"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" screamed Liliana. I was on top of her, thrusting my cock repeatedly in her as hard as I could, my eyes transfixed on her perky C-cup tits as they rocked up and down. We'd been going at it for thirty minutes. We were both sweating, and I was trying my best not to cum.
I wasn't in the best shape these days. I wasn't necessarily overweight, but I had packed on a few pounds and wasn't working out as often as usual. It was becoming a real struggle to keep going. Liliana was extraordinarily wet. It felt like I was sticking my dick in warm loose lotion, and with every thrust, I could feel her juices bubbling as they escaped from the edges of her twat. But I couldn't keep it going long enough for her to cum. My arms began trembling, and I finally gave up.
"Get on top of me," I panted, "I wanna see you ride this cock."
"Okay, Daddy."
I slid my cock out of her, watching as the long strings of Liliana's pussy juices attached to the tip of my cock disconnected from her soaking wet cunt. I positioned myself on my back. My cock was engorged and throbbing. The semen filling my cock must've expanded it an inch longer than my seven inches. I needed to cum, and I was doing everything I could to hold it in.
Liliana straddled me, lowering her hips, her cunt slowly engulfing my rock-hard pole. She let out a relieved moan. She slowly began to grind on my cock, taking in its entire length and holding her stomach with both hands. Her face had a signature look on it--a mixture of pain and pleasure, with her mouth open wide, letting out inaudible gasps. She was enamored by the temporarily-expanded size of my cock.
I could feel it by the way her hips were trembling--she was finally going to cum. But so was I. I couldn't hold it in a second longer. My cock was filled from its base to the tip with pure hot semen that wanted nothing more than to eject itself directly into the deepest depths of Liliana's womb.
"Hun, I'm cumming," I said in between heavy breaths. "I can't hold it in."
"Wait, Mike, no, I'm so close," Liliana pleaded as she started grinding rapidly.
"Ughhh!" I couldn't hold it in anymore. I quickly grabbed each of Liliana's breasts and squeezed them as hard as I could, just as my body tensed up. I became paralyzed as my cock pumped excessive streams of steaming cum into my wife. Liliana screamed in pleasure. I kept pumping and groaning. Pump. Groan. Pump. Groan.
"Ohhhh my fuuuuUUUCK! OH! Oh! Oh..."
Liliana's cries tapered off. She didn't cum.
Liliana hadn't orgasmed with me in months. I don't know why. We both have high sex drives. Sex was a daily activity for us, sometimes even twice a day. But things hadn't been the same after an unexpected dry spell that lasted a week or so. Liliana started a new job at a technology startup. Within a couple of weeks, her work hours became unexpectedly long. She'd come home at 10 or 11 pm, and she'd be too exhausted to fuck. Usually, she'd draw herself a bath, read a book, then go straight to bed. After the sex resumed, her orgasms disappeared.
I know how tough a new job can be. I worked in technology startups my entire adult life. I figured it was a temporary setback, and she'd return to her old orgasmic self in no time. That ship had sailed, though. As of late, I was beginning to wonder if something else was going on. Maybe we lost our romantic spark. Or perhaps something more nefarious was going on.
******
A couple of months after Liliana started her job, I began to suspect she may have been cheating on me. I had no proof of this. Admittedly, I was a jealous husband. Jealousy was a trait I'd developed due to baggage from my past relationships, having been with more cheaters than I'd care to admit.
Liliana was the type of woman with plenty of friends of all different genders, and she never stopped making new ones--a real social butterfly. I was a lot more reserved. Many of my female friendships dissipated after I married Liliana seven years ago. My two best friends, Andrew and Mattison, were the only real friendships I maintained. I loved Liliana. I could've lost every friend I ever had, and if I knew I would die old with her, I couldn't die happier. I had no space for any other female companionship in my life. So I struggled to understand Liliana's innate desire to maintain her male friendships as actively as she did.
This dynamic led to some heated arguments in the past. I'd question Liliana about George's uncomfortably long goodbye hugs. I'd warn her about Timothy ogling her perky ass whenever he was around. I'd ask her why James liked all of her Instagram selfies that didn't include me. I'd gotten much better in the latter years of our marriage. After a decade of being with someone and never having a single indication that they'd cheated, you learn to let go of your prior relationships' baggage and trust them accordingly. Go ahead, stare at my wife's thin waist and bubble butt, I know she'll never put out for you, and that's good enough for me.
