She Did Me a Favor


"I'll be back in three months, mid-December," I said. "If I'm still thinking then like I am now, I'm following through on a divorce. I will let you know, generally, where I am, but I'm leaving and I'm not sure yet where I'm going to be. Goodbye, Beth, I'll see you around."

"PETE, NO!" Beth cried as I walked out the front door with my suitcases. I didn't look back as I climbed in my vehicle and headed back across town to my motel room.

The next day was Saturday, so I slept in. When I got going, I packed up what I had in the motel room and checked out. At $85 a night, the motel was a little steep, and there was a place near my office that catered to visiting business people.

They had long-term rates that were considerably cheaper than the average motel. For approximately $45 a night, I rented a clean room for two weeks that had a nice little kitchenette, Internet cable access and a large television that had pay-per-view porn movies – if I was so inclined.

I did sample the sexy wares being offered on the TV, but mostly I kicked back and engorged myself on football all weekend, doing absolutely nothing else, then went to work the next Monday morning. The first thing I did was walk into my boss's office and hand him my letter of resignation, effective in two weeks.

Needless to say, everyone at the office was stunned. I'd been there so long, and in the same job, that I guess I'd become part of the landscape. My boss, for one, was in a panic. He spent the whole two weeks trying to talk me out of retiring, but I was adamant.

On Tuesday of the first week, I got a call from my daughter. It was a rather enlightening conversation.

"Daddy, why are you leaving us?" Laura asked.

"You'll have to ask your mother that," I replied.

"She said to ask you," Laura said.

"OK," I said. "Thursday afternoon, I caught her in bed with some other man. I was sick with the flu, took off work early and there she was. I've got the pictures to prove it."

"Wow!" Laura said. "I didn't think she had it in her. Well, that explains why she's been so weepy. Daddy, she's a basket case. She just sits around crying and cursing herself. You know she called in sick all three days this weekend."

"Look, tell your mother to get a grip on herself," I said through clenched teeth. "If she thinks she can guilt-trip me into coming back to her, she's very mistaken. I've already put in for my retirement, and a week from Saturday, I'm out of here. After that, what she does, what you do and what your derelict brother do are none of my concern."

"Well, shit, I love you too ... Dad," Laura cried.

"Hey, you never gave a flying fuck about me before now, why should you start now?" I said. "You're just afraid the gravy train's fixing to roll out of the station."

"That's not true," Laura said a little pensively. "We ... I need you. You're the only one in this house with any sense, and I don't know what's going to happen without you."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," I said. "Look, Laura. I'm sorry about what I said. That was mean of me. I'll be in touch, and I'll be home for Christmas. OK? I love you. Really."

"I know, Daddy," she said with a sniffle. "I love you too."

Jason never did call.

I had a pretty busy two weeks. Beth tried to call any number of times, but after I hung up on her a few times, she got the message that I didn't want to talk to her.

Her friends from work tried to get me to at least see her, but I refused, and I said so in pretty harsh terms. Turns out Clark Slater was a nurse up in the unit where Beth worked, and they'd had been fucking around together for about six months.

Most everyone I talked to said they thought he was the only one she'd stepped out on me with, but they didn't know for sure. I very pointedly told all of them how much I appreciated them telling me what my wife was doing behind my back. They didn't have much to say after that.

I got a call in the middle of the first week from Clark Slater's wife, and apparently, Beth wasn't the first nurse – married or otherwise – he'd been able to tap. But Beth was going to be the last, at least while he was her husband, because I had finally given her the solid proof she needed to show him the door.

Funny, but I never heard from Clark, either about Beth or his ruined tires.

I had an awful lot to do before I left my work behind. I had to train someone who could handle my job until they hired a full-time replacement. I had to get my 12-year-old vehicle serviced. I had to scout around for a broker who could set up my 401K in a private account. And I had to get with HRD about my severance pay and cashing in my remaining sick time.

I spent most of my down time watching TV, fooling around on my laptop or shopping for things I would need when I left town. I also visited a few of my friends, all of whom expressed their disbelief that Beth really would cheat on me.

