Delilah-Lite – the Sequel
To the anonymous commenter (it seems that the same guy anonymously commented ten times) on my husband’s (or is it ex-husband’s?) story published March 4, 2013 – screw you asshole pig. I’m sick and tired of guys who have double standards; they can fuck around with impunity but if their wife does – or even thinks about doing it – she’s a slut or a whore.
In case you forgot, or didn’t read “Delilah-Lite,” my name is Carolyn. My husband, Phil, had an affair about ten years ago when our kids were little. I don’t know how many liaisons he had with the younger woman he was porking, because I never asked him; but it wasn’t just a couple. I would have divorced him then except that he came clean when confronted and didn’t try and lie or excuse his way out, our kids were little and worshipped their Dad, though really hurt I still loved him, and I was certain from the totality of his reaction that he loved me and didn’t love his mistress.
I made it clear to him that I would not tolerate a repeat. His actions were especially irksome to me since I had never strayed despite getting hit on by guys virtually every week since we’ve been married, and he was jealous if any guy even stared at me when we were together. While always gentle with me and the kids he had an ex-football player/bouncer streak in him that made me scared what he might do to some other guy just for ogling.
Things went along fine for about ten years until he started becoming preoccupied with blowjobs and ass fucks, things that I wasn’t interested in. Soon after that he started acting suspiciously. It wasn’t the same as when he had his affair and started giving me “just because” cards and roses and suddenly wearing cologne when he “went to the office.” This time it was more subtle, but I’ve always been a perceptive and intuitive person, and my radar was up. I especially wondered about his quick visits to his business laptop at odd times.
As my radar started squawking more and more I got a call out of the blue from Jane, an old business associate of mine. She wanted to meet me for lunch. She was someone that I had never actually been friends with, but I did help her out of jams on two occasions that I could remember, and she seemed to regret that she couldn’t repay me before she left for another company.
After exchanging pleasantries and catching up until our meal arrived, Jane got pensive. Being the intuitive that I am – and also being especially frank for a woman – I said “It seems that there’s something on your mind, Jane. Spit it out.”
“It’s difficult, and embarrassing, but I really need to. My husband and I separated…” she said then paused.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied.
“No, that’s not what I want to tell you. That’s just background.”
After another pause she pulled her cellphone out of her purse, played with a few seconds, and then showed me the screen. “Is this your husband Phil?”
While not particularly clear, the screen showed a guy in profile, in a restaurant, that very well could be Phil. The more I looked at it the more that I thought that it was.”
“There is a very good chance it is. Where did you take this, Jane?”
“I’m embarrassed to tell you that just before my husband and I separated I signed up for a cheating website called ‘Recreational Sex.’ It seems that the predilection for anal and oral on my profile interested a guy whose screen name was ‘UpForIt.’ I agreed to meet him for lunch, and I surreptitiously took this photo when he was turned to the side and I was pretending to take a call.”
“You mean UpForIt is Phil?” I gasped while dropping my fork.
“I’m quite sure. I met him a couple of times at company events when we worked together. He’s someone hard to forget because of his size, but apparently I’m easy to forget because he didn’t recognize me. But not just from his looks, but things that he said, I think that it likely was him.”
I sat back in my chair. Now I knew what had caused my radar to squawk the last few weeks.
I got the details of the website and her profile from Jane, and then excused myself without finishing lunch. “Jane, you have no idea how grateful I am; but I hope you understand that I’ve lost my appetite, and need to leave.”
“I certainly understand,” Jane replied. “I just want you to know that as soon as I figured out who UpForIt was I did everything I could to discourage him, and we never saw each other or even communicated again once we left the restaurant.”
“Thanks,” I said with what I’m sure was a bemused smile. As I reached into my wallet to pay for lunch Jane stopped me.
“I’m paying; thank you for your help in the past,” she said.
“Thank you; we’re even,” I replied, suppressing tears.