With all that said, my wife suddenly being unable to orgasm after 12 years of passionate sex and a consistent track record for multiple orgasms per session, it was hard not to question things. Liliana was only 33 years old. I was 35. We're both relatively healthy, and our sex drives were in full swing. I couldn't think of any physical or medical reasons why she'd become incapable of orgasms.
I decided to do some snooping.
I left work on a Wednesday evening around 6 pm. Liliana texted me shortly after, telling me it would be a late day for her at work. She would be home by 11:30 pm. I opened the Find My iPhone app and checked her location.
Liliana Miller
9.4 Miles Away
Santa Monica, CA
She was at the office--nothing out of the ordinary. My train of thought was interrupted when I received an incoming call from Andrew.
"Sup, dude," I answered.
"You got plans tonight? I'm in town, hitting up Rocco's," Andrew said.
"Actually, yeah, I'm free. I can be there in 15."
"Sweet, see you there, biaaatch." Andrew sang before the call clicked.
Rocco's Tavern was unusually packed for a Wednesday night. I sidestepped by a drunk couple as they stumbled through the doorway. I saw Andrew seated at the bar. He's hard to miss as he's 6'2, has graying hair, and has a slender body with his signature bomber-style black jacket. I walked up behind Andrew, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him.
"The fuck is up, you little bastard?" I growled. Andrew was unfazed.
"Who the hell are you calling, little? I'm like five years older than your ass." Andrew retorted.
"I'm 35. You're only two years older, dick. Although you might as well be 50 the way you're looking. What the fuck happened to your face?"
Andrew looked disheveled as if he had just gotten into a fight. His hair was a mess, and his face was bright red.
"Long day, dude." He responded defeatedly.
"Got in a big fight with Vanessa," Andrew said as he signaled the bartender over and ordered two Blue Moons.
"Oh, that's right, it's your day with Jennifer, right?" I asked.
"No, dude. Jenn is 19. We don't do the custody thing anymore. She lives with her mom. She comes and goes to my pad as she pleases," he said, grabbing one of the two Blue Moons the bartender placed on coasters in front of us.
I forgot how old Jennifer was. I've known that girl since the day she was born. In my eyes, she's still a rebellious little teenager getting in trouble and being passed back and forth between her divorced parents like a poker chip.
"Jenn was supposed to come over, and we had a camping trip planned out for the weekend. But Vanessa decided to buy Jenn roundtrip tickets to fucking Cancun for spring break," Andrew whined as he took a sip of beer.
"The bitch stepped all over my plans with Jenn. I went to pick her up, but Vanessa came out. She told me Jenn's in Cancun, and we got into a heated argument. She smacked me across the face, pulled my hair, looked me dead in the eye, and said, 'You keep this up, you will not see your daughter for a year,'" he said as he slumped, resting his arms on the bar.
"Damn, dude, I'm sorry," I said as I finally got seated and grabbed my Blue Moon.
I was so glad I didn't have kids, especially with one of my exes. I couldn't imagine having to keep an ex in my life for the rest of my life because of an immature, half-brained decision I'd made in my early 20s.
"What about you? How's Lili?" Andrew asked, side-eyed, still slouched.
"Officially speaking, things are great. Although I can't shake this feeling that she's fucking around on me." I said as I, too, began to slouch.
"Wow. What makes you say that?" Andrew asked sarcastically. He'd always been one of Liliana's most prominent defenders. I knew where this conversation was going.
"I know, I know, dude - " I began to say, but it was too late. Andrew had mounted his soapbox and cut me off.
"Lili is such a good, loyal girl, dude. She would never fuck around on you. Why are you so fucking dense, Mike?!"
We continued arguing about Liliana. Andrew told me I'm a fool for not seeing what I've got. After a couple of beers, Andrew stood up.
"Whoa, where you going? It's only 8:30!" I yelled.
"I'm not feeling too hot. I think this thing with Jenn is getting to me. Best not to get wasted in this state of mind."
"You dragged me out here for two beers and a lecture about my wife?" I chuckled, "Alright, fine, lemme see what Mattison's up to."
"Mattison's busy tonight. I tried to get him to come by before I called you," Andrew said as he slammed a $20 bill on the bar, "Catch you later. Stop treating Lili like shit."
I downed a few more beers, then drove home.
I got back around 9 pm. I was a little buzzed and felt guilty about Andrew's lecture. Maybe I was being too hard on Liliana. However, that couldn't stop me from feeling paranoid about her inability to orgasm.
