A Revenge Fuck

"Name calling... that's going to solve it, sure." she waved me off and slammed the bedroom door on me. She said we would talk when I cooled off. But that wasn't likely to happen. I moved out and a month later we were amicable divorced. I gave up the house, which turned out to be a curse for her as the mortgage payments forced her to sell it. That, I counted as my revenge. There were a few times when I drove by, that I did see that same motorcycle there and I knew what they were doing, but as painful as it was- I had to let it go.

I moved on.

To Sharon, oh she was a beauty! Not the pretty face that my ex had, but a knock out body and she aimed to please- always. She knew I had come from a traumatic situation and when we were first together she was all tender and romantic with candles and music, a message relaxing oils and the works. Then as our relationship became more and more involved, her nature for a randy spanking came out and truly I obliged her. She was a vicious, vicarious fuck. Though I tried not to, I did, completely fall head over heels for her. She would pick me up at work for a lunch romp in the parking lot. There in the parking garage, with people walking by, she would give me a blow job. She was amazing! Being with her, was being alive.

Eventually I moved in with her. I knew that she had many other men before me, but that she said was her previous life just as mine before was to me: "And this is our new beginning." she'd say.

However, after about two months of living together I noticed a slight change in her ways, something subtly I was already aware of. My stomach turned at the notion. I decided to cut work one day and swing by, sure enough, there was the same red motorcycle!

"What the hell!" She jumped off of the Black man that she was grinding on the couch as I nonchalantly opened the door and walked in.

"Sorry... don't mean to disturb you." I walked passed briskly to the bedroom and grabbed what few things I could remember were mine.