Susan Fucks Better Than Andie

Andie had been upbeat all week, but was really upbeat that night at home. I guess she thought she had a reason to be. I had chosen an attorney who was on their incentive plan and he was covering for her. She was attentive and playful to me, doing all those things that used to turn me on knowing full well what my attorney told me. She must have felt invincible. I was still sleeping in the guestroom and she came in when I was in bed.

"I don't know where you got the idea I cheated, but I swear to you I haven't. I love you more today than I did the day we were married and I want you to love me back."

I looked at her. She reached for my dick and her head went down as her mouth engulfed me. I was hard instantly. Her head started moving up and down. So did my hips. Then I remembered her note to my attorney. My dick went soft in two seconds.

That was it for the evening. The next day was my turn to fix dinner for our daughters. Before they ate, I made a game out of swabbing their cheeks for DNA. I took all of the loose hair out of Andie's hairbrush, identified each sample, and labeled them.

I had no reason to believe the girls weren't mine, but up until a short time ago I had no reason to believe my wife was a whore. I thought I'd just err on the side of caution; after all, she's fucked a whole shitload of men in the past few years.

I found another attorney. The first question I asked him was who his insurance carrier was. It was a huge, nationally known company so I hired him. We spent two hours going over my story. I never told him about the other attorney. I did tell him that I had submitted some items for DNA testing and I told him what they were.

Three weeks at my house was like living with a snail. Everything was slow motion waiting for the DNA results. It seemed even the conversation slowed considerably. Andie and I slept in our bed, but every time she initiated any kind of sexual foreplay, my body got cold and froze.

"Please get some help," she begged. "I want to make love with my husband again."

The DNA results were sent to the dealership. I saw the envelope on my desk and grabbed it. My brother was with me and he just looked at me. "Must be important," he said. He went out to the showroom floor.

I stared at the results for a long time before asking my secretary to page him and ask him to come to my office.

"What's up?" He asked when he came in and sat.

I told him the whole story and showed him the DNA results.

"What happens now?"

"Divorce is what happens. I can't get rid of my money or investments so she's going to get some of that, but I hate giving her a fucking penny."

"Have you told Mom and Dad yet?"

"No. I just received this."

"Just keep me informed and I'll help in any way I can."

"I know."

Back in my attorney's office, I told him what I did and what I planned.

"Not one of those DNA tests will stand up in court because you did it on your own. The samples have to be under a chain of custody recognized by the court."

"Well, I'm not staying in that house another night."

"That's up to you, but as your attorney, I'd advise you to stay."

"How long?"

"Until the court decides what to do about the marriage."

"That could take months."

"Not only could, but will. I guarantee it."

"Christ, I'm between a rock and a hard place, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are. Men rarely win in divorces. They'll grab you by the short and curlies and you'll lose almost all of the time."

"Then what do I do?" I asked.

"Stay put for awhile longer and give me time to think."

I spent the rest of the day in my office. The girls were playing in the yard when I got home that evening. Andie was working in our shared office. I went in, put the DNA results in front of her then sat in one of the chairs behind her. She picked up the envelope, turned in her swivel chair and faced me.

"What's this?"

"DNA results from the bag of your dirty underwear I took." I tossed what was left of it to her. She made no effort to catch it. Her eyes were huge and she was surprised. She thought my first attorney had disposed of it after he lied to me.

"So what does it say?" She asked after a long pause and with a great deal of concern.

"It says there is some cum in your panties that doesn't belong to your husband."

She turned back to her work. "You already expected that." She realized at that point that it was all over.

I was not prepared for her frankness. All along she professed to love me, and even Susan said she hesitated getting involved in the incentive program because she loved me and didn't want a divorce. I guess the drugs and repeated sex changed all that over the years.

"Yes, I did. But what I didn't expect was to find out that neither of your daughters belong to me."

She swiveled back to face me. "That's bullshit. They're both yours."

"No they're not. Take some time to read the report, then figure out a way to tell them who their real fathers are."

"Fathers?"