That same evening I signed onto the website, read Jane’s profile and read UpForIt’s. After reading his profile I was virtually positive that UpForIt was Phil. I decided to be sure.
I joined the cheaters website, developed a profile that I was certain would interest Phil, including extolling the virtues of anal and blowjobs, and waited to see what happened. I decided to give Phil a chance to determine it was me and maybe back off since I was also quite sure he hadn’t yet had any sexual encounters through the website, so I selected the name “Delilah-Lite,” since his date was dressed as Delilah the first time I met him.
I was shocked when I checked the website the next day after work, and before Phil got home, and found almost one hundred messages from guys of all ages (at least according to their profiles). This included a very provocative one from UpForIt.
I sent all the other guys who messaged me a polite but firm “Not interested” message, but encouraged UpForIt. It wasn’t long before he asked for photos.
I decided to give him one more chance to figure out that it was me and get the hell off the site, so two of the photos I posted were of my ass in a pair of tight fitting jeans that he had bought me about a year ago, but which I never wore because they weren’t my style, and a halter top that I did often wear, which he also had purchased for me. Despite the fact that I had a blond wig over my brown hair if he was observant at all alarm bells should have gone off in his head.
In case there were no alarm bells I wanted to be sure to hook him, so I searched the web for photos of a nude ass and nude tits that looked the closest to mine. The tits were a little bigger than mine but the ass looked very close to what mine looked like, at least in the mirror. As we agreed we would, we both posted photos for fifteen minutes at an appointed day and time and then took them down.
Though I expected it I was heartbroken when I saw his photos, rendering no doubt that Phil was UpForIt. He took the bait hook, line and sinker, even making comments about how hot my ass looked in the jeans. I also got another fifty hits from other guys, which I just deleted.
Once I got over my distress I had several options which I needed to consider. The first was to confront him and depending upon his reaction and future activities ultimately file for divorce. The second was to send one of my friends in my place and observe him to see if he really was going to go through with it. The third was to teach him a lesson in a manner that would either cure him or lead to almost immediate divorce.
I chose the third option.
Although I didn’t need any further confirmation that UpForIt was Phil it was provided when the night after I posted the photos he fucked my brains out. While I thoroughly enjoyed it since between his dick and mouth he gave me five really nice orgasms, I was disturbed by the motivation for our mega-fuck session.
After a few more message exchanges with UpForIt I sent him a reply that left nothing to the imagination. It read:
“Hey Upforit. I want to see if you’ll put your dick where your mouth is (lol) – actually where my mouth is (lol again). Let’s meet at J&B Bar and Grill in Bannockburn on Thursday at 2:00 p.m. I’ll make sure that my husband will not be clued in to what I’ll be doing there. I’ll be at the bar. In case you don’t already know it I’m 5’10″ with blond hair and I’ll be wearing the jeans and top from the photos I posted. If all the info you’ve given me is correct and we hit it off, after a couple of beers we can proceed to the Holiday Inn down the street. Let there be no misunderstanding. If we go there I will be sucking your cock and you will be fucking my ass. Understood?”
When he eagerly accepted it was time for the next stage of my plan.
Jill, my best friend at work, had a brother, Austen, who was a Chippendale. As you would surmise he was big, muscular, good looking, and twelve years younger than I was. I had met him with his sister for drinks on several occasions and got along great with him. He was perfect – especially since he was gay so I wouldn’t have a messy scene when he didn’t end up fucking me.
Since Jill is famous for her ability to keep a secret I told her much of what the circumstances were, though not everything. We met with Austen and he was happy to go along with it. In addition to being a Chippendale he was also an aspiring actor and he thought that this was a good way to see how well he could play a role. I warned him that Phil was big, strong, and very jealous and we needed to account for that.
“I have a very realistic looking fake .45 semi-automatic that we use for shows, and a shoulder holster. Would that deter him?” Austen asked.
“That, combined with the fact that I’ll tell him that you’re a cop,” I said, proud of my inspiration.
