Very Fragrant Indeed

Been a while since my last story as I've been out of sorts. Thankfully a few of my backordered sorts have come in so I'm back at it. Starting slowly with a short one.

Whatever you're looking for, it isn't in this story.

In my never ending quest to waste my talents, I present another easy target for the snipers.

Just troping along, as is my norm, as if I had a norm. Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too

Steve Barri; Phil Sloan; P. F. Sloan: "But no use explaining, I've already decided, that living with you, it's worse than without you."

= = = =

"Put your socks in the hamper. They stink!"

"How many days have you worn those shorts? They stink!"

"Did you forget your deodorant today? You stink!"

As you may have already figured out, my lovely bride has a thing against most smells. Foxy's nose is apparently immune to litter boxes.

+ + + +

My first task this weekend was to bail out Precious. He'd spent the night recovering from surgery.

"Now keep the black cloth over the cage and try to make it as smooth a ride home as possible."

The vet was giving me instructions for the ride home with my very, very expensive yapping mutt. Technically not my canine but Foxy's mutt. Precious got his paw caught in a door and now, twelve hundred dollars later, he's on the rebound.

I'm supposed to keep him in the dark so he doesn't flail around and break the stitches. We also have two cats, Checkers and Fluffy, who are going to love tormenting Precious. I sprinkled catnip on his butt. I think I read it on the internet that that speeds recovery. If nothing else, it will make Precious neurotic.

One of the thing you need to know about Foxy is that she has whatever the talk-show ailment of the week is. If I hadn't been blinded by hormones, I may have never proposed. Foxy said she didn't want children as her cats are allergic to them. That should have tipped me off to what I was getting into.

+ + + +

The following Friday night this fiasco of a marriage disintegrated.

"Now keep the black cloth over the cage and try to make it as smooth a ride home as possible."

This time it was a dealer in wild animals instructing me. With a six foot long chain already secured to the cage, I meandered home, with as smooth a ride as you'll ever see. It was well past midnight and I figured Foxy would have given up on waiting for me hours ago. I was right.

The first thing I did was herd Precious, Fluffy, and Checkers into the sun room and closed the door behind them. All were sniffing me as if they knew something was up. Smart little critters.

Once the coast was clear, I retrieved the wild animal from my car. Walking gingerly into my house, I climbed the stairs to our bedroom. With a velvet handcuff, I secured the cage to Foxy's wrist. Foxy was sawing logs and never flinched. She stunk from smoke and alcohol.

I buried the key to the handcuffs in my pocket. After tenderly sliding the cage slightly under the bed, I closed the bedroom door behind me. With a piece of twine, I connected the bedroom door handle to the hallway closet door handle. Since the bedroom door opens into the bedroom, she'd have to rip off the closet door to escape. That bedroom door was not going to open without some outside assistance, which was the whole point.

+ + + +

Part of me really wishes I could have been around to witness the chaos. However, I'd taken a short vacation, by myself.

It's been a week and, mind you, this is all second hand information. Foxy's mother wants me to forgive Foxy and has told me all of these details. I suppose she's trying to guilt me into reconsidering filing for divorce.

Around five in the morning, Foxy needed to piddle. When she got out of bed, she noticed the chain cuffed to her arm and yanked on it. That scared the shit, well stink anyway, out of the skunk in the cage. Foxy ran, dragging the caged skunk, and pissing him off even more. She tried to escape out of the bedroom, to no avail. Apparently the smell was quite putrid. I'm told it still is, a week later.

After locking herself in the bathroom, which accomplished very little, Foxy screamed for help until she was hoarse. I had long left the scene and sitting in the bathroom it became clear to Foxy that none of the neighbors could hear her pleas for help.

When she came out of bathroom, the skunk nailed her good. She bounced that cage over to the bedroom window, drawing a few more squirts from the white striped avenger.

After screaming, with her hoarse voice, the old guy one house over and across, came out to investigate. Wildlife experts were eventually summoned, but by the time they separated the pair, the poor little stinker was squirted out. A week later some say Foxy still stinks. Couldn't happen to a nicer slut.

+ + + +

I found out about Foxy's little affair because of my extensive research on Literotica. Arriving home one seemingly normal Friday night, I smelled my favorite dinner being prepared. Now we all know what that means. The only time your bride makes you your favorite dinner is when she is feeling guilty about something she shouldn't have done or looking forward to repeating that mistake.

In my case, after dinner, it was a girl's night out to celebrate someone moving away. So after she left I followed her. She did meet up with some other women, but soon left with a guy. Not sure who he is, but when I find out, I'll probably do something stupid. Odds are he's her boss or in sales. That was easy enough, so I went home and packed my stuff. My golf buddy hooked me up with the wild animal aficionado.

+ + + +

Epilogue:

Even after extensive counselling, the skunk remains averse to cages. He's been released into the wild.

I refused to do in-person counselling, which Foxy's lawyer requested. My lawyer argued that Foxy still stunk, so counselling was done via Zoom. I hired a hooker to lay on my couch naked in my Zoom background, not quite out of sight. It appears counselling isn't working for us.

Foxy had the house professionally cleaned. However, Precious, Fluffy, and Checkers smell the squirted areas and 'Mark' it, reclaiming their territory. Since we'd been living in Foxy's grandmother's house, I knew I wasn't going to get anything out of the house in the divorce, so I really could care less about the smell.

Unlike most of the stories I'd read, there weren't a bevy of beauties lining up to claim my deranged ass. For the time being I'm okay with that. I need some time away from the fairer sex. Turns out that naked hooker on the couch had other talents.