Confession from a Cheated Wife

February 14th

I found rose petals on the floor. It was a nice thing to find after a long day of work. They led me to our bedroom, but something wasn't right. Something smelled bad. Really bad. It smelled like perfume, and it wasn't my own.

Halfway through the steps I heard a woman giggling and a man groaning. I walked faster, nearly ending my life in a stupid matter because I didn't take off these stupid stilettos that'd been killing me all day. When I finally reached to our bedroom, the sight that I saw materialized the stuff nightmares are made of. Mom's right: nobody knows how they'll react in a situation until they find themselves upon it. I thought I did. I thought I'd do what other people would call normal. Instead, I went numb.

A marriage that started with a promise ten years ago ended with my husband in bed, naked, at the receiving end of a foot job given by a girl that--and I hate to admit it, had one gorgeous pair of feet. Neither noticed me at the threshold, even after I dragged a table to sit down and watch. I kept my legs crossed and let them do their thing because, well, why shouldn't I? What could I even possibly do in this case? Join in on the action, like it's a porn film? Try to go there and separate them, as if that's going to undo the deed? That... douchebag of a man decided to end things with me instead of having the balls of facing it directly! The only thing I can do is just light up a cigarette and watch her suck his dick. It'll be a while until they notice me.

What a shame that I quit smoking a few years ago. His request, actually. I suppose cheating is a good excuse to pick the habit back up.

I thought I'd focus more on my husband, but my eyes kept darting towards the dark-haired girl. The bitch was hot, and her mouth looked even better when she assumed the position as she sucked my husband. Thus, with my gaze still on her, I fished my phone and started to snap as many pictures as I could, even though the lightning wasn't the best. Exposing them online sure is tempting, but it's better for me to expose them in court. There are better ways to get my way, and revenge porn isn't worth it. Is not about the criminal act. It's just that he doesn't even deserve committing a crime for.

Aside from the foot job, I captured every single sexual act they performed. Fellatio, cunnilingus, missionary, cowgirl, titty fuck, rimming... I filmed the moment he slammed his dick into her cunt for the first time as he sucked her toe. I knew she enjoyed it. He always fucks better when he indulges in his fetishes; probably to compensate from other girls from his past that kink shamed him. He didn't need to do that with me, and he probably doesn't need to do that with her, but do I care what he does with her anyway?

...maybe I should've asked myself that before I started recording the event.

Still, none of this matters. I wasn't aroused as I watched them fuck. The bitch reached her climax with him in the middle of anal sex. He pulled out to cum on her soles; a feat he's done with me many times.

That's when he looked at the threshold and saw me, sitting on a table, legs crossed and phone in hand. He probably thought I was about to cry. Instead, his dick twitched when I encouraged him to keep fucking her, like the pathetic cheater that he is.

February 20th

My lawyer couldn't stop laughing. The body of damning evidence I took on Valentine's day made this case the easiest and fastest divorce in his entire career. It was easy money, and, like the rest of his peers, he loves money just as much as ants love sugar.

He told me I could have anything. I didn't. I left that perfectly clear the day after I caught him fornicating with that whore, right after I called my boss and explained to her the reason I'll be late for work. I took all my things, and left both my engagement and wedding rings in his mailbox.

I moved in with my younger brother. I'm not as close to him as I am with my twin sister or my older brother, but he was the best choice. Hugging him is all it took for me to finally let out all that pain. Ten years don't heal in weeks, let alone overnight.

All that remained is to wait. I didn't care about money, I didn't care about properties. I am lucky to have a good job that allows me to live as I want, and it gives me the freedom to write. All I wanted is my divorced status, and that's what I've got.

March 31st

I'm still at my brother's. It's been a bit hard to find a place of my own. Some coworkers told me to get back in the game, but I don't really want to do that, or at least until I have a place that's mine. For now I focused on myself and my book. No one knows about this secret thriller I'm writing. Not even my brother.

This morning started up with a surprise. Out of all the notifications I cleared up from my phone, one got me wet. It came from an unknown number. First, it was a picture. Then, a message followed.

Hey, can we talk? it read.

That bitch! I yelled while I peed on the toilet. That little foot model my husband decided to cheat me with!

I showed my brother the message as we had breakfast. He said that she is hot, but immediately retracted as soon as he glanced at my face, slightly flustered. I wonder if you'd like to be in a threesome with us, I squinted back at him. He felt grossed out by the idea. Good.

