The saying goes: a butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause a tornado in Kansas. That’s bullshit. Well, it's inaccurate at the least. But, in the affairs of men and women, tiny ripples often do magnify into huge waves. At least that’s been my view.

Looking back on my life with Laura I used to see how little moments cascaded into life changing events. About two years ago, after first meeting Laura, I rejected her despite our mutual attraction, all because of a ring. Eventually, that ring and my rejection led to our union. Today, less than an hour ago, I caught her red handed, cheating on me. All because of a tiny thing - an unsent text message. As a result I stand here with our relationship damaged beyond all repair, looking down on Laura as she lies supine on the floor soaked in my fresh hot revenge, wondering: what do big events lead to?

If a butterfly causes a storm, what does the storm cause?

+++

I first noticed Laura boarding flight UA1136 from SFO to EWR. Hell, everyone noticed her. She walked into first-class wearing a dark Bebe jacket and blouse with a scandalously tight, short pencil skirt and high-powered heels. She wore her thick, black hair in a tight efficient bun. Impossibly successful looking for someone so young, Laura cut quite a figure. Boy did I ever admire that figure (surreptitiously) as she stretched to put her Tumi bag in the overhead. That is when I noticed the rings on her left hand.

Fuck.

I’d just signed divorce papers ending my marriage of four years to my now x -wife Kate. She’d cheated on me with Robert, my best friend. Robert and Kate were already engaged, the wedding date set. I’d sworn off women. Or rather I’d sworn to bed, and then leave, every woman who would have me. But attraction to Laura hit me with undeniable force. Immediately I saw something special in her, even through the bitter lenses of my recent betrayal.

Of course she was spoken for. What black haired, blue eyed, successful beauty wouldn’t be hitched? Yeah, I was bitter. But I had standards. Getting over Kate was easier than getting over her betrayal. No way would I mess with a married woman. No way would I be party to inflicting that kind of pain on another man. I dropped all thought of her right there and then.

But Laura became a regular traveler, always flying first class. Always a distraction on flights to and from Newark. So I politely flirted with her when I got the chance. But, I never tried pushing for more, honoring the commitment displayed on her ring finger. For her part Laura seemed to enjoy mild flirting and the occasional entendre but remained playfully and respectably out of reach. If anything, her decency and obvious enjoyment of a good, clean flirt increased my attraction.

The flight crew thought it was all very cute and entertaining.

The status quo changed one night at the lounge in the Newark DoubleTree. I’d come down from my room for an espresso and some company, possibly looking for a hook up. The place was dead. My co-pilot Susan and a decrepit looking octogenarian were the only other customers. I was about to pack it in when, to my delight, Laura tapped my shoulder asking if she could sit with us.

The three of us talked until midnight. Laura flirted outrageously with me, but still managed to be more playful than salacious. She touched me a few times while laughing and leaned in, displaying her ample cleavage and frilly black bra. Her blouse that night was a few buttons short of modest.

Susan picked up on this and made faces and lewd gestures at me behind Laura’s back, trying to crack me up. At midnight, like Cinderella, Laura called it quits, thanked us for the drinks, and beat a hasty retreat.

I walked alone to the elevator replaying the sights and sounds of Laura in my mind. A dusting of freckles dotted her smooth, young cheeks, something I hadn’t noticed before. Unbidden, an image of her face in mid-orgasm formed in my mind. Jeez, I needed to get a grip. She was 27 and too young by far for this old pilot. Fifteen years too young. Also, married.

Contemplating a quick wank before lights out, I noticed a keycard in my jacket pocket. I pulled the key out. On the sleeve was written the number 738 in a scrolling feminine cursive hand. When did she slip that into my pocket?

I was boarding in 709. In the elevator, I contemplated the elegance of Laura’s invitation. I could choose to meet her or not and no one would have to lose face. If she had second thoughts, simply engaging the chain lock would keep me out. If I’d failed to find the card, I could always ask her about it on the plane. Finally, she’d kept us in the bar until midnight, ensuring the tryst, if it happened, would be short and sweet. After all, I had a plane to fly in the morning. I would appreciate her style, if not for the fact she was married.

The elevator opened to the seventh floor. I stepped out. Separate plaques indicated rooms 701-720 were to the right while 721-740 were to the left. Which way would I go? Left for adultery or right and masturbation?

--

Fast forward about two years. I’d been flying SeaTac/SFO runs since Laura changed jobs and no longer needed to fly out to NY once a month. The trips were shorter and less likely to be interrupted by weather. It worked for our new life together. But sometimes, the weather did interrupt. Earlier, I’d texted Laura, ‘looks like fog in SFO, ATC says delay 2 hours, minimum. Pussies.’

