As I got out of my car and headed into the building, a guy pulled into the spot beside me. His car was a beautiful Candy Red Mustang SVT Cobra. I wanted that car badly.

"Wait for me in the restaurant next door Honey," he said to the woman getting out of his car. "My meeting shouldn't last for more than about an hour. That'll give you some time to shop for a bit and then meet me." She smiled and nodded.

She wasn't pretty. Well, maybe if you added plain. She was pretty plain.

"Hey," I called to the guy. He was a typical non-descript forty something bean counter type.

"Can I help you?" he answered.

"Yeah," I really like your car," I said. "Is it for sale?"

"Nope, I kind of like it," he smiled.

"It's a Terminator, isn't it?" I asked. The 03 SVT Cobra was called the terminator because with the factory mounted supercharger, the car was at one time the fastest factory built Mustang available. The cars, straight from the factory, ran with corvettes, which is incredible for a car with a backseat, especially one that also sat higher and weighed more.

"Yep," he said.

"What if I offered you 50 grand?" I asked. He just smiled at me and started walking away.

"Hey, I've got an idea," I said. "What about an even swap of your 2003 Cobra for my 2011 Mercedes AMG coupe?

"No thanks," he smiled.

"Shit!" I said under my breath as he walked away. I wanted that fucking car. Oh well back to business. I went into the same building the Mustang guy did. But there were a lot of rooms in there.

I got on the elevator and rode up to the seventh floor. I spoke to my host and he handed me an envelope. I opened it and checked the amount right in front of him. I know it was rude, but I'd rather be rude than get screwed. That's one of mine, so if you use it, don't forget to give me credit.

I looked around the room and saw a collection of men and one or two women. I really couldn't tell if one of them was just a really effeminate man, or a really tough looking chick. I wondered what the hell the women were doing here. But it really wasn't my problem. All I had to do was talk.

I stepped up onto the small stage and behind a podium. "Is this the Tuesday night meeting of the League of Losers?" I asked.

"No, it's a support group for divorced men," said a whiny voice from the audience.

"Thanks Poindexter," I snapped. "I know who you guys are. They're paying me to talk to you."

"Okay let's get started. First off, how many of you are here because your wives cheated on you?"

There were about 22 men in the audience and the two women. 20 of the men and both women raised their hands.

"Why are you two guys here?" I asked the two men who didn't raise their hands.

"Our men cheated on us," said one of the guys.

"Okay so everyone is here because their spouse cheated on them then right?" I asked.

Now we were getting somewhere. Every head nodded.

"Great," I said. "Whether you know it or not, you guys all won. When I say guys I don't mean it in the literal sense, ladies. I mean all of you in our audience are the winners. Right now you're here because a counselor or a therapist or a priest suggested the self help group you're in, to help you deal with the pain and the heartache that you're going through.

Realistically though, you shouldn't be sad, you should be happy and rejoicing. This, for all of you should be a time of celebration, because as I said before, you are all winners. You've all been stuck in a relationship for however many months or years that it lasted, with a person that wasn't good enough for you and who didn't really care about you. You've all come out of that relationship with most of your sanity intact and with a lesson learned about what you will not put up with in the future.

You are now ready to embark on the journey, the adventure of finding the person you're destined to be with; your real true love.

The problem that most of you are having is that you're blaming yourself at least in part for the breakup of your old relationship. You're telling yourself, "If I had only tried harder," or "I should have gone to her mother's with her," or some stupid shit like that.

Believe me it wasn't your fault. I'm an expert on cheating spouses and I can tell you that cheaters always do it for the same reason, themselves." I noticed that every eye in the place was now fully focused on me.

"Right now you're wondering if I'm a psychologist or a therapist. I'm not. I'm also not a guy whose wife cheated on him. Ladies and gentlemen, I am uniquely qualified to tell you the things we're going to talk about tonight because no one knows better than I do about what goes on in an affair. You're all wondering why your sweetie cheated on you with that asshole. I am an expert on the subject."

"What makes you an expert?" asked a guy in the first row.

"Well sir," I smirked. "I'm an asshole." The entire group gasped. They all backed up just a bit. As if I was contagious.

"Yep," I said. "I'm a tall good looking guy. I'm well built, I'm confident, I have all of that boyish charm and I can sell Bullshit to a cattle rancher and make him think he's getting something he really needs, while he's stepping in a field full of it.