"Fathers. It seems they have different fathers." I stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to bed. Don't come near me."

I guess it was exhaustion, but I slept the sleep of the dead. If Andie slept in the same bed, I never knew it. I was up, dressed, and downstairs where she was feeding the girls. They greeted me as they always did and I greeted them back. I had opened the door to the garage when Andie spoke.

"I work late tonight so you have to feed the girls."

"I'm working late as well. Why don't you ask Susan to fuck the men you scheduled for tonight so you can feed your children?"

"I'm not fucking anyone tonight. I'm working."

"No you're not." She glared at me. Glared! She was the one caught cheating, but she glared at me. I continued. "You better be here with those girls or I'll have the police hunt you down and drag your ass to jail for child neglect. And it will be like that until one of us leaves this house. They're your children, not mine, so you get your ass home and take care of them."

She stayed home that night and every night until I moved out. I played with the girls, and put them to bed, but at meal times, if I ate with them I had to fix my own food because Andie only fixed enough for the three of them. Each day with them got more and more difficult because I knew the day would soon come when I wouldn't see them anymore.

Andie was served with divorce papers with an order to present the girls for DNA Testing. She also had to be tested and I had to do it again.

For the next month, I spent as much time with the girls as I could. I went to work late and I left early just to be home with them. I had changed their diapers, cleaned up after them when they threw up, and cuddled them when they were sick. Now at any time, they may leave, or I may be refused visitation. I would most likely never see them again.

The court-ordered DNA results came back and nothing had changed. The results were read in open court and the judge asked Andie who the two fathers were.

For the first time since the whole thing started, she cried. "I have no idea."

"What do you mean you have no idea?" Asked the judge. "How many men have you had sex with?" Again, she said she had no idea. Only that time the judge had to ask her to speak up so we could hear her.

"Well, you better come up with a list because we're going to find the fathers of those girls and make them pay."

The local papers, TV, and radio stations made a huge deal out of that. Then the national news heard about it. Andie and Susan were pretty popular for awhile. Andie was given a week to come up with a list of all possible fathers. She and Susan went back through all of their files and came up with a list for the court. Since she had two children, it was obvious that the men didn't always use protection. How in God's name did she avoid getting STD's? How did I? Maybe she wasn't always able to avoid them. There were periods, I remembered when she didn't want sex. Maybe those were times when she was recovering. Or maybe she had a special few who were allowed to fuck her without protection. I had no idea. And how in God's name I never caught wind of it is beyond me. I'm not stupid, but I was damn sure blind. And the drugs! Mostly marijuana from what Susan had said, but occasionally something stronger. How much stronger and how often? Again, never once did I suspect her of doing drugs. I felt like a first class fool. They say love is blind so I guess that was my only excuse, but five years? Good God almighty!

My mind was absolutely boggled, my heart was empty, and my soul was in a turmoil. It hadn't taken long for my love to disappear. It started disappearing during my conference with the owner of the other dealership and disappeared more and more everyday after that. By the time we got to court, I hated her. The judge ordered the 47 men on her list who were still locally available to take DNA tests. Both fathers were found, but it took four months. They wanted nothing to do with their children. At last count there were 15 divorces because of that list. Sixteen including ours.

During the divorce hearing the judge, who was the same judge for the DNA stuff, was totally pissed. Andie was still working at that point so she only got a fraction of what she could have gotten from me because the judge was so pissed at her. She also got the house, but we expected that. She received no alimony or child support from me, but in a separate action, both fathers were forced to pay child support.

Andie sold the house and left town. I never had a chance to see the girls and say goodbye before they left. When I realized that, I tried not to be upset, but I couldn't avoid it. They had been mine for years, now they were gone. I hated Andie all over again when I cried because I missed the girls.

Susan didn't even try to save their business and like Andie, left town.

We had to find a new insurance carrier, but we did that early on so had no problem. We bought the second dealership and my brother took over that store. I stayed at our old one.