Air Traffic Control let us out 10 minutes later. I guess they weren’t pussies after all. But their decision and my own text Laura about the changes had consequences I could not have expected.

Our house has one slot for a car and Laura always parks her Accord there since my old Porsche spends 50% of its time collecting dust at the airport. Street parking in Bernal Heights is pure hell, especially on our street. Especially on Saturday nights. But I’m an optimistic guy, so I try anyway. This is how I caught Jimmy Johnson, the local pie faced douchebag, and his stick skinny friend entering the front door of my house.

Laura and I live on a crowded hillside low on the west side of Bernal Heights. The street dips right where our carport sits and so, as I crested the hill looking for a space, my headlights illuminated our stoop and steps. And there, standing like he owned the house, was none other than Jimmy Fucking Johnson. Three generations of Johnsons live a house just down the street from us. Everyone hates that family, mostly because of Jimmy, who seems to be the only active member. And he’s too active. In particular Jimmy likes racing loudly up and down our tiny street in his red muscle car. Laura hates that Mustang.

What was that douche and his skinny assed friend doing on our stoop?

I brought my car to a stop, keeping the headlights on the pair of them, as I contemplated the deep philosophical implications presented by the existence of these two shitheads on my stoop. I wondered if they were about to break in, when suddenly Jimmy turned to the door with a smirk on his fat face, the interior light shining on him. I could see him leer visibly. He said something, presumably to Laura, then both he and Skinny walked casually into our house.

Why had Laura let them in?

I suddenly had a bad feeling. A sinking feeling in my gut, like I was about to miss the runway. I’d had it before. Once. Just minutes before catching Kate and Robert in my bed. The memory of walking down the hall to our bedroom, stepping over discarded clothes, to find the pair of them fucking in our bed played in my head. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was innocent, I tried to convince myself. Laura loved me, I knew. And our love life rocked. There was no reason to expect anything but a mundane explanation. But the sinking feeling remained the entire time I searched for a parking spot and then trudged back to the house.

--

I turned left out of the elevator for all the right reasons. Turning right would leave things hanging too ambiguously for my satisfaction. Frankly her plan wasn’t without weakness, from my perspective anyway. From her’s, a no-show was lack of interest. Simple as that. But I wanted her to know why I rejected her. My experience with Kate made it imperative she know. Call me pedantic.

Just before I got to 738, I took out a pen and wrote “Would love to, but... Rings?” on the card sleeve. The question left judgement out while making it clear what my issue really was. Satisfied, I slid the jacket along with the key under the door. Then I high tailed back to my room where I masturbated furiously thinking of all the things I’d like to do with Laura.

Thursday night I saw Laura again as she walked onto the plane. She simply nodded to me. No flirting. But she took more time than usual to stow her gear, and I noticed she wore no rings. What was that about?

She disembarked last, making sure I was out of the cockpit before she got up from her seat. We had brief, polite words before she walked down the ramp. On the way to my car I noticed another card in my jacket pocket. How did she get these in my pockets unnoticed? I pulled out the white card. On it was written “Otaku Sushi, 10 pm.” No date. Intriguing.

Otaku Sushi sat at the end of Church Street in a cramped space between a laundry and a Greek restaurant. It had a total of twenty seats including the five stools at the bar. Two tasteful and mildly erotic Manga prints adorned the walls. Behind the bar, above the chefs, a single flat screen played anime. At 10 after 10 on Friday night I sat in the packed restaurant transfixed, watching the screen above busy chefs. A scare-cheeked, orange haired samurai carved up his opponents, painting walls red with the style of a calligrapher. The silent images entranced me so much I missed Laura’s entrance.

No one else missed it. Every head turned to the door. One girl kicked her boyfriend who’d cleared his throat. That got my attention. I turned to the door, wondering what was up. There stood Laura like I’d never seen her. Once again attraction hit me with palpable force.

Laura stunned in a black form hugging dress made of a plush, stretchy material. It screamed, “expensive designer dress: look at me.” She had the long curvy figure to show the design off to best effect. Leopard skinned Louboutin platforms, a black clutch purse and a pair of diamond teardrop earrings completed the outfit. Based on the stares she got, she’d gotten her money’s worth tonight.

I stood automatically and smiled, glad I’d dressed up too and hoping my cock didn’t show through my silk slacks. She smiled back, and took a seat with me. I have no idea what the reaction was around me. From that moment on, my attention focused solely on Laura.

“The engagement ring and the wedding band keep dogs in their place,” she said by way of explanation. Then she cocked an eyebrow in an endearing mischievous way. “Also, they attract a certain disposable kind of man.”

I had to smile. “I guess we know what kind of man I am then.”

