The Time I Was Sleeping with a DEA Agent's Wife

When I first moved back to Texas, I was living with my Uncle Bob, a mid-level drug dealer and very successful legitimate businessman, I met one of his customers, a very attractive woman by the name of Donna who happened to be married to a Drug Enforcement Agency agent. My initial reaction to hearing her husband's profession was to not trust her, but Bob said she was cool, and she was every bit as sexy as any Playboy playmate, ever, and we started fucking.

At the time I was a roughneck in the oil/gas fields of South Texas, and I worked a week on and a week off. Coincidentally, her husband flew to South America for a week at a time, a week on and a week off, with our weeks being opposite, so when I was in town, he was gone, and vice versa. Donna and I were fucking like bunnies. I was happy, she was happy, and better yet, she had access to his money. I was fucking his wife, sleeping in his bed, and drinking his beer. She paid for all our excursions to the bars and clubs (which in retrospect was probably a bad idea), our meals, the deposit on my apartment, my furniture, and the down payment on my car. It really seemed to be an ideal situation to me, plus the guy was a nerd, AND worked for the D.E.A. so I hardly felt sorry for him. Her explanation for her marital infidelity was that he couldn't satisfy her sexually. I really didn't care what it was; I was having the time of my life.

Apparently however, our arrangement got back to her husband, and he took some time off from work. Early one Saturday I was making coffee, and someone was banging on the front door of my apartment, I looked out of the keyhole, and it was him. This was not a man I was concerned about, and I didn't feel guilty about fucking his wife or spending his money. He represented the fascist faction of our society, and be they DEA, FBI, ATF, or just the 55 regular pigs, I don't even consider them human. I opened the door and asked what he wanted, at which point, he pulled a government issued pistol out and put it to my head and reached with his other hand and pulled out a sizable bag of what looked to be cocaine. He explained, "I AM A DEA AGENT! I CAN PLACE THIS DOPE ON YOU AND KILL YOU AND GET AWAY WITH IT! NOW, DO YOU WANT TO QUIT FUCKING MY WIFE?".

I gave it some thought and not only did the clearly have the advantage on me, but I didn't have any feelings for his wife anyway. She was a means to an end, so I replied, "I don't WANT to quit fucking your wife, but I tell you what, I WILL stop fucking her, how about that?" He was hyperventilating by this point and said something to the effect of, "DAMNED RIGHT YOU WILL!" I told him to calm down and everything would be okay and then the broke dick fuck started crying and telling me how much he loved her. I asked him if he would like a beer and he did, and I got one for myself. I agreed that he loved her (although she clearly did not feel the same way about him) and finally he calmed down and apologized. I told him to not worry about it and he left after we both had a shot of Jim Beam.

She kept calling me for a while and I told her it wasn't worth it, and she later found another sancho. It's my understanding that about four sanchos later (and four separate pistol-to-head situations) he finally manned up and divorced her. When a woman cheats on her husband, it's the ultimate disrespect she has at her disposal. Yeah, that shit's hard, but you've just got to pull your head out of your ass, grab your balls, and do the right thing. Be a fucking man unlike that weak bitch and a side note, don’t sleep with married women. I’m lucky he didn’t flip out and kill me. Sleeping with married women is bad karma.