I opened up the Find My iPhone app again. She was still at work. I began rummaging through her belongings. I started with her nightstand drawer--nothing out of the ordinary. I did find a massive 12" dildo that I hadn't seen before. But toys were a pretty standard part of our sex life. I searched her dresser drawers, her side of the walk-in closet, and her desk.
Not a single ounce of evidence that she was cheating. So I turned on her laptop. I knew the password to unlock it. I opened her social media profiles on the web browser. Lucky for me, she left her Facebook and Instagram logged in. After perusing her message history and deleted messages, I found nothing concerning. Random conversations with friends, meme-sharing, random "happy birthdays!" There were some DMs with a few male friends, but all were completely platonic.
Then I noticed something. Liliana's text messages were syncing to her laptop. I opened the iMessage app. There were some recent texts with Mattison. The conversation history was short, as if she'd recently deleted the text conversation.
Mattison: "Does Mike know?"
Liliana: "No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't"
Mattison: "...Gotta tell him Lil"
My mind started racing. Was Mattison fucking my wife? Were they having an affair? Is he pressuring her to tell me about the affair so she can leave me?
I paced back and forth in my house. My heart beat out of control. I had to confront her. No. That's a terrible idea. I needed more proof.
Almost as if I was on autopilot, I found myself driving to her work to see if her car was there. It was late enough that rush hour traffic had died down. I parked about a block away from her office, got out of the car, and made my way on foot to her office parking lot. I had only been here once before.
The parking lot was mostly empty, save for three cars. I only recognized Liliana's car. I made my way to her car slowly, my heart beating out of my chest. I didn't see anyone in there. No shadows, no movement. I stood right before the driver's side door and peeked in. The car was empty. I made my way to the front of the car and placed my hands on the hood. It was cold. She hadn't driven the car all day.
My breathing began to slow down, and a sense of relief overcame me. Liliana really was at work. I turned around to leave and started walking back toward my car. Then I noticed something peculiar. The parking lot is situated right in front of the single-story office that Liliana works out of. As I walked and started at the office, I realized all the lights were completely off. Anxiety began creeping up into my throat once more.
I turned around, returned to Liliana's car, and pulled out my phone. I called Liliana's cell phone, and my trembling hand put the phone up to my ear. The phone began to ring. Then I saw it. Liliana's phone in her car, in the passenger's seat, began glowing. She left her phone in her car so that I couldn't track her. Liliana wasn't working late. She lied to me.
******
“Where you at?” I asked as I put on a shirt.
“I’m at my parents’. We’re barbecuing. Come by if you’re free,” replied Andrew.
I had taken the day off, so visiting Andrew’s parent’s house seemed like a perfect way to spend the day.
It was Thursday morning. It had been over a week since I learned Liliana lied to me about working late. By this point, I figured she was having an affair with Mattison. I contacted a divorce lawyer, who advised me to pretend everything was normal and gather evidence.
I continued monitoring Liliana’s text messages on her laptop. Her messages with Mattison were definitely getting deleted. I caught a few of their texts from time to time. The most damning message I saw was one from Liliana, “Aw, poor baby. Do you need more pussy? I can help with that.”
On another occasion, Mattison texted her, “It’s not that simple. If he finds out, he’ll never forgive us.” I took pictures of every message I was able to intercept.
I hadn’t yet told anyone. I was in a dark place. I had good days and bad days. I had begun taking pre***********ion pills that Liliana and I had stockpiled over the years unintentionally from various injuries. My drinking was heavier than usual. And I was a complete mess. My heart was in a million pieces. My baby, the love of my life, was fucking one of my best friends. How could she do this to me? How could she throw away our 12-year relationship? How could Mattison do this to me?
Sex with Liliana continued against my better judgment. I was much less performant, and it showed. Liliana would ask me if I needed a blowjob more often than usual because I kept getting soft. I went to a clinic to get an STD test and was anxiously awaiting the results.
I drove to Andrew’s parents' house and parked my car in the driveway. The welcomed scent of barbeque hit my nostrils as I stepped out of the vehicle. Across the lawn, I saw Andrew’s mom, Marla, kneeling and scrubbing the porch deck. Her enormous ass never ceased to enthrall me. Marla saw me from the side of her eye and quickly got up.
“Mike, my love! How are you!” she said as she stood up and approached me with her arms wide open.