“Well, I know what kind of man you’re not. It remains to be seen what kind you are,” she retorted. Wow, Laura didn’t mince about.

As if to prove the point of my thought, she signaled the waiter and spent five minutes ordering. “Do you want a beer? There’s a sake I can recommend.” she said finally. I didn’t fly until Sunday so I ordered an Asahi. “I know it’s forward of me, but I think you’ll like what I ordered. I’m a regular.”

“It is forward,” I said, “but more refreshing than obnoxious.” I smiled and she returned it genuinely. We made small talk. She asked pointed questions when I described my military career and the transition to civilian service. Her comments and witticisms cut quickly to the point at hand.

Laura didn’t just present a successful facade. Her accomplishments would be impressive if she were my age. At 27 she ran her down division in a growing scientific startup. I began to wonder if she had a TED talk I could download. Eventually, we discovered she had liberal leanings against my own more conservative views. This didn’t go as badly as it should have. She asked directly and seriously, “So, are you religious conservative or economic?” When I explained she said with exaggerated relief, “Oh, good. You’re just misinformed, not insane.”

A bark of laughter escaped my mouth before I could stop myself. Seeing my enjoyment of her tease, Laura graced me with a full force, unguarded smile showing spectacular teeth and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. A sensation like a deep pain washed over me. I felt a constriction in my heart and then a release. I was falling in love. Just like that, the pain of Kate’s betrayal, a dagger wound in my heart, faded. Fuck. I’d planned for a long period of rebound sex and general grudge fucking before I got serious again.

The sushi rocked on a level I’d never experienced in my life. She had ordered well . After paying the bill - she insisted we go Dutch - we walked out and made that awkward pause you only make on early dates. Do I suggest another date or wait for a signal from her? Is she even interested? After an impatient pause she said, “I live a few blocks away, we can get on the J and...” she let her words trail off. Forward but still leaving room for a ‘no’ later in the evening.

I looked over at the platform for the J train then back to her. “I really like you. So I’d like to take it a bit slower than... coffee at your place,” I said coyly. “Can I take you out tomorrow night?”

She smiled without answering but grabbed my hand. “Come to the platform with me.” We crossed the street and took steps up onto the platform. I tried not to ogle her too much as she walked ahead of me. Christ, she had an ass that wouldn’t quit.

At the top she twirled and leaned against the rail pulling me to her. Our lips met. She kept her eyes open then closed them to concentrate on the kiss. She started slow but firmly and then pushed her tongue into my mouth. I kissed back enthusiastically, gripping the rail on either side of her to keep my hands from mauling her velvet dress. I wanted so badly to pull her in closer, to put my hands all over her lush, delicious body. To palm her ass and squeeze firmly until she gasped.

The train arrived before either of us wanted it to. Reluctantly, Laura pushed away from the rail and broke our kiss. We both sighed deeply as we looked into each other’s eyes. She gave me a searching look.

“I have a date tomorrow night,” she said, grimacing at the admission. My heart fell. Crushed. I tried not to show it. She brightened. “But, how about brunch at Plow around 11? I heard its a great breakfast place.”

“Plow is great,” I said automatically. The switch in gears left my head spinning. I continued on auto-pilot while my head cleared, “I live 2-3 blocks from there. If you want to eat at 11 show up at 10:30. The lines are crazy.”

“Great, see you at 10:30 then.” She hugged me fiercely and quickly boarded. Just before the doors closed she turned to me and said, “I don’t mind taking it slower.”

The doors closed and she was gone before I could respond. Then why are you keeping a date with another guy tomorrow night , I wondered.

As I walked back to my car I felt 20 years younger. Not in a good way, either. I hadn’t been this confused since my youth. Is still wasn’t sure what to do about Laura’s mixed signals. But we had another date and she was a catch. Somehow it felt like I was on her line. Did that mean I was the catch? Why would a successful corporate brainiac like Laura see me as anything but an old guy? Did she have daddy issues?

--

In the dark, I tiptoed up the stairs to our stoop. Looking at the door, I felt old. Tired. Our front door loomed over me, suddenly imposing, a barrier to trespassers. I felt like an intruder. I was two hours early. For those two hours, this was rightfully Laura’s house . If I didn’t know, would it matter what she did while I was away? Sliding my hand into my front pocket, I pulled out my keys. I stepped up to the door. Maybe they were helping her move furniture.

Who was I kidding. I’d been here before with Kate. I knew what I would find inside. Why hadn’t I sent that text before taking off? I loved Laura like I’d never loved Kate and now, childishly, I wanted to go back to being ignorant. Quietly, inevitably, I slid the key into the lock and opened the door. Just as quietly, I closed it. Letting my eyes adjust to the dark interior, I took in the sounds and sights of the house as they came to me.

