The Big Webcast of 2004

     Nerd.  It’s a title I’ve worn proudly for most of my
life.  Actually it’s a title I’ve cultivated.  I’ve always
had glasses with the elastic holder around my neck, even
though my vision is 20-20.  They are only reading glasses,
but my public doesn’t know that.
     I have my hair cut in a short, 1950’s manner.  My
clothes are just slightly off kilter, geeky and different.
I’m an odd looking guy with the haircut, the clothes, and
the glasses.  And by the way, I’m a top of the line computer
geek.  Hey, I’m only giving people the image they want to
see.
     I figured it out when I was just a kid.  People like to
categorize other people, to put them in boxes.  Since I was
going to be put into a box, I chose the genius box.  Maybe
I’m not really smarter than a lot of other people; but I
look the part.  It was what I figured out when I was a kid.
People buy the sizzle and not the steak.  Image is
everything.
     My clothes make me look like a dufus, but beneath them
I’m actually pretty normal, even exceptional.  I wrestled in
high school, still building on my nerd image.  I wore black
socks when everyone else wore white socks.  I kept on those
glasses until I actually went out on the mat to wrestle.  It
was then I was transformed into something of a monster.  One
kid I wrestled told me afterwards, “When I saw those
glasses, I thought I was wrestling Clark Kent.  Then you
took them off and turned into Superman.”
     I wrestled in high school mostly to make sure that my
nerd image didn’t provoke physical abuse from my classmates.
It wasn’t uncommon for the members of the Junior Engineering
and Technical Society to be the victims of high school
muggings.  But the toughs and the bullies left me alone,
because they knew I could kick their asses.
     At college I didn’t need to be an athlete to be a star.
The computer and physics and math geeks were the stars on
that campus.  I was tempted to go out for wrestling because
I could have just walked on and started at any of three
different weight classes.  But I held my ego in check for
the sake of my image.  In college, geeks weren’t supposed to
be athletes.
     Let’s face it; the college I went to was about money.
The most attractive people on campus were the ones generally
considered to be those most likely to succeed.  And I was on
the “A” list. Nerd that I was, I had all the chicks I
wanted.  They were all jockeying for a shot at the big
bucks.
     In the end, Lori Matthews won the Chad Landis lottery.
In a college where the girls were as geeky as the guys,
there weren’t many number one draft choices.  But Lori would
have qualified anywhere.  She is 5’5”, soft, round, smooth,
and beautiful.  Her long red hair and smattering of freckles
make her look at once like a super model and the girl next
door.  We courted each other over the last couple of years
in college, then married a year after graduation.
     I was all for getting married immediately, but Lori
wanted to wait.  She never said it, but I’m sure she wanted
to see where I was going in my career before she wedded a
super-geek.  The first year showed her that I was her guy.
I was making 90 grand a year from the get-go, with the
promise of much more if I lived up to my potential.  And I
had every intention of living up to my potential with that
company.  At least until I dropped them and started my own
company.
     Ten years later and all the things predicted and
expected have come to pass.  My own company has been a
success out of the starting blocks.  The downside is that I
travel a bit.  But we own the big house, are members of the
country club, drive dual Jaguars.  Our life is good.
     So why has it all turned to shit?   I’ve given Lori
everything she has ever asked of me.  I make love to her
somewhat regularly; far more regularly than I would if I
were a real geek, I think.
     And yet for months I’ve felt this estrangement; the
false smiles, the forced laughter, the perfunctory
lovemaking, the empty words.  It was looking to me like
after ten happy years, Lori was having second thoughts.  Now
I’m not a naturally suspicious guy, but I didn’t get to
where I am by not covering my ass.
     I guessed it was time to have a long talk with my wife.
But first I thought I had better move my assets off shore.
The Caymans are a really great place for someone who wants
to hide money and avoid taxes.  I opened a post office box
down there, had my company incorporated, moved all of the
copyrights and patents to the islands.  From that point
forward, my company in the states paid royalties to my
company in Grand Cayman for every sale that they made.  The
royalties paid pretty much equaled the net profit on every
sale.  That way I had no corporate profits to give to the
IRS.  Cool, huh?
     Yes, I made all the right moves.  I was burying bodies
so deep the IRS would never find them.  And neither would my
wife’s lawyer.  In retrospect, it does make me sound like a
bit of a prick.  But a guy has to do what a guy has to do.
     Meanwhile, I maintained my equilibrium around the
house.  I even tried courting Lori again.  We went to dinner
more often than was our norm.  I sent her flowers for no
particular reason.  I mean, just because I was covering my
ass financially didn’t mean I was ready to forfeit ten years
of marriage.
     
