My Horny Housewife Harem

My Horny Housewife Harem

Part 15 of 16

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Carlos was a shy, fearful virgin when he enrolled in college. Then he met an older woman who made him a man. She also gave him some good advice: instead of looking for romance with clueless girls his age, seek out married women in sexless marriages. His horny housewife harem taught him the ways of erotic love.

All 16 chapters of this tale have been written and will be posted just as quickly as the good folks at Literotica can review them. Here in Part 15, Carlos saves Rita and gets revenge on an old enemy.

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During the next few weeks, the lawyer made progress on Rita's divorce. Phillip was served papers in prison, and the court scheduled a hearing when the divorce would be granted. Phillip couldn't do anything to stop it, but his parents hired a lawyer who tried to slow things down. He seemed to think that if he could get a face-to-face meeting with Rita, he could bully her into remaining married.

Our lawyer went to court with copies of the nasty, threatening letters he sent to Rita. Based on those letters, the court granted a restraining order that forbade Phillip from going near her. It specifically ordered him to stay away from her home and place of employment.

Despite the order, the first thing Phillip did after he was released was bang on the door of Rita's apartment. Because she was living with her parents, Rita wasn't there, so she managed to avoid a confrontation. Her apartment manager had to call the police so they could chase him away.

Phillip figured out where Rita was, so he went over to her parents' house and demanded to see her. Rita's Mom called the police, and her Dad got a shotgun and fired it in the air when Phillip wouldn't leave. The cops placed Phillip under arrest for violating the order, and they gave her Dad a citation for discharging a firearm. That citation actually worked in our favor. Cops tend to take domestic violence more seriously when guns are involved. They locked Phillip up overnight and notified his probation officer that he'd violated a court order. Twice.

For a few weeks, we all worked together to shield Rita from a confrontation with Phillip, but there was no way to avoid the fact that the two of them had to be present at the hearing where Rita would be granted her divorce. Rita's parents and I attended the hearing, hoping our presence would deter Phillip from accosting her.

It didn't work.

"Rita! Rita! RITA!!!!!" Phillip yelled the moment she walked into the courtroom. "I need to talk to you!" he said.

"She doesn't want to talk to you, asshole!" Rita's Dad said. "Leave her the fuck alone!"

"Baby, we need to talk! Now! Before this hearing!" Phillip said.

At that point, a police officer walked up to Phillip and told him to sit down and shut up. "If you want to say something, relay it through your attorney," he said. I later learned that cops are almost always stationed inside courtrooms that handle divorce cases. Those hearings can trigger strong emotions. The presence of a police officer tends to deter people from acting out.

I also noticed that there were several security cameras in the courtroom. That made sense. If somebody got violent, it would be helpful to have a video of the altercation. As I thought about this, I reflected on the fact that Phillip was a felon who'd already violated the terms of his parole when he disobeyed the court order forbidding contact with Rita. One would think he'd be smart enough to avoid any new trouble. I looked at the cop, and the cameras, and felt confident that Rita would get her divorce and we'd be able to get her away from Phillip without further troubles.

That's not what happened.

The judge followed the procedures necessary to grant the divorce. Phillip's lawyer objected repeatedly, but it was all for show. In our state, if a person wants a divorce, they have that right. Period. It was obvious that Phillip asked his lawyer to stall, but the judge wasn't cooperating. Maybe she read the police report about Phillip's arrest, or the court order forbidding contact. For whatever reason, the judge declared the case resolved, granted the divorce, and used her gavel to close the hearing.

It was over. Rita was divorced. Finally.

But Phillip wasn't through. As soon as the judge finished, Phillip jumped up, ran over to Rita, and yelled at her. "You can't do this to me, bitch!" he said. "You're supposed to be my wife!"

Rita was terrified. She grabbed my arm and huddled next to me.

"What is this dirty spic doing here!?" Phillip said. "Rita, who is this guy to you!?"

I swear that I did not plan what happened next. It was just pure luck.

Phillip looked like he was burning with anger. I remembered that he'd punched me many times when we were teenagers, and I could tell he'd like to do it again. Seeing that anger triggered a wave of the same fear I'd felt years earlier as a kid.