He is right though. She is hot, and so are her precious feet.

What should I do? I asked him.

He told me that if he was me, he'll be really curious. Why does the mistress want to talk to me more than a month after the fact?

It did pick my curiosity. So I dropped a pin to a cafe in a mall that's three blocks away from my office, and set up the appointment for my lunch hour tomorrow.

April 1st

I work at one of those companies where an impeccable presence is equally as valuable as having a good résumé, if not a bit more. I don't get to wear high heels often, but due to the unpredictible nature of my work where I may or may not kiss some ass at some point, I always keep a pair with me in such cases. Today wasn't such day, so I wore the same peep toe stilettos that I had when I caught the cheater. I wasn't trying to impress corporate, but someone else.

This morning my brother whistled at me and asked if I was going to have an important meeting. Of sorts, I said. Was it a date? he asked. It was tempting to ask him why does he care, but then I saw him crack his knuckles.

There's no need to hurt anyone, I reassured him. If such were the case, I could handle it myself. He nodded, and confessed he hoped for such answer. Why? I don't like hitting girls, even if they hurt my big sister, he said.

I think that's my husband's fault, but moving on...

Throughout the morning I kept wondering if this was a stupid joke. The date didn't go over my head.

So there I was at a cafe close to my office, using my downtime to figure out the consequences of a family struggling to escape a madman's grasp after watching him split the breadwinner's skull in half with a fireman's axe. It's a very gruesome piece that got me to the point where I felt like printing to toss it to the flames after deleting the document from my laptop. Of course nothing came to me. I got stuck because my mind thought about someone else rather than the crime that unfolded on screen. So I let out a sigh and put the laptop down. That's when I saw her.

That pretty little hot bitch. She looked taller than I expected.

She had her dark hair loose. It flowed around her shoulders, contouring her breasts. She wore a dress that showed off her long legs. She walked slowly towards me, standing on top of the most expensive pair of high heels I've ever seen. Now I was the one who wanted to split her skull in half like an American psycho and stain the blank page on screen with her blood.

Who the hell she thought she was? Was this an attempt to seduce me? Or was she just bragging? "Look at me, your husband chose the hot foot model instead of the failed writer who works at human resources pretending to be a business lady."

To my surprise, she greeted me politely. I kept quiet as I listened. She said her name was Elizabeth, but goes by Liz. I refused to call her Liz.

What the fuck do you want? were the first words that came out of my mouth. I even tasted the bitter venom that spiced them.

I want you to hear me, she said.

I'm not really interested in listening to her side of the story, so I paid no attention. I looked up at her from head to below the breasts. Even when the waiter came to take our order and I asked for the most expensive things, my eyes never left those stupid mounds on her chest. She's hot, yes, and her feet are prettier, of course, but what else did this woman have that I did not? Men are simple, but I kept refusing to think that my ex is that simple.

I guess you should be open to anything in life, she said suddenly. I never expected to be the mistress of someone 12 years older than me.

I spat my coffee and almost ruined my suit. Did she just admit that she is 10 years younger than me? Did she say that she was still in high school when me, at 28, married my ex when he was 30?

Fuck! He really cheated on me with someone much younger!

Who the hell does he think he is? DiCaprio?

I couldn't have this. I'm not very proud of what followed, but I had to know what the hell does she has that I did not.

It was a long shot to ask her to join me at the restroom after the worst lunch appointment of my life. She looked weirded out by the request, but agreed. When we got there, I put my bag on the sink, and then got her against it, to the point that my lips almost touched hers.

What the hell are you doing? she asked.

I want to know what is all the fuzz about you.

Then, I stole that kiss.

I can't even remember the last time I kissed a girl. Until this point, I didn't remember how different it is from kissing a guy. Even if it's stolen, even if she wanted out of my grasp, I couldn't help but enjoy these gorgeous plump pink lips. My mind screamed: "Memento mori! Fucking carpe diem!"

So I kissed her like it was the last kiss I'll ever have on Earth. The more I got invested in it, the more my hands wanted to rip her dress apart.

Beast! she moaned.

I reassured her that she won't leave this restroom until I learn why did my ex fuck her on Valentine's.

Is this what's all of this is about? she laughed, as if I just said the funniest joke in the world. You could've just asked, holy shit!

I know, but you were the one my husband cheated me with, I said, and I have no love for mistresses.