     When you read those stories on erotic web sites about
women screwing around on their husbands, the husbands react
in one of two ways.  Either they are heartbroken and/or so
pissed off that they immediately terminate the marriage, or
they want to drink the wife’s lovers’ cum.  I had theorized
that I wouldn’t act like the first option.  The second
option is too bizarre to contemplate.
     I had thought about it over the years, as I had my nice
little marriage going.  I had thought that if my wife ever
strayed, I would be magnanimous about it.  I figured
everyone wants some excitement in his or her life; everyone
wants to feel attractive to the opposite sex.  In my heart
of hearts I was sure that I would look the other way if it
ever happened.  I wouldn’t be a cuckold wimp, but I would
make an informed decision that my wife needed some
reassurance about herself and didn’t intend to harm me or
the marriage.  That was my plan.  And my plan worked, right
up until the first time that I suspected my wife was
cheating.
     It’s so clichéd that it isn’t worth recounting.  All of
the signs were in place.  It would take a blind man to miss
them:  she’s not at home when I call from a road trip; she
has to go out to be with the girls a little too often; she
is too tired for sex more often than not; there are hurried
phone calls and furtive glances.  Shit, I knew right away
that she was having an affair.
     Strangely, my reaction surprised me.  That magnanimous,
understanding guy that I expected to be just disappeared in
a puff of smoke.  Instead I was pissed off and hurt, just
like almost every other husband in my position.
     I’m a logical guy, a methodical guy.  I was flying on
instruments, here.  I really had no proof that anything was
happening, just conjecture.  I needed proof, one way or the
other.
     A computer guy like me has assets that the average Joe
just doesn’t have access to.  We have a security package
that we sell in conjunction with a hardware manufacturer.
They provide the hardware, we provide the software.  I
called a friend at that company and before long I had
everything I needed, no charge.
     They have this neat little low-light capable camera
with a wireless network card built right in, and a wide-
angle lens.  It’s about the size of a pencil cut in half and
has a broadcast range of several hundred feet.  Perfect.
     I placed a bunch of these cameras in convenient
locations throughout the house.  My buddy gave me all the
tips on how to hide or disguise them.  I put two cameras in
our guest bedrooms and three in our master bedroom.  One can
never be too careful.
     I set a motion sensor in each room, so the cameras were
only activated when necessary.  I sent the feed from each
camera into the computer in my den. It has enough storage
capacity to run a major country.  I figured it could store a
few video feeds.
     I set up a second monitor in my office at work, one of
those flat screen plasma monitors.  Whenever a camera was
activated in my house, the feed from that camera was
displayed in my office.  I am one sneaky son of a bitch.
And loving it.
      Now I didn’t know that I was going to get anything
incriminating.  But we have this Big Brother technology.  I
may as well take advantage of it.  I figured at the worst I
could watch Lori get undressed.  She has a few freckles on
her boobs that I never see enough of.  They are on the top
half, highlighting her cleavage.  The rest of her boobs are
milk-white.  I just love that look.
     I know I’m acting ambivalently about this whole thing.
Somewhere in the back of my mind is my original view of
infidelity: that it’s no big thing, just some ego massaging
that my wife needs.  Secondly, we don’t have the most
passionate of marriages anyway.  It’s been kind of like a
business arrangement.  She gets to be married to the money,
the cars, the house, the vacations, the social position.
But the nerd is the curse that comes with the perks.  That’s
me.  I get to have this beautiful trophy wife on my arm for
social functions, or in my bed for the occasional evening of
passion.  I always thought it was a pretty good deal for
both of us.
     Why is it, then, that I’m pissed the hell off?  It
seemed that every time one of those cameras kicked in, I was
glued to the screen, just waiting for the other shoe to
drop.  It dropped, all right.
     I had just returned from lunch.  I just had a veggie
wrap at a local Subway.  First, I’m not the richest kid on
the block by wasting my money on extravagant lunches.
Secondly, I’ve got to retain my geek image:  thin and geeky,
that’s me.  Low-carb, low-fat, low-cost lunches help keep me
thin and rich.
     I came in and sat at my desk.  Suddenly movement on my
home video feed monitor grabbed my attention.  Finally there
it was.  The proof that I had been fully expecting to get.
My wife and some guy from the country club.  What was his
name?  Randall Mason, I think.
     I remembered the SOB sniffing around my wife at a few
of the country club dances.  Geez, he must be a foot taller
than me and outweigh me by a hundred pounds.  But a lot of
that is blubber.  I know that for a fact, because there he
was, standing in my bedroom, undressing.
     As he took off his shirt, a good portion of his stomach
was hanging over his still-fastened belt.  Well, damn!  Is
my wife so desperate that she would go to bed with a big fat
slob?  I think she is a very attractive woman.  I’m kind of
insulted that she couldn’t attract a better looking guy for
her infidelity.  Where’s the justice in this world, anyway?
     Oh, shit.  He pulled down his pants and displayed a
totally hairy ass.  I mean, this is gross.  How am I
supposed to touch my wife after she’s been to bed with that?
Oh my God!  That ass is going to lie in my bed!  I may need
to fumigate it.
     I figured I may as well listen in on the lovebirds so I
slipped on a headset and plugged it into my computer.
     
