she has big tits all she has to do is smile at a guy and he's hers! That's bullshit! Give her a couple more years and she'll be tucking those boobs into her waistband. And if they'd ever look at the other side they'd see that cottage cheese ass that the rest of us see ..."

Rhonda Nichols was speaking to someone in the company break room six months earlier, unaware that the target of her vitriol was just outside in the hallway, and could hear every word of her diatribe. Traci Robertson, the top selling agent at Midland Realty, had not five minutes ago interrupted a conversation between Rhonda and a third agent, Carl Walters, simply by walking by and smiling. Despite the fact that Rhonda was already in conversation with him on some subject, Carl turned his head and followed Traci as she walked past, much to Rhonda's irritation and Traci's own amusement. It had been like this for Traci since she was 14 and her boobs had started to develop well past the size of most of her friends' boobs. And it didn't hurt that Traci was blond, blue-eyed, and, let's face it, beautiful.

Traci had to admit to herself, however, that she was about 20 pounds over her college weight of 120. But still, she didn't think she looked too bad for being 51 years old and having had two children. The cottage cheese ass comment, however, was uncalled for. She had thought of Rhonda, 26 years old and decent looking although a little skinny, as a friend. Besides, what did Rhonda care about Carl? She was engaged to Fred, a nice-enough looking accountant.

Carl was the new agent in the office. Just 28, he was several years removed from his days as a starting linebacker for Ohio State, but he still kept himself in tip-top shape with regular visits to the gym. He was 6-4, 230 pounds, ruggedly handsome, and made his clothes look good, Traci thought to herself.

"The game is on, Missy," Traci admonished the younger woman in her head.

Traci skipped lunch with the girls and instead drove over to a gym near the real estate office, where she signed up for a membership. Mrs. Cottage Cheese Ass was about to make Rhonda pay dearly for her indiscretion, Traci thought to herself as she got back in her car and drove off.

++++++++++

As I sat in my den having a third rye, my mind was all over the place. I drifted back in time to when Traci and I first met at a major midwestern university. I was a geek majoring in math. I'm not a bad looking guy and I was working out regularly, but honestly, Traci was a goddess, and in real life goddesses don't date geeks. I knew who she was, but I had never even talked to her. There always seemed to be a lot of guys hanging around her waiting to be her next boyfriend. I had seen her at several parties and then on campus a few times, and while I thought she was beautiful, there was no reason for me to even make a move on her with all of the good-looking hunks practically throwing themselves on the ground in front of her.

Several weeks later, I'm sitting quietly in a corner drinking a beer at yet another party when someone plops down in the empty seat next to me and starts jabbering, breaking my reverie. I was shocked when I turned my head and saw the goddess of several of my wet dreams right next to me.

"So, you gay or bisexual?" she queried. "It's OK, man, I'm cool with either, but you've got to be one or the other because there hasn't been an unmarried straight guy I haven't seen at least twice not try to chat me up since I was 15. And I don't see a ring on your finger, so you're not married. So which is it?"

I immediately blushed the brightest red of my life, and started to stammer like a fucking idiot. The girl's Eagles T-shirt practically swayed with every breath she took, she was as beautiful up close as she was across the room, and I started to get hard instantly. My genius-level IQ was no match for what I was facing.

"Bi it is then," she said staring at my crotch.

"N-n-n. No" I finally croaked out. "Neither! Just didn't think you'd have any time for someone like me with all the hunks lined up."

"Well don't sell yourself short, Sweetie. We women sometimes like our men to be a little mysterious."

We left the party together and have been together ever since, getting married right after graduation.

I wasn't fooling myself; I knew Traci's number was higher than mine when we got together, but I still knew what to do with a girl when I got one in bed. And that included using more than just my dick to please a woman. If I say so myself, I'm pretty talented with my fingers and my mouth, and I don't think any of the women I've ever bedded would disagree with that statement.

I reduced Traci to a pile of quivering Jell-o on our first night under the covers, and I am able to still do that today, even though she doesn't seem as eager for me to do that anymore. And then there was tonight.

Traci and I hadn't made love in two weeks, which was just about the longest we'd ever gone except for after she'd had our children. She was tired one time, not in the mood a second, I forget what the excuse was the third. I didn't really ask a fourth time. She was at the kitchen sink rinsing off a pot, so her hands were occupied. I walked up behind her and cupped both of her wonderful, big boobs in my hands and started playing with her sensitive nipples. She tried to nudge me off, but I took a hand off her boobs and stuck it down the front of her sweatpants until I found her warm, moist pussy. Ten seconds of playing had her warmer and wetter, and I took the pot out of her hand and walked her up to our bedroom.

