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Forgiven

By: WFEATHER



Without question, if my parents were to ever see me voluntarily in such a painful and compromising situation, they would first kill my Master, then kill me. 

Despite the eleven inches of snow covering the mountainside, i wore only my black thigh-high laced-up boots and my collar. The moon was full and very bright on the absolutely-clear night, reflecting nicely off the snow to provide adequate illumination even though W/we were about ten feet inside the tree line above the cabin's clearing. 

This was the tree W/we had selected as "O/our tree" when W/we moved here five years earlier following my Master's glorious windfall when His company was bought by an international media conglomerate. Now retired save for the occasional consulting call or requested interview, He was able to devote His full attention to me, His lifelong best friend and longtime devoted slave. i had long ago lost count of how many occasions i had been chained to this very tree – often for pleasure or for putting some new "tools" through their paces, but sometimes for punishment. 

On that particular night, i was once again secured to the tree. As often occurs, the thick, padlocked wrist cuffs were connected by a heavy chain, forcing me to "hug" the thick tree, its bark cold and sharp and raw against the front of my shivering body. The spreader bar and its attached padlocked cuffs ensured my legs remained separated at an odd angle. 

my voice rang out across the mountainside, screams of intense pain and agony certain to be heard a long distance away from "O/our tree" in the cold, still night air. Again and again, my Master applied the bullwhip to me, making absolutely no effort to reign in His displeasure. Three days beforehand, i had broken one of His favorite AD&D statuettes, and it had taken all three days for His anger to finally dissipate to a point where He could be truly rational enough to properly punish me without giving me more than He knew i could handle. 

From my upper shoulder blades down to just above the tops of my boots, the back of my body was pummeled severely. The intense punishment created an equally intense burning sensation, a significant counterpoint to the cold air and the cold hard bark of the tree. It felt as if my back and rear and legs were actually on fire. The screams pouring forth from my lips were as much a result of the punishment itself as from the juxtaposition of hot and cold on either side of my body. Even the hot tears carved rapidly-cooling streaks in the skin of my upper cheeks, presenting a microcosm of the battle of hot and cold upon my body as a whole. 

i heard the bullwhip slice the air again, then felt it slice across my unprotected skin yet again, biting me exactly where buttock meets leg on both sides of my body. i heard my own scream and felt sorry for myself – both from the pain i was enduring, and from the obvious need to be punished for my lack of care with one of my Master's prized possessions. 

Yet there was also a deep need which was being satisfied in this brutal battering of my well-reddened flesh. Several months had passed since my last experience with corporal punishment, and – as much as i hated to admit it to my Master, let alone to myself – i had a secret, deep desire – perhaps even a secret, deeper need – to feel intense pain on occasion. Despite my loud screams, despite my futile struggles despite my deluge of tears, i felt satisfied, sated, as if i was just finishing the finest lobster dinner imaginable at a cozy Boston restaurant. 

The final bite of the bullwhip was the most vicious kiss of the night, and my resultant scream was by far the loudest to pierce the otherwise-calm night. For several long, agonizing seconds, my body flailed about as much as the restraints would allow the heavy chain once again cutting into the bark on the other side of the tree. 

The excruciating onslaught finally at an end, i was suddenly aware that i was trembling – partially due to the cold, certainly, but primarily due to the relief that the punishment had finally ended. Then i screamed again as my Master pressed Himself against my raw backside, His full weight grinding me into "O/our tree" as i screamed from the physical contact with my agonizing wounds. Then, He bit my shoulder fiercely as His gloved hands snaked between me and the tree. One hand on my left breast and the other between my legs, He worked quickly to give me a new sensation upon which to focus my attention even as He continued to bite my shoulders and neck. i continued to cry from the pain, yet scream from the growing pleasure, highly conscious of His solid erection constantly being pressed into the crease between my lower cheeks as – fully clothed – He humped me vigorously. 

O/our lewd dance continued through first one, then two blessed torrents of finger-curling pleasure. Then, with one final and brutal thrust, He growled loudly into my ear, and i knew that He had just used my body to provide His own pleasure as His fingers curled into my breast and between my labia. 

Several long minutes passed as He lay heavily against me, His fingers gently massaging me intimately. It allowed U/us to rest, calm, descend from the sexual peaks. And, as the residual afterglow of the second climax faded, i became more and more aware of the powerful discomfort of my body. 

"My sweet, sweet slave," He whispered. And that was when i knew that i had been forgiven.

Forgiveness



He remembered the first time he saw her.

She was sitting in the library in one of the private desks up on the second floor. Her brown hair was wild and long about her face. The sun that came through the window she sat next to lit up the red and gold highlights in her tresses. He was walking down the aisle coming directly towards her looking for a book when he stopped for a moment just to look at her. He couldn’t see her face as she was bent over her books but she must have sensed his presence because she looked up and upon seeing him she smiled nervously and went back to her reading.

That began a three year long obsession for him that he thought would end upon their graduation. But no, even now three years after graduation he still watched her. Still coveted what could not be his.

She was never with a man, it seemed nursing school became her whole life for two years. After her completion of nursing school she got a job in one of the local hospitals. She hadn’t changed from when he first saw her except that now her hair was always braided back away from her face.

After college, he didn’t need to work. He had begun to successfully invest his money since he was eighteen. So all his time was devoted to her, to learning where she lived, to knowing her routine.

She tortured him.

Cathrine Etenue. Cold as ice. Unattractive. These were the things she thought of herself as she wrote in her diary. Which he discovered when he broke into her house and read it. He watched her now as she left the hospital, it was midnight and a warm summer evening. Tonight she would torment him no more.

“Fuck!” Catherine cried out when her car wouldn’t crank over. “Not again.” She groaned leaning her head against the steering wheel. She was so tired. For some reason she couldn’t sleep for the past couple of nights. She would get this creepy feeling like someone was watching her. Cathrine raised her head and went to undo her braid when that was done she leaned back in the seat. “At least I can walk home.” Cathrine lived in an apartment complex a couple blocks away from the hospital. The shortest route to the complex was through this desolated stretch of woods. Not relishing the idea of a long walk Catherine left her purse in the car taking only her keys and climbed out of the car. 

The night was so hot that Catherine took off her nurse’s scrub top revealing the white tank top she wore underneath. Slamming the car door Catherine started off.

Fuck, this was perfect, he thought. See what a little hard work and a crow bar can do? It had been ridiculously easy to pry open her hood and take off the battery cables.

She was his now.

Normally Catherine liked to walk around in this wooded area. It was mainly shunned by the people due to its imposing trees and the darkness that the woods held even when it was bright daylight. Shuddering with unexplained uneasiness Catherine began to walk faster through the woods imagining the nice hot bath she would have when she got home.

He could smell her, like a predator hunting his prey. She didn’t wear perfume it was her own natural scent of warm soft woman. He was getting drunk on her scent alone.

She was just getting into the darkest part of the woods when she felt rough hard hands grip her shoulders and spin her around. “What the fuck?!” She cried out but she was pushed up hard against a tree to where the breath was knocked out of her. A large dark figure loomed in front of her. Catherine drew in a breath to scream but his hand clapped over her mouth. Out of sheer instinct she bit his hand hard but his hand was too callused.

“Come on, Catherine, be a good girl for me.” His dark sensuous voice commanded her. Slowly he removed his hand but he was prepared for the scream that would come.

Instead of wasting her breath Catherine slammed one of her knees into his ribs. He stood under the crushing impact his fingers wrapping about her neck. “That wasn’t nice was it, Catherine?” He whispered tightening his hold on her. Black spots whirled before her eyes. Slowly he released his grip. “Don’t fight this.” He bent his head to her lips. Catherine’s lips trembled beneath his as he slowly licked her lips, bit the corner of her mouth. She tasted just like he had imagined and more.

His free hand which had lain on her hip now traveled upward to grasp her breast Catherine gasped as the heat from his large palm soaked into her skin. Catherine began to buck and twist underneath him. “No!” She shouted.

“You could have made this easy on yourself. You might have enjoyed it.” He spun her around so that her chest slammed into the hard bark of the tree. “Might have even wanted me.” He whispered his lips caressing her ear.

“Get the fuck off me!” Fear made Catherine’s body tremble, her voice a little shaky.

He began to rip off her scrub pants. Catherine began to writhe and squirm trying to throw him off she even used the back of her head to try to bash in his forehead. His hand tangled into her hair pulling her head back. God, he hated to do that she had such beautiful hair the scent of it made him want to run his fingers through the thick waves. “You’ve made my life a living hell. Do you know how you’ve teased and tormented me? I’ve tried everything to get you out of my mind. I’ve even fucked bitches that looked like you. But nothing ever worked, baby. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you whether you want it or not. You’re just an obsession. Once I have you, I’ll be rid of you.” He desperately wanted to believe that.

He released her hair and went to pull down her pants revealing the sexy black lace boy short undies she wore. “So sexy. You’re so beautiful.” He slapped her ass hard. She let out a sexy throaty moan. His hands massaged away the sting.

This was crazy, but he was turning her on with his words and the way his hands slid over her body. She had never been touched liked this before. And who the hell was he? She had never tormented any man before.

He pulled down her panties then he reached around undoing his jeans. She felt the hard hot length of him on her lower back. “No, please...” She whispered.

He caressed her hair back from her face bringing up one knee to separate her thighs he plunged into her ripping a scream out from her throat. She was so tight, so wet and hot. She felt like a virgin. “Oh fuck,” He moaned letting himself savor the wet clasp of her cunt on his cock.

Losing your virginity could not possibly hurt more, Catherine thought through her tears. He was too big and too hard. He took away all her fantasies and dreams about romance, love, and sex in that first wild thrust. Then he started to move inside her. She gave out small gasps and moans. It didn’t really hurt now, not when he was moving inside her. But it was still rape. He moved faster, harder the bark of the tree rasping her stomach and thighs her cunt felt sore and abraded. The tears never seemed to stop. He kept pounding into her making the pain and the ecstasy last until Catherine cried out as the torrent of emotion and pleasure-pain broke inside her. He said her name and they lay for a time against the tree with his head on the back of her shoulder. He felt hard and solid, pure muscle as he lay against her Catherine could feel his heart beating wildly.

“I bet this wasn’t even your first rape.” Catherine surprised herself with her boldness. “Was I good enough for you?” Not like she wanted to know.

He sighed. Having tasted her once he thought he could truly be rid of her, but a part of him had always known that that would be impossible. He pushed her hair back from her neck kissing the tender nape. “Was it good for your first time?” He bit her.

Catherine was horrified that he would know, she thought men were dumb when it came to that sort of thing, that you had to tell them. She began to push herself away from the tree. He backed off her to let her straighten her clothes. Catherine tried to get a good look at him but it was too dark. The most she could tell was that he was young which gave her a perverse sense of relief.

God forbid she was raped by an old fuck.

“I hate you.” Catherine said dispassionately staring at the large dark shadow in front of her.

“Don’t say that, Catherine.” He reached out to stroke her cheek.

“I hate you.” She repeated her voice a whisper.

He said nothing he just grabbed her upper arm and began leading her through the forest. He seemed to know where she lived because he was taking her straight to her apartment complex but he stopped just as she began to see streetlights. He pulled her up against him his rough hand smoothing her hair back. Catherine stood still as stone. “I didn’t want it to be this way.” That was an outright lie and he knew she knew it. “Don’t think you can get away. I know everything about you, Catherine. I’ll always find you even if you run from me.”

“So what? Are you asking me on a date?” Catherine’s voice acerbic as she spat out the words.

“You’ll see.” He caught her chin in his hand keeping a tight grip on her upper arm with his other he leaned in for a kiss.

Since Catherine couldn’t turn away she suffered the kiss and was amazed when he just let her go.

The next morning Catherine went to the hospital, walking the long way. Her hands trembled as she helped the patients and on her lunch hour she went out back and burst out crying. But she told no one. As she lay against the rough brick wall of the hospital she looked up through teary eyes to see someone in the distance staring at her intently.

A cold chill swept over Catherine. She blinked her eyes but he was still there, in fact he was coming closer. Catherine was a ways away from the main entrance to the hospital and she began to hurry toward the doors suddenly fearing the man coming to her. It was a ridiculous, irrational fear she told herself but he caught her.

Catherine tried to scream but his hand covered her mouth. The horrid deja vu of the moment overwhelmed her and she actually fainted.

When she woke up Catherine found herself in her own bedroom. She sat up in her bed momentarily confused as to how she got there. A movement by the door caught her eye and she cried out in terror. It was the man who came at her at the hospital. “Who the fuck are you?” Catherine pulled the sheet covering her up to her chin realizing she was in her filmy pink nightgown.

“You don’t know me?” His voice was a soft whisper eerily reminiscent of her nightmare rapist.

Catherine tried to take him in. He was ungodly handsome with bold black hair and silver eyes. His black arched brows made him look like the devil. Not to mention that he had a body made for sin. He was dressed all in black from his T-shirt to his jeans and scuffed black boots. He stepped closer to her.

“Get the fuck away from me.” She had no idea who he was.

“I’m Lucien DeBray.” He paused for a moment but Catherine still didn’t know him. He smiled then wolfishly. “You wanted a date, didn’t you?”

So this was the face of her rapist.

Catherine launched herself off the bed hurling herself at him he hit the wall hard coming down with her on top of him she was punching him wherever she could. She was like a wildcat clawing and biting.

Lucien caught her wrists and flipped her over onto her back. 

“No!” Catherine shouted.

“Yes,” Lucien whispered his lips kissing her neck, her bared shoulder. How could he think one time was ever enough? One taste. His Catherine was a virgin. She had been waiting for him, he knew it all along. “I love you, Catherine. I never loved till you.”

That was deep. His words troubled Catherine stilling her movements. She could feel the heat of his kisses, his hard cock straining the seams of his jeans. Catherine reached for the empty ceramic plant holder on the rug by the door that she had been planning to use and she held it over his head. “I’m sorry.” She bashed it over his head he immediately passed out. Catherine struggled from underneath his heavy body. Damn, seeing him like that all sprawled out, and he still looked sexy? She really did feel sorry.

When Lucien awoke it was dark and his head throbbed he tried to move his arms to grasp his aching head but found that he couldn’t. He turned his head quickly to see what was wrong with his arms but the movement caused him excruciating pain and he swore loudly.

“Did my rapist bellow?” Lucien watched through the red haze before his eyes as Catherine approached him. She wore a black silk turtleneck with her hair swept up in a french twist with black pencil leg jeans. She sat beside him on her bed. “Don’t think you can escape.” His own words coming back to haunt him. She reach out above his head and he slowly moved his head to see that he was chained to her iron headboard by thick chains. “I should call the cops, you know.” Lucien saw the cell phone in her hand. “You raped me you should be in jail getting fucked in the ass. You’d like that wouldn’t you, Mr. DeBray?”

Lucien only stared at her with anger in his silver eyes.

“You know what stops me?” She paused and when he didn’t answer she touched his face tentatively stroking his cheek with the back of her knuckles. “You said I knew you. You said you loved me.” Lucien’s silver eyes softened as she continued in her soft mesmerizing voice. “I’m giving you one chance to tell me who you are, how I know you and why you say you love me.” She reached up to trace the arch of one black brow. “I might let you go or I might call the cops anyway. But I have to know.” She pulled away from him so that she was perched on the edge of the bed she looked at him waiting for his answer.

Lucien was surprised that she had done this and that he wasn’t waking up in a jail cell. She was so beautiful. She looked freshly showered and she smelled of rose soap. “I saw you once in college, at the library. You looked up at me and smiled. I don’t know why but you captivated me. I tried to forget you thinking you were just a crush, some love at first sight shit. But I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t think you could just walk up and say hi to me?” Catherine’s voice held no malice or sarcasm.

“I admit I was afraid of you. I thought you’d reject me outright. Whenever I saw you you looked so self-reliant, so in control. What did I have to offer you?” He looked away from her then feeling something akin to embarrassment.

“Tell me the truth, how long have you been watching me?”

“Since I first saw you.”

Catherine looked at him for several silent moments and then she got up and left the room. Shit, Lucien thought leaning back his head to stare at the ceiling any minute now the cops would show up. He looked up when he saw Catherine returning with a red bowl in her hands. She sat close to him and reached over him to place a towel with ice cubes in it underneath his head right over the lump on his skull. Her breast was inches away from his mouth he desperately wanted to taste her. She moved away though leaving the ice pack behind him.

“That’s not love, Lucien.” She whispered. He was so beautiful lying there on her bed. Catherine wished things were different. That he hadn’t raped her, that he could be like every normal guy and take her to dinner, ply her sweetly. But that was a fantasy. “You raped me.”

“I love you.” Lucien said passionately, denying her words. His heart in his throat as he saw a single tear fall from her dark eye.