Laura’s white terry cloth robe lay pooled on the entryway floor, taking up half the space between the entrance and the stairs going up to the living area. Bad sign. From upstairs I heard a breathy moaning and slurping sounds, confirming my worst suspicions. Either someone was enjoying a good pasta or they were having sex.

I looked left to our master bedroom. The door was closed, as if protecting it from her betrayal. At least Laura showed decency Kate never had. She performed her assignations outside the bedroom.

I walked up the darkened stairs leading to the living area quietly on the balls of my feet. At the landing midway between floors I turned to look into the living room at floor height. What I saw humiliated any porn I’d ever seen. Only the tightest control kept me from crying out.

--

Saturday morning I ran a few miles to blow off steam and clear my head. I’d resolved nothing by the run’s end but I felt better. Laura had me well hooked, I concluded, and I wanted to see what she’d do with me before I cut the line. I arrived to stand in line at 10:30 sharp. Laura ran around the corner not a minute later.

“I hope you don’t mind a little sweat,” she said, hugging me briefly in greeting. I didn’t, not in that package. She wore black running tights and a deep blue sports bra showing off long sheets of flat sensuous abdominal muscle underneath a healthy pair of breasts. Again she got looks and not just from me. After standing in line for a few minutes making small talk, she pulled on a fleece top from around her waist to prevent chilling. Somehow knowing what the modest top hid drove me crazy. I was having trouble following the conversation.

Soon they seated us outside which allowed for good conversation, food and people watching. It seemed we were both on a lower carb diet. Lots of fruit and omelettes. No hashbrowns, waffles or pancakes. Laura made it clear she liked to eat light in case things got ‘frisky’ later. We both liked observing the people around us, especially those in line to be seated. Slowly, I began to forget about her date tonight.

We paid Dutch again, she insisted and I relented. As we stood to leave, Laura reached over and put her hand on my arm just above the elbow and squeezed. She paused for a moment as if conflicted, then she said, “I lied.” My confusion must have shown. “I don’t like taking it slow and I don’t want to.”

“Oh,” I intoned, nonplussed. I’d just been thinking about how to ask her not to go on a date tonight. Now she’d switched directions again. Out of the corner of my eye I could see several heads turn . Apparently we were good people watching now.

“I have to admit, I usually chew through men. I’m the love’em and leave’em type, mostly. And if you’d come to my room in Newark, I’d have loved you and left you for sure.” My mouth dropped open. All conversation stopped around us. Laura carried on oblivious or maybe just unconcerned. “But you didn’t. You showed real class. And you’re beautiful to look at.” She paused to let that sink in. “The truth is, guys my age suck at relationships, so I never bother. You’re older, self assured and... uh ... did I mention you’re beautiful?” She smiled sheepishly up at me, “I’m mean, you feel this amazing attraction, right?” I nodded dumbly. “Well, I’d like to see what this is, where it takes us. I know you want to take it slow, but...”

Wow. She felt the same about me as I felt about her. Too good to be true. I waited for more saying only, “but...”

“But I really need you to take me...” she looked around suddenly aware of our rapt audience, “... to your place and finish what we put on hold last night.”

A black woman from behind me said, “I’ll take you home if he doesn’t, sugar.” Not to be outdone, her male table mate quipped back in the swishy - est possible voice, “Oh, honey. You can have her. I’ll take him.”

Everyone laughed. Laura leaned into me, smiling behind a huge blush. You gotta love living in San Francisco. I pointed up the hill and to the right. “I live up that way.” After we’d cleared the crowd, I added, “It’s not much. Just a studio. But with a nice view.” She pulled ahead of me walking up the steep hill. I paused to admire her legs and posterior. Christ, it looked like you could bounce quarters off that ass.

Honestly, I tried to be a gentleman about it. But halfway up the stairs to my studio one of us pinned the other to the wall. We pinballed back and forth in a corner trying to get better access to and grip on each other, mouths, tongues and hands exploring new territory. I found my hands around her bare midriff, which felt as delicious as I’d imaged. She put her hands under my shirt against my stomach, pulling the shirt over my head. I came to my senses, breaking away and running up the last landing to my door.

Opening the door, I pulled her in after me.

She dumped the shirt on the floor and asked simply, “Shower?” I broke off, pointing. She reached to pull off her top.

“Slowly,” I said. She smiled demurely and complied. I watched with rapt attention as she pulled the bra up, releasing her aggressively bound breasts. They bounced down as she pulled the it over her head. “Oh, wow.” I said lamely.

“May I?” She nodded and I took one, then the other in each of my hands. They didn’t need support. Her tiny brown nipples poked against my palms, proclaiming her desire.

