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I learned a long time ago, that life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan or hope, and sometimes you’ve just got to roll with the punches. But for me to tell you my strange and erotic story, or as I jokingly call it, my “journey through the rabbit hole,” you need to understand how I got to this juncture in my life. Robert Falcone and I were married just after I graduated college. Robert, a handsome red-haired, blue-eyed man, who graduated a couple of years ahead of me, was a good and loving husband, never abusive, and even encouraged me to earn my master’s degree. He had a great paying job with a company that had hired him while he was still in college, and he climbed the corporate ladder to provide a wonderful life for us. He even stood by my side when the doctors told us that after I was in a terrible car crash, that I had not only lost our baby, but that I wouldn’t be able to have any more children, and never once blamed me for it. I worked as a teacher at a local middle school and I loved my job. Robert’s company was growing and expanding, and several times a year had formal parties where we would go so Robert could network.
It was at what turned out to be my last party with Robert when my life started to drastically change. I suppose you could say it was when my “journey through the rabbit hole” actually began, though I didn’t know it at the time. Robert was doing his usual networking and I was chatting with some of the wives catching up on the latest office gossip when a beautiful, olive-skinned woman with black hair and dark brown eyes walked up and asked, “Are you Crystal Falcone?”
“Yes,” I said.
Suddenly, she threw her drink into my face and screamed, “THAT’S FOR FUCKING MY HUSBAND YOU WHORE!”
I heard the collective gasp of the women around me, and I knew what people were thinking. I grabbed a napkin and attempted to wipe the drink from my eyes as I said, “Lady, unless your husband is Robert Falcone, you have the wrong woman.”
“SO YOU ARE DENYING IT?” she shrieked.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Besides, I probably don’t even know who your husband is.”
“My husband is Peter Miller.”
Well shit, it turned out that I did know her husband, but not because I was fucking him; he and my husband were golf buddies. I had only met Peter a few times in passing. He was a handsome man with black hair and brown eyes, and until this rather embarrassing moment, I had never met his wife. “Look Mrs. Miller, I swear to you that I am not having an affair with your husband.” Then I said loud enough for everyone to hear, “OR ANYONE ELSE’S HUSBAND EITHER!”
With that, Robert and Peter walked up. “Emily, what have you done?” asked Peter.
“I… I… I just—” and with that, Emily Miller burst into tears.
Damn, now I felt sorry for this poor woman. Peter wrapped his arms around his wife and said, “Bob, Crys, I’m so sorry for this.”
“No harm, no foul,” I said. “Besides, these parties rarely get any excitement.”
I heard a few people chuckle nervously as Peter escorted his wife away. Robert and I left shortly after but didn’t talk about what had occurred between Peter’s wife and me. A few days later, I attended a required teacher training that ended early so I decided to go home and relax. I was shocked to see Robert’s car in the driveway. After I parked, I checked my watch and cell phone to make sure of the time. I knew Robert should’ve still been at work, so seeing his car meant something had to be wrong. I quickly went into the house and looked, but Robert was nowhere to be found. I went upstairs and noticed that our bedroom door was closed, which was odd because I was sure I had left it open when I left that morning. As I approached, I heard something, like a grunting noise coming from our bedroom. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing, were sex sounds.
Then I heard a man’s voice say, “Your ass is just so fucking tight.”
There was one thing I knew for sure, that was not Robert’s voice. I slowly opened the door, peeked in, and saw Peter Miller anally fucking… MY HUSBAND! My first instinct was to bust in on them, especially after what happened at the party, but then I had a better idea. I grabbed my cell phone, checked that the ringer was still off from the training, and began recording. I would check the screen occasionally to make sure I had them both in the shot, as what I was seeing was disturbing on so many levels. In twenty minutes I had footage of Peter fucking Robert, Robert fucking Peter, both of them sucking each other’s cocks, and dialogue that a porno director would kill for.
When they finished, I quickly and quietly went downstairs and left the house. I called Robert’s secretary for Peter’s address, claiming that Robert had requested that I make peace with Emily. I knew everyone had heard about the party incident, and my story would be believable. She happily gave me the address, and I asked her not to tell Robert as I drove to Peter’s house. Luckily, for me, she agreed. Emily Miller Urfa Escort was more than a little shocked to see me at her door, but that was nothing compared to her reaction to the video. After she downloaded a copy for herself and apologized profusely, I bid her goodbye.
