Evette sat naked before the screen, her pale skin and shock of black hair looking ghoulish in the harsh, gray light. Her small tits made her nipples look grotesquely large and she was kneading her left one, hard.
j o
She slid her hand between her legs.
cant c
Evette raised the seat, slouched back, placed her feet on the desk straddling the monitor.
ok
Later ...
leave the a hole get half his $$
The a hole in question would be me. Evette is my wife. And if there's an a hole in this it's Marcus.
soon
ok stuck on u
me 2 bye
I stumbled their little affair a couple of months back. We have similar phones and one time when hers rang I mistook it for mine. There was a message, a man's voice: I'm so stuck on you, can't wait 'til Thursday, see you at ten.
I figured it was a wrong number, but it had a name - M. I poked around, realized my mistake, poked around some more. M was in her contact list. I went on-line, did a reverse phone lookup, and found it was the number for Designs by Dane. And, in fact, Marcus Dane had been doing some work on the house.
Thursday I was parked in a strip mall, by a coffee shop near our development. At 9:55 the white, DbyD van rolled by, made the turn. At noon the van was still in my driveway, as it was at two.
Long story short, I installed a security camera in a light fixture over the garage. Dane was a fairly regular visitor. Likewise, Evette was often strangely absent.
I added a GPS tracker to her car and installed parental control software on her PC. One feature was the ability to activate the Web cam in a way that was unknown to the user. I saw everything: Every keystroke, every Web site, every chat room - every bit of cybersex.
My job takes me out of town a couple of nights a week, so they had ample play time.
But I was watching them.
The affair surprised me because Evette is not what I would call oversexed. She's never denied me and she's enthusiastic during, sort of, but has never initiated the act. I got my answer the first week with the new software.
It was a Wednesday night. I was out of town. In my hotel room I logged into Evette's PC. There they were, naked, she sitting in his lap. She slipped to the floor. I could just see the top of her head and there was no doubt what she was doing. Then the list of porn sites scrolled across my screen.
It went on for almost two hours. He'd rolled the chair back a bit and I could just get a glimpse of her alternately sucking him and tugging his dick. For two hours?
Then came the jerk off, chat room meetings. I gave him credit for that. At least he enjoyed watching her play with herself. And then a disturbing thought hit me - Did he have another woman working his dick while he watched Evette diddle herself? And then a more serious thought occurred - Could he be setting her up for blackmail? I didn't wait around to find out.
My lawyer said the divorce would be a slam dunk given the GPS records, computer logs, videos, and whatnot. We planned the date to serve the papers. A couple of days before I stayed in town. They had a schedule of sorts for Tuesday and Thursday, not counting the cybersex. He liked to drink my Johnny Walker Black, they both did. Tuesday morning I cracked a fresh bottle, dumped in the pills.
I was parked around the corner. The cameras I installed were good for about a half mile. I watched the white van pull into the driveway, into the garage. Then, there they were in the living room. He tugged off her clothes and they did it on the couch. Evette was her cooperative, if unenthusiastic self. He poured them drinks. They tossed back the whiskey, he poured two more. They settled on the couch - and promptly passed out.
The package said, "Warning bonds skin INSTANTLY!" And it did.
I dragged the a hole to the computer, hefted him into the chair. I ran a bead of glue across his lips, pulled the corners up a bit sealing them in a stupid grin. I settled Evette between his legs, opened her mouth, ran another bead of glue around her lips, pulled her jaw open and pushed a hole's dick into her mouth. I ran another bead around her lips just to be sure. I pulled her hair, drawing her head back, stretching his dick, dribbled some glue on her hand, clasped it to his shaft. More glue on her other hand and I squeezed it to his sack - hard. I finished by wrapping his arms around her and gluing his hands to her back.
I changed the PC's wallpaper, a screenshot of Evette fingering herself. I turned off the screen saver so he would have something to contemplate, pulled the envelope from my pocket, and set it on the keyboard so he would have something else to contemplate. I figured it would be two or three days before enough skin sloughed off to take the glue with it. It would give them some serious quality time together.
Stuck on you ...
I hummed the song as I drove away. For some reason I don't think this is what Lionel Richie had in mind.
10.01.12