This is a more traditional and sexually graphic “Burn the Bitch” Cheating Wife story. It’s not what I typically write, but I wanted to try one to see how it would turn out. And I wanted a break from Operators and FBI agents. If it isn’t your cup of tea, thanks for stopping by; maybe my next one will suit better. This is BTB, although the torch isn’t quite turned up to inferno. Todd172
I stood on the doorstep, staring at the shrieking redhead. The torrential rain had her hair plastered to her face in long strings. Despite that frigid, pounding rain, she just plowed on with her furious tirade. To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t really hear all her words through that heavy rain and the hollow roaring in my own ears Still though, I understood the essence of it.
My wife, Beth, was having an affair with the redhead’s husband, Justin. The furious redhead – Nicole, Nikki for short - wanted me to stop it. I knew as much – a couple months ago, my wife of nine years had called me while I was on a rare business trip, and while I watched cold rain spatter against the dingy hotel room window, she told me that she wanted divorce a “because we’d grown apart”. I’d only been gone a couple weeks and we had only lived there for 5 months since I’d gotten out of the Army. I had never even known we had a problem; she’d never said a damn word. As near as I could tell, she’d been at least emotionally involved with the Asshole for three months, and probably only managed to consummate it while I was out on the business trip.
I’d only managed to piece it all together about a week before the redhead showed up on my doorstep, and still didn’t really have proof. And I was still trying to work out a plan.
My wife had agreed to counseling in exchange for civility long before I learned about the affair, but really she stopped going to the couple’s sessions after the second one. I suspected she was trying to get the counselor to guide me toward accepting the break-up. I think the main reason for the supposed counseling period was so she could tell her family and friends how hard she had tried. Especially her parents. Her appearance in their eyes was really, really important to her, probably the most important thing in her world. So she was waiting her time out while continuing to see the Asshole and living on my paycheck until she was sure it would look good and he was ready to move on from his wife and baby.
While buying waves of damn shoes to fill her closet.
Beth and I had two-year old twin girls, Angie and Amee. She cheerfully left me to baby sit them as soon as I got home so she could “go to the gym” or “go running” – both of which she did often enough to be getting in the best shape of her life. But after the gym she and the Asshole would sneak off to screw somewhere.
Miserable was hardly the word for how I felt. Any time I’d made any effort to resolve issues or talk to her about damn near anything, she turned into a screaming fury, denying any wrong doing and blaming me for everything on earth. She also spent a lot of time telling me how hard she had it watching the kids at home while I was at work, that she was trying to make things work and that I was just trying to use the kids against her – none of which was true or actually made any sense. With her out every evening and nearly all weekend, I was watching the kids more hours per week than her, while working a full time job.
Looking into divorce with a lawyer was depressing; adultery was essentially irrelevant in our state. You could file for it as a reason, but it had no real effect. And Beth was obviously well aware that the courts nearly always awarded custody and a healthy child care payment to the wife, regardless of her behavior. Maintenance for several years was also the norm if there were young children – that way the former wife could stay home and be a “good mother” instead of having to rush off to work.
So there stood the screeching redhead – a somewhat unpretty specimen – tall and a bit awkward, with something of a beak of a nose and thin angry lips, still soft around the middle from the birth of her 6 month old, with a few extra pounds that frankly sat poorly on her otherwise lanky frame. Anger and cold rain had made her pale skin blotchy. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so I stood back, holding the door open and waved her in. I’d already figured out that there was no point in the neighbors hearing a woman scream at me without the filter of the door. Lots of practice dealing with that lately. She followed me, still loudly demeaning my manhood while I walked over to the dining room table and pulled a chair out for her, then sat down myself.
As she ran down, her vitriol turned to hard tears, then to shuddering sobs, then, finally to sniffles as her head sank into her arms on the table, her hair forming a mound of dank, limp, dark copper.
I waited a bit more until the sniffles stopped.
“Are you done?” Quietly.
She looked up red-eyed and angry, sniffing twice, but didn’t say anything, so I proceeded. “If I could have done anything I would have. I don’t like this any better than you.”
I went on to explain the way the law worked and just how much of a disadvantage I was at.
“You should kick her cheap slut ass”
Not letting go of the anger any time soon. Not that I blamed her.
“Great plan, then I could be in jail, then the street, instead of a house.”
We sat silently for a while until I got up and fixed some hot tea – the rain had been cold – a fact pointed out by her very obvious nipples poking out through her shirt and bra. I made a real effort not to stare; she might not be pretty but she did have a really nice rack, and it had been a damn long time for me. She shivered as the hot tea hit her system.
“Shit, I didn’t realize I was that cold.” I didn’t say anything, but she suddenly looked down at her tits.
“Shit” Again. Not terribly creative with words. She clamped her arms over herself.
I sighed internally. This was the closest thing to sex I’d had in four months. “I can get you a sweater or something”
“As long as it isn’t that slut’s.”
I walked over and found one of my hooded sweatshirts, which she pulled on and zipped quickly. She began to squirm, pulled her arms in from the sleeves and then after several gyrations dropped her soaked button up shirt and bra out the bottom and pushed her arms back out the sleeves. I picked them up and tossed them in the dryer. At least, I noted, the show was back on. The sweatshirt alone was thinner than her bra and shirt combined, so the nipples she was no longer covering with her arms were on prominent display. I picked up a towel and handed it to her.
“For your hair”
“Thanks” She dried her hair and I watched her tits bouncing all over in the sweatshirt. It was weird to be attracted to anything at this point. Hell, I had damn near forgotten what it felt like to have a hard-on, so I allowed myself to stare. Eventually though, her hair was dry and she stopped.
“I hate them” she growled.
“Me too. I never saw this coming.”
At that I saw a flash of pain that was as bad as my own.
“I can’t compete with her – she’s in perfect shape and gorgeous. I’m fat from having the baby”
She wasn’t really overweight – maybe 10 pounds or so; she was out of shape, but then so was I. But she was right in some respects – Beth about as beautiful as you’ll ever see in the real world – blonde, blue eyed, slender and as graceful as a human can be.
Still, Nikki needed something to hold on to.
“She’s in good shape because she has the time to go to the gym and go running. And you aren’t fat.”
A tiny glitter of something other than misery peaked out.
“So, what next”
I shrugged “I have no idea, every way I play this, I come out alone, broke and she controls access to the kids.”
I told her what I’d managed to piece together.
“What if you had proof?”
“Doesn’t matter in court. They don’t give a shit here. The same things that hurt me should work for you in court, though.”
“Not hardly, Justin works for his cousin in the construction company. Most of his pay is under the table. So there isn’t much ‘official money’ for child support or alimony.”
I assumed she meant maintenance.
She continued “I ... I just want to crush them.”
I thought for a minute. “What can we really hurt them with?”
I drove on, feeling a little better – I finally, maybe, had an ally in this goat-fuck of a situation. “Seriously, everybody has done something wrong. We just have to find it. The pay under the table from his cousin might be a good starting point.”
I paused thinking. Some of those shoes that were just showing up in Beth’s closet looked really expensive. That money had to be coming from somewhere.
“There’s something going on – Beth is spending money from somewhere.”
She nodded, with just a hint of actual energy. “We could look into it.”
I smirked. “That will be easy, we’ll pack up the kids and sneak around like a bad mash-up of Magnum P.I. and the Brady Bunch.”
“No, my sister, Angie, could watch the kids – she’s watching Jaime at the house now.” She paused, looking a little thoughtful “So, where are your kids?”
“Upstairs – asleep.”
She glanced around the room, her gaze settling on the closed front door.
“Do you have any sweatpants – I’m still soaked.”
.... There is more of this story ...