After The Wife Walks In

Author's Notes: Recently I've been reading a lot of stories in this section and a few others, which deals with a guy getting lucky with a younger woman. May it be the sitter, the fox down the street, the best-friend's daughter, even their own children's girlfriend. Of course this is always while the wife is cluelessly off doing something else. A few close calls to spice things up, like women are unable to smell the musk of sex, and presto... you have an erotic story. So, I wondered, without going into the whole revenge thing, what would happen 'after the wife walks in' on the fun and games.

So, in this copywrited piece of adult fiction, I've taken a shot at what I think would happen in the recesses of my fertile imagination. As always, please remember all legal disclaimers apply etc. etc. etc... and don't forget to take a second to vote or a minute to comment or send feedback.

Enjoy:

*****

To say, I was as horny as a bitch in heat, would be fairly correct and yet a complete understatement.

At forty two, my students called me the grade bitch. You didn't get the grade unless you earned it. I know I had to earn every grade I received attending school. So, it is not my fault these kids today have gotten used to getting a free ride. In my opinion, I was teaching them several valuable life lessons all at the same time. And, the added curriculum didn't cost them anything extra.

It is a lesson I needed to re-educate my husband in as well. I understood when he was downsized from his work. I understood when the unemployment checks stopped coming. I stopped understanding when he was offered a job, but refused to work because the pay was beneath him.

Hell, it was a lot more than he was making now, since he wasn't making a damn dime. Oh, he thought he still needed his club fees paid, so he could network to find a real job. He also needed his car payment made. Add on his insurance or anything else he deemed necessary and you have over half of my check every month. But, working for twelve fifty an hour was beneath him.

It is a damn good thing that I inherited the house from my parents, or we'd be in a world of hurt. Fortunately I resisted his urging to get a mortgage against the property value. But, I won't go into all of that here. Right then I was horny and wanted sex in the worst way. It was something I noticed since I hit forty. My sex drive had gone berserk.

At first I wanted more sex. Then I wanted more sex in different places and positions. Then I bought my first vibrator so when he couldn't get it up. I wouldn't cheat on him. Then one day, I needed sex. It was no longer a want.

I hoped I was keeping him happy. I mean if he was at home all day resting. He should be able to get his six inch penis hard when I got home and take care of business. It wasn't like the kids would interrupt; they were away at college or out in the working world themselves. I know our son loved the job that was beneath my husband and his wife thanks me every chance she gets because now they make enough for her to get pregnant.

Thinking of getting pregnant, damn that sounded like a great idea. Have my loving husband fuck me so hard he dislodges my IUD and knocks me up. Maybe I should just have it taken out instead and not tell him. Maybe having another child would get him off his ass and out working again. Since he would want to raise his child like he did our sons and daughter. Hey, it could happen!

'Damn it...! Stop thinking like that or you'll stain the seat.' I thought as I pulled into our driveway. I looked in the mirror as the garage door closed. "Not too bad for an old broad." I smiled at myself and applied my bright red; let me wrap my lips around your cock, lipstick. Sure there was a slight streak of grey at my part, but I earned every strand. So what, my tits didn't point skyward anymore. At least they weren't dragging the ground after nursing three kids. They were never huge, but they're not small either. I kept slim by swimming twice a week and running or walking the other three, during my two hour lunch break between my morning and afternoon classes.

I took off my sensible shoes and slipped into my fuck-me pumps. I made sure my seams were lined up and my garter setting on my hips. I bit my lip as I took a seam ripper to the crotch of my panties. I didn't want to wait. As soon as I saw his hard on, I was going for a Pogo ride. We could always snuggle and make love later, after dinner, before I went to bed.

I quietly opened the door and slipped in. I heard moans. 'Good he's watching porn... he'll already be hard.' I thought as I took off my jacket and set it aside. I walked through the kitchen, anticipating the royal romp I was going to get. I had my purse in my hand and was going to set it on the bar.

Then everything changed.

"Oh shit... Oh fuck...! Fuck my ass Kevin, fuck it good baby! Damn you fill me up." My oldest son's ex-girlfriend was gasping as my loving husband Kevin had her bent over the back of my mother's floral wing backed couch. "Harder... harder... fuck my ass harder!" I pulled out my cell phone and started recording.