I had her naked in seconds, and I started rubbing her inner lips with the fingers of my left hand while sucking on her left breast. Three moaning and screaming orgasms in, I took my mouth off of her breast and maneuvered my face to her pussy. Like usual, she just screamed unintelligibly on her first orgasm, but on the second one she actually started to form words, making it the first time in 29 years of marriage she had ever been verbal. I wasn't concerned when she shrieked, "Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck y-y-y-e-e-e-s-s-s!!" as she came, and was actually rather enjoying it, until of course she came out with her assessment of my skills. Then it got real, way too real.

++++++++++

Traci's campaign to seduce Carl Walters began in earnest two weeks after the break room incident. She and Carl were working on a split deal, and that gave Traci the perfect excuse to invite him to lunch. On the face of it, it was no different than the times she had invited other agents to lunch to discuss splits, since she was not only the senior agent in the office but also the number one producer. Usually the higher producer paid for the lunch. In this case, she made sure that Rhonda was well aware of the lunch.

Traci was enough of a professional to get the business out of the way first, after all a deal is a deal and a payday is a payday. Then after settling business, Traci apparently flipped a switch and became Carl's new hottest - if not best - friend. Over a bottle of wine, she found out virtually everything about Carl from his peewee football days to his love life. Yes, he told her, he did have a girlfriend, but they weren't as yet exclusive.

Traci made sure to touch Carl on his arm and wrist multiple times as they sat at the table and talked. Her professional, forest green blazer was open, and her crisp white top was tight and unbuttoned to the top of her large breasts, Carl could see. She made sure to lean forward several times over the course of conversation, and after a while a quick peek at the young man's lap revealed that she was having the desired effect.

"Men are so easy," she thought to herself. "He's mine but he doesn't know it yet. When I lose five more pounds, then I'll let him see his gift."

++++++++++

The private investigator that I hired chewed up a lot of the money I had squirreled away for a Hawaiian vacation this year, but considering what he found, I guess we weren't going to be taking that vacation after all. Apparently Traci was doing this new realtor at her office, Carl Walters, on a regular basis, as well as well as some guy named Fred Lazarus occasionally and, just to make it worse, her trainer at the gym as well. The PI seemed sheepish as hell giving me the report, and I had to wonder if he wasn't considering going after my slut of a wife as well.

Not being a complete geek, I had picked up an eclectic bunch of friends through the years. One of my long-term friendships was with an attorney named Martin Bolens. Like me, Marty was somewhat of a brainy, geeky guy, but I knew that if I ever got in trouble and needed a lawyer, Marty would have my back to the very end. He might not be able to break a pencil in half, but I had heard tales that he had no problem crushing a soul or two to make sure his clients won their cases. And we both agreed that Traci needed to be served for adultery; we weren't living in a no-fault state, so why let her hide behind the curtain of irreconcilable differences.

++++++++++

Traci had only planned on bedding Fred Lazarus once. He was the fiance of Rhonda, she of the "cottage cheese ass" statement, and Traci's lesson to Rhonda was going to be to let her fiance enjoy the body of a real woman. He would have to keep it a secret from Rhonda, but Traci would be able to smirk at the woman for all eternity.

It turned out, however, that Fred Lazarus had a nine-inch dick on a 25-year-old body, and was a very skilled swordsman. Traci came three times while fucking Rhonda's fiance, and she decided that night that she was going to enjoy the youngster much more than once. She would find some excuse to slip him in instead of Carl occasionally, or maybe just give Markley another excuse as to why she had to be out. It wasn't like she was very concerned about his feelings.

Darren Trimble as a lover was completely unplanned. He was one of the trainers at the gym that she joined, and while she had admired his muscular physique, she didn't intend to sleep with him. That changed when the young man gave Traci a one-on-one training session, during which he put his strong hands on her shoulders while showing her an exercise. Traci immediately started to tingle from her shoulders to her pussy, and gently but firmly pushed her ass back to rub up against Darren's cock. The young man didn't hesitate to push back against Traci, and the pair wound up at Darren's tiny apartment 15 minutes later, grabbing each other and tearing off gym clothes with the urgency of a couple on the first night of their honeymoon.

The young man apparently never had a partner that was Traci's equal as a physical specimen, because he came in about five minutes flat the first time. Fortunately, he was young and in good condition and able to get hard again quickly, and lasted for more than 30 minutes the second time through, enough for Traci to come twice on his member.