It had been almost a year since Andie left town. I was flying to Cleveland for a dealership conference. I was sitting in the boarding area waiting to board when someone stopped in front of me. I looked up and saw the uniform of the airline I was flying. The wearer of the uniform looked vaguely familiar. Her uniform had the four stripes of a Captain.

"Brian?" She asked. "Brian Moore?"

I stood. "Yes. May I help you?"

She laughed. "I'm Lisa Romano. You and I went to the Junior Prom together."

"Oh, my goodness." We hugged. "How are you? I don't remember seeing you after our date. Was I that bad?"

She laughed. "My parents divorced and I went with my dad to Montana. Do you still live here?"

"I do."

"What do you do?"

"Do you remember that car dealership on the Bayou?"

"Yes."

"I run it for my parents."

"Wow. Good for you."

I looked at her uniform. "It isn't difficult to see what you've been doing. Are you flying us to Cleveland?"

"I am indeed."

We talked a few more minutes before she had to get onboard and get ready for us. In Cleveland, she was standing in the cockpit door as we deplaned. She was obviously waiting for me. She walked out to the boarding area with me. "Would you like to have a coffee or something?" she asked.

She went back to the plane to get her gear and we ended up having dinner. We had known each other in school, but weren't close by any stretch of the imagination. She reminded me that I took her to the Junior Prom as a last resort.

"My original date decided to ask someone else and when he told me, I cried like a little girl," she said. "You heard me crying in an empty classroom, came in, and tried to console me. I finally told you why and you said, well, hell, why don't you go with me?" She paused. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't have gone with you because I hardly knew you, but I really wanted to go. Do you remember?"

I grinned. "Barely. I remember I couldn't dance so we spent most of the time sitting at our table. I wasn't the best date in the world."

She put her hand on my arm. "But you were a date and I was able to go to the Junior Prom and that was important. It still is. Thank you."

She was based out of Houston so we started seeing each other. That was fine for almost a year. We dated, dined, and fucked each other. She flew some of the biggest planes the airline had and enjoyed it. I flew with her three times to Europe as a guest on her Family and Friends plan. We didn't get to see much of the cities we flew into because the flight crews generally stayed at hotels near the airport. We always shared her room and spent most of our time trying to kill each other by fucking ourselves to death. Then she was transferred. She was based out of New York City so we rarely saw each other. That was okay because we weren't in love, but we did enjoy the relationship while it lasted.

The following few weeks were a bit slow socialwise. There were dinners and other social obligations, but no dates and no sex. That was a situation I didn't care too much for so I decided to change it.

I didn't know any women locally that I wanted to date, so I went the online route. I did all the processing, question answering, and third degreeing I could handle. We didn't have that much paperwork when we bought the second dealership.

It didn't take long for responses to start coming in and they came literally from all over the country.

I never got past the photos of the first two dozen or so women before I deleted them. The next dozen were just as bad. It wasn't that I was looking for a raving beauty, but facial tattoos, nose rings, six holes pierced in each ear, and half of their head shaved while the other half had full hair, just weren't compatible with what I thought was normal. Neither were the motorcycle mammas with their tits hanging out. I like tits, but not hanging out over the handlebars of a motorcycle.

I figured the online stuff was a bad deal so I stopped looking.

I received a call from the Child Protective Services and they wanted to talk to me. I asked what it was about, but the person I talked to wouldn't tell me over the phone. I met one of their officers in her office the next day. Her name was Deborah Wilkinson.

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Moore," she started. "Have a seat." She opened a folder on her desk and scanned through it. "Do you know Margaret Scott and Jennifer Conners?"

"No, ma'am, I don't think I do."

"Hmmm. How about Andrea Moore?"

"Her, I know, or used to know. She's my ex-wife."

"And you don't know her daughters?"

"Of course I do. Margaret and Jennifer."

"You just said you didn't know them."

"I didn't recognize their last names. When I knew them their last names were Moore."

"I see. When was the last time you saw them?"

"Over two years ago. Why?"