"Damn... I love your ass. I told you I was a better fucker." Kevin grunted and my ardor turned to ice. "Who own this cock?" He killed every chance of this being a onetime thing.

"It's my cock... in my ass... oh god I love it. Give me my cock... Give it to me!" She begged and ordered at the same time. She was going to say something more, but she turned. "OH FUCK...!" Her eyes and mine met. Kevin must have thought he was doing a stellar job, because she was bucking; trying to get him out as panic infused her features.

"Oh shit I'm cuming, fuck yeah. Take it in your ass, like my bitch wife never will!" Kevin killed our marriage and any chance of me ever giving him a dime if I could help it. It was like the vulgar would say; I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.

I leaned the phone against my purse and went in and got two tall plastic cups of water. After that workout, they needed to hydrate so they could pack his shit and get the hell out of my house.

"Aren't you glad I talked you out of dating that pencil-dick son of mine, and how I was just the better fuck?" Kevin panted as he leaned over the frightened girl.

"I'm so sorry..." She gasped, looking at me. "Kevin... Mrs. Nelson...?" She tried to get up.

"Fuck that frigid cunt." Kevin said and kissed the girls back. It was odd. I didn't even remember her name. Oh well.

"If you had fucked me more, you wouldn't be so fucked now." I finally spoke. "Here, you'll need this once you can pull your worm out of her. I mean, that was quite the workout dear!" I set the cups of water on the bar. "I'll be gone an hour. You'll both be gone before I get back!" I picked up my phone as they scrambled, trying to cover themselves. "Take what's yours only, or I'll ruin you in the divorce. I hope you two will be happy together." I slammed the door and raced back to my car.

I needed to get out of there before he could try and say a word to me. I almost hit the Pierce's as they were walking their dogs. I waved at them and speed down the street. I made it three blocks before I couldn't see. I made it into the store parking lot before I had to open my door and spew out the contents in my stomach. I had given him over twenty years of faithfulness to have it end like this.

I thank god that the young cop that showed up was a friend of my daughters. He helped me move my car out of the way, avoiding the vomit. He held me as I broke down. He kept asking me if I needed a medic and I insisted that I didn't. I couldn't answer him when he asked me what was wrong, but I didn't want it to become public knowledge of how big of a fool I was.

"Are you sure you are okay?" He asked me again, as I was able to start to pull myself together.

"Yes... I'm so sorry." I wiped my face. "I just found out that I'm getting a divorce." I shrugged.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Nelson. I didn't know you were having problems." He handed me a bottle of water. "Here drink this and rinse out your mouth." He offered and handed me a napkin. "Ashley didn't say anything the last time I talked to her." He patted my shoulder and talked into his radio.

"I didn't know either... it was quite the shock, but I'll be okay." I tried to smile. I remember trying... and failing.

"Okay Mrs. Nelson, I'll follow you home and make sure you get there safely." He helped me get my feet back in the car and I blushed. Here I was, dressed up like some middle aged slut at the corner supermarket.

"Thank you Timothy." I fell back on my classroom demeanor. "I should be okay as long as Mr. Nelson isn't there." I used another napkin, smearing the rest of my makeup and pulled out of the parking lot. I stopped three houses down. He was still there.

"Are you okay?" Timothy asked, startling me.

"They're still there and I can't...." I was on the verge of crying again.

"I'll take care of it." He said and started walking away. "You stay there until me or another officer tells you its okay to come to the house." He slipped into his car and pulled up at the end of my driveway.

"Just what I need...." I sighed. "Now the neighbors will be bugging me constantly." Oh I could hear the rumors. I closed my eyes and waited. I refused to look as Timothy finished removing the garbage out of my house. I jumped when someone knocked on my window.

"Ma'am, we need you to come and make sure he didn't take anything he wasn't supposed to." A tall middle aged cop said to me through the window.

"Okay... as long as they're gone." I nodded and tried to start my already running car. Blushing, I put it in gear and pulled behind Timothy's car, since it was blocking the drive still. I got out and started to the door.

