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“Are you on something? You don’t think they’re confused that their mother and father no longer live together, and Daddy takes them to see his new girlfriend every other weekend? Get real. Besides, I don’t need your permission.”
I got up and went to the window as if checking on the weather. A clap of thunder shook the house, and I ran to the bathroom, legitimately shaking but needing to put the nail in his coffin.
I pretended to call this Tim person and went on about how terrified I was, how I needed him there, how I wished it was him here with me to keep me safe. Five minutes later, I left the bathroom to find an irate Justin sitting on my couch, looking like someone kicked his puppy.
“I don’t… who…?” He didn’t have a leg to stand on, so he just shut the hell up while I took my seat again. I pretend texted ‘Tim’ and laughed at nothing while hiding my phone screen like I was sharing state secrets.
“Hmm mmm, excuse me for a minute.” I headed upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door, leaving it just a little bit open. I usually sleep that way for the kids, so this was nothing new.
What was new, though, was my ex-husband sneaking into that doorway to see me taking selfies in the new baby doll I’d bought for the occasion. I knew he was there the whole time, even when I pretended to send the pictures to ‘Tim.’ And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I found myself bent over my bedroom bureau with a pissed-off ex-husband behind me, fighting with his zipper.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shut up!” It took everything in me not to laugh. I guess he forgot that one of the side effects of my fear of storms is my overstimulated libido. I let him pound the hell out of me for old time's sake, then threw him out of my room. Oh, he begged, but no dice. I got my rocks off for the night; his services were no longer needed.
From that night on, I got to thinking how fun it was to have free dick without the hassle of having to do his laundry, cook his meals, or give two fucks about his opinion. We’ve fucked every week since then. I wonder what he tells her when he leaves work on his lunch break to meet me at a hotel for an afternoon quickie. This sneaking around shit is the bomb. No wonder he liked it so much.
CHAPTER 2
I’m a messy bitch girls and boys. I wasn’t always this way, but sometime between having all these kids in the span of four years and my husband losing his mind and flying the coop, something in my head went clickety click.
Now, in this plan of mine, I’m playing the long game. The first order of business is to wreck her shit, him; I have my children’s entire lifetimes to deal with. I have to cut the head off the snake first and leave the body shaking in the wind.
I say that to say I forgot on purpose to take my birth control. Yes, I did. Why? Because I wanted to be home with my babies, and this workforce bullshit is for the bees. I forgot how much I hate most of the human population, and they seem to have gotten worse in the last few years.
This was always part of my plan because Justin the ass had promised me four kids when we got married, and he left me at three. A promise is a promise, after all. So, on these afternoon raunch fests and sneaky link Fridays, when he came to pick up the kids, I made sure to ride his dick raw.
“We’ve got to stop doing this,” I mumbled. My ass!
“Doing what?” We were both out of breath because I was sliding on and off his cock, which, for all that he’s a piece of shit, is a thing of beauty. I’ve always had a fondness for his cock and the pleasure it can bring.
This was week four of our little rendezvous, and we were both having fun. It’s like the spark had been lit, and we were like two teenagers running around behind everyone’s backs to fuck. His dick didn’t even feel the same as it had the last few years of marriage; it was better because it was stolen.
I can’t tell you how hard I cum these days just from knowing that that bitch is going to flip her shit when she finds out, and oh, you better believe she’s going to find out. “We shouldn’t be sneaking around like this. Oh fuck, that feels so good right there.”
He had a hand full of tit and the other one full of ass while I did the slip and glide on his length. I’m pretty sure he noticed how much wetter I was than usual and thought it was all him. It was, to an extent, but it was the thoughts in my head more than anything that got me there.
Every time we fuck these days, she’s on my mind. I didn’t know being vindictive could be this heady, but the thought of her suffering the way I did when all comes to light makes my pussy twitch.
“Oh, Tim!” Uh-oh. All movement stopped at the sound of my voice. It took everything not to laugh at his ass when he looked at me all butt hurt because I called him by another man’s name. Motherfucker you had a whole ass girlfriend while we were married. Get over your shit.
“What did you call me?” He growled, and my pussy purred.
“I’m sorry, it slipped out.”
“You’re fucking him?” Well duh! I didn’t answer, but my look said of course I am.
He flung me onto my back, which is what I wanted any damn way, and pounded into my belly like he had a point to make. That’s right, Daddy, show me who’s boss.
Rage fucks are the best. I went back to work that afternoon with a snatch full of cream, my neck, and chest covered in hickeys, and started counting down the days to my next period. I’m about to make a lot of people’s lives very miserable, and one of them ain’t gonna be me.
That Daisy bitch is going to rue the day she set her sights on what’s mine and made my babies cry. Fuck what they did to me, I’m an adult, I can handle my shit. But they made my babies suffer. I guess Justin forgot who he married. I changed with the times and circumstances, but I can step out of my mom shoes real quick.
The two of them had already knocked me out of the wife heels I was wearing for ten years, so why not go back to being the girl I was, the girl he was so hot for that he followed me around campus for damn near a year before I gave him a chance.
* * *
I didn’t look before answering my phone and wish I did. It was the weekend, and Justin had taken to coming on Saturday mornings before the kids woke up to get them. He thinks he’s slick, and I don’t know what he’s been telling that idiot, but that half hour before the kids wake up is spent in my bed getting freaky.