Catherine leaned over and placed her head on his chest her arms wrapping around his tautly muscled waist. She closed her eyes listening to his heart beat. “No one loves me, Lucien.” They lay quietly like that for a long time before Catherine looked up into Lucien’s silver eyes. “I’ll let you go.”

Lucien stopped breathing at her words hardly daring to believe her. But Catherine was true to her word undoing the chains. She stood back as he rose his head ached less. “Please don’t come back. Please stop watching me.”

“Catherine,” He reached out to try to touch her but she shied away. He left her then hearing her door slam shut behind him.



Forgiveness



I've been dreading that knock. She called to let me know she would be coming over. As per my instructions, and after our last spat I knew she wouldn't risk showing up unannounced. Instead of victory, I feel a spurt of shame. After all, her pride is my pride, to be chastised by someone who should show respect is galling at best. 

It was so easy in the beginning. She was a two dimensional shrew; a cuckold wife of an absentee father; she never wanted me, I was her youthful mistake. For years, I loved her yet I hated her. I longed for her praise and died inside at her criticism. The sharp edge of her tongue was all I got. So, if I couldn't have her love, I'd have nothing to do with her. I vowed to be nothing like her, I would be independent, modern and happy. It was all so black and white -- me the wronged heroine, she, the horrible witch. Well, it was mostly black and white. Inside I still longed for a drop of praise from her, no matter how small. So I compromised. I did my best, did my duty. I soldiered on while they leaned on me, they weren't strong but I could be. No one needed to know that inside there was the frantic anxiety and taint of fear. They only saw what I wanted them to see, but even then, there was nothing, just like always.

Then the cracks began to appear. What was I doing this for? Why? Why bite my tongue? Tell her how you really feel! Letting it out was good... for all of 10 seconds. Then the shame came. No matter how hard we try, the lessons we learn by rote stay there. Hiding in the murky recesses of our minds, waiting to leap up and shock us. Or shock me. I expected a lot of things, I didn't expect the shame. What was hidden screamed its way to the surface and the pretence of calm, serenity was broken. My frustration and rage showed it's true colours. Yet, I still was not satisfied. I still hadn't gotten what I wanted. Hell if I cared though? I was still right wasn't I? She was still the evil witch even with tears in her eyes? Wasn't I still the heroine, wronged, or was that poison spilling from my lips? Why did she cry? Didn't she know she wasn't supposed to care? Was I somehow ... wrong?

Alone at last, I can finally think. Distance has given me perspective. Solitude has given me calm. I can look back without the aching pain and I can remember without the grief. Memories pop up unexpectedly each day. So much that I've forgotten, and it comes slowly back. They've been buried for so long that I'm not quite sure if they are real or imagined. They taste real though. They come with a bundle of emotions, so I know they are mine. Some make me smile -- learning to read at 4 in a big, white, concrete kitchen with huge canisters of cooking gas propped against the wall. Helping her make sausage rolls and cakes for a party and being allowed to lick the spoon. Some make my throat tight with tears - her worried face when the doctors stitched my scalp together after next door's dog knocked me into a gutter, splitting it asunder. 

Being wrong can be so deflating. So I'm dreading her knock on the door. My hand grips the handle and I wonder, can we really change? Can we end the dance of pride and pain, circling our opponent, wary and lashing out before we are hurt? Will it be too late? Will all our regrets be saved for the pouring of gin on baked earth and the salute to the deceased? It's my place to apologise, to beg for forgiveness, not hers. I feel the burn of tears as I realise she has been pleading. She has swallowed her pride and begged in not so many words, but I was too caught up in my pain to see. I know what it has taken out of her to do this, her pride is my pride. She has disregarded the most fundamental of our truths, that my respect for her is automatic and come down to grovel beside me. My tears are now of regret, I want to change, but will it be enough? Can I come out and bare my soul? It is not our way, we leave so much left unsaid.

When she steps over the threshold, at last all my visions merge into one. Finally balanced and complete, I see her as the woman she's always been. We don't hug or kiss, it's not our way. We talk. We exchange pleasantries. It's... nice. We discuss family over a cup of tea and discuss, not argue. I'm excited at her good news and she is sympathetic to my most recent bout of illness. Sitting here like this I can almost believe we are past it now. I don't say anything but I hope she knows I forgive her and I'm sure she forgives me. As she leaves, she strokes my hair and tells me how nice it looks. I smile. She leaves. I finally let the tears come.



Forgiveness



Robert Joseph McGregor or "Bobby Joe" as he was known to his family, waited nervously at a seedy downtown Bus Station in Tallahassee, Florida. The once handsome aeronautical engineer was now greying at the temples and showing other signs of wear and tear. The life he'd ended up living after his marriage ended had definitely aged him. Worse than the physical ravages of time were the mental scars he now bore.

"I...I hope I'm doing the right thing Pete." He said quietly to the burly man carrying his bag.

"It's the only thing you can do Bobby...you know that." He responded.

A rare smile crossed Bobby's lined face as he nodded his head in agreement. Bobby wasn't sure where he would be if it weren't for Pete St. John. Once his boss, now his sponser and best friend in the world. Maybe his only friend in the world, or so it seemed to Bob.

Pete St. John knew there was an element of risk involved in this cross country bus trip for Bobby. Maybe nine months was too soon. But the aging used car lot owner knew there was no time like the present. Bob needed to do this more than anything he'd ever done. There was still a glimmer of hope for him. For Pete, that made it worth while.

Pete knew his friend's life was virtually hanging in the balance as the smoke belching bus pulled up. Bob did his best to affect a confident aire as he turned to say goodbye. 

"Well, wish me luck Pete!"

"You make your own luck in this life Bobby." Pete simply replied.

Bobby's face softened and he took a deep breath. "You always manage to say the right thing Buddy!" He said, shaking his head.

Bouyed at least somewhat, Bob began to slowly climb the stairs up into the bus. The limp he'd acquired during his days on the streets in Miami complicated even simple things like this.

"One step at a time Bobby!" Pete called from the walkway. "One step at a time."

Bob didn't audibly reply but nodded in acknowledgment of the comment. He made his way to a window seat near the rear and peered outside, hoping for one last look at his friend and mentor.

Barrel chested Pete St. John was there, like he always seemed to be, waving back.

"Got that phone number?" He shouted.

Joe pulled the business card from his shirt pocket and waved it for Pete to see.

The usual array of characters eventually wandered onto the bus. Most people flew on airplanes these days. Hell, A DC-7 would deliver him to L.A. in only about eight and a half hours! Trains, once a staple of American travel, were now generally reserved for those either afraid of flying or blessed with enough time to be able to "Enjoy the ride."

Nobody on that westbound Greyhound really had any notion of enjoying this trip. But they all had a reason to travel and this was the cheapest way to go.

Bob continued to watch his older friend while waiting for the passengers to get settled. It was as if he wanted to soak up as much of his influence as possible before, once again, he was on his own.

Pete St John had no intention of leaving before the bus did. You didn't have to be a mind reader to understand the turmoil that Bob McGregor must have been experiencing right then. Twenty years of sobriety had placed Pete at a different point on this journey. But he'd been where Bob was now...and he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

The South Florida heat was beginning to kick in now and the bus had a hot stretch ahead. There were just a handful of well wishers still assembled as the bus began to slowly pull away. They waved and called to the passengers until the coach finally managed to pull onto the main road and headed out of town.

Bob tried his best to keep his mind free but now, finally en route to California, It was hard not to think of the life he'd left behind there seemingly eons ago. "Little Christina, or 'Tina' must be a teenager by now." He mumbled to himself. And Pam...

Suddenly, Bob was fighting back tears again. To think he once had the committed love and devotion of a woman like her...it was almost impossible to believe now. What a mess he'd made of his life. Bobby pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, hoping to clear his head.

The countryside slowly moved past as the bus eventually hit the open road. It was about then that Bob's mind finally, against his will, began to drift back to that seemingly innocent summer day. "The beginning of the end!" He sardonically thought. Ike was still president, the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn and he was married to the sweetest woman that ever lived. Then...one balmy summer day, everything changed.

With his wife and daughter gone for the day, Bob McGregor was getting his golf clubs ready for a round later that morning. He noticed the neighbor lady from across the back fence. She was up on a ladder trying to harvest oranges from one of the trees in their back yard. Joe smiled at the sight. Lucy was dressed like always in short shorts and a flowered blouse that she tied at the waist...Island style!

Bob had seen the pretty short haired blond many times just over the fence and Damn! She looked good! Supposedly her husband traveled a lot and never seemed to be around. Lucy was personable and thought nothing of asking Bob for help starting the mower, adjusting the screen doors...little household chores.

Bob didn't mind a bit! It gave him an opportunity to check her out right up close! Those short shorts really showed off her ripe little butt cheeks which he really got a kick out of. Pam insisted on wearing a panty girdle which pretty much took all the "Swing and Sway" from her rear. Not Lucy! "If you've got it, flaunt it!" was apparently her motto.

"That's a lot of trouble to go to for those sour oranges there Lucy!" He called to her. This housing development had been built on the site of an orange grove and the planners decided to leave some trees in place to avoid that "New Tract" look.

"Look! You can harvest all the oranges you want! The salesman had told them when they were considering the house. Like all midwesterners, Bob and Pam were smitten at the sight of the bright oranges hanging down from the branches. It just seemed so...California!

But the first taste of the oranges dispelled that myth completely. They were horrible! You had to sweeten a glass of home squeezed orange juice with several teaspoons of sugar...just to make it drinkable! "The trees are only good for so long and then they lose their flavor." He was told by a longtime resident.

The tight bodied little housewife looked back at Bob and smiled. "What do you mean? They're great!" Lucy then reached up for a particularly juicy looking orange just above where she was balanced on the ladder. The ladder began to tip and she was barely able to keep from toppling over.

"Hey now! Don't hurt yourself!" He yelled. "Wait a minute, I can help out here!"

Bob quickly went to fetch the gizmo he'd cooked up when they first moved in. Basically a tomato can nailed onto a one by two pole about 10 feet long. He'd used tin snips to cut a slit in the can. The sharp metal edge would cut the stem and the orange would fall in the can. You could easily retrieve the highest oranges on the tree without them falling to the ground and splitting open.

His marvelous "Orange cutter" had ended up outside the garage by the trash cans after he found out even those succulent, tree top oranges were bitter. But, what the hell! He'd have a chance to go flirt with that little blond again!

So Bobby carried the device through the back gate and over to the tree where Lucy was still struggling.

"Try it the easy way Honey..." He teased. Bob proceeded to demonstrate the effectiveness of his creation, easily plucking orange after orange from the tree and depositing them, unharmed, in a pile on the lawn.

Lucy stood there on the ladder, hands on her hips watching. "Oooo! Mr. Smartypants!" She laughed. "All you need is a lab coat and some Harpo Marx hair Mr. Einstein!"

Bob moved around the tree ending up next to the ladder where Lucy was situated above him. He hadn't intended it but, when he looked up for more oranges he found himself looking up the slightly flared short shorts Lucy wore.

"Heh Heh!" He chuckled as he continued to maneuver the orange picker. Lucy was busy selecting oranges for him to snag and wasn't paying attention so Bob got a long leisurely look up at Lucy's shapely thighs and even the pale yellow panties she wore.

"Boy! What a babe!" he noticed. Her husband must be nuts to travel all the time and leave this ripe young thing alone. Her butt cheeks began to peek out the bottom of those little panties as Lucy bent forward and pointed out another candidate for harvest.

Bob marveled at the perfect creamy smooth look of her long legs. She must shave those things every day to look that good..." He figured. Lucy settled back onto the ladder and then turned around to descend. When she did so, Bob was treated to a brief look at the front of her panties. More specifically, the barely discernable little furrow of her panty covered pussy!

"Now Bob...That's not for you to see!" She jokingly admonished him. "Don't you be looking under there!"

Beet red at being caught sneaking a look, Bob was relieved to hear she didn't seem particularly angry. She held out her hand as she stepped down the ladder and Bob took it, gallantly helping his shapely neighbor climb down from her perch. He thought he noticed a slight squeeze as she let go of his hand and she kept eyeing him all the while.

"This is quite a contraption you've cooked up Bob." Lucy said en route to check out the device. "So you just...nailed this can up in here and..." As Lucy began to reach into the can, she sharp edge designed to cut the stem accidentally cut the edge of her palm.

"Ouch!" She cried, quickly withdrawing her hand as blood began to seep from the razor thin cut.

"Oh Hell, I'm sorry Lucy! I should have warned you about that."

"It's no big thing Bob." Lucy responded, holding out the injured hand. Bob pressed his fingers to the cut to stop the bleeding. "I've got some band-aids inside. Really...it's no big deal." She proceeded to lead Bob into the house as her blood seeped out from where he held her and trickled onto his fingers.

Once inside, Lucy retrieved a can of band-aids from above the stove and watched as Bob dabbed away the blood and applied the dressing.

"Really Lucy...my fault, I'm sorry!" He repeated. The whole point of the cut in the can was to be sharp. That's how the whole thing worked. But she didn't know that. How stupid was he not to warn her?

"So now you get to add 'Doctor' to your impressive list of credentials!" She said as he finished patching her up. "Sit down there for a minute, I'll fix us some orange juice."

Bob rolled his eyes. "Here we go again with the orange juice bit." He thought. "C'mon Lucy, you must have tried those oranges. They might have been good a few years ago but Whooh! They're just too sour for eating nowadays!"

"What are you talking about?" She shot back. "They're great! We eat them all the time!"

Bob shook his head as Lucy went back to squeezing the oranges in the juicer. She was a fine hunk of woman but, apparently not too bright. His oranges were all but inedible and somehow, only a few yards away, her oranges were from a different orchard? Made no sense. "Oh please!" He chuckled.

Lucy cut one particularly bright orange into sections and reached one slice out to Bob. "Here Mr. Smartypants! Try it!"

Bob was struck by the sight of the pretty short haired blond as she held out the fruit to him. Her good sized tits falling out of that flowered blouse...those well packed shorts. She was smiling seductively at him as she continued to offer the orange slice to him.

"C'mon try it. They're sweet...I swear."

Bob noticed her deep brown eyes flashing at him. They seemed to have little yellow flecks in them. Sometimes they appeared to shoot out light, almost like a cat's eye when the angle was just right.

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, Bobby began to get the impression that maybe he shouldn't be here right now. This knockout blond was looking better and better by the minute and obviously she was...friendly.

"Well what the hey!" He finally accepted the offered orange slice and brought it to his mouth. With Lucy looking on with obvious interest, he bit into the juicy pulp of the orange. It was sweet! Sweeter in fact than any orange he'd ever tasted! What the hell? He swallowed his first bite and proceeded to devour the rest of the fruit, marveling at its remarkable taste.

"They must have fertilized your trees or something." He mused, knowing full well that was impossible.

Lucy filled two tumblers with ice cubes and poured the freshly squeezed orange juice in on top of them. She then reached up in the cabinet over the ice box to fetch a bottle of vodka.

"I'm gonna have a little cocktail here Bob. I hope you'll join me." She looked right at him when she said it. Bob liked a can of beer and drank wine from time to time but rarely drank hard liquor. He'd slurped down several rum and cokes one time at a fraternity party and was later shown photos of himself dancing on a table with a prostitute the frat brothers had hired that night for "Entertainment!"

"Well I...I guess one won't hurt." He knew it was a mistake. why couldn't he politely decline? He somehow felt...different. It was hard to pinpoint but...

Bob reached out for the glass Lucy offered. As she bent down to hand it to him, he briefly saw her bre encased tits beneath her shirt.

"Oh there you go again Bob! Looking in places you're not supposed to!"

By now Bob knew she was flirting and didn't seem to mind at all if he looked. He raised the glass to his lips and drank. It was cool, sweet and refreshing.

"Man! That's...that's pretty tasty Lucy! He had to admit. Lucy continued to smile and watched as he thirstily gulped down the cocktail. "What do you call one of these?" He asked.

"A Screwdriver." She replied. A little smile crossed Bob's face. Like he was back in Junior High or something. "You said 'Screw!'" He thought to himself.

Lucy saw his reaction. "My goodness Bob, you have such a dirty mind!" She was kidding of course but Bob returned to his drink and downed the rest in one gulp.

"Here, let's have another..." She was already mixing up two more before Bob could beg off. Then he realized something: He didn't want to beg off! His golf game seemed a million miles away now. It was just him and this hot little peice of ass. Yeah...that was an accurate discription, wasn't it?

Lucy poured a bit more vodka in the second batch than she had in the first round and they began to drink and talk. "Now, where are you originally from again?" Always a good conversation starter since virtually nobody in California was native.

Bob began to tell his life story, the abridged version, as Lucy listened intently. Bob found himself leaving Pam out of the narrative as best he could. No reason to bring her up right now. That could...complicate things. Next thing he knew there was another screwdriver sitting in front of him.

"These'r damn good Lucy!" He was now doing the best be could not to slur his words as he spoke. "What'r they called again?" He asked mischievously. He just wanted to hear her say it, and they both knew it.