Suddenly, I realized that it would be a good thing if he punched me. If Phillip assaulted me there in the courtroom - in front of a judge, a cop, and all those cameras - it might be enough to send his sorry ass back to prison.

So I leaned closer. When our faces were just a few inches apart, I did something I'd never been brave enough to do when we were teenagers. I looked into Phillip's eyes and spoke so softly that only he could hear it.

"Who am I? I'm the guy who was fucking your wife while you were sucking your cellmate's cock,"

I whispered.

That did it. I'd thrown gasoline on a smoldering fire. Phillip reared back and punched me in the face. I kept my arms at my side so everybody could see I never touched him.

The punch hurt. It hurt a lot. But it didn't hurt enough to prevent me from feeling thrilled that I'd managed to provoke him. I went down to the floor and pretended to be unconscious.

My eyes were closed, so I didn't see what happened next. But I eventually got a chance to watch the video, which showed the cop wrestle Phillip to the ground, put him in handcuffs, and haul him off to jail. I knew that the cops would file more charges against him if they thought I was seriously injured, so I remained still and silent until they called an ambulance. Rita and her family were pretty worried about me, and I felt bad about that, but I knew it was important that I convince everybody that he'd hurt me.

What am I going to tell the docs at the emergency room?

I wondered during the ambulance ride. I needed some plausible story to convince everybody I was injured.

I opened my eyes, looked at the paramedic, and said I had the worst headache of my life. "Do I have a concussion?" I asked.

"Well, the symptoms include a headache," he said. "Do you have a feeling of pressure in your head?"

I didn't, but I said I did.

"How about nausea?" he said.

Nope. But I put my hand over my stomach and asked for a barf bag.

The paramedic gave me a bag and asked "Do you remember being injured? People who get concussions can't always remember how it happened."

I remembered every detail, but I claimed to have forgotten.

"Yeah, that sounds like a concussion to me," he said. "Tell the doctors. They'll figure it out."

I reviewed the symptoms in my mind.

Headache. Pressure. Nausea. Memory loss. Headache. Pressure. Nausea. Memory loss.

By the time we got to the hospital, I had my story straight. They wheeled me into the emergency room and moved me to a bed. When I saw the doctor coming, I held the bag to my mouth and pretended to gag.

"What happened to you?" the doctor asked.

"I don't remember," I said. "They tell me that I got punched, but I have no memory of that. All I know is that I've got the worst headache ever."

"Uh-huh," the doctor said. "And you're nauseated, right?"

"A little bit," I said. "Fortunately, there's nothing in my stomach right now. If there was, I'm sure I would have puked all over the place."

"What else is going on?" he asked.

"It feels like my head is going to explode. Like there's a lot of pressure," I said.

"Pressure. OK," he replied. "Are you sure you don't remember what happened?"

"I can tell you that this morning I went to a court hearing for my girlfriend," I said. "She was trying to get a divorce. I remember that her husband was very angry. I don't remember anything else. Do you know if the judge granted her divorce?"

"I can't help you there," the doctor said. "How's your vision? Do you have trouble focusing? Is there any double vision?"

Uh oh. I had no idea if vision problems are common with concussions.

What do I do now!?

I wondered. I stalled by pretending to gag into the barf bag again.

I decided it was safer to avoid claiming a symptom that might not be relevant. "My vision is fine, doctor," I said.

"Well, that's good," he replied. "I'm going to run some tests, but it appears that you have a concussion. Try to stay awake. I don't know how severe your injury is, but it might be a bad idea to go to sleep."

He ordered X-rays. A brain scan. A bunch of blood tests. He gave me pain pills for my "headache." I didn't want to take the pills, but I couldn't think of a believable reason to reject them, so I swallowed them. Pretty soon I felt very mellow.

I was waiting for the test results when Rita and her parents showed up. Rita was frantic. I felt bad that I put her in a situation where she was worrying about nothing.

"Carlos! Oh God, Carlos!" she said. "How are you doing!? What does the doctor say!?"

"The doctor thinks I might have a concussion," I said. That was true. He did think that. "But I feel fine. Really. They're running some tests, but I'm sure they won't find anything to worry about."

"I'm so sorry this happened!" Rita said. "Phillip wouldn't have attacked you if you hadn't been helping me!"