Laura smiled at me, “Come on.” I thanked my lucky stars I’d washed out the shower the previous weekend. She got naked and I thanked them for other things. Like waspy waistlines and bikini waxing. We spent a good deal of time soaping and cleaning each other, kissing the whole time. Laura seemed to like my biceps and pecs. I turned off the water before she could really start lower. We didn’t bother toweling off, landing on my queen bed wet as seals.

After her first few orgasms and a spent condom or two, we lay tangled in each other’s arms, heads back, looking up at the ceiling and talking. As would be the pattern for our life together, Laura got right to the point. “What a relief.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been awhile for me. That’s one point.” She looked at me and smiled. “Second point, you’re really good with... um ,” she grabbed my cock and kissed my open palm simultaneously, ”...Everything.”

“I thought that was the point of dating an older guy.”

“Oh, are we dating now Captain Geritol?” I had to laugh at that.

“Yes, we are Laura.” I said calmly, ignoring her jab.

She smiled, hugging me. “Right. Answer. I like my men competent, assured and in command.” She raised up to look me in the eye. “How do you like your women?” she asked seriously.

“Young, beautiful, smart and capricious, apparently.” I said.

“Capricious?”

“You have a date tonight don’t you?”

“Oh, right.” Her face fell, then brightened. “Just a sec .” Swiftly she moved off the bed, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. She rummaged around and then returned with a thump, a phone in her hand. She looked at me, “Any plans tonight?” I shook my head. “How about pizza?” I nodded. She typed something rapid fire into the phone.

“Ok,” she said finally. “That’s taken care of. He’s going to be mad about the text, but it’s better than standing him up. Now, what’s your number?”

When she’d typed in my contact information, including - somewhat alarmingly - my address, she said, “Now, back to the subject at hand. What type of woman to you like?”

I sighed. “Is this where I stroke your fragile self esteem?” Jesus, where had that come from?

“Wow, your ex...”

“Kate.”

“Ok... That bitch Kate really did a number on you.”

“I guess that’s the price of experience,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah. Well I’m quite well aware of my virtues and shortcomings,” she looked at me seriously. “I’m not fishing. I’m really asking what you want. At any level. Every level.”

That was broad coverage. “Before I met you I thought I wanted a few years of merciless grudge fucking to get Kate out of my mind.” Laura arched a brow at that, smirking. Maybe she understood. “But I think you wiped the taste of her right out of my mouth. I’m not sure what I want now, but you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. For now, I just want to get to know you.”

“That’s sweet,” smiling mischievously, she slid down the sheets kissing my chest and abs as she worked her way to my cock. “And in the bedroom?” She took my cock in her hand and kissed the tip, looking up at me.

“Athletic and fun. Knows how to make love. Loves showing how she feels. Isn’t afraid of... herself, or me.” I looked at her. “Is that descriptive enough?”

She smiled and kissed my cock again. “Yeah.” She put the tip in her mouth and sucked softly for a minute before she added, “I want you to know, I like... pleasing more than anything. Ask for it, and I’ll probably do it.” With that she took me back into her articulate mouth and continued what she’d started. Laying back, I groaned in pleasure and wondered if trying to bounce a quarter off her ass would offend her.

--

Looking at the perverted tableau in my living room, for some reason, that first post-coital conversation ran through my head. It’s weird what you think about when you’re in shock. Every lurid act I witnessed dropped me deeper into shock until finally I stood frozen, witnessing horror after horror.

What do two teenage douchebags do with a smoking hot twenty-nine year old wife? One fucks each end, by the looks of it. And being douchebags, they comment loudly about it to each other, as if the woman were a buffet they were sampling.

“O god, you’re right. Her ass is really tight. Christ, she’s milking me with it.” My heart broke a little bit. Skinny had his dick in my wife’s ass. Someplace I’d never been.

“Wait till you try the slut’s mouth!” Jimmy said. The little shit had her nose buried in his stanky pubes, both hands on the back of her head. “She loves deep throating and it feels ... awesome.” I’d been hoping this was some sort of coercion. But obviously, Skinny was here for the first time but not Jimmy. With a sinking feeling I wondered who else she’d been entertaining. And how often.

Just then he pulled her off his cock with a slurp. She moaned, blowing out and sucking in air before Jimmy fed her the entire length of his considerably long noodle again. I noticed her throat distending as he pushed her nose back to his pubes, holding her against them.

He moaned and I could see her throat moving. Anatomically I wasn’t sure what Laura was doing, but Jimmy seemed to be getting enjoyment from suffocating my wife with his cock. Again, I’d never done anything like this with her. Or any lover, really. It seemed so... disrespectful .

I stood there stunned as my wife, on her hands and knees, dressed only in high heels, serviced these two douchebags like a pornstar .

