The First Ex-Wife

Oh, my God. I just told my wife and her lover to go fuck in my bed.

All the way to work I stirred in my seat. I knew what was happening, but still I didn't know. Was she sucking his cock at this very moment, or maybe pointing her ass in the air to allow him the one thing I had never done for her.

I was such a failure.

Wait, I was not a failure. I had a grand position at the company I worked for. I didn't have to work hard, because I had all the degrees hanging on the walls of my office. People called me sir, I was one of the first voices that people relied on to be successful, or answer the questions that would solve their problems. I was not a failure.

By the time I arrived at the office, I had convinced myself that my marriage was not a complete loss. How could it be, I was still married; just not happily.

Days turned into weeks and then months, still every day I wondered if Ellen and Paul were in my bed. She lived up to her part of the bargain. When it was required to be a husband and wife somewhere in public, she never let me down.

One Friday evening, when I had just returned from my daily grind at the office, I was surprised to see Paul relaxing in the family room watching TV. "What is Paul doing here at this hour," I ask Ellen who was putting the final touches on dinner.

"Oh, Paul is going to be spending the next few says with us. His wife's mom had a stroke." She didn't even pause, but continued. "It's not a major stroke, and since she'll be gone for just a few days, I invited him to stay here."

She never saw the disgusted look on my face as I left the room. Underneath my suit jacket was a swelling dislike for the entire situation. I had sanctioned this shit-fest, and she was going to show how much she wanted to rub my face in her intense hatred.

Later that evening, I left the confines of my home office, and went to the second master suite in the house. Many people would call it a spare room, but this bedroom had all the comforts of the room my wife enjoyed. When I discovered my wife had lovers, I had all my personal items moved.

Now, with only a wall between our rooms, I heard my wife grunting and groaning as she fucked my long ago best friend. The loud smacking of his flesh against her ass, and the noisy proclamation of his impending explosion into some orifice of her body. The pain and thrill of their coupling was equally mentally agonizing and sexually stimulating.

The first night I slept very little. The second night a little better. By the fourth night I was looking forward to letting my sexual fantasies rule my mind and my body. It just happened, that was the night they decided to rest and take a break from the sexual games they played. I was strangely disappointed.

In just over a week Paul was back living at his own house, and it seemed like everything was back in the order we had learned to accept. Ellen and I barely spoke, but when we were out in public, she was the perfect arm-candy.

As the year progressed, I was making more and more headway with the company. Stockholders were happy and everyone was dancing around with a positive attitude. It was time for the annual Christmas Ball, all the invites were out, and the RSVP box was full.

When Ellen and I entered you could see dicks getting hard; she was a knockout. All evening she was perfect, but I did notice one of the younger execs following us around like a lost puppy. He asks Ellen to dance several times, but she always graciously turned him down.

As the evening was starting to wind down and some of the older bosses decided to call it a night. The music started getting louder and the lights were being dimmed. Ellen said she needed to go to the ladies' room. I nodded, and she left with one of the other women from our table going with her. They were talking as they crossed the floor, so I looked away to enjoy what was going on, on the dance floor.

After a few minutes, the wife that had gone to the ladies' room with Ellen returned without my wife. I did a quick scan of the floor, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had more to take care of than a quick pee and return. I turned to the woman at our table and ask if she knew where my wife went.

"Oh she was talking to that nice young man that has been over at the next table." She paused a minute, then remembered. "I think his name is Darrin, or something like that." A glance at her face you could see the total indifference to my inquiry. "Thank you," I paused. "I'm sorry, I forget your name."

"Hobson," she barked.

Now that I had totally pissed off the wife of a board member, I got up and started walking toward the Rest rooms on the opposite side of the large dance floor. Just as I crossed the center of the room, I saw my wife. She was walking rapidly toward me, and when she saw me she stopped and held her hands out signaling she wanted to dance.

I stepped into her arms and immediately, knew something was not right. The tiny metal tab on the dress's zipper was not flat, hidden by the dress; it was sticking straight out. I had zipped the dress for her at the house and this tab was not sticking out straight. When I glanced at the entranceway leading to the restrooms, I saw another thing I didn't want to see. The young stud that had been pursuing my wife all evening was making his way out of the hallway.

We barely spoke as we road home in the early hours of the morning. The driver had been patient, and I signed his invoice with a very, very large tip. "Does that impress anybody when you do that?"

"Next time he'll treat my wife like a lady instead of a gold digging slut."

That little comment saved me from having to hear her god awful voice for the next ten days. And it gave me time to do something I had wondered about for the last year. The following day I called into my office the head of our security, Frank Williamson. When I told him what I wanted, he turned green.

"You know this will cost you big with the company?"

"I know, but I can't continue like this." I knew exactly what he was referring to about the company. The CEO and most of the board had been here since the beginning. They all claimed to be 'born again Christians.' The only problem with that was almost every one of them had a little hoochy-mama on the side. If I divorced my wife, it means I screwed everything up and had no chance to move on to the Board.

Before he left the room, Frank said the words, 'are you sure about this' four more times. Every time I gave the same answer. "Let's get this done."

With assurances that anything Frank and his crew discovered would be kept with only the greatest discretion possible, I felt secure, watching him walk toward the elevators to return to his office.

The ball was now rolling. I was about to find out if I was the biggest fool in the world, or just the biggest cuckold. Either way, I felt certain my college prediction was going to be correct; Ellen, would be my first ex-wife. The really disturbing thing about the whole situation, I wasn't upset in the slightest. I found her cheating with my onetime best friend, in a weird way, stimulating.