"This is not your fault, babe," I said. "Phillip did it. You could not have done anything to stop him. And I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine!" she said.

What?

"I think I look pretty normal," I said.

"You've got the worst black eye I've ever seen!" Rita said.

"Really?" I replied.

Rita took my photo and showed it to me. She was right. I had the mother of all shiners. I touched the area around my eye and discovered that it was tender.

This is great!

I thought.

Visible evidence of Phillip's violence! Yee haa!

"Would you mind telling me what happened?" I asked. "I don't remember it very well." That was also true. Since my eyes were closed while I was pretending to be unconscious, I missed a lot of the action.

Rita's Dad described the scene. You could tell that he wanted to strangle Phillip. One nice detail was that Phillip tried to spit on the bailiff. Classy.

At about that time, a policewoman arrived. Det. Lucinda Rodriquez got the job of investigating my assault.

"Tell me what happened," she said.

"Beats me. I don't remember much," I said. "The doctor says I have a concussion, and that memory problems are caused by that."

"We saw everything," Rita's Mom said. "We can tell you exactly what happened."

For the second time, I heard the story of how I bravely put myself between Rita and her rabid husband Phillip, and how he attacked me for no reason whatsoever. I kept waiting for somebody to mention the fact that there must be a video. I finally gave up and raised the issue myself.

"I noticed that there were security cameras in the courtroom," I said. "Is there a video?"

"Yes. I've already seen it," Det. Rodriguez said. "It shows everything. I do have a question, though.

"Just before the incident, it looks as though you said something to your attacker. What did you say?"

There was no way I was about to reveal that I'd provoked Phillip by saying he was a cocksucker. "I don't remember," I lied. "I probably said I wouldn't let him hit Rita again."

"Again?" Det. Rodriquez asked.

"Yeah. Phillip likes to hit people," Rita said. "He used to beat me up. And he's beaten Carlos up many times."

"Is that right?" Det. Rodriquez asked.

"Definitely," I said. "I can't tell you how many times that asshole punched me. Dozens, at least."

"Are you telling me that the accused has assaulted you dozens of times?"

"Sure," I said.

"How is that possible? Why wasn't anything done?" she asked.

"This happened when we were teenagers," I said. "Where I went to high school, Latinos weren't very popular. The white kids bullied us all the time. All. The. Time. Besides, Phillip was a star basketball player. Nobody was going to discipline him because that might get him kicked off the team. It was easier for everybody to just let him punch me as often as he wanted."

Allow me to point out that Det. Rodriguez is a Latina. She has first-hand knowledge of the way Hispanics are treated in our town. I sat there trying to think of a way to point out that Phillip has a Swastika tattooed on the back of one hand. I finally just blurted it out.

"Detective, Phillip has a Swastika tattoo. He put it on the back of his hand so you can't miss it. I think that tells you everything you need to know about how he feels about Latinos."

"He called Carlos a dirty spic," Rita's Mom said.

"Really? That's new," I said. "He usually calls me a greasy beaner."

"I saw photos of his tattoos," Det. Rodriguez said. "He's carpeted with gang tattoos from the Aryan Brotherhood. He's got two swastikas - one is on his penis."

"I'm surprised he has enough room for a tattoo down there," Rita said. There was a long pause, then all of us began to laugh.

"Too much information, honey," Rita's Mom said.

"Detective, what's going to happen to Phillip?" I asked. "He just got out of prison. Isn't this going to get him in trouble?" Hint hint.

"It's up to the judge, but I will recommend that they revoke his parole," she said. "In the short time he's been out of prison, he's violated a protection order, menaced his spouse, and assaulted a man who wasn't threatening him. Clearly, Phillip Bennett does not play well with others. He belongs in a cage."

This was turning into an excellent day!

"You are free to testify at his sentencing hearing," Det. Rodriquez told me. "Since there's a video, it's almost certain he'll be found guilty. As a victim, you have the right to speak. So does Rita. That kind of evidence has a lot of impact in court."

Det. Rodriguez took a photograph of my black eye and interviewed the doctor, who confirmed that he'd diagnosed me with a concussion. Everyone except me was relieved to learn that the tests, scans, and X-rays didn't show any "additional" injuries. The doctor discharged me, and Rita's family volunteered to take me home so they could monitor my "recovery."