"It's a Screw...driver..." She enunciated each word seperately. "Just like that thing between your legs!" 

"Ha ha ha ha!" They both laughed together.

"Yeah, he's been known to drive a screw here and there!" Bob responded to her sly comment. He grabbed his drink and took another swallow. "Yep...these things are damn refreshing! Almost can't taste the booze." Drunk now, Bob needed to pee badly!

"Uh...need to use the little boy's room Lucy." He said as he stood. "Right down here?" He pointed, "Jus' like in our house?"

"You got it!" Lucy replied smiling broadly. "They're all the same floor plan on this street."

"Ha ha ha ha!" They laughed together again as Joe hurridly headed down the hall to the bathroom. He hoped a few moments alone would clear his head. Wow! Those screwdrivers really pack a whollop!"

Now it was time to get out of here. Fun's fun, but he was a married man and couldn't very well be foolin' 'round with little miss Shorty Shorts. She sure was fine though. A silly song about "Who wears short shorts?" Leaked into his head. "She wears short shorts!" He chuckled to himself.

Bob finished his business and checked himself in the mirror. "Looks like a drunken idiot" he couldn't help but notice.

As he made his way into the kitchen he saw another round of drinks sitting on the coffee table. And Lucy was flashing that dynamite smile at him again. "Everything come out OK?" She innocently asked.

"Wha ha ha ha!" Now everything was funny. "Oh well, one more won't hurt I guess." He said nodding at the drinks. "Don't look like I'm golfin' today anyway."

The thiry one year old "Young Man on the Way Up" couldn't have been more right.

"Need more ice in there Bob?" Lucy asked as she brought the ice bucket to the table. She leaned over and used her silver tongs to add a couple more ice cubes to Bob's drink.

Bobby McGregor was loose as a goose by now and ready to feast his eyes on those nice, bra covered titties...except Lucy's bra...wasn't there! He blinked his eyes to be sure he wasn't imagining things but...No! Lucy's nice big tits were swaying free beneath that loose filling blouse, her nipples poking out into the gauzy fabric. She appeared to have undone another button too.

"Are you looking in there again you naughty boy?" She teased. "Honestly!" She made no move to straighten up either. She fiddled with the ice cubes some more and then looked up to be sure where his eyes were fixed. The tempting blond seductress saw the glazed over expression on Bob's face and knew her plan was working.

"Is the view a little better now Bob?" She spoke quietly. Gone were the nervous giggles and boisterous laughter of just a few minutes ago. "I took off my panties too Bob. Wanna see?" Without waiting for an answer, she undid the buttons of her shorts and then pulled down the zipper, slowly showing him her belly button and then the secret flesh below it. Down...down the zipper traveled with Bob's gaze locked on it until a patch of fiery red pubic hair was revealed!

"Oh my god!" Bob blurted out when he saw Lucy's pussy hair. His penis had been back and forth between piss hard and rock hard for a half hour but there was no mistaking which direction it was heading now!

Pleased to see his transfixed reaction, Lucy unbuttoned her blouse and gently pulled it open. When she'd finished, Bob's eyes moved up to view her big firm tits...gently swaying to and fro now. She had large, silver dollar sized areola with pointy pink nipples in the center.

"So, can I see your big...Screwdriver Bob?" She teased. "It's only fair!"

Lucy quickly moved to the crotch of Bob's black golf slacks. She easily undid them and in no time had freed his now completely erect penis. She began to fondle it lewdly, piercing his eyes with her salacious gaze. He noticed that cat eye thing again. Almost as if she could see right into his soul. Or he could see right into hers...maybe both.

Realizing what was about to happen, Bob grasped valiantly to the final shred of Christian decency that somehow hadn't abandoned him.

"Lucy...Lucy, we can't do this..." He started.

"Do what?" Lucy looked a bit unpleasant for the first time. "We aren't gonna fuck, Bob. My pussy's only for Stan. But..." Suddenly that little sex kitten smile came back. "But we can play around a little can't we?"

"Play around all you want Baby!" He laughed. He'd been overpowered and he knew it. He glanced at his hand and, for some reason, noticed Lucy's dried blood stain was still visible on his fingers. "Why fight it?" He reasoned.




Forgiveness



Lucy knelt before the now drunk young engineer and moved her pretty face to Bob's lap. He then understood what kind of "Playing Around" was about to take place. He'd heard about "Blow Jobs" from the fellas at the frat house but he assumed they were just making it up. Now, with Lucy's hot breath right on his genitals and her big ripe tits hanging right in front of hiim, he realized it was about to happen to him.

"Yeah, why fight it? You'll never get this from Pam with all her prudish beliefs." He thought. He was lucky to get a passionless piece of ass in the dark from her. She insisted he use a rubber when they did it which he didn't like at all. If he fucked her without one, she would complain about his semen squirting on her belly. "That's just really not nice Bob." She would say coldly.

Lucy began to lick Bob's penis which caused a quick intake of air from him. She seemed to be enjoying the lewd act she was performing, continuously looking up to see if he was watching. She then plunged her mouth down and took as much of Bob's cock into her mouth as she could.

"Oh shit that's it!" He shouted. Lucy used her now freed up hands to gently tug her shorts down to allow Bob to view her pussy and ass while she sucked his prick.

Bobby's reservations were all gone now as the nearly nude blond began to suck to please, tightening her lips with each stroke as she attempted to coax the sperm from his balls. bob couldn't help himself and grabbed her head in an attempt to stuff even more cock into her subserviently working throat. Just the sight of her...kneeling there with her tits jiggling, her shorts down by the floor, her pink lips locked on his penis as if she never wanted to let it escape!

On and on she sucked, looking up every few strokes to make sure he was enjoying it. She reached down to fondle his balls and began to softly hum. the vibrations from her muted voice increased his pleasure and he began to pull her head down harder and harder until he saw his pubic hair touch her hot sucking lips. This seemingly innocent little housewife from across the back fence had taken every inch of his cock into her warm wet mouth

Bob's cock head was scraping her tonsils as Lucy began to cry out "Nuh uh!" Bob's huge phallus was now choking her!

"Oh...you flash your titties at me, then pull down your panties but now it's 'Uh uh?'" With a sneer on his face Bob began to lift up off the sofa, stuffing Lucy's mouth with every centimeter of cock he had. Then he heard a...almost a growl come from Lucy's cock stuffed throat and he felt her hands fondling his balls.

"Oh Jesus, that's it!" He cried and then his penis began to swell and jerk in her tightly fixed mouth. He held her face in place, forcing her to swallow all of his sperm as he gloriously ejaculated...releasing all of his pent up seed and pouring it right down her throat. She wasn't even struggling now. It was as if she wanted to swallow his essense.

Bob watched her throat muscles contracting as she sent his discharge to her belly and hungrily waited for more. Bob obliged her too. Jolt after jolt of pleasure swept over him as he experienced the most extraordinary orgasm of his life.

When he finally stopped coming, he laid back on the sofa, exhausted. Lucy continued to lap up any jism she might have missed, and then licked his cock and balls like a kitten with a saucer of cream.

"My, you had a big load in there Bob!" Lucy said as she finished up. Bob heard her comment and couldn't help but reflect that, although it was his first blow job, It obviously wasn't hers.

By now the hound had made it's way to Georgia and was meandering it's way in a northwesternly direction. Bob was trying to be pleasant to the talkative lady sitting next to him. He got the impression she considered him to be "Available," which, technically, he was. Bob knew he had nothing to offer her at this point.

His thoughts returned to California and the awful turn his life had taken so many years ago. He'd returned home after his shocking interlude with Lucy with a dark cloud of guilt hanging over his head. He was sure sweet Pamela would take one look at him and know everything that had just transpired.

"Is this just idiotic foolishness? This trip to California?" He wondered. "I can't expect Pam to take me back after all thats happened." Then, reflecting on what Pete St. John had told him he remembered the purpose of the journey. "Just forgiveness. That's all you can ask for Bob. Forgiveness."



Forgiveness



"If you'd just fuck him, then we'd be even, and everything would be fine."

Except, I knew it would never be the same. My husband could label our marriage "fine", but even he would never be able to say that it would be the same. Because he had fucked around. Even worse, he was the sort who, wracked with guilt, felt compelled to tell me about it.

And now he wanted me to fuck somebody -- anybody, almost- so that we would be even. Today it was his best friend, but yesterday it had been a neighbour who had innocently returned the hedge clippers while I was sunbathing. I have to admit, I did get a cheap thrill watching from behind my sunglasses at how his eyes bulged, and then his pants bulged, as the fact that I was lying topless by my pool registered. The reaction was flattering, but my nipples were hard before he arrived, not because he appreciated me. If I was going to fuck somebody, he would not be the one.

But I digress, because I was not going to fuck anybody. Not hubby's best chum; not the neighbour; not the pool cleaner hubby suggested last week. Because, I knew there was no such thing as "even"...just a downward spiral of sexual degradation, ending in a black hole of lying, distrust and eventual divorce.

So my answer was, "If you want a divorce, say so. We are in a no fault state. I won't give you any hassles."

That always ended the conversation, with him muttering "I love you" or "No I don't want a divorce..."

He had always believed that I was responsible for his happiness. I felt great realizing that his selfish act had liberated me from that weight. Of course, I never explicitly explained this to hubby. That would just overheat his brain, and run the risk that his little brain -- the one between his legs -- would seize the moment to seek out a little happiness of its own. I could ignore, if not forgive, hubby's random indiscretion, but was not sure how I would react if he made a habit of it. I supposed that might depend upon who he fucked. I knew I could not handle him fucking my friends, or everybody knowing that I was the female version of a cuckold -- if nothing else, I dreaded the implication that I was in some way frigid or inadequate. 

My belief was that such fears were the true source of most attempts to 'even up', which was why it never worked. The retaliation was as selfish as the original sin. 

None of this slowed down my husband. One of the things I had always loved about him was that when he was a man on a mission, he set out to do it right. 

His campaign was so subtle at first that it took me a long time to connect the dots. First he bought me sexy lingerie -- push up lace bras; see through lacy boy cut bikini panties followed by demi-bras, which left the entire top half of my tits uncovered, the fabric ending under the nipples, so that my always excitable bumps pushed out against my clothing. They came with matching thongs. I had never worn thongs before, after years of listening to my friends complain about the G-string rubbing inside their ass holes. The first time I slipped my feet through a nifty blue pair though, my nipples instantly popped. I realized that it just made sense -- hubby frequently stimulated my anus to trigger my orgasms, and on a few special occasions, I had enjoyed anal sex. The only reason we did not do it more often was that his huge cock hurt in my ass hole unless I was both well lubricated and well stretched. Usually before we reached that stage, he was all fucked out. A couple of years ago, he had bought me a butt plug, and we usually just played with that, or he stuck my favourite vibrator into my poop chute. 

Reflecting on this, I also recalled that originally, I had opposed anal sex.

"That's designed for one way traffic," was the worn out saying I had learnt, and repeated to hubby more than once. 

It took time for that to change, but I know exactly the day it started, because it was our wedding day. After the traditional first dance, we had gone back to our seats as the guests flooded on to the dance floor. I had been about to sit on my chair when hubby had grabbed my arm and playfully tugged me down onto his lap.Through the satin dress, I felt the unmistakable shape of a hard cock pressing against my butt. I almost asked if I had caused that, but I knew darn well I had, and just smiled to myself, pleased with my power. Without saying a word, I had wriggled my butt deeper into his lap. His hand brushed the underside of my breast from the outside of the beaded bodice. My nipples were already stiff, but, like his cock, just that casual touch was enough to make them rock hard. I had to stifle an urge to drag him right back to the bridal suite for a fuck. Heck, I had to resist sucking him off right there at the head table. 

He continued his assault on my ass during the traditional garter toss. The hall had a tiny mezzanine where the band played. We climbed the dark stairs, with me in front, hiking my dress so that I did not trip. 

"Just a bit higher,"he teased.

So I did.Then a bit more, and a bit more.By the time we reached the top of the stairs, I could feel the warm air against my ass hole.

"What happened to your panties?" he asked His breath was blowing inside me due to the difference in stair heights. 

"They got too damp, so I took them off,"I whispered back. 

Just then I saw the bass player sitting on the top step, sharing a joint with the drummer. From the looks on their faces, they had heard what I had said.Suddenly I realized that my skirt was not just raised in the back, but even more in the front. These two strangers had a clear close up view of my naked cunt. Good thing that the light was dim. I noticed that although intellectually I was shocked, my wetness increased, with a trickle of excitement escaping down my inner thighs. 

Suddenly, I knew what I needed. I rotated my hips, grinding my naked ass against hubby's groin. One hand reached back to cup his head, drawing his face onto my shoulder. I awkwardly twisted my neck and gave my groom a sloppy drunken tongue kiss. I faintly registered the snickering of the musicians. 

My other hand snaked around and fumbled hubby's pants open. His cock sprung free unaided as our bodies separated. He started turning me, as if to fuck my soaked cunt, but I took charge, spinning my ass back into contact with his now exposed organ.

"Fuck my ass," I panted as our mouths pulled loose. As I spoke I shoved back against him, leaning forward so that my palms pressed against the tiled stair. My face was between the two drugged band members, who had instinctively slid to either side of the landing, but otherwise, simply enjoyed the show. 

Hubby's cock sawed excited between my buttocks.I felt my anus gaping open with anticipation, but his helmet just teased me, bouncing around the rim, until I raised one arm and reached underneath, grabbing his shaft by the root and shoving his entire member deep into my poop chute. He needed no further urging,fucking me so hard that my tits fell right out of the top of my wedding dress, dangling a foot or two in front of the leering watchers. 

I can still remember the warmth of their breath reaching my hard nipples. My eyes met theirs briefly, but I was filled with shame and looked down, only to see their fingers caressing their erections through their pants. I felt myself blushing, just at the moment when hubby, with his deepest thrust yet, filled my bowels with his sweet creamy seed. He froze in that position as his shaft throbbed inside my ass, gradually softening as his balls emptied. 

My married sex life was off to a great start for hubby, and he returned the favour, slipping his fingers under my ass and spreading my cunt wide. For an instant, I thought he was going to slide his slimy cock into me, but fortunately, he chose his fist, thrusting all four fingers deep into my vagina, his thumb finding my swollen clit. I came almost immediately, biting my lip so the wedding guests did not hear me roar. He flexed his fingers gently, stretching me, diddling my clit, as I rode wave after wave. Though it seemed like a lifetime, I later realized it all took less than five minutes. 

At some point I closed my eyes as I came, and reopened them to see that the grinning musicians had not just enjoyed the show -- they had come too, the drummer while rubbing his cock through his now stained pants, and the bass player had actually pulled his cock free and was tucking it back in as it deflated. I felt my tongue involuntarily lick my lower lip. I refused to admit it then, but as I've replayed it in my mind over the years, any urging and I would have sucked that cock, newly married or not. But no one spoke, he did not wink, and he zipped up rather than pushing his meat toward my mouth. 

I only vaguely recall tucking my tits back into the gown and tossing the garter. I still wonder how many of the bachelors got a good view of my naked cunt, and if they were close enough to see the trickle of hubby's spunk seeping down my thigh. At every anniversary party , I wonder whether hubby's younger brother is not quite able to look me in the eye. Yet I resist looking to see whether he gets a bulge in his pants. A swinging wife is hubby's fantasy, not mine.

Now, you might be expecting a tale of a nude beach honeymoon, but that story wouldn't be about me. I can not even honestly tell you about great sex in the honeymoon suite, because as hubby's hormones abated, he started drinking more, trying to keep up with his brother and cousins. The soberest -- as in least drunk- of them carried him to our room and dumped him on the bed. By then, it was too late for me to go back to the party. Again, I wonder if one or two of them lingered to see if I wanted help out of my gown, but I remained fully clothed- well, except for those panties- until after they left. I abandoned the gown on the floor and collapsed on the bed next to hubby, still in my lingerie, shoes, and flowers in my hair. 

The next thing I knew it was morning and my mother was pounding on the door wanting us to come join the going away breakfast. So we did not even take time for a quickie in the shower. There were no porn mag moments with my maid of honour, or any distant relatives. We simply drove off for a low key stay in the country, the sort of frugal honeymoon young couples did back then. 

Don't get me wrong -- the honeymoon sex was great, and far from limited to 'lights out drapes shut missionary style on the bed'. We stayed at a great resort, with lots of hiking trails. I'm sure we were not the first nor the last to duck off the trails into little groves of trees because the hand holding led to making out, led to blow jobs, and at least once or twice, fucking in the woods. The bush created enough of a sense of privacy and our hormones were racing enough that we neither knew nor really cared who was watching. But we never swapped with any nice couples we met at dinner or anything like that. Though I know both of our minds turned that way- mine pretty much every night- it was all just fantasy fodder, not something I would ever really act on. 