Eleven days later, I found a note on my desk. Frank Williamson had called and ask to see me. My assistant was going to lunch, so I told her I would return his call.

"I didn't expect to hear from you for another week or two."

Frank paused a second and then said, "I think we need to talk in private. Would you like to take me to lunch?"

"Sure Frank, where do you want to go?"

Without a second's hesitation, "How 'bout, The Chop House?"

"I'll have my driver pick us up at the main entrance."

"No, let's take my car, I'm parked on level three."

Not wanting to offend my driver I started to speak, but Frank cut me off.

"Mr. Simon sir, I don't think you want anyone to hear what I have to tell you."

The sound of his voice, and formal way he spoke caught me by surprise. "I'll be right down."

It was a long drive to 'The Chop House,' but he never mentioned anything about my wife or what he and his team had discovered. We kept guiding my questions and our conversation away to something not related. When the conversation got down to Volleyball, I knew I was going to be shocked at what he did know. I wasn't sure I was ready for what I was about to hear.

The Chop House isn't even in the city. It's located out in the boonies, next to a gas station and what looked like a haunted house. One thing for sure, it was a popular place; the parking lot was close to being full. Frank pulled out his disabled placard and hung it on the mirror. We were in the very first space next to the entrance.

Once inside I was surprised at the size of the place. It seemed to go on forever. It only looked that way because of the bull shit mural painted on the back wall, and the way chairs and tables were crammed inside. Before anyone could claim the booth Frank wanted, he rushed to lay claim to a rickety old table and bench. We sat about three tables away from the entrance, right next to the front wall.

Briefly glancing at what some would call a menu, I ask Frank, "Do you come here often?"

"This is the fourth time I'm ever been in this toilet, but you'll soon see why." He smiled, "Just order the Special," he paused, "you won't eat it anyway." Franks eyes followed someone coming in the door; he followed them across the dining room, and then he turned his attention to what was being called, 'The Special'."

I was hungry, so I cautiously took the first bite. "That's not too bad," I thought to myself; not wanting Frank to think I was crazy. I was just hungry, and this seemed to fill the bill, and the stomach. As I finished cleaning the plate, Frank wanted me to exchange seats.

What in the world is wrong with this guy, we are out here in the boonies, and suddenly he wants to swap my splintered seat for his?

No more time than it took for me to look up from my new seat, I was shocked to my very toes. I couldn't speak a word. There, in one of the tightest dresses, if you could call it a dress, was my wife. She was laughing and smiling as she was escorted out of the restaurant by two very tall and very buff young men.

She clung to their shoulders, and all the way out to a car, she swapped spit with first one and then the other. As they arrived at their car, the one with his hand on her ass, took a coin from his pocket. He flipped the coin and it looked as though he won. He opened the back door on the driver's side of the car. He slipped in and Ellen, laughing and kissing the loser, entered the back seat and was immediately wrapped up by two huge arms.

With all the sincerity he could muster, Frank muttered, "I'm sorry man, but if you didn't see it, you wouldn't have believed it."

"Yes, I would have. You have done me a great favor." I then told Frank the entire story as you have read it. About Paul, about the deal, about all my suspicions, even about how I told Paul years earlier that I knew she would be my first ex-wife. "Do you have documentation?"

"We have video, audio and photos of about six men she has been seeing sexually. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, ask away."

"Why in the world does she even put clothes on? The reason I ask is, you don't even get down the drive, and she has some guy or girl between her legs."

I inappropriately grinned at Frank's assessment. "She thought she had money and power, and could do anything to her cuckold husband. It's like a cancer, if you don't put a stop to it in the beginning, it just keeps growing. Soon it just eats you up.

The next day, after I had seen and read all of Frank Williamson's report on my wife, I called him to my office. When he arrived, I handed him a very large check.

"I can't take that; I'm paid by the company"

"That's why I want to give you this. If the company owns this information, it belongs to them. If I give it back to you, and you destroy it, it belongs to no one. Take this check and have a bonfire with your team. With what is left over, tell them thanks and forget what they saw and did."

"There was only one, and she's not going to tell anyone; she's my wife."

Frank took the check and we realized we were bonded for life. All I had to do was treat him like a friend, and make sure he got a Christmas card every year.

That night, my father came to my house for dinner. Ellen was out of the house, so we talked openly about my impending problem. Two weeks later I was seated in the First class section of a 777 on my way to Australia. After a week of meetings and promises, A young attractive Aussie woman, came into the meeting. She had tears in her eyes. She handed a note to the President of Australian operations. As she left the room, the man leading the meeting ask everyone to leave.

"Joseph, would you stay?' He handed me the note.

From: Norman Magillacutty, Major Crimes Division, CBI

To: A.G. Stanford, President, Australian Operations, ADM Co, LLC

Mr. Stanford, please notify Joseph Simon, his wife and her overnight guest were killed early this morning, (US California Time). The motive appears to be a robbery of the Simon home.

Please inform Mr. Simon his attendance to this matter is of utmost importance. If he needs further information, he can contact me at the following number" 803-555-2121.

Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.

Signed

Norman Magillacutty, Major crimes division, CBI

END

A note to the reader. This is complete and total fiction. I don't even know if California has a CBI, and I don't care. The names are fun to say. I wonder what University would have a PHD candidate and with double Masters Degrees, still living in a Dorm. Oh well, it was fun to write it and I hope you enjoyed the read.