I felt bad that I scared them so much. They treated me like an invalid for the rest of the day. I was tempted to tell them I faked my injury, but I was unwilling to risk the chance that one of them might accidentally tell the cops or the court. It would be my little secret until Phillip was safely behind bars.

Rita and I both testified against Phillip. He was found guilty, his parole was revoked, and he was sentenced to another five years. He looked pretty miserable in court. Maybe he figured out that I deliberately provoked him into doing something that would send him back to prison. I felt I'd done society a favor. The world is a better place without Phillip running around free.

When it was all over, I went to Rita's apartment and said I wanted to discuss something serious.

"Rita, I love you," I began. "I've loved you for a long time, but I haven't said anything because I was happy with our relationship the way it was. Now I want more. I want to live with you. Plan a future with you. You don't have to answer right now. Just think about it. But I want you to know how I feel."

"Carlos, I don't have to think about it," Rita said. "I've been in love with you for years, but I didn't imagine you could ever love me. I want to live with you. When I think of my future, I can't imagine being happy without you."

I told Rita that I wanted to go house-hunting with her so we could buy a home for the two of us. I didn't mention that it meant I'd have to say goodbye to the horny housewives in my harem. Too much information, right?

You may be wondering why I was willing to give up the freedom of having so much sex with so many hot women and settle for the life of a monogamous man. You've got to remember that for more than a decade, I had daily sex with a rotating roster of hot babes. It was wonderful, but it was enough. I was like a kid who'd eaten ice cream every day for years. I don't care how much you love ice cream. You eventually decide you're ready for something else.

After enjoying so many women who were happy to give me sex with no strings attached, I was ready to make a commitment. Being with Rita taught me that the very best sex is the kind you have with someone you love.

After all we've been through together, I feel confident that I can trust Rita to be faithful and devoted to me. The whole point of having a harem was to learn enough about women to be certain I didn't marry the wrong person. Of all the women I've known, Rita is the sexiest. She's the best lover. She has the best heart. I feel sure we can be happy together.

Rita climbed into my lap and began to kiss me. "Carlos, you always make me happy. You make me feel like I'm not such a big loser. I can't quite believe this is happening, but I promise to be the best girlfriend possible."

"I think we should celebrate," I said. "What would you like to do?"

"I think it would be nice to get dressed up and go somewhere fancy for dinner," she said. "But before we do that, I want you to take me to bed and fuck my brains out."

"You always have the best ideas," I said.

When we got to the bedroom, I decided I wanted something special. "Why don't you put on some music and dance for me?" I asked. "That would get me in the mood."

Rita laughed and gave me a wicked smile. "I'll be happy to dance," she said. "But you have to promise to give me a tip afterward. A big, long, hard tip."

She got her phone, put it in my music player, and soon I heard loud power chords blasting from the speakers. It was heavy metal music. I didn't think it was a particularly romantic choice, but it did a good job of making my bedroom feel like the inside of a strip club.

Rita unbuttoned her blouse slowly as she swayed to the music. She looked so happy. I'll never forget the joyful expression on her face as she removed her clothes. Off came her top. Her skirt. Her bra. By the time she lowered her panties to the floor, I was so hard my cock was throbbing.

I am a lucky man,

I thought to myself.

Rita is mine. Mine. All mine.

"Let me take care of you," she said as she climbed into bed beside me. Rita sucked my cock between her lips and began giving me a particularly spirited blowjob. She'd spent a lot of time perfecting her cocksucking skills since we began dating, and she had no trouble taking my cock all the way into her throat. She did that again, and again, and again, and I began to worry that I'd climax before I could satisfy her.

"Rita... stop... you're going to make me cum,"

I whispered.

"Good,"

she said.

"I want you to cum. I want to taste it. Give me everything you've got, baby. Let me taste your cum."

She used her hand to stroke my shaft as she licked and sucked the head. Rita often gave me a blowjob when she felt like doing something nice for me. I guess asking her to move in made Rita feel generous.

It went on, and on, and on. Over the years we'd been together, Rita had learned exactly how much stimulation I could take. She repeatedly took me right to the edge of a climax, then backed away before it happened.