"Take a quick walk through and let us know if they took anything that they'd have to return." Timothy met me at the door.

I walked though and saw the mess they made of my house. I avoided the living room. I went into my bedroom. The bed was a mess and his dresser had all the drawers open. I checked my jewelry case and noticed a ring missing. But it was one he bought, so she could have it. I hoped he made her happy. When I made it to the living room, I looked at the couch and noticed a small stain on the rug. I bolted to the bathroom and dry heaved for five minutes.

Timothy was very nice to me and gave me some paperwork. "Call my dad in the morning and he'll help you out." He handed me a card. "Make a list of everything he took and its value. He might get to keep it, but it all adds up to the final split of the property." He shrugged. I guess this was old hat for him.

"Thank you Timothy. I should be okay... do you know a good locksmith?" I looked at the front door and knew he still had a key.

"I can't recommend one... the job you know. But, my brother might know one." He took the card and scribbled a number on it. "Give him a call and he'll help you Mrs. Nelson." I remembered the young rascal from them running around in my yard with my children.

"I will, thank you." I sighed and bit my lip while they were all pulled away to more important things. I was just another divorce in the millions that are filed every year.

One Year Later:

"Hey Marcy, my brother wants to know if you're going to the dance at church this weekend?" Her co-worker Joyce asked as they walked down the hall.

"I'll never be that desperate Joyce. I'm divorced not diseased." She smiled at her friend.

"But you two have so much in common." Joyce walked next to her long time friend. "You're divorced, he'd divorced. You both were cheated on and your ex's tried to rape you in court." She defended her logic.

"A match made in heaven... or is that hell?" Marcella Estrada sighed. "I just got rid of one unemployed, needy, grasping, pile of shit. Why would I ever want another one?" She could still taste the bitterness in the back of her throat.

"At least you got to keep your house. I'll never get him out of my spare room if I don't find him someone decent to take care of him." She sighed dramatically.

"I already raised my kids. I don't need to be a mommy to a grown man." She wiggled her fingers as she entered her classroom. "Okay students, put away the books, it's time for a pop-quiz." The door closed as Joyce sighed in frustration.

As the door closed, Kyle Miller had to adjust himself or have the object of his attention see him sporting a woody again. He didn't know what it was about his teacher that held him in thrall. She was good looking, if she let herself dress up occasionally. It wasn't like girls haven't been throwing themselves at him since he came home.

But, that was just the problem. They were girls, not women. Now Professor Estrada was all woman. Five seven, long dark hair and a real figure, even the stripe of grey set her apart from the crowd. And then there were those eyes. He knew she wouldn't be impressed with his story like the other girls were. He also figured that most of the girls wanted him not because he was such a great guy, but because he inherited his father's business and he could give them the life they desired.

So, there he sat. Thirty years old, fresh out of the Army, in charge of a business he had no clue how to run. His plan...?

Go back to school and learn how to run it. At first, when he signed up; he found a class by a Mrs. Nelson. She was supposed to be the hardest teacher on campus. But, if she gave you a grade, you earned that grade. She wouldn't care if you were a veteran, or owned a multi-million dollar business. Only the work mattered.

On the first day, the name Ms. Estrada was written on the board. He was about to see if he was in the wrong glass. Then she walked in.... She was wearing real hosiery, not pantyhose. She had a bearing that demanded his full undivided attention.

"Mr. Miller, if you would be so kind to answer the question on the board?" She snapped his attention back to the here and now.

"No one can answer that question Ma'am." He looked at the board. "It would depend of the ethos of the individual and the situation involved. It's a trap question." He looked at her and squirmed.

"Given the stated parameters in the book, how would you, as an individual, handle the problem?" She pressed, her left eyebrow lifted in challenge.

"I'd take the person in a private room and give him some wall to wall counseling, telling them if they ever did that again they'd not only be fired, but prosecuted. Labor laws be damned Ma'am." He smiled at her.

"Violence solves nothing." She started to say.

"Sorry Ma'am, but there you're wrong. Violence and or the threat of violence solves over ninety percent of all problems in the world. To believe anything different is to be deluding yourself. Recent history as example. Especially, when five of the top twenty businesses in the Fortune Five hundred, are part of the Military industrial complex, where violence is necessary to increase their profit margin."