     “..if hubby comes home unexpectedly?”
     
     I heard my wife laugh.  “Chad leave work early?  Surely
you jest.  All he thinks about is work.  Even if he did come
home, he would just blink in surprise and go back to work.
I don’t rate that high on his priority list.”
     
     Well now I’m really pissed.  I give the bitch
everything she wants and she says I don’t care about her.
Hey, I’m upholding my end of the bargain.
     
     The lovers finished undressing.  My wife said, “Come
on, Randy, hurry up.  I’m horny.  I can’t remember the last
time I was laid.”
     
     “I’m right with you, babe!”
     
     I saw the fat man dive onto the middle of my bed (the
furniture bounced about 4 inches in the air before returning
to earth), as Lori daintily slid onto the bed herself.  The
fat man’s flaccid dick just lay on his fat thigh like a
little (very little) rubbery snake.  It made me sick to look
at it.
     Wifey said, “Oh, dear. It looks so small and helpless.
Let’s see if we can make it big and strong.”
     With that Lori kneeled in front of fat Randall and took
his little dick in her mouth.  I figured there was no need
to be concerned about overflow or tonsil damage.  Finally
the fat little snake began to grow.  Not much, but at least
it looked like it might have a spine.
     It occurred to me that I was being unfair to the world.
I get to watch this live-action porn on my in-office TV, but
no one else could see it.
     I have a couple of dozen website templates that our
guys have worked on over the years to allow for a quick and
dirty launch of a website.  I figured I needed a quick and
dirty website for this.
     Bringing up my trusty version of Dreamweaver MX, I
started creating an instant web attraction.  I grabbed the
wording from some erotic website, I think it was Literotica,
so I could have a screen warning that all hope abandon ye
who enter here if under eighteen.  And the web title in 36
point Verdana was:
                   National Nude Day 2004
          real naked people doing real naked things
                              