All too soon, the second Friday arrived, my last day of work, and with it came a little sense of regret. I'd put in 26 years at that company, and I'd made a lot of friends there.

At lunch that day, my boss called our department together and we had a little retirement party, and that's when I finally lost my composure.

I was trying to give a little thank-you speech when I suddenly broke down and cried, the first time I'd cried over anything in years. I wept both because I was leaving and because of the circumstances that had driven me to my decision to retire.

I had kept myself so busy over the previous two weeks that I hadn't given myself a chance to let out the emotions over Beth's betrayal, and seeing my colleagues gathered in my honor was just too much for me to overcome.

But I got over it pretty quick, especially when Marci Glover came over to me and invited me to an after-work gathering with a few of them at Chili's. Of course, I said yes, even though I made it clear that I don't drink.

Marci was a fellow computer geek, but she was a damn good-looking geek. She was in her early 30s, a tall, blonde divorcee with a 10-year-old daughter who was spending the weekend with her father. And as she told me that, she gave me a very smoky look.

I'll admit, that kind of confused me. I mean, I'm not bad looking; in fact, I look considerably younger than my years. But stud-muffin I'm not, or at least I didn't think I was. I'm a little shorter than average, about 5-foot-9, I wear glasses, I have a little bit of a belly and while I'm no weakling, I'm no fitness freak, either.

But I was about to find out that I had more sex appeal than I'd ever imagined.

There was a group of seven, three women and two men besides Marci and myself, and for once in my life, I was the man of the hour. We sat for several hours drinking beer – well, I had tea – and told stories about the plant, about the town, about each other. In the midst of the festivities, we also took time to have dinner.

As the night wore on, I was sitting next to Marci and it became rather obvious that she was coming on to me. She was sitting real close, putting her hand on my thigh, or on my arm. I couldn't decide whether she was just doing that because she was drunk or whether she was serious.

Finally, about 9 o'clock, we started drifting our separate ways. I wanted to get an early start the next day, and got up to leave. Then I looked over at Marci and I saw that she really shouldn't drive home, so I offered her a ride. After getting hugs and handshakes wishing me well, I walked Marci out to my Explorer.

When we got in, she moved in real close to me, put her hand on my thigh and gave me a penetrating look.

"I'm really not all that drunk," Marci said. "I just wanted you to give me a ride, and not home, either."

"So, where do you want me to take you?" I said, deliberately playing dumb.

"Take me to your motel," she said, and she pulled my face around and kissed me hard and deep.

"Marci, you don't have to do this," I said when we broke apart. "I mean, yeah, I'm lonely, but I don't want any sympathy."

"Sympathy's got nothing to do with it," she said. "Pete, I've had the hots for you ever since I started to work there, and I've finally got a chance. I'm not passing it up."

"You've had the hots for me?" I said. "Come on, Marci, look at me. I'm a fat, gray-haired old man."

"A fat, gray-haired old man with a nice big cock," Marci said, running her hands over the swelling bulge in my pants. "In the first place, you're not fat. In the second place, your hair makes you look sexy. In the third place, you've very good-looking. And in the fourth place, you're one of the nicest men I know. You're one of the few men in that building who's never made a pass at me, or any of the other gals, for that matter. Trust me, we've noticed. You've always been a gentleman."

"I've always been a married gentleman," I said, with just a trace of bitterness.

"Look, you're going off tomorrow, and you deserve some TLC before you go," Marci said. "Now, are you going to take me back to your motel and fuck me or not?"

I laughed then and started up my vehicle. Truth is, I'd had many a fantasy about Marci Glover, but I always figured she was out of my league, and besides, I was a married man who believed in fidelity.

Technically, I guess I was still married, but I was already legally separated and in my heart I knew my marriage was over. Marci Glover was offering me her body served up on a platter, and I'd be damned if I was going to pass it up.

We were all over each other the moment the door to my room closed, kissing wildly, our hands caressing each other's bodies.

In no time at all, I was feasting my eyes on Marci's slender body as she sat back naked on the bed. Her tits were just about perfect, plump enough to hang nice and pretty on her chest without sagging. Her butt was firm and she had a clean-shaved pussy that was dripping wet.

