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How My Beautiful Wife Became My Ex
My Ex is named Maureen but everyone, except her mother, calls her Marty. She was born prematurely on December the first 1980 in the little town of Winter Park but she grew into one hell of a woman.
Today this tiny little baby is constantly fighting to stay between one fifty and one sixty. However don't let this lead you to believe she is fat because she isn't, that one sixty is on a five foot eight inch frame. She is what anyone would call a big woman. Her voluptuous body measures 40D-30-38 and her shoe size is nine and a half.
Her hair is naturally a light brown but her grandfather was a red headed Irishman and she inherited just enough of his genes to give her a hint of red in her hair color and half a dozen freckles on her back, which she hates. I suppose it also was from him she inherited her fiery personality and quick and terrible temper.
I met her ten years ago during our freshman year at Rawlins Collage. I had done a couple of years in the military after high school and was entering collage a little older than most freshmen which didn't hurt me with the females. I was immediately mesmerized by Marty's looks. She has always been the center of attention, partly because of her good looks and large size and partly because of her inability to be still or silent. She is sexually attractive and she knows it and flaunts it to its fullest.
She tells the story of loosing her cherry as if it had been a grand ole time, which I know it really wasn't for her. As she tells it she and a friend were on the beach and three guys came by and picked them up and gave them a little snow and a lot of beer and took them to a party where there were two other girls and a total of ten guys and before the night was over she had cum from half of them oozing from her snatch. She was fifteen at the time. On one of the few times she let her guard down, she told me how much she regretted the experience, but to hear her tell it others, which she often does, it was a wonderful night.
During my junior year I decided I wanted to become a pilot for a major airline and transferred to a university that specialized in bus driver training. Before making the move I asked her to be my bride and she accepted on the grounds we waited until we both graduated to be married and I agreed, but she refused to move in with me and stayed there, when I moved away. Although our schools were only sixty or seventy miles apart and we could be together every weekend Marty was stead fast not to move to be with me. I guess I should have seen the writing on the wall then, but I was too much in love with her at the time to see anything.
Every weekend she would come over or I would go over and we'd fuck each other's eyeballs out, seldom leaving the bedroom, but during the week I was hard at the books and she was taking care of other hards, only I didn't know that at the time.
We married right after graduation and flew to Vegas for a honeymoon. While taking in one of the shows a fellow approached her and asked if she worked there, when she replied no he said well if she wanted to call him and he gave her his business card. It turned out he was a agent for the casino and liked her looks I guess, anyway she kept his card and showed it off a lot telling people she could get a job as a high class call girl anytime she decided to dump me.
We moved to the coast where I got a job as a flight instructor for a small company hoping to build enough hours so a major airline would look at me, and Marty got a job with Martin Marietta.
Our first couple of years was between heaven and hell. My job didn't allow me the luxury of a steady schedule and she hated that and constantly complained about it. She also complained about the fact I wasn't bringing home as much money as she was and even though I tried to explain as soon as I was hired by an airline that would all change, it made little difference to her. However when we were not arguing we were screwing and that always made her happy. She has a twat that seems to ooze all the time and she would spread her legs for me almost anytime or anyplace. We have fucked on the nude beach in broad daylight with people walking by, on the hood of her car which was parked under a light in the parking lot of a bar, in several airplanes; in fact she joined The Mile High Club in the backseat of a 172 while my buddy was piloting the plane. In order to pull this off we removed the right front seat and the two of us got in the back. From the time we were taxing out until we reached the required 5280+ feet she was sucking my cock, which I could see my buddy was watching in the tiny rearview mirror on top of the instrument panel. When he announced we were over a mile high, without hesitation she pulled off her shorts, pitched them forward where the front seat should have been and climbed aboard my cock and fucked me so hard I almost didn't last long enough for her to get her cookies, which is seldom a problem for me.
I know Stan was having one hell of a time keeping that old Sky Hawk flying straight and level with her bouncing so hard, of course had he not had his eyes locked on her ass in the little mirror he might have flown better.
After we both exploded in which she screamed so loud she drowned out the engine noise she just slipped off and got down on the floor on her knees and started sucking me again, all the way back to the runway. She was still bottomless when we taxied back to the hanger where several of our friends were waiting, knowing the purpose of the flight. Marty jumped from the plane as soon as we stopped and did a complete turn around so every one of them could see she was naked below her t-shirt and leaned forward and spread her legs so they could see she had cum seeping from her twat. Only after a loud round of applause did she slip her shorts back on.
During the second year of our marriage I began to suspect she was running around on me. She had teamed up with another girl about her same age that she worked with and the two of them seemed to become closer than the two of us. I don't mean they were having an affair, not that I would have but it past her, but I didn't see that kind of affection between them, No it was just they spent so much time together which just didn't seem right to me. I mean after all if you are stuck in the same room with someone all day long it would seem natural not to want to be around them so much when you are not at work.
Lois is a short blond whose husband is a carrier military man, a Major, who was in Afghanistan at the time and she had no ties at home except a phone and a computer. He's ten years older than her and I don't think he has any idea she is so free with her resources when he is away, then again maybe he does and doesn't care as long as she if there for him when he comes home. I understand he left again just a few months ago, maybe I should look Lois up.