While all of you nice people are out there looking for the love of your life to settle down with, like some real life fucking E-Harmony ad, I'm out there hunting too. Believe me it's just like the real estate market. Some people are looking to buy, while others are only looking to rent. Then there's the guys like me who just want to squat.

I don't want a long relationship with a woman of my own. I just want to fuck yours."

My whole audience gasped again. All of their faces showed shock.

"What kind of woman do you guys see me with? Probably some tall blonde model type with big tits and long legs right?" Most of the men in the audience nodded grudgingly.

"Nope," I snapped. "Booooorrrrrinnng. That doesn't do anything for me. And to tell you the truth most of them are the same in the dark anyway. Pussy is pussy. What really turns me on is convincing your dull, plain as grass, fat assed little wife to meet me and do the nasty in a cheap sleazy hotel while you're out playing golf or at work.

I just love the thought of how guilty she feels when she goes home to you wondering whether or not she took enough showers to get rid of my scent or douched enough that you can't detect any of my leavings in her. She probably carries that same guilt to church with her on Sunday, Knowing that I plugged her three or four times Saturday afternoon.

"While you come home bragging about the birdie you scored on the third hole, your birdie is still thinking about me scoring in her third hole. The one she hasn't even let you near after all of those years of marriage because it's too nasty.

"While we're on the subject, let's get back to the type of woman I like. Most of you are thinking I don't want your plain little wife with her fat ass, her short legs and her lack of tits. You couldn't be more wrong. Some of you think your wife is too plain, too skinny or too ugly for me. Wrong again. Those mousy little bitches that no one looks twice at in the supermarket really get me going.

They're also a hell of a lot easier to get. Here's lesson number one. A lot of you guys wondered during your divorce why your wife gave you all of that bullshit about how she didn't feel beautiful anymore or how she felt old. This confused the shit out of you, didn't it? You told the bitch you loved her every fucking day, didn't you? And you often told her she was beautiful too.

Guess what? It didn't matter. For some strange reason women think that their husbands are supposed to tell them that shit. So after a while, it no longer registers. You can tell her she's pretty twenty times a day and it'll go in one ear and out the other. I tell her once and she's mine for the taking.

When she's in the super market reaching for a gallon of milk and she looks up and sees me and I say, "Damn, you're hot." Her pussy just starts dripping. The conclusion becomes inevitable. In most cases once I lock onto a target it's going to happen and it's going to happen quickly. In far less time than you think, your frumpy, faithful little homemaker will be slurping my dick like it's an ice cream cone.

It's not your fault. You treat her well. You buy her things, you compliment her, and you're totally faithful to her. In fact you do everything that she always wanted, you"re the perfect husband. But at a certain point in her life no matter how much she loves you; she becomes vulnerable to my kind of bullshit.

Every woman out there wants the fairy tale. Even though "A" it doesn't really exist. And "B" she already has the closest thing that real life can come to it. She wants to believe that she is just as sexy as all of those air-brained super models on TV. She needs to know that someone other than you, is irresistibly drawn to her.

And that's where I come in. I feed her a bunch of crap and she goes for it hook, line and sinker. In her rational mind she knows that she loves you and that she shouldn't do it, but she can't resist. It's a kind of temporary insanity. Her one rationale becomes it will only happen once and you'll never find out about it. That's why your staid and boring little wife, the mother of your children and chairwoman of the PTA, ends up spreading her flabby cellulite-riddled thighs for me in the no tell motel.

That's why SHE does it. Why do I do it?" The stunned crowd is appalled. A few of them nod their heads.

"Because I'm an asshole." I smile and flash my megawatt boyish smile at them before I begin talking again.

"Your little wife plans on it only happening once. They all do, but it becomes like a drug to them. It's like they have this secret little world where they're the beautiful sultry siren, not the boring little house frau. At first it's just the sex, but let's face it guys; sex is just sex. I'm not any better endowed than any of you and I can't do anything that you can't do. It's just the package, the thrill of doing something bad, and the pure nastiness of fucking someone who doesn't give a shit about her. It puts her into slut mode and believe you me, they all have slut mode. It's wired into their DNA. It's harder to activate in some women, but they all have it.