I slid two fingers into her pie as I climbed on the bed and kissed her feverishly, my cock like an iron bar. But I knew what I wanted, at least initially, and I quickly had Marci on her back with her legs spread and my mouth on her cunt.

I swirled my tongue around in her hole, lapping up the flow of juice that boiled out to cover my mouth. I licked her like a dog, rolling my tongue around her clit, sucking on her sex like I was giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and generally making a pig of myself.

Marci was panting and gasping as I brought her to a rapid climax.

"Oh, God, Pete," she wailed. "Your moustache feels sooooo gooood on my clit. Keep ... on ... doing that."

I actually felt her cunt start to palpitate as she arched her back, caught her breath then trembled in a terrific orgasm.

"Jesus, Pete," she panted. "Come on up here and fuck me, big boy."

I was ready to do just that. It had been over a week since I'd let myself come, and then only in my own hands, so I was in need.

I got up on my knees between Marci's widespread legs, aimed my cock at her drooling hole and slid right on in.

For a few seconds, it felt weird to put my dick in a pussy that didn't belong to Beth, but that feeling passed and I quickly set up in a brisk back-and-forth rhythm as I lay across Marci's sweaty body.

It was different, however. Marci was a lot more active than Beth had been, at least with me, and her pussy was considerably tighter, with less-pronounced labia. I took note of those differences in passing, as I churned my cock in Marci's body.

We held each other as we worked together for our mutual pleasure. I could see on Marci's face that she was building toward another climax, and I was getting close too. As I hurtled toward my orgasm, I whispered something in Marci's ear, and she gave a throaty laugh.

"Honey, you can do anything you want to me," she said. "Especially that."

I smiled as I picked up the pace, until Marci's body stiffened, and she threw her head back in pleasure.

I felt the cum boil over in my scrotum, and a second before I came, I jerked my cock out, slid my body over Marci and exploded in a huge cumshot all over her face.

Marci gasped and squealed as I laid two thick ropes of semen over each eye and either side of her nose. I hosed her forehead, shot a wad in her hair then finished by stuffing my cock in her mouth to shoot the last few drops down her throat.

She looked up at me hotly as she sucked the last of my cum from my cock, rolling her tongue over the head.

I fell back on the bed and gazed as Marci sat up, showing me her cum-streaked face. Then she carefully, seductively, scooped as much of my cum off her face with her fingers as she could, licking off my juice with a relish that sent a shiver up and down my spine.

"Thanks," I said. "Beth would never let me do that. She thought it was demeaning."

"I can see where some women might think that," Marci said. "Personally, I love it. It is so hot, so sexy, to watch a man shoot his cum on my face. I think it's a sign that he thinks I'm nasty, which I am ... in certain situations."

We lay back on the bed and rested, then I fucked her again, this time a little more leisurely. I finished with Marci on her knees fucking her doggy-style, and after I came, we fell asleep together.

We fucked one final time with the pale light of dawn filtering through the drapes, then we got up, showered and dressed. Marci helped me pack, then I checked out and drove her back to where he car was parked. Before she left, she gave me a very soft kiss, then she stared into my eyes.

"Pete, all I can say is your wife's an idiot," she said. "She doesn't know what she's thrown away."

"Well, I guess sometimes you get used to someone, and get in a rut," I said. "I probably let things slide too much from my side. You know how it goes."

"Yeah, I guess I do," Marci said. "Pete, I hope you find what you're looking for, but if you ever decide to come back here for any length of time, look me up. I guarantee I'll treat you a hell of a lot better than Beth did."

"Thanks, Marci," I said. "I'll stay in touch. You never know what's gonna happen. You take care, OK?"

"You too," she said. "You be careful."

And with that I was off. I put my vehicle on the interstate headed west and I didn't look back.

I was headed off alone to travel the country with no plans, no itinerary, no agenda. I had some places out west I wanted to see, some things I wanted to do, but I had no particular schedule. I would go wherever my nose led me.

It was something I'd wanted to do for years, but had never been able to do. Either I couldn't afford it, I had family concerns or work concerns. Now I had none of those things holding me back.

