Edited by George5
Of course, I had to screw with it afterwards; so all missing steaks are mine.
My name is Carl Arthur Thomas, at the time I was destroyed, I was 29 years old and had been married for 5 years. We had no kids, and had not talked about starting a family. I am 6’ 1/2” tall, blue eyed, 180 pounds, and prematurely gray haired. I am told that the gray does not make me look older, just interesting.
Here is the story of the Storm Damage
I was a bank equipment repair technician. That is a specialized field, and my specialties were, drive throughs, vaults, and back and under counter security cabinet work. I also opened safe deposit boxes when customers lost their keys. I was headed home from my customer’s location early because a widespread storm knocked out power for the entire area the bank was in. The radio stated that until the storm system passed sometime the next morning, crews would not start any repairs.
I did not call my home to let my wife know that I was on my way for three reasons. There was no cell coverage in the storm area. I do not use my phone when I am driving. I was also very pissed off at my wife because for the last three months or so she has been on my ass for many minor or sometimes nonexistent faults and slights. She has used sex as a weapon in the past, and I was going to use this opportunity to deliver an ultimatum. Get help or I was gone.
Driving was very difficult until I got out of the storm area. Once clear of the storm, I made good time. I pulled into our driveway, and decided to not open the garage to put my car in it as I wasn’t sure that I would not be loading it with my stuff and leaving.
I went on the porch and tried to get into the kitchen door, but it was locked.
‘That is strange’ I thought, as I unlocked the door. When I walked in there was a trail of two sets of clothes headed out of the kitchen. I knew then that there was going to be a reckoning.
For that reason, I got out my phone and turned on the video camera and recorder function. I then followed the trail out into the rest of the house. I was led to the guest bedroom. The door was open and my wife was on the bed on her hands and knees with her boss pumping in and out of her ass. That made a great video as she had told me she thought anal was ‘dirty’ and ‘only sluts and whores do that’.
After standing in the door for a couple of seconds, I heard my wife say “This ass is only yours Frank (her boss’s name), and Carl isn’t getting my pussy either, until I know I’m pregnant with your kid. Then we will watch the cuckold be all pleased with himself.” The rest of her rant was lost as she started to scream out her orgasm.
I filmed all that I needed, then when Wendy came down from her orgasm, and Frank pulled out of her ass, I cleared my throat loudly and said; “Don’t let me interrupt your day, but I need to get in the closet to get my guns and hunting supplies. When I am done packing my clothes and personal stuff from around the house I will leave you to continue. Frank, you won’t be going anywhere until I move my car as it is blocking the driveway and Wendy will get stuck if she goes on the grass.”
The looks of embarrassment and fear were priceless as I held up my phone and told them; “Wendy, I will be out of the house as soon as I pack, so you should plan on Frank staying here. I’m sure that his wife and your two big bosses will love copies of the video I just sent to the cloud. You both should think about finding new jobs as you’re both supposed to be working, and the non-fraternization policy that is clearly mentioned in the employee manual that you signed as having read it pointed out.”
As I was moving toward the master bedroom, I called back to the open door “Carry on, I won’t bother you until I need to.” Then I laughed one of those evil villain laughs that are in most cheesy horror movies.
As I was packing up all of my clothes, I could hear scrambling coming from the guest room. I tried to ignore it, that is until the yelling and screaming started. The next thing I heard was a slapping sound and a crying sob of “please stop, please.” I was extremely pissed at what I discovered, but I will not stand by when I think someone is abusing someone smaller or female.
As I started for the guest room, Frank was just outside that door on the floor curled in a ball holding his crouch. Wendy was standing over him screaming “slap me again, you son of a bitch, if you move your hands, I’ll kick you again.”
I thought that Wendy had things under control, so I decided to get a little extra revenge. I stepped over the cowering Frank, blew Wendy an air kiss, and went around the house and collected all of Frank’s clothes. In his pants I found his wallet, car keys, and cell phone. I pocketed the phone and emptied the wallet of his credit cards, his office access card, driver’s license, and any pictures of his family that were in it. I left the money, as I did not want him to accuse me of taking that. I did find his emergency contact card that had his home and his wife’s cellphone number. I called his wife’s cell from his cell and asked her if she would come to my house to retrieve her husband. She asked the reason, and when I said it looks like he has a groin or testicle injury, and will have difficulty walking. I gave her the address, and she said 15 minutes.
I then took Frank’s clothes put them in a trash bag and went out to my car and put them in it. I locked the car doors and went back into the house and into our home office. After scanning the driver’s license into my computer I put it and all of the cards into my shredder. I then downloaded the video into my computer and sent a copy to my company e-mail account. I packed the computer, printer, and internet WiFi router and put them in my car.
When I went back to finish packing, Wendy was trying to block me from continuing into the master bedroom. As I am much bigger than she is, I just grabbed her around the waist, picked her up, and moved her back into the guest room.
It took three trips for me to get as much of my clothes as I thought I would need and did not want someone to destroy. My clothes were much too small for the fat asshole Frank to wear so I took all the pants and underwear as well as all of my shirts except some ratty half tee-shirts. I didn’t want Frank to have anything to cover up with, whether it fit him or not.
Wendy was sitting on the bed in the guest room crying and babbling about how it was all a big mistake. I just grabbed my guns and my pistol safe and loaded the car.