Like I was telling you before about my preference for your plain-Jane little wife over the hot chicks I run into. Pussy is pussy guys. All women, every God damned one of them has something going for them. You just have to pick the type you like. Bigger girls have uhm, bigger body parts, there is something that's just insanely sexy about watching a big girl's rack jiggling as she fucks you reverse cowgirl style.

And the skinny little bitches are usually really tight downstairs and I just love tossing them around like a rag doll while I do them. The librarian types with the glasses and the tight pinched lips are probably my favorites though, them and the church ladies. There's something so nasty about hearing them beg me to fuck them in the ass for the first time.

Of course they always think that you won't find out. They go to outlandish lengths to make sure we meet in places that you'd never go. After the first couple of times though, they start to think that they're invincible or simply much smarter than you are. By then they're willing to meet in their own home as long as they get some dick. Some of them will even fuck me in your bed and let me wear your robe when we're waiting for the third round.

Things really get dangerous when they become so infatuated with me that they want to take a nap in your fucking bed to get their strength back so I can plow them again. They're just asking for trouble if you ask me.

Why would they take such a risk? Well I'll tell you. I told you that it only starts with the sex. After a while the nastiness of cheating becomes its own drug. They have to take bigger and bigger risks to get the same high. It gets to the point where I really believe some of them want to get caught.

Yep they do. It's a way to test you. Do you love her so much that you'll take her back even after you've walked in and seen her licking my balls with her face covered in my sperm? If you do love her that much then we know two things. The first is that you really love her. And the second is that you have no fucking self respect.

You are basically a woman yourself. There is no way that any man should ever take back a woman who blatantly cheats on him. She has no respect for you. You can listen to her whine about how much she loves you and she made a mistake. It doesn't mean shit. You can listen to her candy assed therapist telling you that love and sex are not the same thing and that modern men or men who are secure in their masculinity or their relationships don't feel threatened by their wives having sex with others, but repeat after me. "It's all bullshit."

The guys in the front row said it quietly and out of rhythm.

"Say it again guys, louder," I said.

"It's all bullshit." they said louder and with more confidence.

"One more time," I yelled.

"It's all bullshit," they screamed.

"You Betcha," I confirmed.

"Why does she risk it?" I asked in a quieter, calmer voice. "Because she wants one of the following: Either "A," she wants to test you. "B," she's tired of your relationship and she wants to shake it up or get rid of you. Or "C," she's just so caught up in the thrill of fucking someone else behind your back that she loses control.

"Why do I do it?" I asked. "There are two reasons here. One is because I don't give a flying fuck about her, your marriage or you. I just want the thrill of watching that shit burn. And secondly ... Because I'm an asshole."

"The thrill of fucking your wife won't keep my attention for long. Realistically, my feelings for your wife are akin to yours for the golf course you play at all the time. Once you know all of the holes you need to play somewhere else. The thrill is gone. The only way to liven that place up is to bring in more people or up the danger.

So I'll either start taking very nasty pictures or videos of your wife, or I'll offer her to others. You'd be surprised how easy it is for me to get your wife to let the bellhop or the groundskeeper at our cheap motel fuck her after I have. And after she's had the first other guy the next time there'll be three or four, then before you know it your wife, the woman who packs your kids' lunches, is a gangbang slut.

"Why would I do that to her, and to you? Because I'm an asshole."

I could tell I'd hit a few nerves in the crowd. No one had left the room. They all seemed to hang on my every word.

If you have any kind of self respect, by the time you've noticed that something is wrong, your marriage is over. Sometimes just to keep things fun, I add little things for your benefit, like I'll arrange for you to get a copy of the pictures or the video.

One of my favorite tricks is when I find out that your wife isn't on the pill, I get her really revved up and either remove or refuse to wear the condom. I'm usually long gone by the time the joyous event happens and our child is born.

All of you who were willing to take her back after I'm done with her are probably just as willing to pretend our baby is yours right? Even when it looks nothing fucking like you and everyone you know is laughing at you behind your back." Ooh, I got more than a couple of angry glances after that one. I decided to fan the flames a bit more.

"Oh and no matter what she told you. She knew from the beginning that it wasn't your puppy. While she was looking you in the eye and telling you that you were going to be a daddy, she was rubbing her tummy and dreaming about having my dick in her again. If she didn't name the baby after you or your father, or her father, he's probably named after me." One guy in the back stood up angrily, but he sat back down when the rest of them started looking at him.