By the last evening, two bottles of wine empty on our table, hubby and I were whispering fantasies in each other's ears about which couples might be the most fun. This made us incredibly horny,. And I fondled his cock under the table. Even though he came in his pants, on the way back to the room he got my tits out of my halter dress and pressed me up against a wall, kissing me, sucking my nipples. His fingers fucked my pussy. I was fumbling to release his zipper just as we heard another couple bouncing off the walls around the corner. With nervous laughter, we ran to our room, barely getting in the door before he literally ripped my dress off and fucked me doggy style. As he ate the cream pie, I wondered which couple it had been around the corner and wondered how hubby would have liked eating that other guy's seed out of my cunt. I came all over his face so hard he almost drowned. 

I never told hubby about that fantasy, and never asked if he had similar thoughts- maybe about kissing me with his lips slick with some other wife's pussy juices. Instead, I just rolled him into a 69 position, sucked him hard again and fucked him cowgirl style as I rolled through at least three more orgasms. I think he was passed out for the last one. I know that I barely had the strength to roll off his shrunken cock and the next thing I knew, it was daylight streaming in our windows and the honeymoon was about to end.

Not that the honeymoon was over in terms of a great sex life. The kids slowed us down -- no topless beaches with toddlers for me -- but in the bedroom, hubby was still a tiger. And in the shower, the laundry room, the garage... wherever we could find a moment's peace. 

Now that the kids were gone, and we were still fairly young, and very horny, it all should have been great. No need to worry about teenage boys walking in if I sunbathed nude. Freedom to fuck on whichever furniture we wished whenever we wanted to. As each kid moved out, we stripped their mattress and christened that room. I joked about replacing the hanging chair in our daughter's window nook with a trapeze. Hubby responded by just fucking me in the chair, not pausing to care whether or not the neighbours could see. 

Then BigCo offered hubby the travelling job as a trainer -- almost twice the money as he made as a branch manager. With the kids at home, he had never thought about such opportunities. Now it seemed like a perfect chance to afford a few luxuries, and still top up our retirement savings. We quickly recognized that phone sex was an option we had overlooked, and that this would be a great variation to add to our sex lives. 

We did not fall victim to some random waitress or barfly meeting hubby in a strange city. Instead, he fell prey to the black widow spider who BigCo sent to mentor him on his first training trip. As he later told the story, she was hardly even subtle about it. One innocent drink in the hotel bar after the session and she said straight out, "are you as horny as I am? Because you're a hot guy, and I'd rather fuck you than end up picking up some pot-bellied tractor salesman later. Besides, if we fuck now, we'll be done well before dinner."

Shocked, he was even more surprised to hear himself answer, "Why, so we have time to fuck again?"

"If I like the test drive, sure, why not?" he reported her snapping back. 

Well, hubby never could resist a challenge. Right there in the bar, he grabbed a hank of her hair and buried his tongue down her throat. When he confessed this to me, I could picture it like watching a movie, but with all my senses engaged -- her whiskey tasting mouth, his fat tongue thrusting. I love how just kissing me, he fills my mouth almost like I was sucking cock. I bet she loved it too. 

She did not struggle against his assault. Instead, she one upped him by grabbing his cock, caressing it through his slacks. Again, I knew how that felt -- every vein, how it would have twitched and then swelled as the blood surged out of his brain, the helmet spreading. Hubby has a magnificent cock. I bet the bitch would have pulled it out and sucked it right there in the bar if hubby had not responded to her grope by kneading one of her tits. I guess this made her realize where they were, because, as hubby tells it, she broke the kiss long enough to moan, "Let's take this upstairs."

They ran across the elevator like teenagers stealing an evening away from parental supervision. That's exactly how hubby described the feeling. 

"It wasn't like cheating on you so much as being totally overcome, the same joy you get skipping class the first time. Or making out under the bleachers, or getting to second base instead of doing homework while Mom's downstairs cooking supper."

When he said that, all I could do was laugh and say that I hoped he wasn't comparing me to his mother. Hubby is a hard guy to stay mad at. Though when he made that remark, I could not resist retorting, "what a novel way to say that you were thinking with your cock."

But then I asked him to continue his story. At that point, I still wondered if it was all some sort of fantasy. 

"As soon as the elevator doors closed, we were all over each other," he continued. "Like two alpha dogs scrapping to see who rules the pack. I felt buttons popping at the same time as I hoisted her back against the wall, pushed her skirt to her waist and ripped her panties. My face was already buried in her cleavage." 

I just barely resisted asking whether he did that out of lust, or if, as I pictured it, her free hand cupped behind his neck and forced his face to please her. Either way, my panties get wet every time I recreate that scene in my mind. The first time, as he narrated it, my fingers automatically played with my cunt. 

"Don't stop now" I commanded him.

"That's what she said," he responded. "It was like her cunt was sucking my fingers up inside her body. It felt like I was wrist deep fisting her. As I rotated one direction, she twisted her hips the other. Good thing no one else was waiting for the elevator. She came right there. It was only after she finished, panting for breath, the lift slowing at her floor, that I realized that she had dragged my cock right out of my pants. She fell to her knees and kissed it just as the doors opened." 

Another image that still never fails to turn me on, adding rock hard nipples to the damp pussy effect. I liked to imagine that I was standing there when the doors opened. Other times, I pictured a couple in town for a church convention standing there, startled by hubby and his coworker half naked, sharing sex. Except that bitch would probably make a Mormon bishop want to join in for group sex. 

"Did you come in her mouth in the elevator?" I heard myself ask, even as part of my brain was busy wondering why I was not angry; why I was not throwing things; telling me not to be turned on, though I was. 

"No," he chuckled. "but we couldn't stuff me back in my pants, so I had to hold them up by one hand while I held my jacket in the other, shielding my turgid nakedness- she similarly grasped her blouse shut loose in front of those great tits while we ran like excited schoolchildren down the hallway to her room."

Just picturing that scene made my nipples ache. Somehow monogamy and kids drains that sort of spontaneity out of even the most fulfilling marriages. Listening to hubby, I grew more and more happy for him. Maybe that's why I didn't feel the need to 'even up'. He didn't need my forgiveness. 

"She had trouble with the key card, so for a good couple of minutes, I was leaning beside her door, struggling to catch my breath, watching how her tits swayed with each movement. That just made me harder. Too bad you weren't there to fall to your knees and suck my cock while I waited." 

Now THAT was just plain cruel. Not in the least because of how it made my clit throb. Hubby might not talk me into fucking another man but at that moment I was totally willing to add a hot slut bitch to our love life, in a one guy two women threesome.

Hubby seemed to read my mind, because he said, "Don't worry, pet, if I got my two gal fantasy, then the least you'd be owed would be two guys, two cocks stuffing you full. I know how you like my cock pounding in your ass while you fuck yourself with your dildo. As you do it, you keep screaming that you want a double meat extravaganza. Well, that would turn me on just as much as you and some slut."

"Wouldn't that make me a slut too?" I gasped, almost sobbing. That one misplaced word had tilted my mood back to hurt. 

"No. It would make you hot- a shared wife, not someone who cheats or fucks other women's men."

"So no married guys need apply to supply the cunt filling cock?" I laughed, my humour revived. No wonder I love hubby so much- he knows how to please me. 




Forgiveness



That shut hubby up for all of about 2 point 5 seconds.

"Well, isn't that up to them?" he tried to illogically strategically retreat. If he was really listening he might have noticed, as I did during the silence, that I had just allowed for the possibility of my cunt being filled by cock, and not just hubby's cock. Time to make my own retreat.

"Or their wives, since on your theory, it ain't nasty if you have permission," I suggested, smiling. "But tell me more about your adventure."

This distracted him. 

"When the door opened, she grabbed my cock like a handle and tugged me into the room," he explained. "I don't recall doing it, but i must have closed the door. It wasn't open later. But I know I was so horny I would have fucked with the entire hotel watching, and I think she felt the same way."

"Good thing you closed it. A maid or room service fantasy is divine, but you wouldn't want a family of four paddling along the hall on their way to the pool to investigate the groaning." 

"Too right. Unless the youngest daughter was eighteen- then that would be hot," hubby chuckled, loosening up even more. 

But that digression could wait for another day's sex play. I wanted to hear about hubby's real life indiscretion. That was what had made my nipples ache and my clit throb. Now I needed to hear the rest while I did something about my wet pussy. 

"She just tumbled onto the bed, landing on her back, with her legs wide open, knees off the edge of the mattress. Her skirt, what there was of it, was caught up under her ass, so her cunt was fully displayed. I wasn't really staring at it though, because it was hard not to look at her tits -- her shirt had fallen open, and those mounds were magnificent, honey. Stood straight up, capped by nipples so hard even you would have wanted to suck them."

I had already been licking my lips picturing her, though until hubby mentioned the nipples, I had been dreaming of tasting my first pussy, wondering whether I wanted it plain, or after hubby filled it with cream. As I pondered that, I was frigging my clit desperately. My ass was bouncing up and down as my entire body quivered with excitement. 

"Did you eat her pu... cu..." I stumbled over words.

"Cunt...say the word..." hubby urged. 

"Cunt!" I spit the word out like a bad seed, but once my tongue clicked off my bottom teeth and my lips relaxed, it was just another word. "Did you eat her cunt?"

Because I knew as I pictured her sprawled out like that, feet on or near the floor, knees wide, that if I were a man, I would be staring at her cunt, and thinking how tasty it looked. Heck, I'm not a man, and I could still almost taste her. But perhaps if I were a man, I'd be thinking with my cock, not my mouth, and I'd just want to savagely ram home my weapon, to use the bitch for my own pleasure. Pump her full of semen, mark her as mine like a dog pissing on a tree. Men are funny creatures. I shouldn't try to think like them.

Suddenly, it occurred to me. "I hope the bitch had condoms." 

"Huh?" hubby replied. "Where did that come from. You were asking about me eating her, and..."

"Then I remembered how you prefer eating my pu...cunt after you fill it with cream." I almost said out loud what I was thinking at the end of the sentence: "Asshole."

The thought of hubby engaged in high risk unprotected sex filled me with rage. Maybe I wasn't as forgiving as I thought. But I still refrained from swearing at him. 

"So, did you?"

"Yes, like I said, she was out to get laid. If it hadn't been me, she would have seduced any random tractor salesman or architect who wandered into the bar. She came prepared."

I exhaled loudly. 

"I was a newbie at fucking on the road, but she wasn't," hubby affirmed.

"So tell me about the fucking."

"She pulled me down on top of her, using my cock as a handle. It was the hardest I'd been in years." Hubby paused. "Sorry- does that upset you?"

I laughed. "No, it makes me wet. Of course the prospect of new pussy excited your hormones. It just proves how virile you still are. I find that very sexy."

"We kissed a while while she tugged on my cock. She's a moaner. When we separated to breath, she told me how much she loved the silkiness of the outer layer of skin, and also, how every cock is just a bit different. She explained that this was a big part of why she had become such a slut, trying to experience all the variety of cocks out there. So far, she hadn't found two that were just the same- not even twins." 

My fingers lingered against my wetness as I pictured the bitch sucking twins, alternating between the two cocks, on her knees, finally giving up control. I wanted desperately to ask if she did them both at once but hubby had digressed enough. 

"Tell me about fucking her." I demanded. 

Two fingers were thrusting deep into my cunt by this pint, while my thumb worked my clit. My other hand roamed my tits, massaging them, thumb tweaking the nipples in imitation of my clit flicking. 

"She had one of those little black purses- the sort with a strap that allowed her to hang it off a shoulder while we made out in the elevator. I'm not sure that there was room in it for anything more than her key card and a rubber. She fumbled a bit finding the purse beside her on the bed, because she never stopped rubbing my cock, just switched hands. She ripped the foil with her teeth, and spit the corner across the room. After she shook the rubber out of the packet, she held it up to her mouth a blew warm air into it, helping to inflate it. She was obviously very practised, because she rolled it onto me in one smooth motion, even though my cock was trapped between our bodies,. I lifted my hips just even to allow both her hands room to work."

I pictured that, as if I was standing by the bed, to the left, a perfect angle to just see his tumescent glory in her tiny hand, her fake tits staring straight up toward the ceiling, nipples rock hard cherries. My hand worked harder in my cunt, all four fingers now in use. 

"If she fondled you too long, she'd be awful disappointed when you came on her belly instead of inside her," I teased. Hubby never had trouble that way- no quick trigger for him. 

"No, as soon as I was safely sheathed she rolled her hips and hitched up the bed a bit and drew my cock deep inside of her cunt with one well practised thrust."

"Thrust? I thought it's guys who do the thrusting?"

"She was as aggressive a fucker as any guy I've known, even though she was all woman."

"Fucked a lot of guys, have you?" I teased a bit more, maybe to avoid thinking about how preorgasmic tingles were running through my shoulders, loosening my spine and starting my hips rolling, almost as if Hubby was fucking me, not her. My fingers continued doing a decent job, but I love cock more. 

"No guy could fuck like this. Her abdominals were amazing, and then she wrapped her ankles behind my calves, to draw me even deeper into her cunt. She grabbed handfuls of hair and forced my mouth to her tits, no matter how much that strained my back."

"What did she make you do to her tits?"

"First she buried my nose in between them. I didn't need to be told to stick out my tongue and lick, as close to keeping time with my cock thrusts as I could. Then she yanked me up one slope and down the other. Only then did she lower my lips over her left nipple and told me to suck, not bite."

"I'm surprised you didn't cum by that point."

"I guess I was too busy hanging on for my life. It was a helluva ride. When she shifted my mouth to the right nipple, she commanded me to bite it -- just the one word actually- by that time, I was too far gone not to obey."

My nipples tingled in empathy. They are so sensitive I have trained hubby not to even nibble them. Just the edge of his teeth scraping my nubs sends shivers down my spine straight to my clit.

"What did it feel like- being inside her cunt?" I could not resist asking. For so many years, mine was the only glove he had worn, and now, he had a new experience. Since he had decided to share it with me, I suddenly needed to live it. 

"Well, it was very different to start with because I'm not used to wearing a rubber. That changed the sensation. I could not appreciate her wetness as much I do with you. I knew she was soaked because I could feel it on my balls, and my thighs, and below her on the bed, but the sheath kept me from feeling it against my meat. It did make everything nice and slick so that I had no trouble plunging deep inside of her, and trying to draw out in a good seesaw fucking motion. Except her muscles kept slowing me, as if they were trying to milk my cock." 

"Was she tight?" thinking she must not be if she was such a slut.

"Her tight abs sure made it feel that way. Not that I had any trouble getting into her or anything. But once I was in there, yeah, it could have been an eighteen year old's cunt -- not virginal, no hint of hymen or resistance, but like I was a big cock entering a passage where few men had gone before." 

"Did she talk while you fucked her?" Hubby loved dirty talk during sex. It made him even harder. I loved how his cock would pulse inside my cunt as I spoke all those nasty words. 

"Yes, she told me she thought I was deeper than any other cock that had fucked her. That it felt like I was coming up through her throat. Then she started moaning about the throbbing against her walls, and how tightly her labia fit around my root. She said she was going to milk all the spunk right out of me." 

"And did she?"

I imagined that by then she must have been groaning like I was while I listened to him. I was already close to climax. In spite of her sluttiness, the making out in the elevator must have had her pretty ready too. It was hard to believe that I was actually identifying with how the slut felt while she fucked my husband, but that seemed to be my natural reaction.

"Yeah..." he drawled out, though by this point he had no good reason to be reluctant. What he said next though explained it. "...I didn't last very long. I spurted like a teenager. At least I filled her up, because it was like a virgin all right -- hair trigger, huge load. Also like a young guy, I did not lose all my erection when I came. I think that was the result of how her labia gripped my cock, right at the base, not letting the blood flow back up into my body. She held me deep inside of her womb even after my last spurt."

That mental image tipped me right over the edge. It was like instead of my fingers inside my cunt, hubby's cock was there, held tight by my muscles, and that it was me that he was filling with seed. Waves of ecstasy rolled through my whole body, flowing out from my clit, which felt like someone had attached booster cables to it. My abs started convulsing, my shoulders shaking, my hips rotating, my tits bouncing, my hair flying. Hubby was silent as he listened to my screams of joy. 

Then, into the silence which followed, he chucked and said, "Yup, that sounds a lot like how it felt to me."

I had to chuckle back. No wonder I love the goof. No wonder forgiveness was beside the point. 

"I guess with the rubber, she didn't lick you clean, and she didn't have a cream pie for you?"

As soon as I said the words, I worried that they might sound too bitchy, competitive, like the subtext was 'sex with me is still better' instead of 'sounds like fun, wish it had been even more fun.' or even 'so what happened next?'.

Because, despite just having had one of the biggest orgasms of my life, my fingers were still flexing inside my cunt, and my mind was dancing around the image of hubby half lying half standing, his semi hard cock still inside the bitch's twat. 

