Many thanks Jedbeaker for the editing of this story and for his suggestions.

It was a sad day, indeed, a very sad Friday for me. Within a few minutes I would see if my life had turned into a mess out of my control. The only thing to do for the time being was to wait and see if the expected crap would really happen.

However, I wasn't any poor wimp who would mourn and feel sorry for myself. No, I had never forgotten what my old sergeant once, a long time ago, taught me, that action is the best defense. My only choice was to fight for at least, saving my honor, even if many other things went to hell. To my advantage I received some information yesterday that gave me time enough to be well prepared for the events to come.

That was the reason I was sitting in a friend's black Peugeot 307, parked in a discrete corner of the motel parking lot. I was told my wife would be here after lunch and now it was nervously exciting to see if her red Toyota Yaris would arrive.

She came and was followed a few seconds later by her "Real Man" in his "extender" BMW that he parked besides my wife's car. He said a few words to her and walked to the registration office. I left my car and walked to my wife's Toyota, opened the unlocked door on the passenger side, got in and sat down in the seat.

My totally surprised wife screamed, "You -- Billy! What in the hell are you doing here?"

I gave her a brown envelope and said, "Not much, only giving divorce papers to my cheating soon-to-be ex-wife. Have a great time fucking your noble 'Real Man' and feel free to stay here for ever."

She began screaming, "No. No. No, you are totally wrong it is not what you think. Let me explain why I'm here and I can promise you, it is not for any cheating."

"I demand a divorce and don't give a shit if you are fucking that worm that just ran away to get the room key to your love nest. Feel free to be his whore and as I said, I don't give a shit."

It was obvious that my once upon a time loving wife had expected this afternoon to be a much more romantic event with her obviously horny noble lover because she began to cry loudly.

Now her so called real man was coming back waving the room key and when he saw Rebecca crying and still sitting in her car, he opened the door on her side and asked, "Who the hell is he and what has he done to you?"

While he was saying that, I got out from the car, took up a small plastic bottle from my pocket and while rushing over to him I heard her sob, "He is my husband and he is going to get both of us divorced for doing this."

The lover shouted, "I'll beat that stupid idea out of the damn bastard!"

When the lover turned against me, I aimed at his face, squeezed the bottle containing a mix of water and shampoo and the resulting water-jet against his face and eyes blinded him and had him screaming with anger. While he was temporarily out of action, it was time for my second weapon, a dart with three flukes soldered to the head. I took a quick step getting behind him where I took a hard swing of my right hand and pushed the dart thru his pants and underwear deep into his left bottom. Thanks to the barbed tip, it remained stuck and was impossible to withdraw without surgery.

My actions were successful so I left the now obviously unlucky lovers. He had shampoo in his eyes, a dart in his ass and was swearing like an old harbor worker. My cheating wife was still sitting, loudly crying in her car seat. I rushed to my car and left the motel parking lot without any further problems.

Whatever would happen later that Friday, one thing was for sure, those lovers would not be in the mood for any romantic sex.

The beginning

I'm Billy Svensson, a 37 years old Scandinavian guy, for the time being married to 36 years old Rebecca. Our two children are Emil, nine and Estelle seven years old.

Rebecca and I have been together for eleven years and married during ten years of that time.

We have almost everything couples in our position are dreaming about so we ought to be very happy, but I regret to say that we are not.

In my humble opinion the main reason for our unhappiness is Rebecca's mother. Though she is not green, doesn't have a tail and doesn't spit fire she must still be regarded as a genuinely hostile dragon who has never avoided any chance to be a pain in the ass to me.

That began the first time I met her. I was invited for dinner to Rebecca's home. It was more of a cross-examination than a pleasant dinner. After a lot of questions, the "dragon" said that she didn't like my name because Billy is a "Y-name" and she didn't like people with Y-names. Upper class families never gave their children such names-(as in Billy, Kenny, Ronny, Molly, Nelly, Cindy, etc.). Thanks for that, I thought.

