An adult stories – After a Chili Bowl (Feb Sucks) by funperson969,funperson969 This is an entry into Literotica’s Valentine’s Day Story Contest 2024.
Hey, it’s 2024, and that means… we will have a February 29th. If that’s not an invitation for a Valentines Febsux story, nothing is. For the ones tempted to roll their eyes and say, “Oh no, not another one!” good news: you’re forewarned, and Literotica has several thousand other stories to read. Go, enjoy! (Bad news: there’s more coming, mwahahaha) So sue me, the plethora of possible endings has created an endless temptation to think of more.
It gets worse: this is a reconciliation story. I know, I know, BTB is the proper response to Linda’s outrageous behavior (and I’ve written a few of those, with more to come) but I thought writing a reconciliation outcome would be a good challenge. After all, that’s what the original story did. So, if that’s not your cup of tea, don’t read it and then complain that nobody gets burned (well, other than the asshole, of course), or that reconciliation after such treachery is impossible. Don’t like it? Don’t read it.
Once more, a tip of the hat to GeorgeAnderson for his February Sucks story (https://www.literotica.com/s/February-sucks) and blanket permission to add on to it. As most people know, this is arguably the most “added to” story on the entire site, probably because of the provocative trigger – the blatant disrespect by the wife. Oh, and the reconciliation ending, too.
Several commenters on several of these Febsux add-ons scoff that no wife would do that, which made me go back to the original, and the author’s explanation of what triggered it. You can find my summary in a previous story (https://literotica.com/s/february-sucks-lindas-welcome). No sense repeating it.
With no further ado, here’s another way that provocative story could have played out. It contains ideas recycled from the myriad other endings. A tip of the hat to those authors, too. Hopefully, the way they’re combined here makes for something original, and enjoyable. Thanks also to Kenjisato for editing help. Any mistakes are the result of my tinkering afterward.
This story starts after Linda left and Dee explained that she would come back the next day, after her one-night fantasy fuckfest by our local celebrity.
I gritted my teeth. Some Valentine’s Day–me alone and her impaled on Asshole’s giant dick. Just one night, huh? Dee and the others all hammered that point home as they tried to talk me off the ledge. What was one night after all?
Ha, who made up that rule? One night’s cheating is okay if the other person is famous enough? And who decides who’s famous enough? The cheater, obviously. Oh, and maybe her friends. Spouse has no say.
Well, fuck them.
Driving home, I stewed. What a disaster—not just Valentine’s and the weekend, but my life. One snap of her finger and our entire lives went to shit. Not even a glance at me, let alone a word. Clearly not thinking about the kids, witness Dee’s “They’ll never know.” Yeah, right.
Whatever. No matter how I felt, or how it was going to affect the kids, Linda slid out of the door and our lives like diarrhea after a bowl of spicy chili.
Should I pick up the kids? Probably best, so I called Mrs. Porter and picked up two sleeping, innocent kids, oblivious to their mother’s chili dump.
On the way home, I called my parents to get a second opinion. Was I unreasonable? Was it, as I knew Dee would aver, just my fragile male ego reacting? Mom was a female, married a few decades, what would she say?
“What? It’s not April Fools come a month early, is it?” She faked a laugh.
“Sadly, no, mom. She didn’t even look in my direction, just off and went with the handsome hometown hero to get her vijayjay looted and plundered.”
“That common slut!” Any plans Mom had to lay her sweet little head down for a good night’s rest blew up in the mushroom cloud of her nuclear blast. “Calvin, wake up! We’re going to Jim and Linda’s. No, now! Get your sleepy ass up and dressed. Don’t worry, honey,” her fire hose turned back in my direction. “We’ll be there in an hour to come and watch the kids.”
Okay, that was encouraging. I wasn’t the only one appalled at Linda’s wanton betrayal. Next, I called her parents, not expecting much in the way of support. Blood and water, that thing.
Her mom led with concern. “Is everyone okay? Why are you calling this late?”