Hubby understood. He chuckled again, more ruefully this time, and replied. "She pushed herself up onto her elbows , drew my face to hers, gave me a big tongue twisting kiss, but when she broke free she said that I better pull out before I got so soft that semen leaked out of the rubber. She was insistent that she didn't want any swimmers left in her cunt. Those were the words she used."

My nipples ached in response to each hard consonant. My pearl perked up, wanting more fucking, even if only from my own fingers. I no longer cared what they had done. I just wanted to hear more.

"You're such a fucking gentleman," my voice sounded like a growl. 

"Yeah, I gathered up my clothes, arranged myself as decently as I could and toddled back to my own room."

Once he got to his room, he had been overcome with guilt, because he phoned and told me this story immediately after fucking her. It was a brave and stupid thing to do. At least he was man enough not to sob, nor did he quite come right out and ask for forgiveness then. Maybe my heavy breathing as my hips started lifting back up off our marriage bed were all the absolution he needed. 

"Tell me more," I begged.

He paused, no doubt thinking that there was no more to tell, or wondering if he should make something up. Hubby is brilliant, but not the most creative guy in the world. 

"I...I want to fuck her again," he finally confessed. "It's not that she's better than you. But she has so much experience, I just know she has a lot of tricks to show me. Plus, I didn't get to fuck her ass yet."

So many tricks -- maybe the slut could be good for my love life, teach the old dog new tricks to bring home to me. I pictured her, face buried in a pillow, hips in the arm thrusting back against hubby as he knelt behind her on the bed, fucking her ass. Admitting to myself how hot it would be to sit in the room watching that, I tugged my clit with the fingers of one hand, and a nipple with the other. My hips thrust in orgasm, making the same motion as if it was me fucking her ass with a strap on dildo. 

My groans must have been loud, because, after a pause, hubby spoke into the phone. "That was quite a reaction."

"I bet her ass is stretched wide, she's such a whore."

Hubby chuckled. "I'm confident she doesn't charge for it."

"Well, if you fuck her ass, I want to hear all about it."

I thought I heard hubby gulp before he promised to comply. When he got home from the trip, he told me that the next morning, and the next after that, she had been just as professional as ever, polite, but no hint that their encounter had ever happened. Hubby confessed that he had gone to the bar after the second day's sessions hoping to see her, and she was there, surrounded by a group of guys from the local office. He had asked her if she wanted to have dinner, but she had laughed, chugged her cosmo, and said that food was for the weak- she was going out trolling strip bars with the guys. Though she had said, "you can come along if you want", hubby understood that their moment had passed. Instead, he went up to his room and we had more phone sex. He also admitted that before calling me, he had ordered room service, fantasizing about propositioning a sexy waitress, but the food had been delivered by a wrinkly elderly waiter. So hubby was left to verbalize assfucking fantasies with me.

He never did get to fuck that bitch's ass. They never took another trip together. Since hubby was now fully trained, he was sent out on his own. She transferred to the east coast soon after, and then quit the company. Rumours said she had married a senior executive. Or an oil tycoon. Or a movie producer. The only truth that mattered to me was that hubby had strayed. I suspected the truth that mattered most to hubby was that he never got to fuck that ass. He sure introduced it into our sexual fantasizing often enough. 

We always came hard and fast when we fantasized. This was nothing new -- imagination had always played a role in our sex life, from teasing about inviting a bridesmaid along on the honeymoon to speculating which cheerleader at our son's senior year football games had fucked the quarterback on her eighteenth birthday. 

Not that all our talk was about other women. Our daughter had a male second grade teacher. When hubby had joked about my wanting to schedule midnight parent teacher conferences, I had retorted that maybe the teacher was gay and would rather that hubby show up instead of me. 

There was no hesitation about the absolutely ripped almost nude surfing instructor when we took our Hawaii vacation -- hubby had almost begged me to seduce him so that he could watch, I had deflected it by saying I would if hubby would lick the bronze cock and slide it inside me. That not only shut hubby up, it made him blush. His cock was incredibly hard, and I had dragged him from the beach, intending to fuck him in our room, but we ended up not being able to wait that long. We did the deed leaning against a tree trunk just off the pathway about twenty feet up from the beach, only his cock outside his pants, but my bandeau bikini top pushed up so he could ravage my tits, as well as my bottoms twisted to open my wet slit to his penetration. We kept our lips tightly together to muffle our groans. When he dropped his lips to my nipple, he stuck a palm over my mouth. Not that I cared whether anybody heard or saw us. My brain was too busy wishing it was a thick Polynesian cock in my cunt instead of hubby. Hubby's enthusiasm washed away any hint of shame. 

Over time, though, the reality bed fantasies after hubby's slip took us in different directions. I continued to find the idea thrilling, and my sex talk was built around pushing the envelop further. Though we never discussed it, I hoped that hubby would get another opportunity. He on the other hand, began to increasingly become uncomfortable with the whole idea, saying that he thought I kept bringing it back up to punish him. We had to stop the talking before he was simply unable to get it up. Soon, our sex life settled back into a vanilla routine, which in turn gradually diminished into a stereotypical married couple sparsity. 

When I tried talking about it, he withdrew further. Finally, I decided to act, not talk. To take matters into my own hands, so to speak. All it would take, I figured, was for my hand to slide over his thigh and grasp his idle cock. I could silently stroke it to life as I rolled over and rested my head on his shoulder, my tit pressing into his arm. Once he was hard, I figured he would just join right in. We could fuck like animals, grunting without speaking. I pictured myself riding him cowgirl style, until he rolled over and flipped me onto my hands and knees to fuck me doggy style. 

It did not work out quite like I planned. His noodle stayed as limp as overcooked vermicelli. When I put my head on his shoulder, he brusquely shrugged and rolled away. He just couldn't not believe that I had accepted his transgression. The truth -- that I not only accepted it, but was excited, and hoping for more, was just impossible for him to grasp. I guess that's why he turned it around. Not because we would be equally guilty, but in hope that I could understand how he felt.

Of course, fucking around with his prior consent would never be the same. So once I realized the need to satisfy his expectations, to try to please him, I set out to have my own meaningless sex.

Since I don't travel for my job, the perfect "in and out" sex away from home was impossible. Second best would be a stranger. That would make it clear to hubby when I told him that I had not just embraced his suggestion, but that I had levelled the playing field on my own terms. Our marriage could then continue as equals, without the complications of some star struck lover wanting more.

I tried going to bars a couple of times. The sort attached to hotels or motels near the airport or the highway where businessmen stay. Not trucker joints, though fucking in a sleeper cab might be added to my bucket list now that I've pictured it. I suppose that doggy style would be best, taking care not to bounce any heads against the interior. Travelling coast to coast with a driving team, being tag teamed by them, one fucking while the other drives, might be a hoot. I wonder if I would enjoy two guys, or a husband wife team better? 




Forgiveness



Except now I am digressing. Sure, my kinky mind played with thoughts like that as I searched for my zipless fuck, but I was still a faithful wife. At least, I had not yet fucked anybody but hubby. I was so unsure of myself that I walked out of every one of those bars before anybody approached me. I would have a sip of my drink, and my tummy would sour, or my throat would tighten. The thought of a stranger's fat cock swelling in my mouth would sicken me. The more I searched, the more I thought about remaining a faithful wife. 

I say "faithful wife" rather than monogamous because I think that in order to be monogamous, you have to have sex. The drought at home was threatening to turn our marriage bed into the Sahara desert. I could not remember the last time I slept in the wet spot. 

Hubby was such a successful trainer that BigCo sent him on more and more field trips. He was insistent about telling me that he stayed celibate while away, when I would have preferred that he call me while he had his cock up some slutty sales associate's ass, or was being sucked off by a cocktail waitress. Then maybe he would come home and fuck my brains out. I masturbated thinking about it.

My favourite fantasy was about a young blonde sales gal, stripped naked, doggy style in his hotel room, up on the bed, still wearing her heels as hubby rammed his cock up her poop chute, pulling her long hair with one hand while he diddled her clit and teased her tits with the other. We always all three came simultaneously, in my mind.

Once I decided that bars were not working for me, I started glancing longingly at the plumber's butt crack as he repaired my leaky sink. Hubby could have done it, but he was away again. The house was empty, it was early in the day. But my mind became too busy, wondering if the tradesman would have to bill me an extra hour for the time spent in the bedroom- though I preferred the idea of him just bending me over the kitchen table. After he left, I retreated to the bedroom and imagined how his strong but nimble fingers would feel on my tits. 

The tension continued until the following summer. Both sons came home from school, but that hardly impacted our almost non-existent sex life. Non-existent together, anyway. Since both boys had summer jobs, I still had lots of time to play with myself during the day. 

Then one day, as I was washing up the lunch dishes, my son's old high school pal Bob, now also a college sophomore, came over looking for my son. I let him in. Now, after the lunch washing up had become the time I typically allowed my mind to wander, and then my fingers to roam. I got Bob a soda before I told him that my son wasn't home 'yet', though I knew my son's summer job required that he work until dark. We chatted as I finished dishes, him drying. As I rinsed a plate, he went to get it from me and his arm brushed my right boob. He apologized profusely. 

I told him. "I don't mind your hand on my tit..."

He looked at me dumbfounded, so I took the towel from his hand and put his hand on my tit. I picked up another plate and stated washing it, a bit more than it needed. He just froze, holding my boob. "...although, I like a soft caress when a guy holds me."

When I finished washing that plate, Bob realized that he was still holding the previous plate and hadn't dried it. He took his hand off my boob and picked up the towel. We finished the plates in silence and I started on the silverware when Bob finally piped up, "You know, Mrs. Stevens, as much as I would like to really have sex with you, I'm not sure you want to. I think this is just a tease."

I continued washing without saying anything. After cleaning the handful of silverware I had, I wiped off the suds from my hands. I stepped back as Bob continued drying. When I stepped back up to the sink, my bra and t-shirt were on the floor. Bob looked at my tits bug-eyed."What if somebody walks by?!?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "wouldn't be the first time the mailman has seen my tits."

Sure enough, just as I was washing the last pot, the mailman walked by. Our mailbox is on the outside wall next to the front door. The mailman passes by the kitchen window on his way to our mailbox. He looked up at the window, just as I'm sure he always does in hopes I'm doing dishes naked, or at least topless. Ever since the boys had moved away, I just hard a tough time resisting the temptation to allow my fingers to wander after a meal warmed my belly- and often, would not bother putting my clothes back on after pleasuring myself before washing up the dishes. 

This time, he looked, smiled big and gave a thumbs up. I waved. I could hear the mailbox being stuffed, much the way I wanted to get stuffed. Then he waked back to the window, pointed to Bob, and gave him another smile and thumbs up. I'm sure he had a hard on as he went to the next house. My pussy, damp from teasing Bob, flowed wet, thinking about what the mailman's cock might look like, what it might feel like. I made a mental note to find out, some day. But first, I had Bob to deal with. 

He quickly ran his towel over the pot, and, stumbling for words, asked me where to put it. I knew he didn't mean the pot. 

I just quickly replied, "Hurry up, I want to go to the bedroom and fuck."

His jaw dropped slack, his eyes bulged out almost as much as his groin, but he seemed to be finally realizing that I was no longer teasing, that I was really going to fuck him. Even today, I am not sure just at what point I made that decision, but I had.  

"Fuck it," he said, recovering. "let them air dry."

Although it was my home, he took me by the hand and led me to my own bedroom. Once there, he placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me to my knees. I instinctively undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and allowed his massive cock to spring free, the head bouncing just about an inch from my lips. His hands grasped my hair, pulling me toward his manhood.

"No need to rush, we have all afternoon. As long as we clean up before hubby is home." 

"Good, because after you swallow my first load, I'll last even longer when I fuck you."

I loved his swagger, his confidence that I would swallow. Though, who knows, maybe hubby liked to brag to the young men what a hot cocksucking cum swallowing wife he had. 

Bob had a fine young cock. Not a mammoth porn star monster, but a respectful rod, topped by a swollen purple helmet, no foreskin. His veins bulged with excitement as I took his shaft in my hand and examined it briefly before starting to bathe it with my tongue. 

He tossed his head back and moaned, fingers twisting my hair as I took the cock head into my mouth. Though he was turgid with excitement, my breath warming his most intimate flesh drew more blood into his member. I loved that feeling of his mushroom expanding to fill both my cheeks. As he throbbed against my tongue and teeth, I slid a hand up inside his thigh, admiring the tone of his muscles, until my fingers reached his heavy ball sack. I teased him slightly, bouncing his peach pits until he moaned out loud. Then I shifted my hand, cupping his scrotum in my palm, and pressing it upward toward his taint. This prompted a spurt of precum. It tasted sweet, so I pulled my head back to lick his slit clean. 

Smiling up at Bob, I saw that he was staring down at me. 

"I love how you taste," I said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to stop."

To prove my point, I opened my jaw as wide as possible and dropped my head right down over Bob's weapon. My hand moved up, grasping his shaft, taking as much as I could into my mouth and throat. Greedy for more, I ran my other hand up the back of his thigh, again pausing to marvel at his athletic tone, so different from hubby. When that hand cupped Bob's butt, I released his shaft and grabbed his ass with both hands, drawing him closer. Still, my lips were not at his root. I knew that I would have to take him later with my head leaning off the edge of the bed, opening my throat even more to take all his length. It was a little trick I had learnt way back in my single days, and I recalled it fondly even though I had never had to do it to take all of hubby, though we had tried it occasionally just for variety. Then I chuckled, realizing that I was already planning ahead, whether to more cock sucking that day, or future encounters. At that moment, I realized that I loved hubby, but I craved Bob's cock, and I suspected, more cocks. 

"I'm going to come," Bob grunted, jolting me back to reality. 

I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I liked to swallow, but my mouth was too full to speak. Instead, I ran one finger into his ass cleavage while my other hand roamed down and around to squeeze his balls. Besides which, he had already told me that he expected me to swallow. I thrust my finger past his sphincter. The instant I probed his prostate, his load burst upward, flooding my mouth and throat. I swallowed without gagging, keeping my lips tight around his shaft so nothing leaked out. I loved the warmth of his sperm in my belly. 

My fingers and mouth worked together to milk him. I knew that even if I emptied this first load completely, he would revive quickly. I needed to get fucked, and was sure he would rise to the task. Grasping his still semi erect shaft in my fist, I rose from my knees. With my free hand, I cupped the back of his head and tilted his mouth to mine. If he had never snowballed before, at least he did not resist as my tongue pushed between his lips, past his teeth, sharing his spunk with him. As we kissed, I felt him swallow. 

"It won't take you long to be ready to fuck me, but first, my cunt wants some attention," I said as I tugged him toward the bed, pulling his cock like a rope- a long, thick, hard rope 

I lay on my back on the bed, knees wide apart, lower legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He leaned over, looking down at me, licking his lips as he slowly drank in my naked flesh from my diamond hard nipples to my soaked cunt. 

" I never dreamt I might get to fuck you," he chuckled, "but I jerked off often imagining fucking that hot daughter of yours. Except your son would have beaten me up, so fucking her remained a fantasy."

"Well, I'm real, and I want to get fucked," I moaned. 

"But first, mind blowing oral deserves mind blowing oral," Bob replied, dropping his face to my quim.

Bob's lips explored my wet naked cunt and he started to kiss and lick it . His tongue flicked against my clit, tickling the tender flesh. He obviously had done this before, and not just a time or two.

I ran my fingers through his hair, moaning in my otherwise silent bedroom, feeling my ass rotating as his tongue explored every crevice inside my cunt.

"Oh, yeah, you sure know how to kiss a girl's cunt, Bob," I giggled- feeling very much like a girl, not a woman more than twice the age of this college boy eating me.

I loved the flood of pleasure the young stud gave me. It was all so nasty. It gave me feelings of power I had never felt before. His nose, lips and teeth grazed my lips, making me tremble. The tingles rushing from the base of my spine up to explode in my brain only happened occasionally during sex with hubby. 

"I can't stand any more teasing, shove your tongue up inside my cunt!"

Bob obeyed, thrusting his tongue deep up into my cunt and swallowing my creamy flow. Then he focused in on my clit, sucking it deep between his lips, gently closing his teeth around the base as his tongue drew it into his mouth.

"Ohhhh, yessss, yess...." I growled, my hips bouncing up off the bed humping against him. "Lick my clit..." 

"Drink it all up," I squealed as a prolonged, intense orgasm rolled through my entire body, shocks running down to my toes and up to my nose. He continued attacking my pussy, feasting on my soggy gash like he was starving. My cunt walls clamped down around his tongue as my climax grew. I heard his lips smack as he lapped up a burst of my nectar. He wiggled his tongue, cleaning out all the ridges of my cunt. I shivered as another wave rolled through me. 