Marla was the most attractive 54-year-old woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. When I was growing up, she was always the hot mom that all our friends ogled over. Andrew caught so much flack for it. She is 5’6, inconceivably thick, with curves in all the right places, rocking a voluptuous coke-bottle figure. Her hazel eyes, long golden brown hair, and big, wavey curls made my heart skip a beat every time I saw her. Marla’s natural triple-D tits complimented her massive 50-inch ass. I had dreamt of sliding my cock into her giant, perfect ass countless times throughout my childhood.
Marla approached me enthusiastically, her enormous tits swaying back and forth as her cleavage rhythmically popped out of her top. I hugged her and felt her melons squeeze against my lower chest. Marla planted a big kiss on my cheek, the familiar scent of her perfume giving me an instant dopamine hit as she ushered me into the house.
“It is so good to see you love. It must’ve been a year!” Marla exclaimed.
“Much more than that. I haven’t been here since Jenn’s 18th birthday party!” I replied.
Marla guided me to the kitchen and fixed me a margarita. We exchanged some more pleasantries before I went through the house to the backyard.
Andrew’s dad was operating the grill, standing stoic and wordless. He was a reserved man who rarely talked.
“Good day, Mr. Vargas!” I said. He waved back at me with a half-smile.
“Mike! What a surprise. Toss that chicken shit drink in your hand and grab a beer.” He chuckled to himself and went back to flipping burgers. That was as much interaction as I would get out of him.
I located Andrew at the corner of the backyard, lounging in his sunglasses on a beach chair. Next to him was his daughter, Jennifer, also lounging on a beach chair with a margarita.
I almost didn’t recognize Jennifer. She looked completely different. She had dyed her hair black, starkly contrasting her natural light blonde hair. She wore oversized sunglasses, a bra top, and low-cut denim shorts. Her porcelain skin radiated in the sun, and her D-cup breasts lay flat on her chest, glistening from the sunblock.
“Mikey Mike, wassup bitch! Bahahaha,” Andrew said, getting up from his beach chair. He shuffled toward me, obnoxiously pretend-punching me as he approached.
“Dude, is that Jenn?” I asked, ignoring his play-fighting while reaching out to give him a fist bump.
“Yeah, I know. The hair. She’s going through a phase,” Andrew said reluctantly.
“Hey, Uncle Mike,” Jennifer said, choosing not to leave her beach chair.
“What’s up, Jenn? How are you? Back from Cancun already?”
“Ugh, yeah, Dad decided to throw a bitch fit about my trip, so I came back early to spend some ‘quality’ daddy-daughter time with him,” she said annoyedly.
Jennifer slid her sunglasses down and looked me up and down.
“You gained weight, Uncle Mike,” she proclaimed, putting her glasses back over her eyes and re-situating herself on her beach chair.
“Jesus, Jenn, what the fuck is wrong with you.” snapped Andrew. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment. I turned my head toward Andrew.
“You got a sec to talk in private?” I asked.
We walked into the house and sat in Andrew’s dad’s den. I told him everything; how I found out Liliana lied about working late, the text messages between her and Mattison. I also asked him to keep it between us.
Andrew looked mortified.
“Y-you think…Mattison would do something like that to you?” he asked with fear in his eyes. Presumably, if my wife wasn’t off-limits, Andrew’s ex-wife wasn’t either.
“I didn’t want to believe it either. But look at these texts.” I said as I pulled out my phone and showed him the photos I had taken of their text messages.
“Dude…I’m really sorry. I didn’t know. He’s literally on his way - “
“YOOOOO!”
Mattison barged through the entryway to the den. You have to be fucking kidding me.
Andrew and I looked stone-faced at him, then we each looked away, averting eye contact.
“Sup dude…” I said begrudgingly, afraid of letting the awkwardness linger too long.
“Jeez, who died?” Mattison asked.
Andrew suddenly reverted to his usual douchey self.
“Matty, my man! You know what? Let’s get some more drinks! Come on, Andrew!”
Andrew strutted out of the den, but I didn’t follow him. Mattison stayed behind, presumably sensing the awkward energy in the room.
“I gotta talk to you about something,” I said.
I decided to tell Mattison that I suspected that Liliana was leaving me. I didn’t want to give away too much. If I told him I knew she was cheating, he’d go back and tell her, and she’d either stop the affair or cover her tracks more carefully. If I told him I knew it was with him, I’d blow the whole thing wide open, which could put me at a massive disadvantage in the divorce proceedings. I needed more proof. The more evidence I had, the more leverage in the divorce.