       What did entry into this website give you?  Why
continuous streaming video of my lovely wife fucking some
fat slob!  I set it up that once the video ended it would
cycle back to the beginning and start again. I figured no
one would believe their eyes the first time they saw it so
they all would need to watch it again.
     I’m in the industry; I know a few spammers.  I know a
lot of web host guys.  I got a web guy to get me an instant
registration for a domain name.  I had a spammer send out
about a billion emails with the domain name and an
invitation for a free trial.  It was worth the expense.
     Within half an hour we were in business.  We were
getting hits right and left.  I looked over at my personal
window to NatNudeDayCheatingWife.com.  They had been going
at it ever since fat ass achieved full erection; not exactly
a monumental event.  Geez, Lori was barely visible
underneath Randy’s fat ass.  All you could see was that
hairy butt bouncing up and down, that fat red-faced big
cheeked head rocking back and forth.  That Neanderthal-like
back needing about ten gallons of Nair.  It was truly
disgusting.
     I instant messaged everyone in Lori’s family with the
IP address.  I thought they might like to see her in action.
In the meantime I had a friend call Randall’s wife with the
suggestion that she look at the latest in web entertainment.
Man I can be a prick!
     Okay, I was getting my pound of flesh.  But it really
didn’t do much for me.  I was still pissed at my wife.  What
the hell does she think she’s doing, fucking around on me?
I decided that for pure entertainment value and originality
of program content, it would be best if I journeyed home to
confront the wife and her fat-assed lover on the world wide
web.
     My office is about ten minutes from home.  I had to
hurry because I figured either fat Randy would be the poster-
boy for premature ejaculation or would die of a heart attack
trying to keep up with my wife.  I put my Jag through its
paces and made it home in five minutes.
     I entered the kitchen through the garage entrance and
made my way upstairs.  I could hear the sound of a rutting
pig from the bottom of the stairwell.  I’ll admit it.  I was
starting to seethe.  I don’t care if Randall fucking Mason
did outweigh me by a hundred pounds.  I was going to kick
his fat ass for the entire world to see.  Well, I must admit
that I hoped that after a forty-five minute session of sex
with the lovely Lori he wouldn’t have much left in the old
gas tank.  I’ve got to figure all the angles here.
      I walked into the room and watched that revolting ass
humping up and down on my bed.  I could hear my wife urging
him on.
     
     “Come for me, Randy.  Come on, baby.  Give it to me.
Cum, baby. Cum, baby. Cum.”
     
     Christ she sounded like an infielder at a little league
game exhorting the pitcher.  It was all too surreal.  I
couldn’t have dreamed up this scenario with a bucket-full of
LSD.
     Finally (thank God), Randall’s ass cheeks seemed to
tighten up a little (slendering up from totally obscene to
merely obesely gross).  He let out a groan that sounded
somewhere between a belch and a fart.  And then he was
through.
     He collapsed on the bed.  I heard my wife gasping for
breath.  “Randy, honey.  Why don’t you get up now?  Randy, I
can’t breathe!”
     Slowly the behemoth rolled to the side and for the
first time I saw the face of my dear, loving, cheating bitch
of a wife.  And she saw my face, too.
     You would think the bitch would have had the good grace
to scream or cry or yell or something.  Not my lovely wife.
Instead she gave me a shit-eating grin.
     
     “Oh, it’s Chad!  Enjoying the view, darling?  I got
tired of waiting for you so I asked a real man to help me
out.  Thank you, Randy.  I really needed that.”  Damn, she
decided to go the ‘cuckold the wimp husband’ route.  I
wasn’t going for that.
     
     “Get the fuck out of my bed, you fat fucking slob!”  I
took a step toward the bed just as fat ass turned to see me
for the first time.  There was an instant of fear in his
eyes, but when he assessed the situation it was obvious that
he wasn’t too concerned about me.  I was the little geek
with the glasses.  He was the over-the-hill football stud.
No concern for him there.
     
     He stood up and feigned anger.  “Just get out of my
way, you little wimp.  If you try to cause any trouble I’ll
rip you a new asshole.”
     
     I just smiled; the kind of smirky insulting smile one
gives to one’s inferiors.
     
     “Come on, fat ass.  Show me what a man you are.  Then
I’ll bust your fucking balls.”
     
     Randall bounded off the bed and rushed towards me,
exhibiting surprising agility for a fat-assed slob who was
all fucked out.
     When I was in high school, I was the king of the duck-
under.  I could shoot that takedown so fast not even I could
see it.  Remember that third grade joke everyone used to
tell:  ‘I’m the fastest gun in the west.  Wanna see me
draw?’ – wait a second – ‘Wanna see it again?’  That was my
duck-under.
     One instant I was facing the oncoming bulk of fat-assed
Randall, the next instant I was behind him going for the
kill.  He didn’t even realize where I was.
     There is a wrestling move called the CBC, which stands
for cross ball carry.  The way it works is that if one is in
the position I was in, that is, behind the opponent with
both guys standing,   you reach between his legs with one
hand, grab him by the balls and lift.  I had a buddy in high
school that regularly lifted kids who weighed two hundred
pounds using a CBC and carried them across the mat.  Even
with a wrestling singlet and a jock strap on, the move gets
your attention.
     I had intended to go for the CBC here, but then I
realized that I probably wasn’t going to be able to lift two
hundred and fifty pounds of ugly fat with one hand.  So I
went to option number 2.  I dropped to one knee and brought
my fist up in a round-house right between fat Randy’s legs,
culminating in a direct hit on his scrotum minimus; about
six inches in front of his gluteous maximus (and I do mean
maximus).  I think Randy’s balls were in danger of popping
out of his mouth.
     Randy dropped to his knees and then slowly fell onto
his protuberant belly, his head bouncing twice before coming
to rest.  It was a particularly gratifying sound.
     I walked over and with as little skin contact as
possible picked up his clothes and threw them on his
recumbent body.
     “Get the hell out of here, Randall.  If I catch you
around here again I’m not going so easy on you.  Move!”
     