This was so much worse than Kate. When I caught her in flagrante , she and Ken were under the covers. I didn’t really see anything. And she didn’t give me pornographic details about what they got up to behind my back. Laura may have kept it out of the bedroom, but this left nothing to the imagination. This scene would be blazed into my memory forever. Here before me was my beautiful naked wife, being spasmodically sodomized by a chicken legged boy on one end and choked for pleasure by a degenerate porky douche on the other.

After a while, I have no idea how long, Skinny announced, “I’m too close. I don’t want to blow.” He pulled out and announced, “I’m switching back to her snatch.” Why did he feel the need to extemporize?

Laura pushed Jimmy back.

“Wait, a sec ,” she said. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she explained, “I’d don’t want a UTI.”

The douchebags exchanged looks then shrugged, confused. I expected her to get a cloth or something. Instead, she spun around and took Skinny’s cock into her mouth. My mouth dropped open in disgust.

His eyes bugged out in amazement. “What a dirty fucking whore,” he said. His last words hit me like slaps. Laura moaned and smiled around his cock as she sucked it clean. She didn’t seem to mind being called a whore or cleaning his greasy cock.

I could see a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she looked at Skinny’s cock. Fresh pain skewered my heart. That look was for me! Not some foul mouthed teenager.

Meanwhile, Jimmy, being presented with Laura’s fantastic vulnerable rear, took full advantage. Grabbing her hips, he pushed his large cock in to the hilt. Laura screamed around Skinny’s cock which Jimmy had just pushed into her throat. Jimmy pulled back and thrust back in with a grunt.

“That’s it, bitch. Milk my cock with that ass.”

Skinny pulled fist fulls of Laura’s magnificent short black hair, fucking her face at the same frantic pace he’d fucked her ass. Dispelling any doubt about how she felt about all of this, Laura picked up one hand and moved it between her thighs, pleasing herself as they brutally used her. Everyone moaned.

Well, everyone but me.

Finally, Skinny yelled, “Oh, God. I’m gonna cum.”

“Dude, spray the slut’s face.” Jimmy laughed. “Play connect the dots with her freckles. She loves it.” Rage blinded me. Yet another humiliation heaped upon Laura. Yet. Another. Fucking. Thing. I’d. Never. Done.

“Get. Out.”

Everyone froze. A heartbeat passed before I realized the words were mine, uttered slowly, calmly. Calmness I didn’t feel. Still no one moved and Laura remained spitted on the boys’ cocks.

“Maybe there’s some confusion here. By ‘get out’, I mean you two,” I said walking up the stairs, pointing, “Get the fuck out of her or die. Now!” At the top of the landing I looked down at them from across the living room. Even from this distance it was clear, I towered over the two little shits.

The expressions on their faces were priceless, as they fell back on their asses in surprise. Apparently unable to help himself Skinny came, spewing all over himself while trying to contain it. Jimmy just looked pissed, the little shit. Laura shied away from Skinny and then folded in on herself remaining on the floor as the two boys stood to pull up pants. No one said anything.

Skinny faster than Jimmy, despite the cum all over his pants, shirt and hands, raced past me, tripping down the stairs. He had the good grace to look ashamed. He should, there was cum on his cheek too.

Jimmy, stupid to the end, tried to be brave, dressing slowly then leaving with his chest puffed out like a bantam rooster. He even bumped up against me as he walked by.

At his touch, I felt white hot rage again. Not at Laura, but at this stupid fuckwit. I have no idea what happened, but Jimmy slammed backward onto the floor hard enough to reverberate throughout the house. The wind temporarily knocked out of him, Jimmy’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a beached fish. His beady eyes stared wildly into mine, full of fear. Good.

Below I heard the door slam followed by Skinny’s footfalls. It seemed he was running down our landing. Now I could concentrate on this douche.

“Listen ass hat,” I said looking down at him. My voice sounded weird. An octave or two too low. Like I’d generated it from below my diaphragm. “This never happened. If I hear about this, or about you talking about this, or I see you near my house, or Laura again, I’ll end you.” I searched his eyes to make sure he understood. “Blink if you understand, you stupid fuck.” He blinked. “Now get your sorry ass up out of my house.”

He tried to get up but failed. I put a foot on his chest. “One more thing.” He blinked shuddered and gasped, finally getting air. “5 miles an hour. That’s the fastest your drive up our street from now on. Do you understand?” He blinked again, rolled over and coughed. I could see a phone sticking out of his back pocket. In a moment of insight I grabbed it, “I’ll get this back to you later.” He nodded, wheezing as he started crawling for the stairs. “Now get out.” Jimmy crawled down the stairs, deflated.