“No, Mom.” Choosing my words carefully, I related the events, ending with me picking up the kids.
All I heard was a stunned silence. “Hello?” I said, thinking maybe the call got dropped.
After an intake of breath, her deflated voice replied, “Are you sure this isn’t some misunderstanding?”
“Mom, you have no idea how hard I wish that were true. But it’s going on two hours. She’s not answering her phone, she’s not home, but her car is here. Her closest friend tried to reassure me by saying she will have sex with him for only one night. After Dad’s hero has had his way with Linda for the night, he will supposedly bring her back tomorrow. Or if she wears him out, I guess he’ll call her an Uber—I don’t know, she didn’t say. I’m new to this cheating stuff. If our kids had an accident or any kind of emergency, tough noogies—she can’t be reached. A real mother’s heart.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Her mom’s voice dripped with defeat and disappointment. “We didn’t raise our daughter to do shit like that. Pardon my French. Is there anything we can do?”
“Thanks, mom. It would be a great help if you could be here tomorrow when she comes back. From what Dee told me, Linda doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong, and I expect her to pin everything on my fragile male ego. Having you and dad there to represent decency and sanity will go a long way. Also, she will need a place to stay when I kick her out, so if you can take her with you that would be great.”
“What time?”
“No idea. She left without even a glance in my direction. All I know is what her co-conspirator told me. Knowing what they’re doing tonight, I would guess they’ll probably have a morning session before brunch, so I wouldn’t expect her before, say, ten or so. My parents are on their way to our house now, to be with the kids if mayhem happens before.”
“Okay, son. Please accept our apologies. We’ll be there sometime after breakfast. Geez, what a mess.”
When I arrived home, my parents were already there, and my dad helped me carry the sleeping Emma and Tommy to their beds.
The adults sat in the living room, catching our metaphorical breaths. “Drink?” I asked.
Holding his hand up in a stopping motion, my dad replied in a stern voice. “Son, alcohol has many fine uses, but increasing mental acuity isn’t one of them. At this point, clear heads are what we need.”
I sat back. “You’re right. Coffee?”
“Don’t know about you,” Mom said, “But I’m tired. Tomorrow’s going to be intense, so I suggest we get what sleep we can.”
—
The following morning I awoke, did my ablutions, showered and put on a sweatshirt and jeans. Outside was sunny, as if even the weather was glad February was finally behind us all.
Downstairs, mom had the kids eating pancakes and bacon, laughing and playing games like they had no cares in the world. I shook my head. If it weren’t for their cruel and entitled mother, they wouldn’t have had any going forward.
Right after ten, Linda’s parents arrived, shaking their heads. “Still no word?” her mom asked.
“Want to see her car, to—”
“No, son, we believe you. We tried to call several times but her phone is clearly turned off. I just can’t believe our daughter could—”
“Us neither,” My mom reached over and gave Linda’s mom a hug. “We know Linda. Or, well, at least the Linda of last week. She would never pull a stunt like this.”
“Dad, can Marie and Jay come over and play?” Emma asked.
A thought crossed my mind. “Why don’t you call them and see if you can go and play on their Playstation?” It would be better if they didn’t witness a possible confrontation. A few minutes later, they skipped across the cul de sac to join their friends for a Saturday of innocent fun. For the last time? I sighed. Their lives will never be the same. Oh, what all has Linda killed with her selfish cheating?
I brewed a fresh pot of coffee. While the machine still sputtered and hissed a loud roar announced the asshole’s arrival. We all looked out the full-length front window. A red classic Ferrari Daytona convertible pulled up. In this cold he probably had the car’s heater on full blast. Anything to let the world see our city’s hero and his latest conquest. Victim? No, she had jumped at the chance, so if anything, she was the perpetrator of the coming ruin.
Under windblown hair, Linda’s face was radiant with adoration as she turned to Asshole, leaned in and gave him a long, passionate kiss. There could be no mistaking their torrid tonsil tango as her hand lovingly caressed his cheek.