     Randall struggled to his feet.  I was treated to the
tasty sight of him bending over to put on his underwear.  It
was by far the largest moon I’ve ever seen.  Sickening.
     With a look somewhere between hatred and panic he left
the bedroom and made his way out of the house, never to be
seen again.  Now was the time I was waiting for.  Time to
confront wifey.  Time to end this fucking marriage on world
wide TV.  Yes, I was going to do myself proud.
     
     I turned to Lori, who was standing there with her mouth
wide open, a shocked look on her face.
     
     I said, “What?”
     
     Lori gasped, “Christ I was hoping he wouldn’t kill you.
Instead you almost killed him!  How did you do that?”
     
     I shrugged.  “I was a state wrestling finalist in high
school.  What, did you really think I am such a wimp?”
     
     “And you never told me!  Chad, you can be the most
exasperating man!”
     
     This wasn’t going exactly like I had planned.  Lori
wasn’t responding in quite the manner I expected.  Still, I
chose to push on.
     
     “By the way, Lori, wave to the cameras.  You are on the
world wide web.”  I smiled smugly.  My naked wife, with cum
running down her shapely thighs, was caught in the act for
the world to see.  Oh, yes, this was sweet!
     
     Lori turned to the camera mounted behind the picture on
my chest of drawers and smiled.  She waved and said, “Hi
folks.  My name is Lori.  Hope you like what you see.”  Then
she turned to the camera hidden in the window curtain,
grabbed a tit in each hand and offered them for the public’s
perusal, smiling and tonguing first one nipple, then the
other.  Yeah, I’ll admit it; Lori has large and lovely tits.
     Now what the hell!  How did she know where the cameras
were?  Why wasn’t she pissed or scared or broken hearted or
whatever?  Who’s in charge here?
     I decided to plow ahead.  “Lori, I think your mother is
watching us right now.”  That would get a charge out of her!
     Lori turned her back to the camera, half bent, placing
her extended hands on each knee.  Then she turned her head
to the camera with a pouty look on her face, her ass on
display for everyone to see.  She said, “Hi, Mom.  How do I
look?”
     My script wasn’t working.  Everything had been fine up
to the point where Randall Mason had retreated in defeat.
After that, nothing seemed to go as planned.  What the fuck?
     
     I tried again.  “Lori we are through.  You’ve laughed
at our marriage vows.  You’ve betrayed me and all that our
relationship stood for.” (Was I laying it on too thick?)
“Anyway, I’m filing for divorce.”
     
     Lori actually laughed.  “Just what did our relationship
stand for, Chad?  Christ you are so predictable.  Would you
please, just this once, act like a real person rather than
some sort of shadow person?”
     
     “What is that supposed to mean?”  Why won’t she play
the game?  She’s supposed to be following her lines!
     
     “Chad you live behind this façade.  You never show the
real you.  At least I think you don’t.  Just once I would
like to know what you are really like.  That’s what this was
about: the desperate attempt of a discouraged wife to save a
decaying marriage.”
     
     My mouth opened but no words came out.  I sputtered a
time or two, then found the words.  “Wha.. Huh?  You call
this trying to save our marriage?  You stand there with
someone else’s sperm running down your legs and you say you
are trying to save our marriage?  Okay, you’ve got my
attention.  Explain it to me.  This I have to hear.  And
please make it improbable.”
     