Bob was not finished yet. He reached under me and cupped my ass in his strong hands, drawing my groin up, holding my cunt against his face. It was like he was never going to stop, and I was happy to let him continue. My fingers were tugging wildly at his hair as my cunt juices overflowed. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, though it was only minutes, I couldn't stand it any longer and released my grips, throwing my arms out wide on the mattress as I collapsed, panting for breath, my pussy lips still quivering. I had to smile when Bob raised his cunt lapping face from my thigh, showing me a huge grin shining with my essence. He looked like a playful puppy awaiting fresh orders. 

I rolled off the bed and instructed him. "Flat on your back, spread your legs wide, let the air bathe that gorgeous cock."

I stood beside the bed for a moment, letting his eyes feast on my full tits, my erect nipples, and my hungry cunt. I met his gaze, but my eyes quickly roamed down his athletic body. As I had expected, he was already fully recovered from the blow job. His spear stood erect, still shiny with the remnants of my oral activity. I grinned at the realization that, as much as I love hubby, fucking young studs has certain advantages. 

I climbed onto the end of the bed and slowly crawled between his legs. I lowered my mouth to give his prick one long lingering kiss, tongue swirling into his slit. It was tempting to continue and suck him some more, but my cunt wanted fucking, and it wanted it immediately. "Fuck me, fuck me now," I said to Bob, even though I was totally in control, his cock in my hand as I drew my hips up over his. 

As I started to mount him, though, Bob showed that he still had moves left. He grabbed me by the hips and spun me onto the mattress, rolling his body so that his prick was lined up to pierce my labia.

"I'm going to fuck you until you scream," he said. 

"Give me all you've got," I growled up at him, grabbing his shaft and humping my hips up to steer him into me. 

Just as his helmet grazed my thigh, though, I paused.

"Shit... have you got a rubber?" I asked.

Bob groaned. "I wasn't exactly planning on having sex when I came looking for your son. Hasn't your hubby got any?"

"No. It's not like we're swingers or anything. Yours is the first cock other than his I've touched since we got married." Then I remembered. "I did see some under the bed in the boys' room."

Bob was off like a shot across the hall. When he returned, he was grinning, holding up half a dozen foil packets in a strip.

"Nice work," I chuckled, "but I don't think we'll need all of them."

"I hope to use more than one." he replied as he walked to the bed.

His cock bobbled as it guided him to me, and I could not resist reaching out, touching it, stroking it, licking it. With his head swelling in my cheek, I took the condoms from him, carefully ripping open a package, fingers fumbling with the foil. Remembering something I had read in porn, I blew the rubber open like a balloon, and then slid it down his shaft.

"That's better," I sighed, wrapping my arms around him as he lowered himself back onto the bed, his gorgeous erection was properly sheathed.

He nibbled my nipples as he settled between my thighs. I was hungry to get fucked, but needed to keep control. I tickled him, and slid my leg around his thigh, using all my leverage to roll him onto his back. I popped up off the mattress, pausing briefly to again admire that virile missile which I was about to enjoy. Grabbing his wrists, I held him down, climbing up over his legs and then I slowly lowered my cunt over his cock, easing him into me inch by inch. It was difficult to go slow, because every nerve ending in my body was tingling with pleasure. Finally, I had all that meat deep inside my purse. I lowered my tits to his lips and rode him cowgirl style, loving the squishy sensation as the bottom ridge of his head scraped my cunt walls, my muscles milking him. 

My ass squirmed like it had a mind of its own as his head pulsed inside me. We fucked in a frenzy, the young stud making me squeal with delight. 

"Oh, baby, you sure know how to fuck," I moaned as he pumped his prick in and out of my smoldering cunt. "Don't stop until you make me explode." 

His hips humped up against me as I enjoyed the glorious sensation of his throbbing meat deep inside my womb. I climaxed again, hard and fast, as Bob arched his back , thrusting furiously. I felt his shaft expand and then the flood of his seed filling the condom. 

My head was flying from side to side as my abdominal muscles milked his cock, and my cunt spasmed wildly. I wanted the sensations to go on forever, but even great things come to an end. I don't know what I screamed, I just know that I pressed my body down against his, my nipples drilling into his flesh and held him there until the waves subsided. 

"Just rest, we have all afternoon, I want more," I cooed, fingers playing with his hair and rubbing his skin. 

His cock relaxed a bit, and I had just enough sense left to roll off before the rubber slipped off inside of me. We lay there for a while, my head on his shoulder. Gradually, as I toyed with his manly chest, he started playing with my nipples and tits.

"You love my tits, don't you?" I asked.

"Always have. Never though I'd get to see them naked though, let alone touch them."

I shifted slightly, so that a nipple brushed against his lips. 

"Suck me," I commanded. "I know that you have jerked off imaging this- show me what you dream off."

He moved his mouth from side to side, sucking first one nubs then the other. I rolled over, straddling him, leaning down so that he could easily tongue each tit. Before long, I felt his cock rise, bouncing against my ass.

"You can't fuck my ass," but you can fuck me from behind," I instructed, rolling off him, and down onto the floor.

"How did you know that I usually picture myself fucking you doggy style, using your great tits as hand holds," Bob chuckled, bouncing off the bed. He grabbed another condom. Since I was already kneeling on the floor, I could not roll it onto him, but he paused with his cock near my lips. I took the hint and spat on his tip, lubricating it so the rubber rolled on easily.

He stepped behind me and pressed his chest against my shoulder blades. It was a special treat to not feel hubby's belly against the small of my back. I thrust back and he pushed forward, filling me from behind. His hands cupped my dangling tits and he used them to tug me back against his groin. He then pressed forward, which made my mounds flatten against his palms, my sensitive nipples screaming with pleasure, or pain. 

Having already come a couple of times, Bob lasted longer this time, long enough that we each took a turn freeing up a hand to toy with my clit- me having to be very careful not to fall flat on my face.

As he slid deep into me, I closed my eyes, imagining looking up and seeing hubby sitting on the edge of the bed, watching. Instead of anger though, arousal coloured his face. He unzipped his pants and jerked off watching the pleasure that Bob and i shared, until, in my mind, his cum splattered my face. 

While I experienced a tremor from that mental image, Bob moved a hand off my breast to hold the back of my neck and push my face against the carpet, creating a new angle of penetration, my ass high in the air, him high up on his knees. This round ended when, after I teased my button, I ran my finger tips down to his balls and rolled them lightly. I thought this might make his shaft swell, filling me even more. Instead, it triggered his explosion, filling the rubber. I still enjoyed the sensation, and my thumb found my clit, starting my orgasm before he finished. 

Bob shuffle back after his final spasm, and collapsed beside me on the carpet. 




Forgiveness



Good day! Thanks for taking the time to check out one of my stories. This particular tale takes place in the same continuity as my Spring Break, Weekend Getaway and Foursomes & Moresomes series. I hope you'll check those stories out if you haven't given them a read already and let me know what you think. I love hearing from readers, so please leave a comment or send me an email.

***************

"Do you want to tell her or should I?"

The seconds ticked away while I waited for her response. I heard a false start or two. Pam was thinking.

"You had better do it," Katie's sister finally said. "This isn't the kind of news anyone should get over the phone."

She was right, of course. I scribbled down a few notes to make sure I got the details straight. With a sigh, I hung up, wondering what the best way to break this would be.

The kids were—thankfully—oblivious. The rest of my morning was spent folding laundry, playing hide and go seek, and waiting for Melinda to come home. It was one of her early office hours days which meant she'd be back right after lunch. We'd corral the kids, put them down for their naps and finish our chores around the house. Melinda might sneak in a nap herself, grade papers or even write a little bit while I'd try and put the house back in order.

Late afternoon, we'd get the kids up, wait for the older ones to come home from school, then feed everyone a snack (including us). Katie would come home right before dinner time and help either Melinda or I cook while the other one watched the kids along with the ever-present eyes of Mrs. Harris, our nanny. Immediately after the 6:00 news ended, Leah would come home and we'd all sit down for a meal together.

Our lives revolved around a schedule that was pretty much written in stone, and that was a good thing. You see, we have eight children.

Kaylee is eight and in the third grade. Gwen and Gabi just turned six and Bryan is five; all three are in kindergarten. The quads (Brooke, Serafina, Tempest and Terra) are rambunctious two-year olds and if not for Mrs. Harris, I don't know what I'd do (probably go insane). Since they were born, she's almost been a full-time member of our household. She shows up right when the girls leave for work and stays until the last of them come home.

We pay her generously, but it's not enough for everything she does. She's a fit woman in her mid-50s. Widowed, she has grandchildren of her own, but for some reason puts up with us. Melinda met her through church and she has this matronly demeanor that is stern and loving at the same time. I've never heard her raise her voice, but she can get any of the kids (including the "adults" in our house) to do anything she wants with just a look.

Her sole job is to watch the kids. She doesn't do chores, even when she offers or tries to pitch in. If I had my way, I'd make her the kids's fourth grandmother.

As it is, I often turn to her for advice. After all, I'm a 35 year-old guy who's a stay at home dad and knows very little about parenting that wasn't learned through trial and error (and there have been a lot of errors). So in a quiet moment, when the little ones were at least in their beds for a nap, I asked her what to do. I listened, but the gist of what she said was, "You have to go with your gut."

I know, not very helpful.

The day played out as it always did. Melinda came home; I took her aside and filled her in. We decided to wait until the kids went to bed before talking to the other two.

Mrs. Harris left and our evening routine was no different than any other day. It was dinner and then bath time, quite a trick with eight kids. It's a good thing we have enough bathrooms to accommodate everyone at once, especially if we bathe the younger ones in pairs. The older ones can pretty much shower themselves, especially since we've set the tankless hot water heaters in their bathrooms to a less than scalding temperature. Then we tucked them all in and sat around for an hour or two of peace and quiet (and footrubs and adult chatter).

After American Idol, we retired to the bedroom. When Katie came out of the bathroom, I took a deep breath as she climbed into bed.

"Pam called today," I started.

"Really? What did she have to say?" Katie asked, puzzled. It's highly unusual for any of our family to call during the day. Leah's head shot around; this was going to be news to her as well. I guess there was something in my tone that sounded ominous.

"She had some news about Carl." The words hung in the air for a long moment. The last time any of us had seen him was about thirteen years ago. He was Katie's high school sweetheart and they hadn't broken up on the best of terms.

"What about him?" Katie asked softly.

"He was killed last week at Quantico," I said tentatively. "Pam said he was in the Marines and drowned in some kind of training exercise."

I stopped to let that sink in. Carl was Katie's first love. They were a good fit both in terms of temperament and common interests. But after our trip to Disney World, they both changed, and not together. Or for the better.

Carl stalked her for a little while and generally was a jackass. He was also the one who blew the whistle on Katie's relationship with Leah to our wife's fundy Christian mother, who then pretty much disowned her daughter. Still, on balance he never treated her in an abusive way and I think after he saw what happened between Katie and her mom, he wished he'd just kept his damn mouth shut.

If not for us, Katie most likely would have married Carl and they'd probably have been pretty happy. After all, they were supposed to be together. But life has a habit of not turning out the way you plan.

I watched my redheaded wife's eyes darken. "Tell me everything."

Even though I didn't have all the details, I filled in the blanks with the information Pam had given me earlier that day. None of us had kept in touch with him after we moved away. None of us wanted to after the way he obsessed over Katie following their break-up. But I don't think any of us thought of him as a bad person; he was just a jealous ex-boyfriend.

"They're having visitation on Friday afternoon and then the funeral on Saturday," I said after filling her in. "I thought we'd at least send flowers. Pam gave me the address of the—"

"I want to go," Katie interrupted.

The other three of us shared the I-don't-think-that's-a-good-idea look. Leah's brow creased with worry.

"Are you sure that's something you want?" Melinda asked diplomatically. "You two didn't exactly break up on the best of terms."

Katie took a deep breath. "I know . . . and I hate that for us. I was in love with him, you know."

Leah reached out and took her hand.

"I always thought we'd . . . he and I . . . would be together. Forever," Katie continued. She paused for a long moment.

Normally, Katie is the most passionate of us. She's the quickest to laugh and the quickest to blow her stack. Her temper is explosive and her anger fierce. And she also loves the hardest and is the most generous with her emotions. Introspection is not something she's given to.

This news certainly caught her by surprise. Hell, it caught all of us out of the blue. Maybe it was because we hadn't seen or talked to him in over a decade. Maybe it was because we had grown together without him. Maybe it was because of the way things ended between him and Katie. And by extension, how things had ended between him and the rest of us.

I half expected her to either burst into tears or rant on and on about what an asshole he had been, but instead she just snuggled up to Leah, who has been her emotional rock since the two of them met. Melinda and I waited to see if she wanted to talk some more, but after a few minutes, I reached over and turned out the lamp on the night stand.

I got the feeling that she was processing everything and would let us know what she was thinking later. So the four of us curled up in each other's arms reflecting on our friend and lover who was now gone.

Melinda dozed off first. I looked over at the other two. Katie's eyes were closed, but I don't think she was asleep. Leah stared off into the darkness, her arms around our wife. Every now and then she'd look down at the woman in her arms, as if she wanted to say something. A couple of times, she glanced over to see me watching them, but none of us said anything.

Eventually sleep finally claimed me. On one side, I heard the comforting sound of Melinda's rhythmic breathing. On the other, muted crying as Katie choked back tears.

************

After some last-minute travel plans, we packed up all eight of the kids and flew down to Jacksonville. Have I mentioned how nice it is to be well-to-do? I need to send our financial advisor a big fruit basket for convincing us to take most of the money we earned from playing the stock and real estate markets and put it into low-risk funds a few years back. Truthfully, we don't need to make any more money; we're taking what we have and using it to preserve the lifestyle to which we've become accustomed. Plus, even with girls working less than they were before, we can cover all of our daily living expenses (and then some) and not really have to dig into our considerable savings.

On balance, with the high price of fuel, we've found chartering a private jet was preferable to flying commercial. Seriously . . . try booking a flight for 12 on a mainstream carrier and then match that price against private aviation. Then consider that we wouldn't have to catch a connecting flight out of Charlotte or Atlanta and we wouldn't have to go through security. Plus, it sure beats the hell out of driving from Asheville to Jacksonville.

We were going to rent half the rooms at Embassy Suites or some place similar, but when they heard we were coming, Melinda's parents made us stay with them. I tried to warn them, but they insisted. They enlisted the help of her brothers and their families to help us entertain the kids.

I drove the lead rental minivan and I hate to admit it, but I got turned around a couple of times. I guess that's what being away from home for 10 years does. Thank God for GPS. Still, it was good to be back in our old stomping grounds. Visitation was on Friday night and the four of us decided to go together; strength in numbers and all that.

Katie had always gotten along with Carl's family. I had only met his folks once and neither Leah nor Melinda had ever encountered them. I thought they were nice people, but I didn't know how we would be received post-break-up. I also didn't know how much Carl had told them about the four of us.

It turns out, I need not have worried.

We arrived at the funeral home about half an hour after visitation started. Of course, we didn't recognise anyone. Melinda signed the guest book for the four of us. I held Katie's hand—mostly for the sake of appearances—but neither of the other girls was ever more than an arm's length away.

The casket was open and the room was about half-full. People were huddled in small groups, talking quietly. No sooner had we stepped into the parlor than a woman rushed over to greet Katie.

"I'm so glad you could come!" Her voice was friendly, and I could tell she was a lot more accustomed to laughing than crying. She was tall and thin, just like her son. She and Katie shared a warm embrace and spent the next few minutes catching up over the last twelve years or so. Katie introduced her to the three of us; me as her husband, Leah and Melinda as our "friends".

Carl's mom was unfailingly polite. She had a combination of good, old-fashioned southern hospitality mixed with a compassionate demeanor that disarmed all those around her. I can only imagine how hard it was for her to be there, burying her only child. Soon enough, she gave Katie one more hug and then went to greet more guests, but not before exchanging email addresses and promises to friend one another on Facebook.

We stayed for a few minutes, staring absently at the collages of pictures that were arranged throughout the room. The family who was gathered around the floral arrangements was careful to avoid letting a receiving line form. Instead, they circulated and visited with each group of people.

I fidgeted nervously; funerals always make me uncomfortable, especially when I don't know anyone. Katie's eyes were fixed on a large flat-screen TV that was playing a slide show of pictures that covered Carl's life from birth through school and into the Marines.

She drew in a sharp breath when she saw herself in their prom photo. I squeezed her hand gently. Leah put her arm around Katie to keep her from falling over.

"Excuse me," a soft voice said. The four of us turned and saw a young woman standing there. She was about my height, but slender and fit. Her face was freckled and she had a full head of thick, auburn hair. "You must be Katie."

"Yes," our wife stammered.

"I'm Aubrey," the woman said. "Carl's wife."

The four of us stood there, dumbstruck. Her resemblance to Katie was uncanny.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said. There was sorrow in her eyes, but she seemed to be holding up well. "Carl told me all about you."