Oh hell back to my story, Lois and Marty began running around all the time when I was not home and I saw a few things that slowly began to come together. There is just the two of us so the wash doesn't build up to more than one load a week but she suddenly was washing clothes two, sometimes three times a week. Mostly sheets. I began to notice we had fresh sheets on the bed at least twice a week, and her delicate things, like her sheer bras and panties which she never runs through the dryer seemed to be drying every night from the shower curtain rail. Once I was home alone when the UPS man delivered and I saw the package was from Fredrick's of Hollywood. I carefully slit it open and inspected the contents and found four new bra/thong combos and a sheer red nightie. After resealing the package I waited for her to come home and when I saw her parking her car I left quickly and placed the package at the door as if the UPS man had left it there. Twenty minutes later I returned and she made no mention of finding the package nor to this day has she ever worn that nightie, for me, even though a week later I did find it stuffed in the bottom and back side of her underwear drawer in our dresser, so I know she found the package. As all the new bra sets were also sheer I figured she had a lover that liked such and began to wonder if she kept her bra on while she fucked him. As it turned out I was wrong.
I finally decided to have a hidden camera installed in our bedroom and then waited anxiously to catch her cheating with the bastard.
I really suspected her lover was her boss because once I overheard her on the phone with Lois and she referred to him as Ole Pencil Dick and I wondered how else could she know so much about his cock size.
The first week after installing the camera I found nothing incriminating other than she would dress slutty, which was not all that unusual, on the days I had flights scheduled late and would be gone for a long time. So I figured she went somewhere else to meet him, but that didn't explain her changing the sheets so often, no she was screwing him in my bed, and I was convinced of it.
The hidden camera was motion sensitive and only recorded when someone was moving in the room so I didn't have to sit through hours of watching nothing. Finally one night I had a flight scheduled for a student to take his first venture into black air and explained to her several days in advance I would be quite late because we couldn't get the plane until nine and then after the flight there would be a debriefing and so not to expect me until midnight or maybe even later if he did good and we stopped off for a beer.
When I got home she was in bed asleep or pretending to be anyway, but as I slipped in beside her I felt the stiffness of freshly washed sheets and knew they had been replaced since I had left for work that morning.
We, actually she had almost demanded, we buy a condo on the beach shortly after we married. I said we simply couldn't afford it and beside when I got on with an airline we might want to move. She said she didn't plan on moving because she liked her job and besides it would be her salary that would make the payments so what did I have to complain about. I surrendered to her wants as I so often did and then two years later I had installed this camera only, I could only access the recorder through a small door in the closet ceiling which opened to the crawl space between our flour and the one above us, so I had to wait until she was not there to get to it, which caused me a most sleepless night. Finally the next morning as we both left for work, she in her Mustang convertible and me on my little 100 cc Yamaha we turned in different directions at the red light just down the street and waved to each other. I only went a couple of blocks and then quickly returned to our condo.
There I was treated to the satisfaction of all my suspicions as well as to a few startling facts I had not even dreamed of.
The first images to appear on the tape was not Marty rather a strange man and Lois and they did indeed have sex on our bed, then just as they were finishing, in walks Marty in her see through bra and thong with a different man and they too had sex on our bed while Lois and her friend watched, and then the shocker came when each of the men started dropping bills on the bed.
My wife was a prostitute, she had become that high class call-girl she used to tease about, and so was Lois.
After the men left, she and Lois returned and divided the money, which looked to be several hundred, then they replaced the sheets with a fresh set.
I was so shocked I didn't know what to say or do. I wanted to beat her pretty face shapeless and yet knew I still loved her and had to admit seeing her perform had brought a strong erection, actually I got it when I was watching Lois, but it just became harder when I watched Marty's performance.
I decided not to approach her with the evidence but to wait and collect more. Which I did, in fact during that year I had two dozen such tapes and every time she would be fucking a different man. I finally located her little red book where she had kept a record of both my schedule as well as the times she could meet a John. It also revealed our home wasn't the only place she plied her trade. I wondered why she continued working for Martin, hell she was making a lot more on the side or rather on her back.
I stood for it for a long time, almost a year until one night when we were in a heated argument over nothing I guess, because I surely can't remember what it was now, and I burst out about knowing about her little side business. She of course denied it but when I produced the tapes she broke down and admitted everything. Even told me her minimum was two hundred an hour and sometimes she and Lois would double take a John and they charged five hundred for that hour, which they split.
Two weeks later I was served with divorce papers at work. She asked for nothing except her convertible, my name removed from the condo mortgage contract, and her personal belongings.
I was hurt, I had made up my mind to stay with her even though she was a whore, but before long I realized the divorce was for the best. I knew I still loved her, hell I still do and I think she still loves me too, we get together two or three times a year for a weekend, usually flying to the Bahamas or maybe the mountains, we even once went back to Vegas to the same hotel we had spent our honeymoon and I kind of hoped we could mend our differences but it was not to be. She finally admitted she just couldn't be satisfied with only one cock and even told me she had been screwing around while we were engaged and she was still at Rawlings and I was flying Blue Tails.
Well, I never was hired by a major airline but I still hope to be someday if they all don't go bankrupt, and I still teach flying, as a free lancer mostly. Marty is still working at her same job and still lives six stories above the beach in our old condo, however she has also bought the one next door and had a doorway cut through a connecting wall.
We had lunch a few weeks ago and I asked how her business was going, she smiled and said she was now charging five hundred an hour, but usually only did a couple of tricks a week because she didn't want to wear out her pussy or loose her desire for sex. I can't image either.
End of Story