Later, I phoned a lawyer friend of mine and asked for the name of the best divorce lawyer in the area. About a week after my call, I met with my new lawyer, showed her the video, and watched the dollar signs dance in her eyes. That night, I cooked Robert’s favorite dinner, served it with his favorite wine, and baked his favorite dessert. He had no idea what I had planned for him as this was my “let’s make love” dinner. After we finished dessert, I told Robert I had a special movie for us to watch so we took our wine and went into the living room. We sat on the couch and I turned on the TV and the DVD player. I wish I had thought to set up a video camera to capture the look on Robert’s face when he realized the “porno” we were watching was starring Peter Miller and himself in our bedroom.
“Turn it off,” he said after a few minutes.
“Why?” I asked innocently. “Don’t you like—”
“I said turn it off Crystal!” he barked.
I stopped the DVD and said, “There’s plenty more Robert. I’d say… about twenty minutes more.”
“Where did you get this?”
I took a sip of my wine. “Funny thing. I came home early one day and found your car parked in the driveway. I’ll admit I was pretty surprised, but that was nothing compared to the surprise I found in our bedroom.”
“Crystal, I can explain—”
I put my hand up to stop him. “Save it. Tell me, are you gay or bi?”
Robert hung his head in shame. “Bi.”
“Crys, I swear—”
“HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN FUCKING?!?”
Robert sighed. “Five years.”
I dropped my wine glass and it shattered on the floor. I expected him to say a few months, maybe a year, but five, that came as a shock. After thirteen years of marriage, of me being a faithful and loyal wife, he’d been unfaithful to me for at least the last five, possibly more. It took all the strength I had to keep it together, but not before I slapped him as hard as I could. “I’ve already spoken to a lawyer and I’m filing for divorce.”
“Crys, who all has seen this video?”
“As far as I know, aside from us, Emily Miller and my lawyer. But you’ve only seen the first couple of minutes.”
“You showed this to Emily Miller?”
“Yeah, I felt she had a right to know exactly who her husband was fucking after what happened at the party.”
Robert blew out a breath of air. He knew I had him by the balls. If this video were to get out, it would ruin him. Not because of the homosexual affair, but because he had one with a married man, and with a fellow colleague, which was considered fraternization, an offense that would get both men fired. I did not intend to see Robert lose his job, especially since he’d been there since college, but I wasn’t sure about Emily Miller.
“What do you want Crys?” he asked.
“My lawyer will be in touch shortly, but I suggest you find a new place to live.”
Robert jumped up and yelled, “Like hell! This is my fucking house!”
“Our fucking house!” I snapped back. “You forget Robert! My name is on the deed too!”
He ran his hands through his red hair. “This is stupid Crys! Let’s work this shit out!”
“You’ve been cheating on me for at least five years! There’s nothing to, quote, ‘work out’ as you say. I can’t trust you anymore! Now, if you insist on staying here, then pick a fucking bedroom because I’m not sharing a bed with you ever again!”
“Crys, please!” he begged.
“Pick a bedroom Robert. I’m tired and I wish to get some rest.”
Robert sighed. “Fine, I’ll take the guest bedroom.”
“Good. You’ve got three days to remove your shit from the master bedroom.”
I stormed upstairs and locked myself into what was our bedroom. Here was the room we had made love in so many times, created our angel baby, and shared so many other memories. This was also the room that my marriage ended in. That night, I cried myself to sleep, and it was the last time I cried about my failed marriage.
My lawyer was well worth Robert’s money. Not only did she get him to pay the court costs and her fees, but also a generous spousal support for the next seven years or until I re-married, whichever came first, and a percentage of his retirement. We lived in the house until it sold, and split the profits, which I invested. When it was all said and done, I got my divorce, and he paid all the bills.
I rented a nice apartment just a few miles from the school where I was working that I could afford even without Robert’s money. I was living on my own for the first time since college and I was ready to move forward. I just didn’t realize at 38, I’d be in this situation, but I chose to try to make the best of it. I was in no hurry to start dating after my divorce, Uşak Escort but at least I still had my looks, somewhat. I mean, I have long, curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and I stand 5’3″ when I’m barefoot. I’m pretty curvy for my short stature, 40D bra size, 44″ hips, and my legs have always had some shape. Unfortunately, so does my stomach, along with some nasty scars from my car crash that made me nervous about showing my mid-section to anyone, especially a new man. Robert was there when I got these, and accepted them as part of me. The real question was, would another man?