"All good things, I hope," Melinda recovered the fastest.

"Melinda, right?" Her grin pushed the sadness away for just a moment. She leaned in, her voice low so those around us couldn't hear. "I guess I have you to thank for teaching Carl that swirly thing he does with his tongue."

The girls all giggled. I found myself liking this woman. Her friendly aura put us at ease. She could have very easily been catty or nasty to us all; it seemed Carl had pretty much told her everything about us. Instead, she greeted us as if we had known her forever.

"Listen, I know you guys didn't part as friends," Aubrey said, the sorrow returning. "That was his one big regret in life. He couldn't live that lifestyle . . . and he couldn't just let you go. I tried to get him to call you a couple of years ago . . . but he wouldn't. Katie, you were his 'what if . . .' and I don't ever think he made peace with what he did to you. I know he wanted to say he was sorry."

Katie reached out and took the other woman in her arms. They held each other for a long moment, each whispering in the other's ear.

"I guess I should also thank you," Aubrey wiped her eyes. "He was the best husband I could ask for and I know it's because he didn't want to hurt me the way he hurt you. And not just you, Katie . . . he broke all your hearts and he wanted so desperately to make things right with you all."

Leah and Melinda joined their embrace and Aubrey even gave me a warm hug. I made a mental note to send her flowers or something nice after all this was over.

"I've got to go. Other guests to see; I'm the grieving widow and all that," she rolled her eyes at having to go through everything associated with the funeral. She obviously wanted all of her public duties to be over so she could grieve in her own way and under her own terms. This is going to sound really selfish, but when it's our time to go, I hope I'm the first; I don't know that I could bring myself to bury any of my wives. It will break my heart. Aubrey squeezed Katie's hand one more time. "Thanks again."

Then she turned and was gone. We stood there for a minute with our arms around each other as Aubrey's words sank in.

"Let's go," Katie said softly. She obviously needed some time to think and the quicker we got away from a room full of strangers, the better. We'd be back tomorrow for the funeral anyway.

I led the way out. The girls were first through the door as I held it open for a couple on their way in.

We were halfway to our car when I heard a voice from behind us.

"Katie?"

The four of us stopped in our tracks, wondering who would be calling. I turned and saw two women. One I immediately recognised; it took me a second to place the other one. Pam walked tentatively towards us, clearly uncomfortable. She smiled apologetically at us.

"Mama!" Our wife ran past me and threw her arms around her mother. The other woman took a second, then embraced her daughter, whom she hadn't seen in over six years. I exchanged glances with my other two wives. There was a dark look in Leah's eyes. Melinda frowned. Both of their body language turned instantly defensive.

"I'm sorry for ambushing you guys like this," Pam whispered to me. "But Mom was afraid you wouldn't come if you knew she'd be here."

"What does she want?" There was a hard edge in Leah's voice.

"I think she wants to make up for lost time," Katie's sister said quietly.

"She's lost a lot of time." I couldn't blame Leah for the anger she felt. After all, she was the one who had to hold Katie's broken heart together every time her mother did something mean and spiteful. If looks could kill, Leah would have struck Katie's mom dead in her tracks.

We stood there uncomfortably for a few minutes as Katie and her mom held each other. Both were crying.

After a few minutes, they withdrew, but Katie still held her mother's hand, as if she were afraid to let go. They looked over at us, and the difference in demeanor between the two was remarkable.

Katie was overcome with relief and joy. Susan appeared to be full of fear and apprehension.

The six of us stood there awkwardly for a few moments. I reached out and gave Katie's mom a tentative hug, trying to break the ice. Melinda didn't move. Leah was willing herself not to reach out and throttle the older woman.

"Would you all like to come back to my house for a little while?" Susan asked, clearly uncomfortable.

"Yes," Katie answered before any of us could speak. She and Pam got in her mother's car. Melinda, Leah and I got in the rental. Both were simmering.

We drove for a few minutes in silence. If you've never been there, Jacksonville is one of those towns where everything is half an hour to forty-five minutes away. To get most places, you either have to get on the interstate, go past where you want to go and drive back, or fight traffic and sit through stop lights on Southside or Atlantic Boulevard.

Susan still lived in the house where Katie grew up down in the Mandarin area. She got that in her divorce settlement from Tom (known in our house as Poppy). I never disliked her; she was always nice to me, but she's one of those close-minded fundy Christians who lectures those around her and likes to look down on others for their "sinful" behavior. She also believes that homosexuals are going to burn in Hell. That's what drove Katie away.

When Katie and Carl broke up, he told Susan that Leah had come to town and turned Katie into a lesbian. That wasn't quite true, but those two were in love. They still are. Blinded by rage—and her fundy Christian background—Susan basically disowned her daughter. Katie moved in with the three of us and we've been together ever since.

At first, Tom didn't like the idea of Katie being involved with another woman, but he loved his daughter enough to accept her for who she was. He told us in no uncertain terms that he didn't approve of our lifestyle (he still doesn't) but he also says that we are the ones who have to life that life and if we truly are living in sin, then we are the ones who have to answer for it, not him. He loves his grandchildren, all eight of them, and I think he's coming around.

You see, I don't care what you believe or really why you believe it. The four of us were all raised in what I consider to be good families, but we're also free-thinking enough to not be drawn into dogma or blind obedience.

In the family I grew up in, we never concerned ourselves with what people do in the privacy of their own homes. As long as it's between consenting adults and no one gets hurt, I don't care what you do. That's translated into my adult life with my three spouses; the four of us subscribe to one simple belief: Love is never wrong.




Forgiveness



Unfortunately, there are people out there who want to tell others what they should believe and do, and Katie's mom is one of those. I think those people shouldn't be allowed to breed. I know I shouldn't be too judgmental, but I am, and that makes me a hypocrite. So sue me.

"If she hurts Katie again, I'm going to kill her," Leah said softly. Melinda nodded her silent assent.

"We have to give her a chance," I tried to be diplomatic.

"I'm going to let her know exactly—" Leah started and I could hear her blood starting to boil.

"You're going to do no such thing," I said firmly. "You are going to be a guest in her house. You are going to smile and be polite. We're going to hear her out. Who's to say she hasn't changed?"

"People like that don't change," my wife snorted.

"How do you know?" I asked. "I'm not saying we should forgive, forget and start over with a clean slate. But let's not shut her out completely."

"She's got a long way to go before we trust her," Melinda said quietly. The forced calm in her voice was a little unsettling to me. Normally, she is the most level-headed of the four of us, but I could see anger smoldering in her eyes. If Katie's temper is a like a firecracker, Melinda is a slow boil. She takes a long time to get going, but once she gets hot, she stays mad for a long, long time. And she holds grudges. For years. "Katie might just be happy to be talking to her mom again, but I expect that woman to launch into a lecture as soon as we get there. If she does, we're leaving."

I didn't say anything, but hoped that things wouldn't come to that.

We pulled into the driveway behind Pam, Katie and Susan. The six of us went inside and sat down. It was an awkward evening. We made small talk, I think mostly to avoid getting pissed off at one another.

Katie sat next to her mom and talked excitedly about what had gone on in our lives over the past decade. Leah and Melinda did their best to contain the vitriol that was lingering just beneath the surface. Pam kept glancing around nervously as if she expected either her mom or one of the girls to go off at any moment. I tried to keep the peace.

It was a pretty good night, all things considered. At least Susan was speaking to us again. I could tell she wanted to speak privately with her daughter, but it seemed she didn't know where to start. I couldn't blame her, though. How do you try and make up for missing out on the last 10 years of your child's life?

She didn't come to Katie's wedding, nor has she been present in the lives of her grandchildren. She's missed out on birthdays, Christmases and family vacations. Hell, to the best of my knowledge, Susan skipped Katie's college graduation.

I went into the kitchen and called Melinda's parents to let them know we were going to be a little late. Her dad was surprised that Katie's mom had shown up; they'd never met, but he had heard enough stories from the four of us to have a pretty negative opinion of Susan.

"Why don't you invite her over here for dinner tomorrow night?" he offered after a moment. "She could meet her grandchildren in a nice, neutral setting. Diane and I would like to meet her. Maybe we could help break the ice a little."

"Thanks," I replied. "I'll suggest that."

Hanging up, I went back out into the living room. It was past our bedtime. Katie looked up at me. "I guess it's time to go, huh?"

"You could stay here tonight," her mom blurted out.

Even though she smiled, there was a sad look in Katie's eyes. "I can't tonight, Mama. We have to get back to the kids."

Susan looked crestfallen. This was a big step for her.

"Why don't you come over to Nan-nan and Grandad's for dinner tomorrow?" I said. "Pam and Clive can bring the kids and we'll all hang out tomorrow night before we fly home on Sunday."

Leah and Melinda's eyes got wide. I shot them the "it's okay" look.

"Alright," Susan said, realising that she really didn't have any choice.

"The funeral's at noon. If you're going, you can just follow us out to Pat and Diane's house," I continued. "Otherwise we'll give you directions. It's pretty easy to find, just north of Regency Mall."

With that, the four of us went out to the car. Katie gave her mom a hug.

"Thank you," Pam whispered to me. "You don't know how hard this is for her."

"What's changed?" I asked.

"It's a long story," she sighed. "But I think she's finally ready."

"Better late than never, huh?"

Pam only smiled wistfully. Then we got in the car and drove back to Melinda's parents's house.

****************

The next day we woke up and dressed for the funeral. The tension in the air was palpable. It looked like the woman who had spent the better part of the past decade either ignoring or belittling Katie was back in her life. And by extension, Susan was back in our lives.

Katie was lost on Cloud Nine and oblivious, but Leah and Melinda were visibly upset. At least it seemed that way to me. Both were a little curt and short, but in their defense, they were waiting for Katie's mom to show her ugly side. After all, that was the woman they had known for the last thirteen years or so.

We left the kids with Nan-nan and Grandad then drove down to Carl's funeral. Katie's mom didn't come. We sat in the back row during the service, holding hands. All three girls were crying. Once, long ago, Carl was their lover. Although neither Leah nor Melinda were particularly close to him, that week the five of us shared was a turning point in all our lives. I mourned my friend, lost to jealousy, resentment and insecurity.

But I had moved on, just as Carl had. After the service, we got in the car and drove the short distance to the cemetery. We stayed for the short graveside closing, then went to get in our car.

"Katie!" someone called. It was Aubrey. She ran up and gave our wife a warm hug. The two whispered back and forth for a few minutes. Then the other woman reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope and handed it to Katie. The two shared a brief kiss and wiped each other's tears away. Then Aubrey turned and went back to the waiting limo.

I drove the rental car. We all rode in silence, each of us lost to our private thoughts. When we were about fifteen minutes away, I called Pam. She and her husband were with Susan, along with her two boys. We arranged to meet at a gas station near the intersection of Baymeadows and Southside, then they followed us up to Melinda's parents's house.

When we arrived at Pat and Diane's, everyone was out back. We could hear them splashing around in the pool. There was an extra car in the driveway; I recognised it as belonging to one of Melinda's younger brothers.

Pam pulled in behind us. I gave each of my nephews a big hug. Katie immediately went to her mother, much to the consternation of our wives. Susan looked a little tentative. Her eyes darted around nervously.

Neither Melinda nor Leah said a word to her.

We went inside and introduced Susan to Melinda's folks. Our kids rushed to greet their Aunt Pam, Uncle Clive and two of their favourite cousins. At her insistence, we didn't introduce Susan to the kids right away.

I did notice that her eyes lingered on them. Her gaze was sad, as if she fully understood how much of their lives she has missed out on.

The nervous tension didn't go away, at least for me. I felt like the rest of us were walking on eggshells. No one wanted to bring up the elephant in the room.

The four of us changed into comfortable clothes and Pam's kids already had their swim trunks on. Grandad was manning the grill while his wife was the lifeguard.

Susan talked a little, but seemed mostly withdrawn. I was inside looking for some more potato chips when she came in to use the rest room. As I hunted around the fridge for some French onion dip, Katie's mom came into the kitchen she stared out the window over the sink watching our family playing in the back yard.

"I'll bet you hate me, don't you," she said softly.

"No," I tried to say it as gently as I could. "I don't."

"Why not?" Susan asked. "I've been nothing but a horse's ass since I found out about Katie and Leah."

I nodded. That much was true. "Look, I don't know why you believe the things you do, nor do I understand why you did some of the things you did. But I hope you've changed and I really want you to be part of your daughter's life and our childrens's lives."

"I'd like that," she whispered. "But how do I . . ."

Her voice trailed off. I smiled as I watched the kids in the pool. "You go out there and introduce yourself to your grandchildren."

"What do I say to them?" her voice cracked.

With a deep, regretful sigh, I walked over so I was standing next to Susan. Neither of us spoke for a long time.

"Many years ago," I started softly, "I had this big, long speech planned out. I was going to tell you exactly what I thought. You were going to get it up one side and down the other. But now . . . now, no one is served by that. Not me. Not you. Not Katie, nor Melinda nor Leah. Or our children."

"Which ones are Katie's?" Susan asked, her voice barely audible.

"They all are," I said simply. "We—and I mean the four of us—have the eight most beautiful children in the world. Our lifestyle is different. We don't ask you to like it, but we do ask you to accept it. That is non-negotiable. Not for my folks, not for Melinda's, not for Leah's and not for you or Tom."

"But doesn't it . . . it's just so . . . so . . ."

"Different," I finished her thought. "Yes, it is. But this is a choice the four of us made a long time ago. It works for us. Despite all of the screwy things that can—and do—go on in our lives, we're all in it together. We share everything: money, love, children . . . Let me ask you this, Susan: Why did you show up at Carl's funeral? Why now?"

She looked away and paused before replying.

"I have breast cancer," she whispered. "I had a lumpectomy two months ago and now I'm having chemo."

My jaw dropped. She reached up and tugged at her hair, just enough to move her wig.

"My doctor says it's gone into remission and he thinks they got it all." Her eyes started to water. She took a deep breath. "When I was laying in the hospital bed, wondering if the surgery had gone okay, it hit me. Just out of nowhere. I realised that I had spent the last fourteen years pushing my daughter away. And for what? My own self-righteousness."

Her hands started to shake.

"I hated you," she continued softly. "Don't give me that look, you hated me, too. I hated you for taking my daughter from me. I hated Leah. I hated Melinda. I even hated Tom for 'encouraging' Katie to go astray."

"I never hated you, Susan," I said. "I felt sorry for you. I felt sorry that you were willing to throw your daughter out of your house because she didn't live up to your expectations."

Katie's mother let out a bitter sigh. "I don't know which is worse: your anger or your pity. All I've done since I kicked Katie out of my house was make myself miserable. Everyone else has moved on. Everyone but me. I wanted to call or write or something a couple of years ago . . . but I didn't know how to start. . . . I'm too much of a coward . . ."

"It's okay," I told her. "And believe it or not, I understand."

"You do?" she looked up at me incredulously.

"Yes," I said trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "You were blindsided and we kind of flaunted ourselves for a while. Then we moved away."

"How can you get past all of the horrible things I did? Don't you just want to kill me?"

"Susan," I turned her so she was looking right at me. "I forgave you a long time ago. Anger is something I don't have anymore. The people you really need to make peace with are the girls. Katie for some of the things you did. Leah and Melinda for having to hold your daughter's broken heart together. I don't want to kill you, but Leah might. And Melinda will help her hide your body."

I tried to say it as lighthearted as possible, but that wasn't far from the truth.

"As I said before, I don't expect you to approve of the lives we have chosen," I continued. "You can disagree with us all you want. Tom does. But know this: If you ever do anything to hurt one of our children, the Almighty Himself will not be able to stop me from tearing you apart."

She stepped back. I hadn't really meant to sound threatening, but sometimes I get carried away. I took a deep breath.

"Let's go outside," I suggested, gathering up the things I had come to the kitchen to get. "I'll introduce you to everyone."

"What do I say?" Susan asked and I could hear the fear in her voice.

I winked. "You tell them your Katie's mother and you want to play."

We stood there for several more minutes, each of us lost to our thoughts. Outside, the sounds of laughter filled the air, something that is very common in our house. Susan took a deep breath and let out a deep, bitter sigh.

"You may not believe this," she said softly. "But I am sorry. For all the things I did. I'm also angry, not at you or the girls. Not anymore. I'm angry with myself for missing out on my daughter's life for the past thirteen years."

I turned so I was looking in my mother's eyes. "Then you need to go outside and start making it right."

Her eyes were sad. Her forced smile heartbroken. Susan turned and walked out the back door. I followed at a distance. She walked over to Katie and whispered something in her ear. Our wife called all of our children over to her, and introduced them to her their grandmother.

Without a word, I took Leah's and Melinda's hands in mine and squeezed them gently, just to let them know everything was going to be okay.

****************

The rest of that afternoon passed quickly. Susan left with Pam and her kids, but not before promising Katie to come visit us.