Finally, I looked to my wife. She sat on the floor, huddled in a ball, eyes as big as saucers. Lithe angular limbs crossed as if to protect her soft curvy breasts and hips. She’s never seen me act like this. No one had. Not even Kate when I found her and what's-his-name together.

Hearing the door close downstairs, I walked down and locked the door then walked back up as calmly as I could. More calmly than I felt, I walked past Laura and sat in the armchair adjacent to the couch. She turned her whole body, tracking me, never taking her eyes off me.

I sat looking at her. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn’t sniffle or bawl or beg or make excuses. Clever as always, she had the good grace to keep her mouth shut... now that it wasn’t full of teen cock. Despite my anger, she looked beautiful as ever all balled up, naked and vulnerable. She smelled mildly of sex. I loved that scent. We sat in silence, eyes locked, neither looking away from the other.

Adultery doesn’t cure love, I learned this from my previous marriage. Betrayal stings but often the reasons for divorce are the reasons for the affair. All questions after discovering infidelity are about the future. Are we going on, or ending?

Did I want a future with Laura? Looking at her just now, I have to admit I did. Christ how could I forgive this? I wanted to ask ‘why’, but I found myself mute. Waves of rage and sorrow crashed over me. Adrift in silence I felt myself pulling farther and farther from Laura like a rudderless boat from shore. As the silence extended I thought I might scream just to fill the void. But Laura finally moved and broke the spell, anchoring me with a gentle caress of her hand on my knee.

Tears welled up in my eyes blinding me as I felt them pour down my face. I could see Laura’s face, blurred, rest on my other knee. She kissed it.

When I didn’t react, she got up on her knees and waited, checking in on my reaction. I just teared up more without actually sobbing. Words still failed me. Looking me in the eyes, she expertly unzipped my fly and pulled out my completely limp cock. I couldn’t process this. She bent and took me in her mouth. It did nothing for me. Did she think a blow job could fix this? I only felt mute outrage.

Undeterred, she unbuckled my belt and opened my pants. I helped her pull them down a bit to gain more access. Knock yourself out, I thought. With more room, her tongue licked my balls as she sucked my cock. That was new! Despite myself, I felt a spark ignite desire. Laura sighed with relief, as my cock grew in her mouth.

My vision cleared as the tears dried up. I wiped my eyes. Looking down I could see Laura take my entire length into her mouth and down her throat. Instead of bobbing up and down she massaged my shaft with her tongue and throat like I’d seen her to do Jimmy. The novel sensation brought back the fuckwit’s horrific words.

“Play connect the dots with her freckles.” I’d said the bitter words aloud. Desire didn’t blunt my anger.

Laura pulled off to take a breath. Suddenly decisive, and angry, I pushed her back. I stood looking down at her, sitting back on her heels. Grabbing handfuls of her disheveled black hair, I shoved my cock against her unsmiling lips. She parted them and I slipped in. First into her mouth and then down her lovely throat.

I fucked her face remorselessly, gagging her at the bottom and choking off her air supply then pulling out for a second to let her breath. Viscous drool soon covered my shaft and her chin. She moaned as much as she gagged.

Jimmy should write reviews. He certainly had Laura pegged. The sensation was amazing and she seemed to like being throat fucked.

I pushed her down all the way onto my shaft and held her nose to my abdomen. Like with Jimmy, she massaged my shaft, moaning. God it felt great. Rage, sorrow and now lust warred inside me. Lust and rage were winning.

I pulled back, lifting her up painfully by the hair and looking into her eyes. She blinked at me, docile and mute, apparently unphased by my anger. Gritting my teeth I spun her around pushed her hard between shoulder blades. She tripped on a heel falling over the arm of the couch, face down, ass and feet in the air, legs splayed. What a view. Shapely legs and ass everywhere as she struggled to gain balance.

I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my pants, throwing them aside. Batting her dangerous stilettos out of my way, I grabbed her hips and pulled her to me. Without aiming, I rammed into her. Laura gasped in surprise when my cock hit her cervix. Wrong hole. I pulled out, and pushed back in as fast as I could, this time with aim. For the first time in my life, I put my cock in a girl’s ass.

Laura screamed in pain, “Oh, God!” Score.

Her first words to me. Words of pain. I smiled in lust and rage. Pulled back and thrust again as hard as leverage would allow, unworried about the damage I might do. For once, this wasn’t about giving her joy, love and pleasure. I wanted her to feel my pain.

She screamed into the seat cushion. Fucking her did nothing for me physically. If this was all anal sex had to offer, I didn’t like it. It felt... ambiguous . Like humping a cushion. But O, I loved hearing Laura scream.