Mattison was petrified, stumbling over his words, and kept assuring me there was no way she would leave me.
I ate a filling BBQ lunch with Andrew, Mattison, Jennifer, and Andrews's parents. Marla kept refilling my plate despite my protests. She’d rub my shoulders and tell me to eat up so I could be a big strong man. Her husband occasionally let off a grunt but wouldn’t say a word—his way of telling her to let off. I learned not to read too much into Marla’s behavior. Marla is not as promiscuous as she may seem; I’ve learned over the years that it’s just motherly friendliness.
I returned home in the evening, buzzed from the painkillers and margaritas. To my surprise, Liliana was there. After giving it a little more thought, it made sense. I was with Mattison, so she wasn’t fucking him tonight.
“Hey, baby!” Liliana greeted me at the door. That was not very characteristic of her. Still, I couldn’t help but admire her beauty. She’s such a cute thing, standing no more than 5’3. Her dark blonde hair looked messy, just the way I liked it. Her nipples were poking through a thin tank top that showed her cleavage leading to the tip of her areolas. Her pajama booty shorts gave me just enough of a view of her perfect, soft-skinned legs leading up to her pussy. That fantastic, wet, delicious pussy that I could never get enough of. That pussy that another man had been regularly cumming inside of.
“Hey,” I said sternly, giving her a half-hearted hug, and a peck on the cheek, before making my way to the bedroom. Liliana followed me.
“Listen, I was thinking about this for a while. I’ve been saving up for a trip. I hoped we could make a big trip to Egypt in a year. But we have enough saved to take a week off and travel domestically.”
I knew what was happening. Mattison must’ve told her I was afraid she would leave me; this was her reaction.
“Hm. Yeah. Good idea,” I grunted indifferently.
******
Liliana was sucking on my cock for what felt like 15 straight minutes now. It took a while, but my cock eventually got hard. As I lay there watching my wife slobber up and down on my rod, I couldn’t get the images out of my head of her extending Mattison this same pleasure.
Pictures of Liliana licking Mattison’s cock from its base to the tip flashed through my mind. Pictures of her devouring the entire length of his cock and choking on it. Pictures of her gagging and coughing, with phlegm and saliva escaping her throat and running down his penis, soaking his balls. It wasn’t easy staying hard while imagining these things. But I was getting better at becoming numb to the thoughts.
“Lili,” I said calmly. Liliana pulled my cock out of her mouth, drool running down her chin.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Get up,” I said.
“What do you mea –” Before she could complete her sentence, I sat up and grabbed her by the neck. I shoved her until the back of her head landed on the mattress. I was towering over her, grasping her neck firmly in my right hand as I looked up and down her face and body. Fuck this fucking slut.
“Oh…my…god…,” she shuddered.
I placed my left hand inside her mouth and let her suck on my fingers. I removed my hand and brought it down to her cunt. I let her wet saliva on my fingers lubricate her slit as I slid my fingers in circles around her clit.
Finally, I released my grip from her neck. Liliana gasped for air. I didn’t give her much time to recover as I spun her around, placing her on her stomach. Her bubble-shaped ass was now right below my hard cock. I let my cock glide inside her ass crack, up and down for a few seconds, leveraging the salivation she left on my cock. I grew rock hard.
Looking at Liliana’s back, her athletic body, her lower back dimples, and her perky ass right in front of me, waiting to be taken, I again thought about Mattison fucking my wife in the same way. I tried to get the thought out of my mind as I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head up to mine as hard as possible.
Her face was upside down, and she made eye contact with me.
“I’m gonna fuck you like the slut that you are,” I announced as I slammed my dick as far as it would go into her cunt. She was already soaking wet by this point.
“FUCK yes, Daddy. FUCK me. FUCK me. FUCK YESSSS!” she screamed.
She was so wet that it made my dick feel like it was swimming inside a jar of oil. I continued thrusting. She stared directly into my eyes as we rocked back and forth, never breaking eye contact. My left hand grabbed her waist so firmly that it would surely leave a bruise. My right hand was still holding her by her hair. She shook her ass left and right, pressing hard against me as if trying to squeeze in every millimeter of my cock.
