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I will state up front that this is part of my therapy. I will likely never again encounter a Cinco de Mayo without thinking of her.
The “her” of whom I’m speaking of is my ex-wife Laura. It was on that day that our marriage of seven years was shattered, never to be put back together whole. It was a day that confirmed a marriage of deceit and lies – one that I will remember always.
Laura, if by chance you ever read this, I hope you are enlightened by how much I enjoyed watching you get fucked that night. You were beautiful in all of your glory, covered shamelessly in cum…
I had suspected my wife had been cheating for quite some time. There were those evenings when she would arrive at home late, complaining that the “team” had to stay over to work on a project. When I would press her for sex, she would put me off complaining that she was too tired or didn’t feel well. One evening, not wanting to take no for an answer, I climbed into be beside her and put my hand to her crotch only to find it was as slippery as if I’d just fucked her. I hadn’t. She quickly pushed me away.
“Oh Sweetie,” she said. “Can we do this in the morning? I don’t feel well.”
“Ok,” I muttered, disappointed. When I withdrew my hand and rolled over to my side of the bed, she gave me a phony story that she had miraculously started her period (although she was well into menopause at the time). Needless to say, I didn’t buy it. My fingers smelled like cum and it certainly wasn’t mine.
On more than one occasion after that, I had gone to the office where she worked only to find everything dark and obviously locked up for the night. Occasionally I probed, but adept at her practice, she was quick to tell me that the company had booked the event off-site so as not to tip off others that her firm’s management was considering making major changes. Although she held no official power within the company, as assistant to the CEO, she was expected to be there at all of the functions he attended.
As it turned out, it was one of many cleverly-designed covers for her secret life.
The other big ruse at the time was her scrapbooking business. She had bought into a multi-level marketing business that sold scrapbooking materials and supplies. It was a way for her to get out of town occasionally for “business.”
I worked as a superintendent for a large construction company, so unfortunately I was out of town quite a bit, but that worked great for Laura.
She was very pretty. A tall, very statuesque blonde, she looked very much like Linda Evans. For her 40th birthday, I paid for her implants and tummy-tuck, and by the time the surgeons had finished with her, she was stunning. She had opted for DDs and her stomach was so tight, you could bounce a dime off of it. She also worked out daily, which just added to her tight body. She was a trophy wife in every sense – always getting looks from men, and women. On top of it all, she was a huge flirt. It was a characteristic that didn’t bother me when we first met, but as time went on, I sensed that there was more to her flirtatious nature than met the eye.
The date was Friday, May 4, 2012. Earlier in the week, Laura had “reminded” me that she had a scrapbooking retreat scheduled in Palm Springs with several of her girlfriends that weekend. Oddly enough, I had no recollection of her plans or mentioning that she would be going out of town that weekend. Thinking there was something up, I just let on like she had told me.
That Friday morning, I could tell she was anxious. As I readied for work, she even packed me a lunch – something she had only done a couple of times since we’d been married. “I made your lunch if you want it,” she told me through the bathroom door as I dried off from my shower. “I’m going to be leaving around 10. I want to get there bahis firmaları in time for to set up. Five of the girls are going. You can join us if you want to?” she said teasingly, knowing that it would never be anything I would be interested in.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” I responded. “It’s been a long time since I raided a pajama party,” I said laughingly.
“Don’t you dare,” was her response. “Besides, you’re all mine. I don’t share!”
Her words had a certain harshness. “Nor do I,” I said seriously.
I dried off and dressed. The whole time, I couldn’t help but think that I was being set up.
As I kissed her goodbye, I asked her where she was staying. She stammered for a minute and then told me, “We’ll be at Paradise Springs. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Ok,” I responded naively. I returned to the bathroom one more time before leaving that morning. As I did, I turned on the GPS in her cell phone.
On my way into work that morning, I called to let them know I had a doctor’s appointment and that I wouldn’t be in. I had had it with the lies and deceit. I knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it was something that had to be done. Looking back, it was like watching a train wreck from afar. I knew what was coming, but I was powerless to stop it.
I barely recall going to the driving range that morning. It was a place where I could kill some time. Thankfully, I kept my clubs in the trunk of the car. As I pulled into the near-empty parking lot, I remember thinking that there was a chance I was wrong. What if I was reading more into this weekend? What if Laura really was faithful and I was making a fool of myself for doubting her? That was all good food for thought, but I was determined to find out either way. My gut had never deceived me, and it was screaming at that point.