Her screams and gasps of pain fueled my lust as I pounded into her with long full thrusts . After a while something changed. As I pushed in and pulled out she pushed back or pulled away. Nothing ambiguous now. She milked my cock, fucking me back. Best of all she still screamed into the cushion on each thrust. Was it hurting or pleasing her?

I laughed with rage and lust.

I was getting close. I picked up the pace, fucking her mercilessly. Laura kept up, pushing and pulling her tight ring up and down my shaft to my rhythm. Eventually, she lifted up on her hands and looked back at me with a lazy smile, her eyes lidded with lust. Laura let out a groan and started cumming . Her pussy squirted all over my legs and the side of the couch. That was new, she’d never squirted before. She loved being fucked like this, making little hiccupy squealing noises as she ruined the furniture.

I held on as long as I could. But soon I pulled out of her, suddenly ready to explode.

Laura rolled off the couch onto the floor and spun around to face me as I walked around the arm. She opened her mouth and took me in about half way. Then she reached up held me while she licked, kissed and sucked her way up and down my shaft.

“You filthy dirty whore,” I said laughing with mixed enjoyment and bitterness. Laura winked up at me, smiling.

I pushed her head back and aimed my cock at her mouth. “Open wide, and don’t swallow.”

She did just that, closing her eyes waiting for me. My orgasm hit hard. I groaned, yelled and the spewed my pleasure into Laura’s waiting mouth. Catching my breath after coming down from it, I looked down at Laura. She looked back up at me, mouth open and full of white cum.

Dipping my cock in her mouth I used my cum to write on her face. First an S then an L. Semen doesn’t make for good ink, but Laura got what I was doing after I wrote a U under her left eye.

When I finished my work I said, “Hmm, the connected dots say : slut.”

Laura laughed suddenly and swallowed to avoid choking on cum. She wiped her chin with the heel of her hand.

“Don’t laugh Laura, you’re not out of the woods by a long shot.”

She sat back and nodded up at me, suddenly all serious again. We needed to talk. But I needed to empty my bladder and she needed to take a shower. I turned to leave and then stopped.

“Lay down,” I said. Laura did as I commanded, lying back on the Himalayan rug, arms to the side, legs splayed out to the side. “You look good with that written on your face, but I want to mark my territory so no one misses it.”

Grabbing my flaccid cock I aimed it at Laura’s pussy. I don’t think she understood what I was about to do until the first hot stream of urine splashed between her thighs.

“Oh, my God. What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“I told you Laura, I’m marking my territory.” I soaked her crotch. “That’s my pussy and ass, and these are my breasts.” I worked the stream up her stomach to her beautiful chest. “Hold them together for me.”

Automatically, she pushed them together as I hosed them down. She flinched, blinked and squinted as backsplash hit her in the face. “No, no, honey, close your eyes, I need to mark your face too.”

“Oh, God.”

I couldn’t believe it, she did just what I asked. She even seemed to relax and sigh as I moved the stream up her neck and onto her chin. I aimed it up and down her face, getting her good and wet. Perversely, pissing on Laura made me feel better about what I’d seen earlier. I guess I was washing away the image of Jimmy and his skinny friend sodomizing my beautiful Laura. After swinging the stream up and down her body and face a couple more times, I started losing steam.

“Open your mouth, I need to mark one last spot.” I pinched off my stream, waiting for Laura to comply. Had I finally reached her limit? “Laura?”

“I’m not sure I...” she began to say. I pissed directly into her mouth, interrupting her in the rudest possible way. She gurgled and spat and finally just opened her slutty mouth in surrender. It filled quickly, streams of piss ran down either cheek onto the rug. There was a hollow gurgling sound as I pissed directly into her full mouth. It sounded great.

“Keep it open,” I said as I finished off. I looked down at my handy work. Laura lay drenched and shinny, mouth agape and full of my hot piss, eyes closed holding her wet breasts together. Her nipples were puckered and hard. She’d enjoyed this as much as I had.

“Swallow,” I commanded. She whined a bit, but finally closed her overfull mouth, spewing out more yellow liquid onto the rug. Then she swallowed what remained in her mouth with a gulp, making a face.

“Good girl.” I looked down at her. “Open your eyes.” She wiped her eyes then opened them. Looking up at me I could see her pupils were completely dilated with lust. I flicked the last drops from my hardening cock onto her. “Remember, you’re mine. No one else’s.”

She nodded.

“Now, clean up this mess. I’m going to bed.”

+++

I stand over my beautiful Laura, having exacted my considerable revenge upon her, I think about the ring, our marriage, the text message, discovering her infidelity and my revenge for it, all as one series of events. Should we go on? Is it safe to go on? How much bigger will the next drama be?

I can’t help but feel there is a tsunami headed my way.

-----------------------

I intended this to be one framed story. But if there is interest, I might write Laura’s side of things.