As I was loading the trunk with my weapons, Frank’s wife Julie drove up. I pointed to the door and told her to go right on in, and said that Frank was in the hallway to the bedrooms.
I got in my car and drove off. I went out to my hunting cabin and settled in for what I thought was going to be a lengthy stay.
I met Wendy on the rebound from a broken engagement when my former fiancé decided that I was not “wealthy enough” and she went off to marry a stockbroker. That marriage lasted until she thought she found a richer fish. She is now on her third husband in less than six years.
As I said, I was on the rebound. I first saw Wendy as I was going to an attorney to settle my grandfather’s estate. She was a security desk person at the building entrance. She made a good impression, and as it was near a normal lunch time, as I was leaving I asked her if she would like to go to lunch. I was surprised and pleased when she said yes.
At lunch we talked and we told each other our life’s highlights. Wendy was 21 and going to night school to study to get her real estate license. I told her that I was in town to clear up my grandfather’s estate. She seemed to perk up at that and asked if I had gotten anything. My eyebrows went up and I asked back if she was rich, and that just kind of set her back.
She apologized, saying “Of course it is none of my business, forgive me for asking.”
I laughed and also apologized for the nosy question. I then said that my grandfather had left me his hunting camp with a piece of otherwise useless property. I did not tell her of the money he left, something about that question about the estate seemed to me improper.
She was a great conversationalist; and had the ability to bring people out of their comfort zone with interesting insight. We got along great and after I settled the bill, I asked her if she would like to go to dinner the weekend that was coming up. She agreed as long as I did not go overboard.
The dinner went well, and we continued dating for the next two months. I did not push for any intimacy because she was dating others. I asked Wendy if she wanted to be exclusive, and she thought for a few seconds and said yes. Then she asked if that was why I had not made any moves beyond deep kisses. I said yes.
We became intimate about two weeks after that, and we both seemed satisfied. The sex got better and better, the relationship blossomed and after another 5 months I asked her to marry me. She agreed, but wanted to wait until she had her real estate license. As she only had about four months to go before she would finish her licensing course, I did not see it as a problem so I agreed.
I finally met Wendy’s parents and found them to be very nice people. Her father, George, seemed to be down to earth. He confessed to liking his single malt after work and liked fishing, golf, and poker. When I told him I was not much of a fisherman, but that I liked boating, hunting, and poker he laughed and said he would be glad to take my money. I gave it right back and said bring double what you usually do because I don’t lose. We laughed and went into the summer porch and had a drink. I got ribbed again when I just had a soft drink. But when I told him that even the alcohol in mouthwash made me sick he laid off.
Wendy’s mother, Estelle, call me Stella, was a sweetheart. She was a slightly shorter version of Wendy. Unfortunately she died of a heart attack about 6 months after the wedding. She was only 46. Wendy mourned for about 9 months, But George never got over it. He finally moved to Florida and we heard from him occasionally, but never saw him again.
After we settled into our house, Wendy found a job as a real estate agent. She needed 2 years of experience before she could be licensed as a broker, I never did figure out what the difference was. After those two years she moved from one office to a local office of a national chain. Frank was the office manager. I got the feeling that I should count my fingers and check his off hand for a knife every time he shook my hand. He was a slimy bastard, but a natural born salesman.
Things did not start going bad between Wendy and me until she had been in that office about 18 months. She received a promotion to Asst. Office Mgr. got a small percentage of commission on all the sales generated by the agents, a larger percentage commission on her own sales, and a raise. I started noticing that other then her normal paycheck no money was going into the household account. Her wardrobe and jewelry collection got much more expensive and her spending increased. She started to put business expenses and client entertainment expenses on the house credit card, but I never saw any expense checks to cover those charges.
I put a stop to that by canceling all of our joint credit cards, and telling her if she needed a credit card to get a business card or one in her name only, but I would not sign it as a co-owner or user. I also gave her a debit card, one without ATM access. I told her I would reload it as needed, but I would need to see receipts. I then told her that until I saw all of her income going in to the household account, I would give her an itemized list for 1/2 of each months expenses and if she did not pay it, then I would not renew the debit card.
Well that went over like a turd floating in the chowder. I got the silent treatment for about three weeks. When I presented her with a bill for half of the household expenses, she got the hint that I was serious. After that we got into a chilly but semi cordial relationship. Sex was out of the question until I had enough and went to the cabin for two weeks without telling her. When she finally called my company’s secretary and asked to have me call her, I did.
She was all weepy and apologetic about the troubles between us. I told her that if she ever used sex as a weapon again, it would not matter if she won the largest prize in lottery history, we were done. I then gave her the warning; “If you think I am fooling, look in your purse for credit cards I can use.”
I went back to the house, but I made some changes. I took the king size bed out of the master bedroom and put it up in the rafters in the garage. I replaced it with two 3/4 full beds and told Wendy that if she did not use sex as a weapon, or for revenge for the next year, I would replace the king. I also told her that any excess income I had over and above what she put into the household account was going into a separate account that she would not be able to access.
She started to get all mad again, I stopped her and told her to think about that because the cabin was now set up so I could live there. She shut up.
About three months after that I came upon the bedroom scene. I moved into the cabin, contacted my company about my address change and looked for a good divorce lawyer. The divorce went through, Wendy signed under protest, but I mention a certain video I still had.