Maybe Next Time I'll Bring Wings

Author's Note: This story has been posted to Literotica. Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

Just a flash story that came to me as I switched back and forth between football game to football game; go Saints!

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She giggled to herself as she sat at the intersection of Roberts Drive and Browner Street, waiting for the light to change. Once again, she resisted the urge to open her Barragona bag, root around in the depths for the package of Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store brand of strawberry flavored chewing gum and chomp on a stick of the overly sweet gum. The taste in her mouth was truly foul and she giggled again.

The light finally changed and she turned left with the arrow. Three blocks down Browner Street, she put her signal on to turn into the driveway of their apartment complex. Again, the foul taste in her mouth gnawed at her consciousness as she pulled into the parking space for Apartment 104. Getting out, she looked over at the 'Visitors' space at a very nice Lexus, admiring the glossy pink color.

From the trunk of her car, she retrieved the reusable cloth bags, loaded with that day's purchases from the Wagon Wheel Farmer's Market. Slamming the trunk closed, she gave another look at the beautiful luxury automobile parked in the 'Visitors' slot. Then she unlocked the door for their apartment.

"Uh?" she demanded; Ryan was sitting on the couch, the New Orleans Saints football game blaring on their big screen television.

"Uh?" he asked, not looking away from the television. "Damn it! Another? Another false start? Really?"

"Uh? Ryan? SWEETIE? Uh, who, who is this, Sweetie?" Emma said, voice thick with saccharine sweetness as she glared at the attractive, petite Asian woman seated on her loveseat, next to her husband.

"Huh? Oh! Oh, Emma, this? This is Delaney. You remember Delaney? Well, I mean, you never met Delaney, but she's my ex-girlfriend; I told you about her," Ryan said as the woman snuggled against Ryan on their small loveseat.

"And what is she doing here?" Emma snarled, slamming the door of their apartment shut with tremendous force.

"Watching the Saints game," Ryan said, frowning at the sound of the door slamming.

"When, when I'm not here?" Emma shrilled.

"What? What's wrong? We, we're just friends. You know, like you and Jack," Ryan said, returning his attention to the game. "Come on, come on Moore, go for it. A field goal's not going to do it here."

"Fourth and goal? Get real. He won't go for it," Delaney said, taking a hefty gulp of her Corn Terlings Beer.

"Ha! Ha! Look at that! Look at that!" Ryan laughed as the Saints did go for it and managed to score a touchdown.

"He is just so smart," Delaney smiled at Emma.

"Ryan? SWEETIE? Can I talk with you in the kitchen?" Emma snarled, marching through the living room.

"What?" Ryan asked, feigning confusion at Emma's displeasure.

"What is SHE DOING HERE?" Emma screamed, slamming the bags of fresh produce onto the counter.

She'd not asked Ryan into the kitchen for privacy; Emma had ordered Ryan into the kitchen so that she would not have to compete with the television for his attention.

"Watching the Saints game," Ryan said. "Well, not no more; it's over, we won, but..."

"When I'm not here? You, you had your ex-girlfriend here? When I'm not here!" Emma shrilled.

"Uh? And you and Jack went to the Farmer's Market over in Wagon Wheel. Without me," Ryan countered.

"That, that's different!" Emma screamed.

"How? How exactly is it different, Emma?" Ryan asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Delaney and me? We're just friends. You know. Like you and Jack. Are just friends. Friends that grab coffee. That go antiquing and to flea markets and the Farmer's Market every weekend."

Emma tried to think of a retort, opening and closing her mouth several times. Delaney suddenly appeared in the doorway between kitchen and living room, brushing a hank of her ankle length black hair out of her beautiful almond eyes. Emma's eyes narrowed to mean little slits when she saw that the beautiful Asian woman was wearing a very revealing outfit. Her torso was covered by a halter top that barely covered her cone shaped breasts and low rider denim cut offs and combat boots on her cute little feet. Emma's rage spiked when she saw that the tab of Delaney's shorts was unbuttoned.

"I mean, of course I don't text her stuff like 'miss you; and 'can't wait to see you again' but..." Ryan said.

"Of course not; that would be highly inappropriate," Delaney agreed. "You're married."

"Or stuff like 'remember that week in Honey Beach?'" Ryan continued.

"No, no, you hate the beach. It would have been 'remember that weekend in Swift Falls? Where I got my piercings?'" Delaney agreed, giving Emma a knowing smile. "Post-game analysis is about to come on."