     Lori lay back on the bed and spread her legs, holding
her body up by her bent elbows, looking directly into the
camera and licking her lips.  Shit, I wished I were back in
my office so I could see this.  She is one fucking foxy
bitch.  There must be a million pc’s around the world
downloading this picture right now for their owners’ later
personal pleasure.  Hell I might want to jerk off to the
damn picture myself!
     
     Lori casually glanced in my direction and shrugged her
shoulders.  “I’ve been setting this up for months.  You are
so easy to play!  How long have you been thinking I’ve been
having an affair?”
     
     I had her there.  “I’ve known from the beginning.  Do
you think you could hide this thing from me?  I know you far
too well for you to pull this on me without my knowing it.”
     
     She laughed.  Again with the laugh!  “Chad, I know you
too well.  If I wanted to have a private little affair,
believe me you would be the last to know.  But I needed to
do something to get your attention.  Nothing else seemed to
be working.  So I let you think I was having an affair.”
     
     “You let me think?  Let me think?  I think I just saw
two hundred and fifty pounds of ugly fat fucking your brains
out.  You let me think?”
     
     She was undaunted.  “Chad, that is the first and the
last time that Randall Mason will ever touch me.  I called
him yesterday and invited him over when I realized you had
set up this little sting of yours.  He’s been after me for
months and months.  Of course I never gave him the slightest
bit of encouragement.  But I only had to ask him once.  He
was so eager and so intimidated he could barely even get it
up, the poor thing.  And for your information, I was too
busy trying to keep breathing to get any sexual pleasure out
of my thirty minutes of hell.”
     
     What the fuck was this?  “Okay, so before it was
somebody else.  You were still fucking someone behind my
back.”
     
     “Chad, honey, I’ve never fucked anyone behind your
back, not even Randall.  I knew you were watching.  I’ll
admit I’m impressed with your innovation, broadcasting the
fuck seen round the world.  But that doesn’t matter to me.
I just wanted you to be watching.  And you were.”
     
     “What about the late nights?  The times when you didn’t
answer the phone when I was away?  What about the secret
phone calls?  You’re telling me it was all a setup?”
     
     I mean the bitch wasn’t the least bit embarrassed.
“Chad, I led you around by your nose.  You are so
suspicious, so sure that every one is out to screw you, that
it is easy to manipulate you.  Just a hint here and a hint
there and you’ve already jumped to the worst possible
conclusion.  You’re not a very trusting guy, Chad.  How do
you live with yourself?”
     
     “But why, Lori?  Why?  What could you possibly
accomplish by fucking with my brain like this?”
     
     “Damn it, Chad, I wanted you to feel something!  Not
everything is a business negotiation.  I would like to think
that our marriage is more than some sort of merger of
convenience.  I would like to think that we had some kind of
love in our marriage.  But you.  You’re too busy for love.
With you everything is balanced on some spreadsheet, even
our marriage.
     “Well love doesn’t work that way.  And if you think
that’s the way a marriage should be, then I want no part of
it.  Go ahead and get your divorce.  You have the grounds on
your sneaky little video.  I won’t contest it.  I’ll walk
away with what I came with and nothing more.”
     
     She had seemed to be getting somewhat agitated.  But
she turned back to the camera, stuck her finger in her
mouth, and then ran her moistened digit slowly up the center
of her crack, smiling sexily for her fans.  Christ, when did
she get to be this sexy?  Very slowly she inserted her
finger into her pussy, running it in and out just a little
bit, then lengthening her strokes until the entire finger
was going in and out, in and out.  I was mesmerized.
     
     “What is it, Chad?  Haven’t you ever seen a woman who
likes sex before?”
     
     “Lori this isn’t fair!  You can’t start to like sex
just because we are getting a divorce.  Why didn’t you like
sex during our marriage?”
     
     “Why didn’t I like sex?”, she asked.  “While you are
calculating the time and energy expenditure until your next
ejaculation?  When you are using the exact same foreplay
techniques, then the same positions in the same proportion
over and over again.  Chad you run on auto-pilot.  Hello!
Is there anybody in there?”
     