She got home from Darren's apartment about 30 minutes later than she normally came in, and was still in her gym clothes when Markley came in about five minutes later. She quickly headed upstairs for a shower before heading back down to start dinner, with her husband apparently none the wiser, she thought.

++++++++++

Traci was still in her gym clothes when I arrived home from work the other day, apparently having just gotten in herself. While I knew she now lifted on a regular basis, as evidenced by her newly-fit body, she was now also doing the trainer as well, my PI reported a few weeks ago, so I was guessing this was a fuckfest run a little longer than planned. She got a startled look on her face, didn't even bother to come over for a quick greeting kiss like usual, and practically ran upstairs and got into the shower, all the time muttering about needing to wash the sweat from her body. The excuse would have worked if not for the report from my PI. I'm sure at this point Traci thought she was 10 feet tall and bulletproof.

Despite how pissed I was at her, I held myself in check and had her served at home on an evening when we were both home. She was cleaning up the dinner dishes and I was watching TV in the family room when the doorbell rang. She yelled for me to get the door, but after ascertaining through a window that it was the process server, I blandly told her that the call was for her, and she should answer it. She harrumphed at me, answered the door, and kind of staggered into the family room holding the cliché manila envelope.

"What the fuck?" she hissed at me while looking at the opened envelope. "How could you do this to me ... to us ... What about our family?"

"You're just upset that I pulled the trigger on you," I answered dispassionately. "Given a little more time, you'd have done it to me. You don't love me anymore ... haven't for some time I've gathered. I know about the others ... or at least some of the others ..."

I started to choke up as I finished speaking. Traci started to redden deeply, and her look turned from shock to rage.

"You think you know something, well then go ahead and say it. I'm all ears."

"Carl Walters, Fred Lazarus, and ... and ..." I reached into my pocket for a small slip of paper. "Darren Trimble. Yeah, that's it."

Traci's face changed expression yet again, this time to looking gut-punched. She sat down on the sofa across the room from me. I'm guessing she was pretty confident that at best, I had suspicions, not answers.

"Well, I guess if you had been more of a man, we wouldn't be having this discussion," she spat at me.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised she went to attack mode right off the bat. Fucking three guys behind my back must have been a great confidence builder for her.

"Excuse me for growing older," I sighed. "Apparently 29 years wasn't enough to earn me the loyalty discount. Shit, none of those fuckers was even alive when we got married!"

Traci's eyebrows shot up at that statement. Yes, not only did I know she had lovers, but I had info on these guys. She looked like she wanted to continue down this path, but then held herself back.

"I'll let you stay in the house until we can get it sold. I'll let you explain things to the kids and your folks," I said quietly.

I got up from my La-Z-Boy, went to the hall closet and pulled out two packed suitcases. She definitely wasn't expecting that.

"I'll come by in a few days and get the rest of my stuff. Get your own attorney, figure out what you want to do and call Marty. It's obvious you no longer give a shit about me, so let's make this quick and get it done."

I don't have any idea what crashed and broke against the wall as I was going through the doorway.

++++++++++

While Mark was right, Traci was planning to divorce him, she wasn't quite ready to make the move. She was working out in her mind how to spin things to make her husband look like the bad guy in this. She knew Mark was very well-liked among their friends, and it wouldn't have taken much for them to side with him completely. As for the kids, she was planning on being a little more direct, attacking his manhood and hoping the girls would see the logic in her wanting to have mind-blowing sex multiple times every week.

Traci had to admit to herself that Mark's move caught her completely by surprise. She wondered if someone had seen her with one of her lovers and had dropped a dime on her, never realizing that she was the source of the leak, so to speak. But still, it didn't look like Mark's world was devastated by this, the way she envisioned it would when she finally served him with divorce papers. She was somewhat unnerved by how well he seemed to be holding up; in fact, it almost looked like he was enjoying the situation.

++++++++++

I was feeling proud of myself as I walked out of the house with my two suitcases. I could tell that Traci was not expecting what hit her, nor that I seemed to be holding things together. I drove over to a near-by motel and checked myself in. It was time to begin Life 2.0.

Traci only fought one aspect of the divorce, but she fought it tooth and nail: she wanted me to change the reason to irreconcilable differences from adultery. She was still going to get 50 percent of everything, so it wasn't about the money. But I had a feeling she was going to twist things around a bit with the kids and her folks to make me look like the bad guy, so leaving the filing under adultery gave me just enough leverage.