A Whore and a Thief

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Tear Jerker, Cheating, Revenge, 2nd POV, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: She said that she did it for Us

Hey Folks. It's the middle of winter and it's as cold as hell out there. I thought I'd give you one to read on those colde nights when there's nothing on TV. This one like the last is a bit longer to give me a chance to stretch my legs. Another thiing that gave me a bit more confidence is the fact that I was standing on the shoulders of a giant on this one. While writing this story I had the help and encouragement of the incredible Barney-R editing it. I learned a lot. And although most of it went over my head, there are fewer commas here than ever before. As I said before this one is a bit longer and a bit involved. So if you need a quick story to facilitate self service, this ain't it. For everyone though ... Enjoy! SS06


I looked across my Mustang's hood at the orbital polisher. It was still new and shiny. I had only taken it out of the box once. And that had been the day that Claire had given it to me. As much as she hated my car, she had given me the polisher, supposedly to help me take care of it. Of course I knew she'd had an ulterior motive.

Claire thought that if I had the polisher, washing and waxing my car wouldn't take as long. I guess she didn't understand that the simple act of rubbing a microfiber rag across the car's brightly painted skin was akin to giving a massage to a lover. It bonded the car to me and I to it in and action that was almost intimate. The polisher, although it would make the car shinier than I ever could by hand, interrupted that intimacy ... Okay, maybe she knew me better than I gave her credit for.

I put the rag down and walked across our large yard to where Claire was sunning herself. Every time I saw Claire, her beauty hit me all over again. It truly was the gift that kept on giving.

"What are you looking at husband of mine?" she asked lifting her sunglasses.

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I said.

"You've told me that almost every day for the past twenty-three years," she said. "But somehow, I just never get tired of hearing it. I'm going to have to get your eyes checked though, Honey. I'm fifty years old. I'm no spring chicken. There are lots of tender young things out there who could catch your attention, if you let them."

"You are the only woman I've ever loved," I said. "I've loved you since the first day I saw you and I'll love you until the day I die."

"I don't think so," she smirked. She sat up playfully and lifted her glasses again. "I think you love her ... just as much." She pointed across the yard at my "Screaming Yellow," 2009 Mustang GT.

I sighed in exasperation. "Claire, that was a long time ago and another car," I said. "We've been doing great. Let's not go back there. I love my cars, but I love you more."

"I know that, Honey," she said. "But women are funny creatures. Sometimes even when we know that our men feel a certain way, we like to hear them say it. And sometimes we like to have them show it."

"I remember," I said bitterly. As if she'd sensed that she'd misspoken, she changed her facial expression and her tactics.

"I love you too, you know," she said. "I always have. Despite my reservations at first, I always did want to marry you Ray. There has never been one moment in my life when I've been sorry about marrying you. But you love that car. Every few years there's another one. The worst times are when you first get them and when you're about to trade them in. When you first get them, it's almost like you have a new love. When you're about to trade them in, it's like you're about to say goodbye to a woman you've loved forever."

She was beautiful, and that was the problem. Every guy who'd ever set eyes on her wanted her. It had always been that way Students in the high school that she taught at made fools of themselves over her, even though she was now fifty years of age. Other teachers, administrators, and parents also did stupid things to get her attention, but she came home to me every night.

"Ray, why don't you..." she started to say, when we heard the doorbell ring.

"Ray, Honey, that's Sarah Winston. She's here to pick up the check for my donation to the Children's Fund. Can you fetch it for me? I already wrote it. It's in my purse on the kitchen counter."

"Claire, you know I hate looking through your purse," I whined. She pouted her bottom lip and predictably...

"Okay," I said, just as Sarah switched from ringing the doorbell to knocking on the gate.

I quickly went inside the house. I found Claire's purse but didn't find the check. I looked further down inside of it. In a pocket near the bottom of the purse, I found a bank card and a checkbook. I pulled the checkbook out and noticed that it wasn't our bank. Our checks had both of our names on them. This checkbook had only Claire's name. I pulled out my phone and jotted down the account number. Then I put both the checkbook and the bank card back.