     Lori’s hips were rotating on her finger.  A second
finger found its way into her pussy.  Then a finger from her
other hand started massaging that erect little clit.  Geez,
I hope they are liking this in Venezuela.
     Lori was humping herself on her hand.  Her tits were
bouncing with the movement of her hips.  She closed her
eyes.  Suddenly her back arched and she let out a long low
moan.  Her toes seemed to curl, her eyes were tightly
closed.  She seemed to shudder and then relax.
     Her eyes opened.  She looked at the camera with a sly
smile.  Slowly she pulled her fingers from her pussy,
brought them to her lips, and licked.  Fucking Christ, I
thought I was going to come in my pants!  What the hell is
with this girl?
     
     She turned to me.  “Damn, I needed that.  I kind of
like being naked in front of the world.  What do you think,
Chad?  Could I charge for something like this?”
     
     In a moment of weakness I said, “Hell, I’d pay to see
it.”
     
     A delighted smile appeared on those lovely lips.
“Chad, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you have ever
said to me.  I have actually seen you in an unguarded
moment, saints be praised!
     And oh, Chad, what is that in your pants.  Were you
excited seeing Randall and I going at it?  Or is it that you
like to see me being myself?  Is that it, Chad?  Are you
attracted to the real me?”
     
     “Damn it, Lori.  You just committed adultery in front
of the entire world and you expect me to ignore it?  Are you
trying to seduce me in front of your Mother?  I don’t even
know you.”
     
     Lori shook her head.  “You haven’t wanted to know me.
It’s me that doesn’t know you,  Chad.  I don’t think anyone
does.  I don’t know if you even know yourself.”
     
     Where was my wife, the one who I had made this contract
of convenience with ten years ago?  This other person I
don’t even know.  But she makes my dick hard.
     
     “What is it you want, Lori?  Do you want a divorce? Is
that what this was about?  Are you forcing my hand?”
     
     “Yes Chad, I want a divorce!  Unless…”
     
     ‘Unless what?”
     
     She stood up and walked over to me, her boobs bouncing
alluringly.  How the hell is someone supposed to concentrate
when a naked woman with freckles on her tits is parading
around in front of the whole world?  She stuck out a finger
and touched my chest.
     
     “Unless you ditch those fucking glasses.  Unless you
let me take you to my hairdresser and style that shitty hair
of yours.  Unless you throw out that wardrobe and join the
ranks of the normal.  And most especially unless you stop
hiding behind this fucking façade of yours.  I want a real
person for a husband, not a construct!”
     
     “Christ, Lori.  Couldn’t you just have asked me?  No,
you had to go fuck Randall fucking Mason.  Talk about the
hard sell!”
     
     “Chad, I’ve been trying the soft sell for years.  You
never pay attention.  I had to do something to grab your
attention.  I was willing to fuck Randall Mason for the sake
of our marriage.  Would you make that great a sacrifice for
us?”
     
     What the hell had happened here?  This is just like a
woman.  A minute ago she was the slut whore of the world for
fucking Randall fucking Mason.  Now she’s Joan of Fucking
Arc, burned at the Roger fucking Mason stake.  How do I get
myself into these things?
     
     I saw resolve in Lori’s eyes.  She said, “Chad, I’m
going to take a shower.  I stink from Randall’s sweat.  He
sweats a lot.  I’ve got his disgusting sperm on my legs, in
my pussy.  I need to get clean.  You can do one of two
things while I shower.  You can turn your little tail and
run, go back to your office.  Send me the divorce papers.
I’ll sign them uncontested.  Do me a favor, though.  Let me
have the website.  Now that we have some fans I’ll keep it
up and charge for it.  There are worse ways to make a
living.  I like being naked.”
     
     She paused.  So I asked her.  “What’s option number
two?”
     
     She looked me in the eyes.  Were her eyes pleading?
“Option two:  get undressed.  Get naked.  Get into bed.
When I come back I’ll fuck your brains out.  But you better
be there.  Don’t send Chad the nerd in your place.  Be the
real Chad.  Then we can start the rest of our lives.”
     
     She turned again to the camera, put one finger to her
lips and blew a kiss.  She spun completely around and walked
gracefully from the bedroom, her bouncing ass controlling
the movement of my eyes.
     
     I stood there by myself.  There were three cameras on
me, waiting for me to move.  What to do?  I tried to
remember the last time my life had felt out of control and
couldn’t.  Is this what excitement is supposed to feel like?
     
     I turned to the camera and slowly unbuttoned my shirt.