I went through two full buckets of balls that morning. My aim was well off, but I didn’t care. I was too busy plotting my day. I waited until after 1 p.m. to return home. If she was there, I thought, I could just say I got off early. But as I pulled into my driveway and opened the garage door, I could see that her car was clearly gone.
Pulling into the garage and entering the house, I immediately went to our bedroom. As usual, Laura had left the bathroom light on. I checked in the closet. She had taken her overnight bag and at least one change of clothes, as evidenced by the way she had thrown her clothes aside in her closet. She had also gone through her shoes and there were two pairs missing from her tree that hung behind the door.
“Yep, this was no average weekend getaway with the girls,” I thought, judging by the fact that she had taken her high-heeled boots and gold-laced high-heels. I then checked her nightstand to discover that she had also taken her trusty pink-jeweled vibrator and our bottle of lube.
To help the time pass a bit quicker, I poured myself a glass of whisky. As I sipped at my glass, I couldn’t help but wonder what/who she was doing. It gnawed at my stomach to the point that I had to call her – if nothing else, just to mess with her mind a bit.
I went to the car and dialed from my cell phone. The phone rang several times before she answered. “Hi Sweetheart,” she said.
“Hi, what are you doing?” I asked innocently.
“I’m just got here,” Laura said. “I’m going to do some shopping – picking up some wine. What do you think I ought to get?” she asked.
Playing along with the ruse, I responded… “I’m sure the ladies drink Chardonnay,” I said. “Get a few bottles of that and one or two Zinfandel, that ought to cover it.”
“Ok, thanks,” she said. “What do you have planned?”
“Well, I’m going to drive up to Ventura and check on a job the guys are working on. I may stay up there.”
“Really?” she kaçak iddaa said. “You didn’t mention anything about that this morning.”
“It’s no big deal,” I told her. “It was something that came up in our manager’s meeting this morning. I’ll probably be home about the same time you get home on Sunday.”
“Oh, ok,” she said. I could tell that she was bothered by my plans. “Be safe, Okay? Are you going offshore?”
“Yes,” I responded. “I’ll probably be out there overnight. No worries, I’ll be safe.”
“OK,” she said. I could hear the relief in her voice. It was the green light she’d been waiting on.
I hung out at the house for several more hours, drinking whisky and steadily getting more buzzed. At 5:30 p.m. I called the hotel to verify that she had checked in. The clerk politely told me that she couldn’t give me that information. I thanked her, and told her that I was scheduled to meet my wife at the property that night to attend a concert, but couldn’t get her on her cell phone to confirm she had made it out there yet. My story worked like a charm. The young lady paused and said she would check, and she placed me on hold. A few minutes, she came back on the line and told me that she had checked in, but when she rang her room, there had been no answer. “Would you like to leave a message?” she asked. I told her no, and hung up.
I immediately called Laura’s cell phone. “Hi Deary,” she said.
I knew something was up. “Deary?” She never called me that. “Hi,” I said. “I guess you made it.”
“Yes,” she said. I could tell she was a bit rattled. “I’m just waiting on the girls to get here. Tammy and Megan are riding together – they’re on their way. Linda will be on her way when she gets off from work.”
“Oh, are you at the hotel?” I asked.
“No, I’m at the store… getting some cheese and crackers,” she said, again nervously.
“Ok,” I said. “I’m leaving for Ventura. I’ve got to get there before 9, otherwise I’ll miss the boat.”
“Ok,” she said, with a distance in her voice. “Be careful.”
“I always am,” I replied, as I picked up my keys. “You too.”
The rest was somewhat of a blur until I had reached the Hwy. 111 turnoff from the 10 Freeway. By that time, the day had given in to evening. Palm Springs sparkled out in front of me like a speckled jewel. Although the hotel that Laura was booked in was all of the way down the 10 Freeway in Indio, her phone was pinging from a location somewhere near downtown Palm Springs. Following the GPS, I veered right onto 111.
It was still early by Palm Springs standards, I thought. Maybe she was still out shopping? Maybe I’d been wrong and she was having an early dinner with the girls. As it turned out, I was wrong on all accounts.
