Divorce (In tribute to Diedre)
By Pylades
pylades@hotmail.com

One day I came home from the brokerage house where I work to find a letter on my dining room table. It was really just a note from my wife stating that she was leaving me and for me to await a call from her lawyer that she wanted a divorce. I read the note over and over trying to comprehend what it meant. After a while I got up and went upstairs only to find her closet half empty. This settled my mind down a bit and I read the note with a bit more certainty that the message she sent was true. It was a chilling note, no love, best wishes or good luck, just her scratchy signature at the bottom.
I tried to think back the last couple of weeks to discern if there was any sign that could have led me to this conclusion, but I couldn't recall a single event. We had argued a bit lately mostly about my workload, which was substantial, along with the underlying complaint that we had fallen off drastically in the bedroom department, moreso her doing than mine. I recalled that the last few days she had appeared distant and unfocused, but had not attributed it to anything out of the ordinary. What a fool I had been to not see any signs. I reached over for a glass of juice, but a twitch of understanding sent the glass off the table to shatter on the floor. I knew trying to pick it up was foolhardy and I cut my finger more than once grabbing for the loose shards.
I wandered upstairs like a zombie going through my daily ritual, undressed and donned my jockstrap, shorts and a t-shirt in order to run my three miles. As I ran I began sorting out the situation and decided that I needed a lawyer myself, so I made my way over a couple blocks to see if Dan and Carolyn were home. He was a lawyer and acquaintance and would be as good as anyone to handle the matter. She and I had only been together for two years and I had made my money in five so she couldn't claim the entire 50% of my money.
As I was running the last rays of sunlight were filtering through the sky and I swear I could see Carolyn silhouetted against the backdrop of the hedges.  As I approached I noticed that she was in a running suit as well and I admit I scared the hell out of her sneaking up, not to mention sneaking a peak. She was a tall girl with a fabulous ass and a modest topside and her hair was streaked the way schoolgirls do it these days.
"John, what a surprise." She reached up and moved a lock of her hair. "I was looking to, I mean I was getting..."
"Hey Carolyn," I put on a convincing smile. "Is Dan around, I might have some business to discuss with him." Now she did smile and stood legs apart, hands on hips, looking me up and down. It appeared her glance remained on my crotch too long for comfort.
"Yes Dan's right inside," she took my arm in a familiar fashion. "Let's go on in and discus your situation."
She led me up the driveway, nearly panting as we entered the porch. Then she swung the door open and I stood stock-still, barely able to believe my eyes. There in the living room I saw two men and they were double fucking a woman, one from behind one from the front. The woman was tied to a low table by her wrists and ankles, her back was covered with crisscross marks and they were pummeling her good. It took seconds before I realized that the woman was my wife and she was getting the fucking of her life. My cock involuntarily began to rise at the perverse sight before me. I felt a sultry breathe at my ear.
"Sorry, but Dan already has a client," I turned and noticed Carolyn brandishing a whip in one hand. "It looks like wifey will want that divorce after all." I kept staring as she licked my ear. "She's been cumming and cumming all day." I felt a hand enter my shorts from behind and a finger snake into my asscrack. "You know there are other alternatives to divorce." Her finger jammed up to the knuckle and the whip handle applied pressure on my neck until I found myself on hands and knees, still staring at the spectacle. My wife was now making grunting sounds against the dick that was rammed down her throat.
"Perhaps we could come to some arrangement," her finger began pumping in and out of my asshole and I, embarrassingly, began raising my ass up to meet her thrusts.
"Dan likes a nice tight asshole every once in a while," she raised the whip handle from my neck but I was frozen in place, "and I like my very own bitch to play with too." The whip crashed down on my shoulders, the finger continued to pump and my jism streamed down onto the floor below me.