My first destination, however, was my old hometown. I wanted to spend a few days with my folks, who were starting to get on up in years, and I wanted to see some old friends. I ended up seeing one I hadn't counted on, and it was a delicious experience.

My parents were disappointed to hear that Beth and I were splitting up, but my mom also said she wasn't surprised.

"She just hasn't seemed very happy the last few times you've been here," Mom said.

The following Monday, I was in the supermarket picking up some supplies for my trip, when I heard my name being called. I looked around and a big smile creased my face as I saw a wet dream from my past.

It was Dolores Valdez, a curvy chick that I went to school with. She was actually a year behind me, but we'd always seemed to have a class or two together every year, and we got to be friendly.

At the time, Dolores was a hot number who was a little too fast for me, but time had slowed her down a little bit. She had learned the hard way that the fast life wasn't always the good life.

But time had still been generous to her, because she was still a stone beauty. If anything, age had made her better looking than when she was in high school, softening her features and adding a little padding in strategic places.

She was little shorter than average with thick, dark hair, expressive brown eyes and a body that was all tits and ass.

She had moved back to town after divorcing her second husband, and was an assistant manager at the store. She lived alone in a small house in a quiet neighborhood not far from her daughter's family.

We chatted for a few minutes, getting caught up with our lives. When I told her I was divorcing my wife, her eyes lit up.

"I'm off tomorrow," she said in an inviting tone of voice. "How would you like to have dinner with me?"

"I'd love to," I said. "Any place in particular?"

"How about my place?" she said. "It's been awhile since I fixed dinner for a man, especially an old friend like you."

I arrived at Dolores' place about 7 'clock the next night to find her dressed in a tight red dress with spaghetti straps and her face quite tastefully made up. The dress was tight enough across her chest that it supported her tits, but it did nothing to hide the indentation her fat nipples were making in the dress' material.

My younger brother, who lives nearby, had given me a Viagra pill when I told him who I was seeing. He said I was going to need it, and it looked like he was right.

I entered her small, but tidy little house and was assaulted by the aroma of enchiladas cooking in the oven and other assorted Mexican treats being prepared for dinner. I was about to discover that Dolores was a terrific cook, but I also learned that she was a skilled conversationalist.

While waiting for dinner to finish cooking, we sat in her living room, real close, and got caught up with each other's lives. She was very understanding about what had happened to me, but also about what had happened to Beth.

Dolores had wrecked her first marriage by cheating, but her second marriage had fallen apart because her husband was cheating, so she was able to give me some insights from both sides of the fence. It didn't make me feel any better about it, but it did help.

Dinner was something special – enchiladas, tostados, rice and the best flan I've ever tasted in my life.

"How do you stay as slim as you do when you cook like this?" I asked as I pushed my bloated belly away from the table.

"Oh, I only cook like this on special occasions," Dolores said with a laugh. "If I ate like this every day I'd be as wide as I am tall."

We retired to the front room then and sat real close on the couch again. We talked for a bit, getting around to why she'd invited me over that night.

"Because I wanted to do something I never got a chance to do when we were in high school," she said. "You were always so nice, so cute, so sexy, but I knew I could never have you then. Mama and Papa wouldn't have approved of me dating an Anglo. You know, it's very ironic, very sad. They had no problem with me fucking around with all these cholos, these gangbangers, as long as they were Mexican. But a nice white boy? Forget it."

"But you don't have that problem now, do you," I said as I brought my face real close to hers.

We kissed then, and I lost myself in her full lips and active tongue. Dolores was acting like a hungry woman, a woman who hadn't had any in awhile, which amused me. She got a little teary when I asked her how long it had been since she'd had a man.

"Too long," she said. "When I came back here I made a vow that I wasn't going to let my past trip me into stupid relationships, but memories die hard in a small town. If I had five dollars for every time I've been propositioned in the past year by somebody I went to school with, I wouldn't have to work. That's why this is so special for me. You never looked down on me back in the old days, and you'd have never made an improper advance if I hadn't invited you here. I know you. You wouldn't."

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't have thought it," I said with a chuckle. "Believe me, Dolores, I shot a lot of cum back in high school imagining myself fucking you."

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