If Phil showed up at J&B I had to make it a traumatic experience that he would never forget. My hope was that it would cure him; my expectation was that it could lead to divorce. I was so pissed that if my hope wasn’t fulfilled I was ready for my expectation.
Austen and I got to J&B early, me dressed in my blond wig, and tight jeans and halter top that Phil had given me. I sat Austen at a table half way between the bar and the door. He really looked good, dressed in a suit, his hair, teeth, and smile perfect. He was such a hunk that if he wasn’t gay I would have really been tempted to fuck him to spite Phil, but thankfully I wouldn’t be put in that position.
I went to the bar, ordered a drink, chugged it, and turned toward the door to see if Phil would enter. About five minutes to two p.m. I cringed when I saw him arrive. I turned toward the bar so that he couldn’t see my face and stuck out my ass, pissed as hell.
When I sensed that Phil was approaching from my left I turned my face away from him. He gently tapped me on my left shoulder and started to ask “Are you Delilah….,” but the “Lite” never got out of his mouth when I turned to face him.
All the color drained from his face, and he even staggered a little, as I stared at him with a diabolical smile on my face. “Yes, I’m Delilah-Lite. You must be UpForIt,” I sarcastically replied. “I’m sorry but I have some bad news for you. I double booked and will be leaving with HorseCock instead of you.”
He gasped and grunted and looked like he might fall over.
I took off my blond wig and handed it to him. “I feel bad, so let me give you this as a souvenir.”
He looked at the wig in his hand and started to choke up.
“Look what I’ve got here,” I said pulling a tube out of my jeans pocket. “KY lubricating gel. HorseCock says that if we use this gel even his long thick dick will fit nicely in my pucker hole.”
With that I walked away from the bar, seething. Then I heard him yell “Hell no!”
When he blurted that out I got more livid than I ever could have imagined I could get. I turned on a dime with fire in my eyes, traversed the distance between us in one bound and went nose-to-nose with him. “HorseCock is a detective who carries a gun and I’ve already told him to be prepared to deal with my abusive husband. Use your brain instead of your dick for once and don’t make him have to arrest you. Plus you should be happy that my asshole is going to get penetrated, that’s always what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“But I never abused you….” he stammered.
“Not physically, just with your cock’s interest in other women. But HorseCock doesn’t know that, and he hates nothing more than guys who beat their wives. See this bruise on my neck that he thinks is from you?” I continued, moving my hair away to show a makeup job that Jill had done to look like a bruise.
Phil was speechless as I walked to Austen’s table. Austen stood, exposed his holstered gun so that if Phil was looking he could see it, and smiled. As we had planned I gave him a peck on the lips then we walked out of the bar arm-in-arm.
I broke down when we got to Austen’s car. He comforted me and ushered me to the passenger’s seat and drove to pick up my car. He was so nice, and I was so mad, that if he were straight I would have fucked his brains out in his car.
I had made arrangements to pick up the kids at school before three and take them to my sister’s house, about thirty miles away, for us to spend the weekend together. I left a false note about where they were at our house and warned my parents that I had just in case Phil came by, but I didn’t tell them where we were or that the kids and I were together.
The kids had a great long weekend with their cousins. My sister, her husband, me, and all the kids, went to an amusement park on Saturday and after I had been scared shitless by half a dozen rides I had put my pain and sorrow out of my mind. By the time that Sunday morning rolled around and we left for home I was steeled for what would happen next.
When we got home and the kids excitedly told their Dad about the trip to the local community pool with the neighbors that I had planned for them I glumly brought in my suitcase and bounced it on the entry floor. I was a little surprised that Phil’s look was more sheepish than angry.
Phil started to say “Listen, Carolyn…” but I stopped him cold. “Shut the fuck up until after the kids leave,” I said with as much bluster as I could generate, “then you can be certain that we’ll talk.”
After I was sure that the kids had taken off with our next door neighbor I sat Phil down on the living room couch while I remained standing.