Simon, Linda’s dad, couldn’t hold it in any longer. LaValliere was a hero of his, and seeing his daughter shamelessly devour him in public was too much. He ripped open the front door and stormed to the driver’s side. “Let go of my daughter, you low-life piece of shit. She’s married. Have you no class?”
“Fuck off, old man, who the hell do you think you are?”
In the meantime, I had walked out to the passenger side, closest to our front door. “He’s her father, Asshole. Linda, is that what turns you on? How your asshole boyfriend treats your father? All class, right? Oh, I forgot, you have no idea what class is. All you care about is his thick cock, am I right?”
Linda’s face went ashen. With big eyes, she looked toward her father, then the house and our mothers staring with dropped jaws. Her mouth opened and closed, with no sound coming out.
LaValliere opened his door to get out, probably to try and intimidate Linda’s dad with his towering height and toned physique. As soon as he put one foot on the ground, however, Linda’s dad opened the Ferrari’s oversized steel door to its full width and kicked it shut with all the force he could muster. A shriek of pain followed a loud crack from Asshole’s tibia breaking. He fell back in his car and cussed up a stream that would make the roughest sailor sound like a choir nun.
Linda, torn between her fantasy lover, her father and her husband, burst into tears, opened her door and got out. She moved to hug me, but I backed away and stretched out my hand. “I want no traitor’s kiss.”
Asshole, in the meantime, groaned and whined like a seven-year-old. “Call an ambulance. I can’t drive, I think my leg’s broken.”
“You got a phone, asshole, call them yourself,” Linda’s dad taunted him.
“What’s the address here?”
“Oh that’s right. You fuck a woman and you don’t even know her address. What a hero.” Simon’s language surprised me—he’d always been a strict, reserved father.
“Shut the fuck up, old man. Call the damn ambulance.” Clearly, the entitled son of a bullshit eating biscuit was used to ordering underlings around to do his dirty work.
“Young man,” Simon replied with a sneer, “you can sit here and freeze in the cold for all we cared.”
Linda reached for her phone, but I held my hand out. “Fuck him, you traitorous slut. He just insulted your father yet again. Whose side are you on? Time to show your true colors. He’s a big boy and a millionaire. If he’s old enough to steal grown men’s wives, he’s old enough to make a damn phone call. You have a choice—support this lowlife scum or your father and husband. Who will it be?”
Torn, Linda bawled like a little girl and put her phone away. She turned to Asshole. “Thanks for a wonderful night, Marc, but I think you should go.”
At that moment, Emma and Tommy came scampering across the street. “Mommy, Mommy!” They hugged her legs and waist. “Where were you?”
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Mommy loves this man more, so she spent the night with him. She just came back to get some things before she leaves again.”
A chorus of outrage erupted. “Noooooooo! Mommy, say it ain’t so!” Tommy wailed.
Little Emma ran around to the driver’s door and beat on Asshole’s shoulder with her little fist. “Go away! You leave my mommy alone, you evil man.”
Clearly still in pain, Asshole pulled the phone from his ear and growled at Emma, “Shut the fuck up, little bitch. Can’t you see I’m trying to talk on the phone?”
In a flash, Linda’s dad, who’d been standing on that side of the car, stormed closer. “What did you say?” He slapped the phone from Asshole’s ear onto the driveway. There are times when driving a convertible is not a good idea.
Asshole opened the door to retrieve the phone, but Linda’s dad grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and began pulling him out, off-balanced.
The football hero had to put out his left foot to stabilize his body. Unfortunately, it was the broken leg. He let out a blood-curdling scream as the weight on it caused it to erupt in pain. Emma’s little fists pummeled his head and shoulders. Without looking up, he swatted her away with a backhand, as he would a fly. Unfortunately, his backhand caught Emma’s cheek with a full-force slap, and her tiny body flew backward with a scream, but her grandpa fortunately caught her.
Emma’s surprised and fearful yelp woke Linda up, unlocking her momma-bear mode. Jumping out, she rushed to her little daughter, picked her up and hugged her. Emma, however, leaned back into grandpa’s legs, and slapped Linda’s cheek. “You left daddy for that worm. You keep away from me, you evil witch!”