About three years after my divorce finalized, I had the day from hell. I overslept because I had forgotten to set my alarm, followed by a flat tire on the way to work. Then I had a parent accused me of picking on her “perfect” son who was failing my class, my classroom computer crashed, and all my files were lost. This was followed by a staff meeting that ran two hours longer than it should have, and was more of a teacher reprimand than the informational meeting we usually had. I ran by a local grocery store to pick up a few things I needed, and when I arrived home to unload, the bag broke and all my things spilled out and either scattered all over my trunk or on the ground. That was the final straw and I burst into tears. It was the first time I’d cried since the night I confronted Robert about Peter.
“Are you all right?” asked a woman.
I looked up and saw a young woman with jet-black hair, gothic make-up and clothes, with a nice smile. I wiped the tears off my cheeks, feeling like a complete idiot, and said, “I’m just having a shitty day.”
“I’m Rayanne Baxter,” she said extending her hand to me.
“Crystal Falcone,” I sniffled and shook her hand.
She smiled and began picking up my spilled groceries and putting them in one of those cloth shopping bags that environmentalists were always promoting. Once she had everything gathered up from the ground and my trunk, she helped me carry them into my apartment and put them away. Once that was done, she took my hand and dragged/escorted me to her apartment where she poured me a glass of wine and prepared us dinner. Over dinner, she shared with me that she was a computer programmer, Goth, and a lesbian. I told her about me, my failed marriage, my job, and my shitty day. She said she could and would be willing to fix my work computer and rescue my lost files the next day before school. We shared the bottle of wine and soon I was laughing and feeling so much more relaxed.
At 9:00 PM, I knew I needed to get home and ready for bed so I could meet Rayanne at my classroom before school so she could fix my computer. I thanked her for her help and hospitality when she kissed me. Now, I haven’t kissed a woman since college and I had forgotten how much I liked it. She slipped her tongue into my mouth and I melted in her arms. I mean, I hadn’t had sex since Robert and I separated, and her kiss made my sex wet, my nipples instantly hard, and lit a fire of desire in my soul. She could have thrown me to the floor, had her way with me sexually, and wouldn’t have minded, but she didn’t.
She pulled away and said, “I’m sorry Crystal. It’s just, I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you crying.”
“So why are you sorry?” I asked, confused and horny.
“Because I want to do so much more and I can’t. I’m in a committed relationship and—”
“Say no more,” I interrupted. “I understand.”
Rayanne smiled. “Can we still be friends?”
“Of course!” I exclaimed. “Maybe this weekend the three of us can do something?”
“Sure!” said Rayanne. “Good night Crystal.”
“Good night Rayanne.”
I went home, masturbated, and went to bed. The next day Rayanne kept her word about fixing my computer and even gave me a pink 8 GB flash drive to back up my files. That weekend I met Farren Munoz, a beautiful brown-haired, green-eyed, Hispanic woman, and Rayanne’s girlfriend of over a year. She wasn’t a Goth like Rayanne, but she was gorgeous. We explained how we met, my shitty day, and the kiss we shared. I left out about how horny her kiss made me, but then again, I didn’t tell Rayanne about that either. Farren agreed to forgive Rayanne if she could kiss me too. I wasn’t thrilled to be used like this, but I agreed. Turned out Farren was a better kisser than Rayanne, and I was even more aroused than I was before. The three of us became great friends and did many things together. They even took me to a great adult toy store on Market Street so I could relieve some sexual tension and frustration.
In early October, the girls told me about an annual Halloween party they attended and wanted to know if I was interested in going with them. The party was by “invitation only.” Because they were old friends with the host, they could, on occasion, bring a guest, and this year they wanted to bring me. What neither of them knew was Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. Every year I would decorate my home and dress Van Escort up to pass out candy to the kids in our neighborhood. I had always wanted to either host or attend a Halloween party, but Robert hated Halloween, so he grudgingly accepted my decorations and costume. When they invited me to this exclusive party, I said “yes” even after they warned me it was a “sexy” party and not to be surprised to see people performing various sex acts. I wasn’t sure if I was up for a Halloween orgy, but Rayanne assured me that any sex acts were off in separate rooms and often the doors were closed, but some left the doors open, since they liked to be watched and wanted more to join in.