“You asshole. I’m more available to you for sex than any of my friends are for their husbands. I do a great job of fucking you. I get hit on every single week including by great looking and younger guys because I’m a sexy, gorgeous woman, and I’ve always declined because we’re married.”
“Shut the fuck up until I’m done,” I screamed trying to look out-of-control, which I almost was.
“OK,” was the meek response of my 6’6″ 245 lb. husband.
“I forgave you for your affair and thought that you had learned your lesson yet you go on a cheater’s website to get a blowjob and ass fuck?”
He remained silent.
“So how was your weekend? Did you enjoy fantasying about HorseCock fucking my ass? About me sucking his cock dry, maybe right after it had been in my ass? How was it?”
I got the shock of my life. For only the second time since I’ve known him Phil started to cry. Lightly at first. He stopped for a second and asked “What did you do this weekend, Carolyn?”
“You don’t have the right to ask, asshole. All I’ll tell you is that I had a fantastic time.”
He started crying again, and then spoke. “I’ve had plenty of time to think. I realized how much I love you and how selfish I’ve been. I know that almost any hetero male would love to fuck you. I promise to never, ever, stray, or attempt to stray again, and I’ll put out of my mind anything you may have done this weekend. I want to stay together and love only you.”
I was prepared for a sword fight and my opponent had just fallen on his. I stood speechless for a long time as Phil regained his composure and stared lovingly at me. After gathering my thoughts I said.
“OK. One last chance. You ‘swing,’ or attempt to again, and I’ll videotape every guy who comes on to me fucking me in the ass until you have no choice but to beg me for a divorce. Capire?”
“I swear It’ll never happen again,” he said, then forced a smile.
“I’m tired from this weekend,” I said. It was a true statement but I’m sure that he interpreted it differently than what was reality. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me when the kids get home and I’ll make dinner.”
With that I carried my suitcase upstairs, disrobed, showered, and lay nude on top of the comforter and soon fell asleep, emotionally spent.
I was semi-conscious of someone rubbing my shoulders. A hand started stroking my ass, then my pussy. It was clear to me that I was wet. One finger, then two, penetrated my cunt. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a dream or reality until a cock was shoved up my vagina and I received the most vigorous pounding of my life as Phil grunted as loudly as he ever had. I climaxed three times before I felt my channel being irrigated with seminal fluid. I fell asleep again shortly after the dick withdrew.
Phil was as polite, solicitous, yet morose, as he could be Sunday night, Monday, and Tuesday. Wednesday night he and the kids had an event and when they returned from it he looked entirely different, like a one ton weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
Thursday morning after Phil left for work and before the kids left for school I asked them “Did you and Dad talk about our weekend?”
“Oh yeah,” my son said between mouthfuls of cereal.
“It was really funny, Mom,” my daughter chimed in as she was clearing her bowl. “He asked about every question you could imagine, like he was preoccupied with what we did.”
“Did he ask if I was with you the whole time?” I inquired, trying to sound nonchalant while sipping my coffee.
“Yeah, he sure did, including when you picked us up Thursday. After we told him that you picked us up at quarter to three and that we were together the entire weekend he got this big smile on his face and then changed the subject. Why, what’s up?” my son said.
“Nothing,” I lied, “Just curious. Now hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.”
Thursday night I initiated sex with Phil. He ate me to two orgasms and fucked me twice, two of the better fucks of our relationship.
It’s now been a year since the “incident” at J&B Bar and Grill. Phil has been the most passionate, attentive and considerate since I’ve known him, and both of us have libidos at teenager level. On his birthday I gave him a card attached to a tube of K-Y Jelly. The card simply said “One time only, tonight. Happy Birthday!” I’ve never seen his eyes so big.
He fucked my ass that night, thanked me profusely, and said he’d never ask again. I didn’t enjoy ass fucking at all, but he was so grateful that I’m sure that he’ll get another ass fuck every birthday. That is unless he screws up again, in which case on his birthday I’ll show him videos of every guy in town fucking my ass whether I enjoy ass fucking or not.