Linda’s dad handed Emma to Linda when Asshole bent over to pick up his phone. Then Simon stepped forward and kicked the bent-over Asshole full in the face. Asshole’s head snapped back as blood and gristle erupted from his face. “You sumbitch,” Simon roared, “you can’t stand up to a real man so you slap little girls around! What kind of fucking coward are you?” Then he pulled the football player fully from his car by his hair. When Asshole stretched out his hands on the driveway to stop his fall, Linda’s dad jumped and stomped on his fingers. Bones snapped like Rice Krispies. Again, the air was rent with screams of pain.
Asshole swung his good leg around to get out of his pride and joy to wreak havoc on his tormentors. Again, Linda’s dad ripped the door from Asshole’s grip and slammed it against his good leg. The slammed door didn’t sound like it broke Asshole’s good leg, but the blow against his shin nevertheless made him scream like a little pig being slaughtered.
His phone still lay on the driveway, in better shape than its owner. Blood and guts poured from Asshole’s disfigured face and covered his expensively casual clothes. He held his broken hands under his arms, I don’t know why. Unable to stand, he crawled back into the seat of his multimillion-dollar classic Ferrari, still without his phone, which suddenly erupted with We will, we will, rock you.
Finally awakened from my shock trance, I crossed the front of the Ferrari, and picked up the phone, which displayed the name of the Sharks’ coach. “Yes, coach?” I said.
I had to hold the phone a foot or so from my ear because of the yell. “Where the hell are you? You shoulda been here half an hour ago!”
“Sorry coach. The skank I fucked last night was better than I expected. I’m just dropping her off.”
I must have not sounded too different from the all-star tight end, because the coach continued without breaking stride.
“Listen, we pay you to be on the field, not in bed with someone else’s slut wife. When can you get here?”
“Uh, that’s a problem,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Well, my left leg is broken and my car is a stick, so I can’t drive it. Also, I think both my hands are broken. I need to get to a hospital.”
“What the fuck did you do?”
“I smacked a little girl because she was going to beat me up, so her grandpa hurt me.” I tried to make him sound as whiny and pathetic as I could.
“What?” The coach’s shriek could be heard around the block.
“Yeah, and I think the husband’s security system might have caught it all on camera. In HD and with sound. I need an ambulance to come pick me up.”
“I’ll get one. Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” the whiny, pathetic voice continued. “They won’t give me their address.”
“What’s the name? I can look up the address.”
“I don’t know the name, either. They won’t tell me.” I couldn’t tell if my massive grin betrayed me. This unexpected bit of revenge made a tiny dent in my rage, especially with the whiny hurt little boy voice I was using. Asshole wriggled and tried to open his car door with broken hands, or get up so he could jump over the car door, but his injuries only caused him to groan in agony.
“Hold on then. I’ll get the cops to try and trace your location using your phone.”
“Great idea, coach,” I said, then opened the back of the phone and removed the battery before pocketing the phone. Good luck tracking it down now.
Linda, meanwhile, tried to calm Emma down, but the feisty little bear cub would have none of it. “Put me down. Go away. You’re an evil cow. You are not my mother. Just go away.” She ran to Linda’s mother and pushed her face into her grandma’s dress. “Help me, gramma. Make those evil people go away.”
“Yes,” I said to Linda. “Why don’t you get in the driver’s seat and take your boyfriend away before he hurts your kids further?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she wailed.
“Oh, so you just bed random strangers, without even making them your boyfriend? Wow. How low can you go?”
A neighbor must have noticed the commotion, because a police cruiser showed up and two cops got out. “What’s going on here?”
“This scumbucket kidnapped my wife last night,” I said, “and just brought her back after an all-night orgy. Our little girl was unhappy, so he smacked her for insulting his behavior. Her grandpa wanted to defend her, so the perp tried to beat him up. That didn’t go too well, so now he needs an ambulance.”