I was able to trace her phone to a home in one of the old neighborhoods off of South Palm Canyon Drive. The house was largely shrouded by a large hedge and several trees, but I could clearly see her car in the driveway, along with a few others and two motorcycles. It was clearly a party, but just what kind of party I remained to be seen.
I parked down the street and carefully made my way back. It was dark, but the front yard was well-lit by a bright porch light. As I entered the property, I walked along the ivy-laced wall, hoping to blend in to the background. I quickly made my way along the wall and proceeded toward the backyard, which was gated. As I peered through the wrought-iron gate, I could see a brightly-lit, kidney-shaped pool with a Jacuzzi at one end. The yard was empty, but I could hear people inside the house. It was definitely a party. The music was loud and I could hear voices cheering.
To say I was curious about what my beautiful wife was up to at this point would have been a colossal understatement. In order to get a peek at what was happening kaçak bahis inside, I worked my way up to an open window just outside the gate. I had to stand on my tip-toes, but what I saw nearly rocked me backward. There, in the living room of this home, my wife was kneeling between the legs of man who was seated on a couch. Next to him sat another guy with his shorts pulled down around his ankles. She was sucking the one guy’s cock, with her hand wrapped around the guy’s cock next to him. There were three other men in the room, all of whom were at various stages of getting undressed.
“Holy shit, this whore is good,” said the guy getting the blowjob. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she likes it!” I could see him holding her head and fucking her mouth. Seconds later, he shoved her head down hard on his cock. I could tell he was emptying his load down her throat. At the same time, Laura was working her clit with her vibrator.
As quickly as she had swallowed his cum, she slid over and began sucking the other guy’s cock with the same intensity. I couldn’t believe I was seeing! Here was my wife getting gang-banged in front of my eyes. Just then, one of the other guys moved the coffee table and positioned himself behind her. He smeared some lube onto his cock and lunged forward. I heard her moan loudly. “Dude, I’m balls deep in her ass,” he said, as he leaned back and high-fived one of the other guys who was waiting his turn. “Fuck her good,” the guy said. “I’m sure her husband will thank you later,” and they all laughed. At that moment, Laura came hard, spraying down her legs and those of the guy who was fucking her.
Dressed in a full-see-through body suite with a wide slit in the crotch – one that we had picked out together – she moaned loudly. Her legs were slick with her own cum, while her moans were muffled by the big dick in her mouth. Just then, the guy she was sucking came, plainly forcing his load into her throat. I watched as she gagged a bit, trying to swallow it all. That seemed to set the guy who was fucking her ass off as he pushed into her hard and shuddered, obviously unloading his orgasm deep in her ass.
As if she sensed me watching, Laura turned and glanced in my direction. I knew she couldn’t see me; however, I will never forget her face – gleaming with saliva and cum – as she looked back over her shoulder. I saw her saying something to the guys, then they began to switch positions. One of the guys that had been standing stroking his cock took a seat on the couch. Laura straddled him and placed his hard cock in her pussy. She began grinding her pelvis into the guy just as one of the other guys moved into position behind the couch in order to feed her his cock. A minute later, another one of the guys positioned himself behind her and began fucking her ass. She came again, this time drenching the guy she was riding and the sofa.
I literally could not believe what I was seeing. Here was my wife willingly getting gangbanged in front of my eyes! It crossed my mind to knock at the door and confront her, but that would have not ended well. Surely I would have gone to jail. Instead, I left. I quickly walked to my car, climbed in the seat and sat motionless for a period. I had to process what I had just witnessed. Then it occurred to me to snap a few pictures of the cars’ license plates and the house before I left.
That evening, after driving home to Orange County, I sent Laura a text… “I hope you had a FULFILLING evening! Happy CINCO DE MAYO!” I included a picture of her car surrounded by the cars and motorcycles of the other men.
“Oh,” was all she responded some time later.
Surprisingly (NOT), that marriage ended in divorce. I’m sure she is still out there enjoying her gangbangs to this day. I would be lying if I said that I haven’t jerked off to the memories of her getting three-p’d by those guys that evening. She was always a squirter, and I got to watch as they made her cum repeatedly. I do miss our sex, but I couldn’t live with the lies. If only she had been honest.
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