"Their mother is in drug rehab."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Neither of the girls fathers are interested in taking care of them, and instead of placing them with strangers in foster care, we were wondering if you would consider taking them temporarily. Normally, we wouldn't consider placing two girls with a single man unrelated to them, but since you have prior experience with them, we thought ...."

"Whoa there. Just a minute. You want me to take care of the daughters of my ex-wife. Daughters who were fathered by two different men while their mother was married to me?"

"When you put it like that it sounds pretty bad. But we were thinking of the girl's welfare. Since they are not full sisters we would have to break them up and they would most likely go into two different homes. We were also thinking that you know them and they know you so it would be easier on all three of you."

"Look, Mrs. Wilkinson, I don't know whose screwy idea this is but I haven't seen those girls in over two years. I've changed and I'm sure they have. They probably don't even remember me. I think you better count me out of this deal."

"Okay Mr. Moore. I don't blame you. I just thought I'd give it a shot for the girls' sake."

"How long is their mother going to be in rehab?"

"At least a month. Could be more like six weeks."

"So when she gets out, the girls go back to her and the same environment. Is that right?"

"That's right. As long as she is making an effort to do what's right we can't take them permanently."

"And if I took them, I would lose them again when their mother gets out of rehab."

"Yes sir."

"Mrs. Wilkinson, my ex-wife left town with those girls and never allowed me to say goodbye to them. It took a long time for me to get over, first that they weren't my daughters, then when they were gone, how much I missed them. I missed them for months. I don't want to go through that again."

"I understand. Well, thank you for coming in." She stood and reached across the desk to shake my hand. I took it, shook it, said goodbye, and headed for the door. Before I could open the door I turned back to her.

"Where are the girls?"

"In Dallas where they live. We were going to bring them here."

"No more than six weeks?"

"I can't guarantee that. I can just guarantee a minimum of four. Anything over that depends on Mrs. Moore and her recovery."

"It's still Mrs. Moore? She hasn't remarried?"

"That is correct."

"I only have two bedrooms. They would have to share a room."

"They share one at home so they're used to it."

"What happens if we don't get along?"

"They go back to Dallas."

"And separate homes?"

"And separate homes."

"That sucks."

"We agree."

"I'd have to change their room because it's set up for one person, not two."

"I'd be glad to help you with that if you would like."

"I work, you know. I have a full time job. What would I do with them?"

"We have lots of nanny types we can call on. They just need a safe, caring place to stay until their mother is better."

"How much time do I have to get ready for them?"

"About 24 hours."

"I can't be ready in 24 hours."

"I'm sure they won't mind. In fact, they would probably enjoy helping. They are girls, after all."

"I'm going to regret this, but okay, and let me tell you one thing lady. It's you I'm going to be cussing out when I have to lose them again."

She walked over to me. "I have broad shoulders, Mr. Moore. Lots of tears have been shed on them."

I walked out already regretting what I had just volunteered for.

The first thing I did was call my parents. "Are you crazy? You have no idea what she has done to those girls in two years. They might be on drugs themselves." Said my father.

"You'll do fine with them." Said my mother.

"You're a fucking idiot." Said my brain.

"You won't regret it." Said my heart.

My parents wanted to be there the next afternoon when the girls arrived, but I told them no. Deborah Wilkinson was there with a nanny who had been approved by the State Child Protective Office. Her name was Miss Carolyn. I would get the girls off to school in the morning and she would be at home when they got there after school.

School was another thing I didn't care for in this whole deal. The girls were only going to be here for a month. Not even time to develop any kind of friendships. I asked about a tutor but Mrs. Wilkinson said no. They had to go to Public School. That was the law.

It was early afternoon when the sedan pulled up and the girls reluctantly got out. They had grown a lot. I opened the front door for them and they stood there. Their escort had to gently push them into the house. We just looked at each other.

Margaret was the older of the two. She took a couple of tentative steps toward me. "You were our first father," she said.

"That's right," I responded.

"You left us."

"No. Your mother moved and you left me."

"Why didn't you come with us?"