He Was Just a Nice Guy


Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Fiction, Cheating, Slut Wife, Cuckold, Revenge, Harem, Slow, Workplace, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: A nice guy learns of heartache and betrayal and finds love and still stays a nice guy. Even thought he could not be king, being the father of the future kings and queens was good enough.

And Now He Is Mr. Mom

The blond with the double D tits pulled the red head slut into her open pussy and enjoyed her oral ministrations. Soon the three men in the room joined in. The red head was soon impaled by a huge cock, and it had to be ten inches long. One of the men took the blond, and put a cock into her mouth, and was rewarded by her sucking like a calf at a tit. The blond was soon rolled over onto her stomach, still sucking mind you, and as the red head, now under her, was still glued to her pussy, as the third man rammed another large cock up the blonde's ass. A good time was being had by all.

The blond is my wife, and I am neither the red head woman, nor any of the men in the room. My wife, the Whore Ruth, is involved in another night of debauchery at the hands of my employer, the President of the company, the CFO and the head of the Human Resources Department, although the blond has been known to accept any strange cocks or pussy that happens to be around if my employers desire it. The Whore Ruth has been the company whore for ten years now, exactly ten years today, as it is one week before Christmas day and the company is holding part of its private celebrations. Any references to the Whore do in fact mean that pile of shit that used to be my wife.

We were married for one year and she got pregnant and gave me a wonderful baby boy, Randolph. Yes, he is mine, I did check later, but it would not have made any difference. I even got her a maid/nanny to help out. It was eighteen months later, at the Christmas party; seven days before the celebration of the birth of Christ, she became a whore. I now count time from her whore date. Thirty-nine months, or three years and three months into our marriage and she reverted back to the party girl she was before we married and became a whore for my employer.

In the twenty-fifth year of the whore, in my fifty-first year of life, my life is completely changed. I am at a wonderful wedding. There is happiness and love all around. No, it is not me getting married, as I am already married. But the difference in life now is amazing and everyone with us this day shares in our joy; maybe a few don't.

My name is Franklin Hemming, and I am a nice guy. I don't cause trouble, I don't fight with people, and I don't argue with people, I don't tell people they are wrong. When you ask people about me, they will tell you "He is a really nice guy." I was twenty-six years old when the year of the whore started.

I am an accountant. It is non-confrontational and that is why I like it. My wife, the Whore Ruth, said she loved me because I was gentle and non-confrontational. We met in college.

Ruth was a party girl and way out of my league, or so I thought. As subsequent events took place I have been proven right in my evaluation. She said she fell in love with me and gave up the party life. I was deeply in love with her. When the baby was born I had a nanny come in and help. Eighteen months later she was a whore and mostly gone from our life. For the life of me I don't know why she changed, but she did and there was nothing I could do about it but move on with my life.

I work for a large company that makes everything that you can think of. If you were to list what they make to a room full of people everyone in the room would "have one of those," or would say, "So that is who makes that."

I was good at what I did and after a year on the job, I got a raise and a big bump in position. I also got Ruth pregnant at the same time. I am nine months away from bliss and twenty-seven months away from hell. The first I knew about, the second was a big surprise.

The other man who did this boring job died, probably of boredom. All we, that means me, do is crunch numbers and now with the aid of a computer I keep tract of everything and I mean everything. I make sure all of the departments know what they are running out of and I tell them. That was not originally part of my job but I was bored and had to have something to do. It seemed like a good thing at the time because the company was always losing line time by shutting things down because the ordering system sucked and no one was keeping proper track of it. I don't know what happened in the past, hell it was a profitable company and the people at the top must have had enough brains to make this old and well-respected company work.

I am not even confrontational about that. "I am probably sure you remember that you need to re-order the xyz something or another but you only have enough for a thirty day run and it takes two weeks to get them in after the order." That is a typical e-mail reminder.

I will frequently get back a curt note telling me to go fuck myself and stay out of their business. Then one time I was called into the main office and told that a department had run out of something and that it was my fault for not making sure they had it and the line had to be shut down and people laid off. Well I know when I am right so I showed them the e-mails, twenty-six in all, in which I kept reminding the department they needed to order the material and their "fuck off" replies.

Can you guess who got the shit? I did. It was my fault. I was at fault by not following up. I was almost fired; but they kept me on. They all had a good laugh as I walked out of the office, wondering, "What the hell happened?" It was a good old boy club and I was not a member.

Needless to say, everyone dumped on me, but I stayed non-confrontational. Now I would send a reminder sixty days out and if I got a "fuck you" e-mail back I would start the order process. I took the extra time to set up tracking and even made contact with suppliers. At thirty days out, I would contact the supplier and ascertain if the order had been made and if not I would do the order. If we did not have the material, we had to shut down one of the lines and people would be laid off until we got it in and profits would fall, and that was never good.

By the end of the year, I was now doing all the ordering. I would talk to the various people on the lines and on the floors and find out what was needed. I even asked them about supplies, suppliers, and best prices. Now I never bargained, that would be too confrontational, I just asked and if the price was the best, then I ordered it. I would talk with people on the floor again and if they thought they could get us a better price I let them do it.

If someone dropped something I would help them pick it up. If someone was in a hurry I let them go ahead of me, as long as it was not then important to me. I did not let people push me around, but I was always a nice guy and very polite.

I was now the father of a beautiful baby boy, Randolph, and was happier than I had been in my entire life. Time passed and I was still in wedded bliss and a daddy too. To help Ruth we hired a nanny, she was from the Philippines and was eighteen.

All of my good work finally came to the attention of the bosses. It was that good work that got me on the Christmas party list.

I am now twenty-six, we have been married thirty-nine months, and Randolph our son is eighteen months old. The nanny is twenty. The year of the whore is about to start. The party was one week before Christmas day.

That Christmas my wife showed up looking hot as hell, she always did look good. This was the first time we were invited to the executive Christmas party, she wanted to look her best, and she did. She ended up in the back offices with the company president fucking the hell out of her, the CFO taking her ass, the head of Human Resources in her mouth, and a number of other co-workers helping to make her airtight when the others needed a break.

I went home and did not say a thing. I told the Filipino maid/nanny that Ruth would be detained and that I would need her assistance in talking care of Randolph. Ruth did not show up until after New Year's Day.

I knew two things, I was no longer married, and I was going to get even. Not being married was easy because I would just not act like I was a loving husband. Getting even was going to be much more difficult. My problem is that I am a nice guy by nature not nurture. I don't know how to not be a nice guy.

When Ruth finally came around, I was polite, in saying good morning but not much more. When I made breakfast, I made enough for her. When we were done eating, I washed her dishes too. I would ask her if she wanted more coffee or toast, after all I was a nice guy. But I never asked her about her day, or her evening. I never asked where she was and what she was doing. I never touched her and never told her I loved her. If she came into the room, I was polite and after a socially appropriate period of time, I would leave.

I used her time from her "whore birth," as I called that Christmas, until she came home and fixed up a bedroom for her to stay in because she was no longer allowed in the master bedroom with me. When she asked where her things were I politely walked her to the guest room without touching her and showed her. She did not question me; she just cried and went into her room. When I got up the next morning she was gone.

Ruth would leave for a few days at a time and I never asked what was happening. I would go to work and come home. I no longer had a wife. What I did have was a family obligation to my son and our nanny and myself; and that required a job.

At work there were some snickers but I held my head high and kept working. By this time thousands of people depended on me keeping things moving and I sat in my office and did exactly that.

.... There is more of this story ...

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