“That’s a lie!” yelled Asshole. “I just brought this bitch home when these two guys assaulted me. I do need an ambulance, though, because they broke my leg and fingers.”
“Well, officer,” I smiled benignly, “the good news is we have an HD surveillance system, and everything is caught on camera and recorded. Would you like a copy?”
“Absolutely.”
An ambulance arrived, and while the paramedics gingerly maneuvered the hometown hero out of his car, I went inside and burned a DVD copy of the video footage for our city’s finest.
While the EMTs were still trying to extricate Asshole from his multimillion-dollar classic, Emma came running out. The lead paramedic froze when he saw the gash on Emma’s cheek. “What happened to you, little one?”
Emma pointed at Asshole. “That evil man hit me. Hit me hard. All I wanted was my mommy back.”
The other techs heard her. They released their grip on Asshole and he fell to the paved driveway, howling in pain as he tried to break his fall again with his broken hands. “Careful, you fuckin’ idiots!” he shouted. “I’m going to get you all fired.”
Their treatment of him changed in the wink of an eye. They just grabbed him by his broken hands, despite more howls, made him stand, and pushed him toward the gurney, so he had to use his broken leg to stop from falling. Trying to get him on the gurney involved severe jostling, which kept him whining like a little girl. They missed trying to lay him on the gurney, and he fell on the driveway again, while the EMTs took their time cleaning and taking care of Emma’s wound.
I don’t know if it was her developing women’s genes, but she kept up a verbal barrage informing everyone how mean, cruel and vile this football-playing piece of roach droppings was, and how he’d hurt her and our family.
All I could think of was getting that footage to a local television station—take that, hometown hero!
The ambulance finally took off with Asshole, and I turned toward the front door.
Inside, Linda sat in a wingback chair facing a barrage of accusations and questions from both sets of parents, who were doing such a good job of reading her the riot act, I remained in the kitchen and listened while brewing another pot of coffee. I don’t know where Linda got the notion to fuck a celebrity, or what crap Dee and our other ex-friends had fed her, but her parents opened her eyes nice and wide to clearly see her treachery for what it was: an ungrateful narcissist cruelly dumping her loyal husband and kids to go frolic with an irresponsible and equally narcissistic manwhore, with absolutely no regard for anyone around her.
Linda must have started by playing the ‘just one night’ card, but by the time I tuned into the barrage with a fresh mug, she’d been cut down to a sniveling pile of snot and shame. I never knew her mom could be so earthy and feisty.
“You’re nothing but an entitled slut, dragging your family, us included, through the sewer of your debauchery. Have you no shame? Did your dad and I raise you to be like that? One night. Ha! What’s next? Murder is okay if you only do it for one night? Where do you draw the line? You think you are owed a night out? With kids still under ten? What shit! Your father and I raised our kids to adulthood, and neither of us took a night out of our vows. Jim’s parents, the same. Where do you get this entitled crap? Your friends? Get rid of them… today! You need to wake up, girl, and wake up fast. What you did was totally and completely unacceptable… evil. Do you get that? Evil. You have no excuse, especially not this one-night shit.
“So what if that asshole is famous and has a big dick? When you brought your kids into the world, you signed up for the long haul, making them your top priority. What if Emma had to go to the hospital last night? Nobody could get hold of you. Was a celebrity’s big schlong more important than your kids? Holy shit, girl, you are deranged. Certifiable. And what a cretin. Did you see how he slapped little Emma? She went flying. What kind of boyfriend did you pick? And then you picked his side against your father! I’m so ashamed to be associated with you.”
After that waterfall of venom, Linda had nothing to say. In the window’s reflection I could see her hunched over, face buried in her hands as she wept her heart out.
I entered the living room and took the only open seat, next to her dad.
Her mother’s tirade must have made an impression, because her demeanor and tone had changed completely. “Oh, Jim, I am so sorry,” Linda moaned. “Mom’s right. I completely and utterly messed up, and behaved just like a horny, mindless groupie. I can’t believe I fell under his spell and let Dee talk me into it.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I was that stupid.”