I was surprised when both Rebecca and her obviously spineless wimp of a father remained silent while I was humiliated by the dragon. She continued by saying that Svensson is a typical farm-hand name from the days when a son got his fathers first name together with "son" as his last name. Then she went on by saying the she had expected something better for Rebecca since her other daughter, Natalie, was going to marry a fine man from a noble family.

I had heard enough, stood up and said, "Isn't that guy's father a bastard in some distant branch of that family? And what is he --an unemployed parasite on the social welfare system?"

Before somebody replied, I continued, "I need some fresh air. Are you coming with me Rebecca?"

To my great surprise, Rebecca came with me and we left what I regarded as a dragon's nest.

I knew Natalie's boyfriend Alexander from my schooldays and wasn't surprised that he, with his conning skills, had gotten Rebecca's weird mother to regard him as a "God's gift" to Natalie. That was not my business and why should I care.

Of course, I wasn't invited to Natalie and Alexander's big wedding and didn't care a shit about that either.

What I cared about was Rebecca's and my relationship. And that grew better and better until it went too good, resulting in her accidental pregnancy. That got her dragon mother almost spitting fire when she rang me and shouted her opinions about the kind of scumbag I really was in hers and other 'decent people's' opinions. And that any kind of wedding at her expense would be out of question.

The Los Christianos Scandinavian church on the Spanish Canary Island, Tenerife, is a very popular place for small scale weddings, so Rebecca and I went there with our best friend and got married.

Both Rebecca and I found fine jobs in a town 210 kilometers away from our hometown, so I had minimal contact with her mother, who spent all her efforts and a lot of money on Natalie and Alexander.

The next years were good for Rebecca and me and our two children. We made fair money, bought a nice house, and made many friends in our new hometown. Our sex-life was still on a fair level. Thanks to the distance, I had minimal interactions with Rebecca's family because her parents never visited us and when back in our hometown, I saw my family and Rebecca went to hers.

At last even Alexander had enough of the dragon we shared as mother in-law. To everybody's surprise he had done well at his job and had gladly accepted a promotion that included a transfer to a new location 280 kilometers away. After some arguing with Natalie he had given her a simple choice: Accept the distance or get a divorce. She followed him to the new job.

Now the dragon remembered that she had a daughter named Rebecca, and began making daily phone calls. After a while, these somehow began to get Rebecca, without any real reason, acting chillier toward me. The calls centered on more nagging about what I did, had not done or ought to do and even more bullshit about how well everything had gone for Natalie and Alexander.

Our relationship didn't get better when I told Rebecca that the main reason for Alexander moving away was to get a far distance from the hostile dragon who was his mother-in-law.

One accident never comes alone and Rebecca's feelings for me got even chillier when a new guy, also from some side branch of a noble family, began at her job. Rather soon Rebecca began describing him as some kind of a "superman" or at least a "Real Man".

He was married to a nurse, but his wife was in Tanzania, Africa, volunteering as a nurse at some medical aid center and still had about three months left on her tour. The real man and his wife intended to buy a house when she was back but in the mean time he was living in our town renting a room at his wife's married sister's house.

Rebecca got me really fed up when she compared my doings, my vocabulary and even my clothes with that real man at her job. There's no need to say who the winner ended up being in those comparisons.

Though Rebecca and I still had sex, my attempts were often met with comments such as, "Now again?" and "Don't you ever get enough?"

If it hadn't been for our children and for Rebecca's many good sides, I would have dumped her a long time ago. But she was obviously faithful, a good mother, keen with cooking, kept herself in nice shape and we worked well together keeping the house clean and a nice garden. If she had not started her nagging and all her other sour comments to me, she would still have been my dream wife.

Of course, I wasn't a wimp who took all her crap without telling her my opinion, too. That increased our problems, just like one evening after our children were sleeping. Rebecca said, "I really wish you could be more like my co-worker."

"If you are in love with that conning faggot, why don't you file for divorce and be free to be his whore. But as long as we are married, I will never accept any cheating. Fuck that asshole behind my back and be sure that I will teach him that though you may act as a cheap whore, your services will have a high price tag."

Rebecca began screaming hysterically, "You simple bastard! What in the hell did you just say about me? How dare you call me a whore? Be sure that you will pay for that!"