"But it isn't what you'd want to base a business plan on."

"Why not...? The government does and they're still in business." The class chuckled.

"So, what did you do before you decided that you needed an education Mr. Miller?" She was getting snippy.

"I killed people for the US Government Ma'am. Army... don't ask and I won't lie to you about it." Kyle smiled at her.

"Well fortunately, if you tried that in the civilian sector, you'll end up in prison for the rest of your life." She smiled tightly. "Now, on to the next question... Mrs. Parker, what do you think the ramifications of dealing with an employee that you think is stealing but you do not have hard evidence?" She walked past Kyle and he sighed.

At the end of the class, Marcella wanted her students to leave, to give her time to get back under control. She didn't want to admit the reaction she was having to the young man that had the nerve to question her so intelligently, if in a miss guided direction. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved around the classroom.

"Sorry Professor, I wasn't trying to bust your chops, but just answer the question honestly." Kyle came up behind her and made her jump. "Sorry...." He murmured.

"Mr. Miller, you startled me." She turned. "What do I owe the pleasure of your patronage in my class, other than having the benefit of the GI bill to pay for your schooling?" She wanted to set the tone for any conversations with him.

"I'm paying my own way Ma'am." He looked at her.

"Why business? Why not one of the law enforcement or security degrees? Wouldn't they sit better with your world view?" She knew she was coming off like a cold bitch. She was doing it on purpose to get him to back off.

"Yeah well, if I didn't have to run the business that my father left me when he died, I might have looked into that. But, some things are just out of our control. And, although our world view might be different ma'am, I do live in reality. Like the reality that when I joined, I never thought that I'd have to go kill strangers for a living. But what the heck, it's a job and kept me off welfare and paying taxes." He might think she was a knock out, but he refused to put up with anyone's bullshit.

"I'm sorry Mr. Miller." She felt his words like stabs to her heart. "It is easy for us who sit back here in academia to make judgments. It's totally different for those of you who had to live through it." She bit her lip, making sure she held eye contact rather than letting her eyes wander over his tight fit body. "But yet again Mr. Miller, why my class?" He had to know her reputation. Every student did.

"I signed up for Mrs. Nelson's class because I heard it was the hardest in the program. If I could pass that, then the rest would be easy." He shrugged. "But, instead we got stuck with each other; and I finish what I start." He shrugged. "Like my dad said, 'if you don't want the answer, don't ask me the question'." He shrugged at the question in her eyes.

"Then Mr. Miller, you are in the correct class. I'll see you next week." She knew she had to end this conversation or Joyce, who was looking on, might get ideas. That theory proved correct when she finally exited her class and the first question was.

"Who was the hunk you were verbally sparing with? I wouldn't kick him out of bed for, well... eating anything." She smiled wickedly. "There might be hope for you yet Marcy." Joyce was the only person to get away with calling her that name. She heard her ex call her that once and it stuck.

"That was Mr. Miller. A student and we both know I do not date my students." She said sharply. "He's a veteran and has recently taken over his father's business upon his demise." She didn't want to get flushed at his awkward praise of her class. But deep down it made her feel good to have him tell her he took the class because it was the hardest one at the school.

"So, not an over pampered brat, who couldn't find his ass with an instruction manual and a map. Interesting...." Joyce smiled at her friend. "This semester is going to be very interesting." She waved. "See you tomorrow." She went off to her car to rush home to her husband who worshiped the ground she walked on.

Marcella sighed and headed to the parking lot and tried to remember what that felt like. She was almost to her car when a voice she never wanted to hear again startled her.

"Marcy... what did you do to me? Do you know how much you embarrassed me in front of a client?" He rushed up and was getting in her face.

"Kevin I have done nothing of the sort. We're divorced and you and what's her name, are supposed to be living happily ever after." She tried to move around him.

"They said my membership has been canceled at the club. I was ready to close the deal but I was kicked out of a club I've been a member at for over twenty years." He spit in his anger. "What the fuck is the meaning of this bullshit, Marcy?"