“Was the sex worth losing your family for?”
Another wave of sobs washed over her. “Nothing, nothing is worth losing you. I wish I could barf out the whole thing. But I can’t. How can I ever make this up to you? And to Emma? You are so much more important than a night with Marc. I know last night it didn’t look so, but it’s true. Can I ever make it up to you?” Again, she broke out in another wave of weeping.
Remaining angry with her became harder. Her contrition looked genuine, but how would she feel tomorrow morning, with the sun shining on a new day, and no parents beating her up? And memories of all those orgasms? However, Asshole’s cowardly behavior in the driveway almost certainly wiped out any idea of him being a stud or hero.
“Give me your phone,” I said.
“What? Why?”
“Now is not the time for pushback. Give me your damn phone.”
She got up, found her purse and handed me the phone.
I turned it on, and it opened up. At least she hadn’t set up a passcode to hide stuff yet. I looked through her text messages, but found nothing from Asshole. Same with phone calls, emails and voicemails. Scanning through her contacts I didn’t see anything that looked like his. “Did you exchange phone numbers with him?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No. We’re done.”
“Excuse me for being skeptical, but the kiss you planted on him on our driveway looked nothing like ‘done.'”
“I know, I’m ashamed of that,” she said in a defeated voice. “It was like I was under a spell of some sort. Please forgive me—I know it must have looked trashy, I’m so sorry. There are no words.”
Silence descended on the room until Linda’s mom spoke. “I think you need to go take a shower and put on some decent clothes. Your father and I are going home. If Jim throws you out, you can stay with us. I won’t say you’re welcome, but you are our daughter.” Her parents stood and headed for the front door. Linda reached out to hug them, but they turned away and her mother pointed her to the stairs.
My mother stood and took the seat next to me. “Jim, I’m so sorry. Please know that you didn’t cause any of this. You’re a good man, and we are proud of you. Whatever you decide about your marriage, we will support you.”
My biggest concern was our two innocent kids. What would be best for them? No question, burning the entitled bitch would hurt them. Still, there was no way I could take her back like nothing happened. So I guess we needed to see how serious Linda was to fix the mess she’d created.
The first test of Linda’s contrition was dumping her friends. Anxious to prove herself, she did it the same afternoon. And stuck with it. Okay, a good start, which kept the door open…
I made copies of the security camera footage and sent it to the police, our three biggest TV stations and the only paper left in town. The nationwide outcry was immediate and intense. It took less than two weeks for Asshole to lose all his sponsor and advertising deals. The team put him on waivers. After clearing waivers, one other team offered him a minimum-wage deal (minimum wage in the NFL still being several hundred thousand dollars a year) but that collapsed in the face of an enormous public outcry in that city.
The footage of Emma being slapped made her famous in her school, but, like a trooper, she didn’t let that change her. Asshole, though, became familiar with the inside of a prison and its inhabitants. No ten-million-dollar deals in there, only mean inmates with no concern for his family jewels. Or knees.
Linda went to counseling for several months to figure out what made her susceptible to the Martian Groupie Slut Ray. In the end, her horror of Emma being slapped made her not flirt or dance with any other man when we went out. And made her sign the postnup with no hesitation.
While not outrageous, the settlements a family lawyer-friend was able to wring from Asshole and assorted institutions he was associated with (lawyers and deep pockets being a marriage made in court) at least enabled us to move to a different neighborhood to get away from what used to be Linda’s friends, and we made new ones.
Best of all, Linda’s determination resulted in her turning back into the Linda of old, the loving, fun and beautiful wife and mother we knew before The Incident, as we’d come to call that disastrous evening. I had carte blanche to all her orifices and we enjoyed a renaissance in the bedroom brought on by her renewed appreciation for me. She never complained when I never bought a present, flowers or chocolate, or took her out for a dinner on Valentine’s Day again.
And we ate chili with no consequences. All’s well that ends well… even if it took a year or three.