"Oh! Oh, be, be right there," Ryan said, wrapping his arm around the small woman's slim golden brown waist. "Come on, Emma, I think you need to see this."

"I have groceries to put away," Emma snarled, looking at Chloe's compact buttocks peeking out of the obscene shorts.

"What? They been sitting in the trunk of your car all this time; a few more minutes ain't going hurt them," Ryan said, already on the loveseat, Delaney snuggled against him, remote control in her hand.

"I don't give a damn about football," Emma yelled angrily.

"Oh, I think you going give a damn about this," Ryan said. "Get in here."

"Fine, fine," Emma said, marching into the living room.

On the television, she watched as she and Jack Koontz entered the living room of Jack's condo. The angry flush slowly drained from her face and she flopped onto the recliner. She watched as Jack keyed in the code for the security system at his condominium and the screen went blank.

"We, he, he needed to drop off the groceries; he bought some fish," Emma defended as the screen remained black for a long moment.

"I have a sixty second override on my security system," Delaney said, voice hard as the screen again came to life, showing Emma and Jack removing their clothing.

"I, I, I can explain," Emma offered weakly as she watched herself dropping to her knees to take Jack's somewhat slender cock into her mouth.

"You're just friends?" Ryan suggested.

"It didn't mean anything?" Delaney suggested.

"Oh! Oh, it, it's just sex?" Ryan offered.

"You didn't mean to hurt us?" Delaney suggested as Emma and Jack continued their sexual romp on the big screen television.

"By the way, Emma," Ryan said, as Delaney fast-forwarded to the ending of the tableau, pausing where Jack went from Emma's ass to her mouth.

"Huh?" Emma weakly asked as Delaney pumped up the volume as Jack ordered Emma to go home, to kiss Ryan with a mouth full of shit; Emma's delighted laughter echoing off of the walls.

"Delaney's not my ex-Girlfriend," Ryan said.

"I'm Delaney Koontz, Jack's wife," Delaney spat, turning off the big screen television as it showed Emma preparing to leave the condo, still giggling maniacally about kissing Ryan with her filthy, unfaithful mouth.

"Wi... WIFE?" Emma shrilled, appalled.

"Wife. Well, soon to be ex-wife," Delaney said, standing.

"He, he never, he never told me he was married," Emma offered weakly.

"No. But you. You knew you were married," Ryan said quietly. "By the way, go brush your teeth; God! I can smell your breath from here."

"Time to go remind pencil dick who owns everything; thank God my Daddy insisted on that pre-nup.," Delaney said. "So, when's the next Saints game?"

"Next Sunday; starts at three, um, three fifteen," Ryan said as Emma numbly went to the hall bathroom, bile rising in her throat.

"I'll bring wings; I make the best wings," Delaney said, opening the door. "Hot? Oh! They are soooo hot!"

"Sounds great. But don't worry, Emma," Ryan smirked. "We're just friends."

Emma threw up into the toilet. She didn't hear the front door close. She didn't hear the television go on again, didn't hear Ryan switching over to the late afternoon football game already in progress.

"By the way, all of your stuff is packed," Ryan said, walking past the door of the bathroom. "Smart. Very smart of you, never putting your name on our lease."

"Because I was going to leave you," Emma whispered into the bowl of the toilet. "A clean break for Jack and me when he finally realized we were meant to be together. Forever."

"But he, he's already married," Emma sniffled, the first tears beginning to fall. "There, there never was going be a forever for us."

The End

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**Author's Notes: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my words, those that 'Favorite' my works. Speaking of ratings; less than two percent of those that click on my stories actually bother to click on any of the ratings.

Like I said, just a flash story. I don't think an epilogue is really needed here. In divorce? No one really wins. Well, except for maybe the lawyers.

And for the ones that are staring blankly at the screen, there was no get-away to Swift Falls for Ryan and Delaney; there may or may not be any piercings. Delaney was simply staying in character, winding an already quite agitated Emma to the next level. Which is also why Delaney had unbuttoned her very skimpy denim cutoffs.

Delaney Koontz is a minor character in 'Kneeling on a Filthy Nasty Floor' in the Loving Wives category. That tale was posted before Delaney Smith became Delaney Koontz. As she is a Financial Advisor, Jack will not fare too well in his divorce, especially thanks to the pre-nup. Ryan however, may do fairly well; it's always good to have a financial advisor for a friend.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day. And, Geaux Saints.