On the second Saturday in October, the three of us went costume shopping and this created a moment of trust for me with my new friends. Rayanne picked out a sexy cheerleader costume that showed off her beautiful legs, her flat stomach, and her small but perky breasts. Farren selected a sexy witch costume that hugged her curves and matched her beautiful green eyes. Me, on the other hand, found the quest for a “sexy costume” rather frustrating. None of the “standard sized” costumes fit me, and many of the “plus-sized” costumes were too big and not very sexy. I didn’t want my new friends to help me in the dressing room, but when I was stuck in one of the “too small” costumes, Rayanne and Farren had to help, and thus, saw my stomach. I heard them both gasp, and I told them what had happened. I was amazed that they both touched my scars, then said they made me both special and more beautiful. I couldn’t believe what great new friends I had.
I was just about to give up when Rayanne found the perfect costume. It was a gothic ‘Alice in Wonderland’ or ‘Malice’ as it was called. It fit me perfectly and gave me great cleavage. Farren suggested a black mini-petticoat that made the skirt fuller and added to the sex appeal to the costume. Even though the costume came with a pair of black and white checkered tights, we bought some black and white checkered thigh-high stockings for me to wear to the party, and a black straight-hair wig so I didn’t have to dye my hair. This costume was perfect because I could wear it to school and the party with just a few minor modifications. Since Halloween was on a Monday that year, I could wear my costume to the party on the Saturday before with my high heels and thigh-high stockings and then again on Monday to work with my flat Mary Jane’s and the tights. Rayanne agreed to help me with my make-up and my wig for both days.
Saturday evening, we dressed in our costumes and Rayanne did her make-up magic on Farren and me; I helped Rayanne with hers. Farren drove us to a beautiful mansion in an exclusive and expensive neighborhood. The valet, dressed as a pirate, took the car and we walked up to the door and rang the bell. Have you ever seen ‘The Addams Family’ television show? I swear on all that is holy that Lurch opened the door and said in a deep, slow, creepy voice, “You rang?”
“Good evening,” said Rayanne as she handed Lurch their invitation. “Rayanne Baxter, Farren Munoz, and Crystal Falcone.”
She pointed to each of us as she introduced us. “Follow me,” he said. I’m telling you, this was either Lurch, or his little brother.
He led us though a beautiful entryway to a pair of double doors. “Wait here,” he said slowly.
I looked around, admired the simple elegance of this place, and could hear the faint sound of thumping music. The doors opened and loud music flooded in as a bubbly little woman with blonde hair and brown eyes, dressed as an angel, stepped out and shouted, “Welcome ladies!”
She shut the doors and continued her speech at a much more normal tone. “A quick review of the rules. Number one, no pictures. Some of our guests have public lives and this is a private party.
“Number two, no cell phones. I will take your phones now, and you’ll get them back when you leave.” When Rayanne and Farren gave up their phones, I followed their lead. “Okay, Rayanne Baxter, Farren Munoz, and… are you Crystal Falcone?”
The last time a woman asked me that question, I got a drink in my face. “Depends, do you have a drink in your hand?”
“No,” the angel said, confused.
“Then yes, I’m Crystal Falcone.”
“Do you have any ID?” she asked.
“What’s this about?” I demanded.
“It’s okay Crys,” said Rayanne. “It’s for your protection as well as the other guests.”
I pulled out the tiny cardholder in my purse, pulled my license out, and gave it to the angel. She looked it over, took a picture of it, then handed it back to me. “Thank you Ms. Falcone. I’m sorry for this inconvenience, but due to the nature of this event, we can’t be too careful.”
I put my license away and said, “Yeah, I guess I can understand that.”
“Now, where was I?” said the angel. “Oh yes, the rules. Rule number three, no one leaves until after breakfast tomorrow morning. The valet has your keys and everyone will be given a breathalyzer to make sure no one goes home drunk. Hung-over and sore, well, that’s a different story.”
Rayanne and Farren giggled when she said that. I started to worry.
The angel continued. “Number four, no sex in the main room. Find an empty room.
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