I found the check, not in her purse, nor on the kitchen counter, but on the living room counter. I snatched it and took it out to Claire.

I handed the check to Sarah and returned to polishing my Mustang. As Claire spoke to Sarah, I continued polishing my car. They got up after a few minutes as Claire walked Sarah to the gate. Sarah was taller and had bigger boobs and a bigger butt. She was also fifteen years younger than Claire and ten years younger than me. But next to Claire she may as well have been a boy.

"Ray; that is the yellowest car I've ever seen. That paint is so bright, it almost glows in the dark," she said. "I dated a guy who had a Mustang a couple of months ago. His was brand new. But somehow yours looks so much more ... aggressive. It's more brash and menacing looking." She gently trailed a couple of fingers across the car's body panels. Then she waved at me with the same two fingers.

I closed the gate after her and started to go back to polishing. "She wants you," said Claire.

"No she doesn't," I said. "She just knows that there's no way anyone could come between us. But she wants to see if she's sexy enough to take me from you. She ain't."

"At least not yet," said Claire. "But we both know that I have more lines in my face now than I did only a year ago. And if my boobs were big, they'd be shrunken and resting on my tummy. My legs have always been thin, so there's no flab to..."

"Claire, shut up," I said. "I will always love you. And you concentrate too much on how pretty you are so you forget sometimes that I love the insides of you too."

"Yeah, I know that," she said. "You stick that thing into my insides so often that no one could forget it. You do know that I'm a poor old fifty year old lady. It's cruel for you to keep forcing yourself on me sexually, right?"

"Sorry, Claire," I said. "I thought that you still..."

"Ray you dummy. I was only joking," she said. "You know women can handle a lot more sex than any man can. And even though you're still in your forties I can screw you under the table any time. Besides, what we do isn't just sex, Honey. I love having you inside of me. But, really I understand what you're trying to say and I love you even more for it."

I leaned over and kissed her. She kicked her legs up around my waist and turned my peck into a much more passionate kiss.

"I was going to take a nap, Ray. I'm kind of tired. But I think you should do me for a little while before I drift off," she said.

"I think you should take your nap and get your strength back so I can do you all night," I replied.

"Oh my God, do you two ever stop?" yelled Betty Cooper over the fence. Betty was our next door neighbor and Claire's long time best friend. Her husband Archie was my golfing buddy.

A few minutes later Betty came through the gate. I hugged her as hard as I could and she kissed me on the cheek. I loved Betty. If it weren't for her and Archie, my marriage would have probably ended ten years ago.

"Ray, can I cut into your Sunday afternoon sex, to talk to Claire for a while?" she asked. I just moved out of the way and let them go at it. They were talking about one of the couples in the neighborhood who were divorcing and selling their house.

While they talked, I went back inside the house. I pulled Claire's hidden checkbook out of her purse and looked up the bank's online banking website. The checkbook itself was no help. No checks had ever been written on the account. The first check was still in the book.

I entered the account number and tried her usual password. Claire had a habit of using the same password for everything. She said that in an emergency, if one of us needed to get into the other's account, it could come in handy. Her password was 5591. It meant May fifth, 1991. She called it the happiest day of her life. It was the day we got married.

It didn't work. I tried her birthday. It also didn't work. Neither did my birthday or our address. I was going to try the last four digits of her social security number, but I remembered something she'd been talking about a lot lately. I tried 8326: August, third, two thousand and twenty six. The day she turned sixty two and the day we would both quit our jobs and retire. We had been dreaming of that day for a very long time. That was the day we would dedicate ourselves, not to the engineering firm that I worked for or the school she taught at, but to each other. We would travel, relax, and spend every waking moment together. It was our dream.

It was also the correct password. As soon as the account opened, I saw the balance in it. I immediately knew that my marriage was over. I put the checkbook back in Claire's purse and left the house, so angry I could barely breathe.

"Claire, I'm going out for a drive," I said as I passed by her and Betty.

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

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Tear Jerker / Cheating / Revenge / 2nd POV / Violent /