More intrusive thoughts flooded my head. “How many times did Mattison fuck my wife like this? How many times did she call him daddy? How many times did he push his cock this deeply inside her?”
“I’M CUMMING!!!!” she screamed.
I hadn’t heard those words in almost four months. I felt a massive gushing of wetness enveloping my cock. Liliana’s juices squeezed desperately out of the airtight seal that my cock made from being burrowed inside of her cunt. I kept burrowing deeper and deeper. I wanted every part of my cock showered with her juices. I needed her juices—every last drop.
Liliana was now maintaining a constant high-pitched scream. My cock had never been this deep inside her before. I wanted to go deeper. I needed my cock to be inside of her stomach. Deeper than that. My cock wanted to be so deep inside her that a rush of semen ripped through my shaft and crashed through my urethra, exploding uncontrollably inside her. I came inside of her for what felt like a full 60 seconds.
******
It had been over three weeks since I learned about Liliana’s affair with Mattison. I was now getting weekly STD checks, and my results were clean thus far. Two weeks prior, I hired a private investigator. The PI was Andrew’s idea—he recommended a guy he worked with before he divorced Vanessa.
Vanessa had undergone a breast augmentation and Brazilian butt lift surgery, seemingly changing her appearance overnight. She started going out late, ignoring Andrew’s phone calls and stopped fucking him. Andrew’s PI concluded his investigation in three days. Sure enough, Vanessa was fucking a man she met at the gym. The PI produced cold, hard proof; photographs, videos, the works. This guy was good but expensive. I could only afford him for a single week.
Liliana had two late-night work shifts during the week I hired the PI. Interestingly enough, the PI concluded that her work shifts were legitimate. He provided video proof that she had parked her car, entered the office, and worked an entire 13-hour workday on both occasions. The PI argued that one of two things happened.
“She does work at a technology startup, after all. Startups are known to have late workdays during crunchtime seasons,” the PI said, “but the other possibility is that someone tipped her off about your investigation. I confirmed that she has her own set of keys to the office. She can come and go as she pleases. She could’ve staged the late-night shifts. It’s a win/win. Brownie points from her boss for working late. Gets you off her scent about the affair.”
Andrew was the only person who could’ve tipped off Liliana or Mattison. I questioned him, but he firmly denied it and told me to get a grip.
“Don’t start ruining all of your close friendships because of this dude. I’m the only one in the know who's got your back right now.”
Andrew was right. I was paranoid about everyone around me. I needed to chill out. Still, I decided to play it safe and planned my next move without telling anyone.
I hadn’t produced any new proof since the last handful of text messages I intercepted. I’ve tried tracking devices on Liliana’s and Mattison’s cars. I followed Liliana to work in a rental car and waited hours to see if she’d leave. I posted up in front of Mattison’s house to see if Liliana would ever show up. I searched her phone countless times while she was asleep, checking every app with a messaging feature. None of them had a single concerning message: Snapchat, WhatsApp, Reddit, you name it.
Liliana's tactics to cover up her affair were more sophisticated than I ever could’ve imagined. I even started to wonder if the affair may have ended. But I had set up my own sophisticated plan to catch them.
There was a tech conference in Seattle that many of my coworkers had wanted to attend, and I managed to get our finance department to approve the trip. I told Liliana about this. I would be gone for one week.
The overall plan was simple: Convince Liliana that I am, without a doubt, out of town. But this was harder than it sounded. Liliana and I can track each other’s iPhone locations. Additionally, if I’m out of town, I must produce pictures proving that I’m in Seattle. I don’t travel often, and I’d made a prior habit of over-sharing my travel adventures on Instagram - Liliana poked fun at me for this in the past.
First, I double-checked the tracking devices I set up in her and Mattison’s car. While I was “out of town,” I needed to ensure I could follow her if she met Mattison somewhere other than our home.
Next, I bought a second phone. I added the sim card from my original phone to the second one, allowing me to make phone calls and occasional check-ins with Liliana. I gave my original phone to one of my trusted coworkers to take with him to Seattle. I instructed my coworker always to keep the phone on, take pictures regularly, and post them on my Instagram.
Last, I rented a car and found a dingy motel that accepted payment in cash. I wouldn’t be in Seattle and couldn’t sleep in my home, so I needed a place to crash for a week that no one knew about. The motel was about two miles away from my house. Beginning tomorrow, I would start a daily routine of following Liliana from home to work to wherever else she was planning on going. I was finally going to get the proof I needed.