I grabbed her by the chin and bit her lips. Then I finally ripped that stupid dress off and looked at her incredible figure wrapped in black underwear.

Not fair, she smiled. I need to see you naked too.

A slap was enough to let her know she won't have any of this. I slapped her so hard that she bled from the side of her mouth.

Then I dragged her to the floor and forced her to kiss my feet after I sat on the sink. As she kissed each vein and smelled my arches, I grunted every single insult I could think of.

Bitch. Slut. Whore. Homewrecker. Asshole. Succubus. Jezebel. Failed model. Evil stepmother, and so on... None really stuck. Homewrecker was okay though.

Of course, I'm more a woman of action than words. I guess that's why I'm successful back at corporate. My brother says a punch hits harder than words, so when she tried to escape I used one foot to keep her at me while I forced the other into her mouth.

If my husband had fun with her, it's fair for me to also have fun, right? I'm single after all.

My frown turned into a smile. The bitch worships me better than my ex; so much so that feeling her tongue go all over my toes and between them got me wet. I tried to resist it, but she caught me caressing my pussy through my panties.

At my command, she put my heels back on. I got her up and tilted her against the sink. An old lady came in right when I slapped her ass, with the sound echoing all over the walls. I pulled her hair and then looked at the old hag.

Judging by those ugly clothes you're wearing I doubt you can even get wet after going through menopause with the dinosaurs, so are you going to pee or just watch? I asked while I spanked the homewrecker again and again.

The lady blushed and ran away. Would she call the cops on me on the count that I'm raping this whore of a homewrecker? Maybe. Is it really rape when behind her tears her eyes show ecstasy with each spank? Can she even tell the difference between uncomfortable pain and pleasurable pain?

The homewrecker laughed, and then got up to kiss me.

You are far worse than your ex, she said.

Yet he chose a vanilla girl with pretty feet, I replied, and added another spank for good measure.

Two fingers went into her pussy once I put her back against the sink. I didn't think twice about it. My other hand kept slamming her butt whenever I felt she's misbehaving for the sake of misbehaving. Suddenly I thought about her in a school uniform, and I couldn't hide that desire.

Even with her precious ass on sight, my eyes couldn't leave the door. I wanted for someone else to come in again. More nasty ideas came into my head, so I asked her if she had a boyfriend.

She didn't. I spanked her again. Lucky bitch.

Lucky, lucky, lucky hot bitch!

I hated her. Fuck, I hated her!

The more I hated her, the more violent my fingering got. So violent that she couldn't stop rubbing her thighs together, even with three fingers stretching her.

Someone's got to be listening to all this moaning, I giggled. I remember a time when my ex and I had sex in a restroom at a gas station. A pair of nuns caught us in the heat of the moment, and we found them blushing, eyes closed, praying in tongues. A young novice stood between them, and I recall perfectly the words that I said to my ex in that moment, and I said it loud enough for them to savor each one of those words: "I really hope to see that novice getting double penetrated by two studs like a real libertine."

With a little irony, I hoped to see that trio show up, with that novice here, offering her ass as she waited patiently to be next, right after the schoolgirl.

However...

You'd also look cute in a nun's habit, I whispered in her ear, and then licked it.

That got her really close now. Her ass was as red as my lips, with the mark of my hand more visible in one cheek than the other. I bit her butt like it was a steak so well done it looked like a boot sole, and left behind one nasty mark just as she reached her climax.

The homewrecker enjoyed this so much that she let herself go. She creamed my hand quite a lot. I spanked her to clean it out, and then I washed my hands.

Don't ever talk to me again, I said and walked out, with my bag on my shoulder. Now that I solved this problem, solutions to my little story started to appear, but I couldn't work on it anymore. Lunch hour is over, and I'm running late.

April 8th

Tonight, I didn't stay at my brother's.

Instead, I lied down on an unfamiliar bed. I moaned like a porn actress while a very gorgeous Liz dressed in a slutty schoolgirl uniform licked my cunt. She addressed towards me as professor, even after I held her in place by the hair and let myself go to an intense orgasm. My other hand pointed a smartphone at both my crotch and her face.

I got your girlfriend on my cunt side, she's na-na na na... I sang to the sound of Chase Atlantic as the camera kept rolling. I sent the resulting video to my husband ipso facto. I told him that, at the end of the day, I managed to get something out of him from this marriage: his little slut.