One of the rules in our relationship is that we don't fight in front of the kids or other people. Over the years, the four of us have had some knock-down, drag-out shouting matches. Melinda and Katie almost had a catfight in the living room once (and not in the way that is hawt), and I've been known to blow my stack on occasion.

I could tell that when we got home the next day, we were in for a big one. If the kids had stayed home or if we weren't staying with Melinda's parents, it probably would have been that night, but instead it simmered for the entire next day.

Once we got back to our house and put the kids to bed, Leah exploded. Melinda, too. They both told Katie she was being snowed by her mother. They accused me of conspiring with Susan. For her part, Katie told the three of us we didn't know what the hell we were talking about.

It went back and forth for about an hour. I turned on the baby monitors so we could keep an ear out in case the kids needed us, but I had to shut the door to our bedroom to keep the noise level manageable.

"Why would she suddenly want to speak to you again?" Leah growled. Of the four of us, she despised Susan the most. It's because she's the one who is most in love with Katie and feels super-protective of her. You have no idea how many tears Katie cried into Leah's shoulder when Susan did something to her.

Katie came up blank. Apparently, I was the only one Susan had talked to at any length. I debated whether or not to be the one to break the news.

"She's my mother," Katie shouted. "I can't turn my back on her."

Melinda snorted derisively. "That's all she's done to you for the last thirteen years. What makes you think it's going to be any different now?"

I could tell Katie was doing her best not to either break down in tears right there or reach out and slug Melinda.

"All that bitch has done is treat you like shit, Katie," Melinda pressed. "She returned the Christmas presents you sent her. She hasn't been there for your birthdays. When you went to see her, she locked herself in her room and wouldn't come out to see her own daughter! She missed her grandchildren being born, for Christ's sake! Why now? Why would she just re-appear in your life and suddenly think everything is going to be okay?"

The words hung in the air for a long moment. Katie buried her face in her hands. I saw a flash of regret in Melinda's eyes as if she knew she had stepped over the line. Still, she asked a valid question.

I took a deep breath.

"She's got cancer," I said quietly. All three of the girls's heads shot around, their eyes wide. "Susan told me when we were talking in the kitchen yesterday."

Melinda and Leah both sat back, the aggression leaving their posture.

"It's in remission now," I continued. "I think she's finally realised that life's too short to spend it being mean and hateful."

None of the girls spoke as I recounted my earlier conversation with Katie's mom. I knew it really wasn't my place to break this news to the girls, but it seemed better than having our fight last all night. When I finished, Leah, Melinda and I took our wife in our arms and we held on to one another.

Katie called her sister and she was on the phone until well past midnight.

Leah, Melinda and I lay in our bed, talking about this new twist of events and how we were going to handle things. As a foursome, we've learned that to the kids and other people, we need to put forth a united front. Yes, we've had our differences, but never anywhere but the sanctuary of our bedroom and well away from the prying eyes of strangers, friends, our parents and even our children.

"So what do we do about Susan?" Leah asked. It was all she could do not to spit the woman's name.

"She's our mother," I said as both girls snorted. Still, my voice was firm. "She's important to Katie, and that makes her important to us. If she wants to be a part of our lives, I say we give her a chance."

"I'm going to tell her exactly what I think," there was no mistaking the edge in Melinda's tone.

"That's between you and her," I tried to be as gentle as possible. "But you will do it in private and not in front of the children. Susan is their grandmother and if she is willing to accept us—and I mean all twelve of us—then she's no different than any of our parents."

"How is she going to make up for missing out on their lives so far?" Leah asked incredulously.

All I could do was shrug. "That's up to her. The way I see it, she can't. But that doesn't mean she can't start now."

From the look in Melinda's eyes, I could tell my wife didn't believe things would change. Her voice was low and the threat unmistakable. "If she says anything in front of our children, I'm going to rip her goddam head off."

"No, you won't," Leah warned. " 'Cause I'm gonna do it first."

I let out a deep sigh. I could already tell there was going to be no reasoning with either of them. Both were out for blood.

We stayed up late, not really talking, but we were all so worked up, no one could get to sleep. Katie finally came to bed.

"I want to invite Mama up to see us," she said, steeling herself for our wives to go off again. Neither Leah nor Melinda said a word. Instead, they both stewed. "I want to give her a chance to get right with us all."

Having Susan under our roof was going to be a challenge for us all. But at least we would be on our home turf. I made a mental note to hide all the sharp objects in the house before Katie's mom arrived.

****************

The next month passed quickly. Our schedules were pretty much wide open. The kids had just gotten out of school for the summer. Susan was coming up to visit for a long weekend. I fixed up the guest suite (it had formerly been Katie's and Leah's room; ironic, huh?).

Mrs. Harris and I had a few deep, meaningful conversations where I picked her brain. After all, she and Susan were about the same age and her perspective was refreshing. While our nanny's mind was certainly more open than my mother's, Mrs. Harris explained to me about some of the generational differences between her and us, especially in the Bible Belt.




Forgiveness



Susan was flying up on a Friday morning and staying through Sunday. Katie and I went to pick her up at the airport, but not before the four of us had another long talk. This one was no less passionate, but the undertones of anger were gone. Still there was tension in the air, especially from Leah and Melinda. They decided to stay home instead of going to the airport with us.

We were waiting when Susan came down the jetway. She looked . . . tired. I don't know if that's the right word, but Katie's mom seemed worried and haggard. I gave her a friendly hug and Katie put her arm around her mom and never seemed to let go. I drove and Katie sat in the backseat of our hybrid Camry. We gave her the grand tour of Asheville and then drove out to the house.

I noticed Susan fidgeting more and more as we got closer. When we pulled into the driveway, I smiled to myself as I saw Susan's eyes get wide.

She didn't fully understand how successful we were until that moment and that made me feel a little smug. Yeah, I know it's petty. So sue me.

When we still lived in Jacksonville, we made a fair amount of money flipping houses. We invested that money in the mid-90s dot-com boom, then right before that bubble burst, we went back into real estate when we moved to North Carolina. We got in at the ground stage and invested in a couple of the vacation communities that have sprung up around town. After Bryan and the twins came along, we sold off everything except the house where we live now and got out of the speculation markets.

Sure we could have stayed in for a few more years, but then I figure we'd have lost a bunch of money in the subprime mess that sent everyone's investments in the tank. As things stand now, most of our assets are locked up in low-risk bonds. We don't make a lot of money, but we don't need to, either.

Melinda, Leah and Katie all work full-time and since we don't have any real debt—the house and cars are paid off—we can maintain our lifestyle on any two of their salaries. The third income is essentially our rainy-day fund.

When the quads were born, we built a huge addition on the back side of the house that added four more bedrooms and another play room. That doesn't include the two master suites and four bedrooms for the kids that were already in the house. Or the guest house/woodworking shop/painting studio/car garage that's out back. And the pool.

At the rate we've been building, I figure it won't be long before our house rivals the Grove Park Inn once we add a golf course and spa.

The way I see it, playing the stock market and investing in real estate is basically legalised gambling. You can make money or you can lose money in either. Now that the four of us are sitting on a small fortune, we don't have the luxury of risk. Not with eight kids to provide for. All of our shared accounts are dedicated to maintaining our lifestyle and steering clear of financial trouble.

On the side, I do some speculating, but that's with "my" money. Each of us has a separate account that is no one else's business. In essence, once all the bills are paid we each have an allowance. I collect Star Wars action figures, muscle cars (ask me about my '65 Corvette Roadster and '70 Chevelle SS sometime) and I invest in the stock market.

Leah pours most of her money into her art studio. She used to be a full-time anchor and reporter for one of the local TV stations, but cut back on her work once the kids started growing up. She only works part time now, just appearing on the 6:00 news. She's also a painter of some local repute, and does very well in Asheville's thriving art scene. With her money, she co-owns a gallery showcasing up and coming young artists from the area.

Katie has a gazillion Longaberger baskets and a thing for shoes. Of the four of us, Katie works the most. A veterinarian by trade, she operates an animal clinic that has another vet, two animal nurses and a couple of clerical workers on staff. There have been some years when the clinic didn't turn a profit, but that's not why she does it.

Melinda likes to travel, seeking inspiration for her writing. Most of the time, she'll take one or more of us along, but sometimes she likes to go someplace by herself. She started up a small business that develops young writers and tries to get them published, both in print and on the Interwebs. Plus, she's a bestselling author of trashy romance novels that she writes under a pseudonym.

So to say that our home is worth more than the combined values of all of our parents's houses is a little bit of an understatement.

I pulled into the main garage and Katie led her mother into the house. She got the 10 minute walkaround and I took her things to the guest suite.

The younger kids were down for their naps and the older kids were still at school. Mrs. Harris gave Susan a warm, welcoming hug, and I think Katie's mom was relieved that there was someone in the house who didn't want her dead.

We made some small talk, but at some point, Leah and Melinda got Susan on their own in the basement. There were tears in Katie's eyes, but we both knew our other two wives needed to say their peace or they would just stew all weekend.

"They're only doing this because they love you," I tried to tell her, but Katie didn't want to hear it. I don't blame her for being upset, but I also understood why Leah and Melinda were so angry.

A little while later, all three came upstairs, which was a good thing. Of course, it might also mean that Leah was plotting to kill Susan in her sleep.

Katie's mom didn't say a word to me. She looked beaten down and tired, although I think in an odd way, she may have been a bit relieved as well. She and Katie went out to the back deck to talk.

Leah stalked off to her art studio and didn't come out until the kids got home from school.

Melinda and I stood in the kitchen, not speaking. She poured herself a generous helping of wine.

"She sat there and took it." My wife answered my unasked question. "Leah and I unloaded on her with both barrels and she took her lumps. She didn't try to defend herself or justify anything she had done. All she did was say that she was sorry."

"Do you feel better?"

"A part of me does," Melinda sighed. "But about half way through, I realised that she really does regret missing out on all these years. I think she gets it."

"So Susan is going to make it home?"

"I can't guarantee that," Melinda smirked. I could tell that things were going to be okay. Maybe not today, but soon. "If she disappears and Leah and I have to take a road trip for a couple of hours, don't come looking for us."

"Just make sure you leave your phones here so the GPS locators don't give you away."

I took my wife in my arms and held her for a long time. I thought about going out to see Leah, but I've known her since middle school, and I didn't want her to throw anything at me.

The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully. Melinda and Susan seemed to make a kind of peace between them. Leah and Susan at least came to a truce, although the two would never be close.

The kids accepted their new grandmother without question, although when she was in middle school, Kaylee asked why Susan had been absent from their lives for so long.

I don't know that Susan truly accepted or approved of our lifestyle, but she never said anything to me or the kids about it, and she was present for her daughter and grandchildren until her death several decades later.

When that weekend was over, the four of us had another conversation, although this one was much more subdued and less aggressive than our blowout fight a couple of weeks earlier.

And then we got to have four-way make-up sex.

Despite all of life's twists and turns, once we got past the hurt feelings and angry words, everything is just a bump in the road on the way to Happily Ever After.



Forgiveness



The following is a short, romantic, non-erotic story that when I started it I thought it would be a quick stroke piece, but the more I wove the characters in my mind the more I saw this as something that was just simply sweet. I hope you like this tiny light read. ~ Red

*

The house was quiet, the calm before the storm, some would say. For Natalie and Brian though it was more of a controlled silence. It was only the two of them, tomorrow though things would be different. The house would be full of well wishers and various family members as well as friends that only come around during those special moments in a person's life -- births, graduations, weddings, funerals --- it was a wedding this time that would have the house bursting at the seams.

Madeline, Natalie and Brian's youngest daughter, was getting married. She'd asked to have the wedding at Natalie's house and Brian had been more than happy to agree. Natalie wasn't thrilled with the idea, but she understood the appeal of having the wedding in the home that the kids grew up in. It was a beautiful home, situated at the bottom of a mountain, tucked beside a dense forest and a man-made lake, which only added to the breathtaking view. 

The one thing that bothered Natalie was the fact that Brian was going to be there. She knew she had no say in the matter, after all he was the kids' father and though they had parted ways many years ago, it still stung that he had left her for a much younger version of herself --- her second cousin. Brian learned real quick how greedy Megan was and after just two years he found himself sitting across the table from another divorce attorney. 

Tonight though wasn't about Megan and Brian, nor was it about their divorce. Tonight was about Madeline. Brian had arrived earlier that morning and offered to help Natalie move the rest of Madeline's things from her room, as well as whatever she had stored in the attic. That's where they were now, the attic. Madeline would arrive in the morning, the wedding would be later that evening and when it was over and done with all the mementos of their daughter's youth would be neatly packed away and on a truck headed toward Chicago. 

"Remember this?" 

Natalie turned her head and looked over at Brian. In his hand was a small dress; on the floor next to it lay several layers of paper and a few moth balls. Natalie smiled. "I wondered where that was," she said. Her gaze rested on the gown that her mother had made. It was a silk gown, small enough for a newborn. Madeline had worn it at her baptism. "Mom made one for Sarah and a suit for Todd." 

"I wonder if they still have them?" Brian asked, as he folded up the small gown. 

"I hope they do. It would be nice if their children got to wear them," Natalie said, turning back to the box that she'd been looking through. 

"What have you got there?" 

She looked up and saw that Brian and moved to stand over her. He sat down on his knees and looked over the contents of her lap. Several photos lay spread out over her legs, as well as across the floor. There was no rhyme or reason to the pile, but each one showed smiling faces. 

"Vacation photos --- I think," Natalie said. "I believe this one is Yellowstone." 

"Looks like it." Brian picked up the photo and studied the woman who held a baby in her arms. "Todd was so tiny," he whispered, "and Sarah -- so full of mischief and Maddy -- what a handful." 

Natalie chuckled. "Todd was tiny, but he made up for it years later." She picked up another photo. This one showed a teenager, who was holding up a large mouth bass. The young man stood six foot two and was not yet done growing. He would eventually stop at six foot eight. 

Brian sat down and crossed his legs. Soon he too was going through the pile of photos and commenting on the various activities he and Natalie, along with their kids, partook in. Eventually he sighed and touched her hand. "Natalie... I'm sorry." 

Natalie turned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "For what?" she asked, genuinely confused. 

Brian hung his head. "For everything I put you through. For cheating on you -- leaving you -- everything." 

Her eyes took on a glassy stare as she rose from the floor and dusted off her pants. The photos fell from her lap, forgotten as the past rushed up to greet her. It took her a moment to wipe away the pain that his apology had brought to the surface, but when she did she told him that it was all in the past and to leave it alone. 

She left him then, choosing to take a break from the memories and instead focus on fixing something for their supper. She had offered to let Brian stay in one of the guest rooms for the night and that also meant catering to his needs -- as far as supplying him with something to eat. He had told her she didn't have to, but she had felt it was the right thing to do. 

Downstairs she went through the motions of washing the vegetables for the salad, while the oven preheated. Eventually Brian joined her and before she realized what was happening he was helping her cook dinner. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she worked along side her ex-husband. Her hands shook as she cut vegetables and layered them in a bowl. When Brian's hand reached over and covered hers, she stopped breathing for a moment. 

"What do you want Brian?" she asked, fearful of his answer. She had never stopped loving him. Yes, she had been angry, hurt, confused and had for many months lived in a state of denial, but she had found a way to survive and cope without him. Why was he touching her? Apologizing to her? What was he expecting?

"I want you to tell me you're single. That you're still waiting for me to wake up and come back? That..." 

Natalie dropped the knife she'd been using and pulled her hand away from his tender grip. "Are you kidding me?" she asked. Her voice had risen several octaves as Brian stared back at her. Her lower lip trembled. "You know I'm not seeing anyone. I haven't been. I told you there would never be anyone but you in my life. You were the one that fucked up -- not me!" she hissed, before spinning on one heel and walking out of the kitchen. 

In her bedroom, she sat. The door was closed and the sound of Brian working in the kitchen, keeping watch over their meal could be heard coming through the walls. She buried her fingers in her hair, pulled on the thick red strands and then pushed them back, gathering them into a thick loose braid. It took her several minutes before she felt composed and when she was ready to face him again, she did so with apprehension and confusion in her gaze. 

He was sitting at the dining room table. A plate had been prepared for her, a glass of wine poured, her favorite salad toppings had already been added to the vegetables. She sat down and said nothing, as he handed her a slice of warm garlic bread. She took it and whispered a quiet firm "thanks". After several bites, many of which had been forced, due to the emotions running rampart in her head, Natalie pushed her plate away. 

"Brian, what's happened?" she asked, curious as to why he was suddenly so interested in her. "You've been without Megan for a while. You still have plenty of money, so it isn't like you need mine. I know your business is booming. You're traveling all over the world. I'm sure there are plenty of women to fill your bed, so why are you trying to mess with me?" 

He looked across the table, past the food and wine, and stared intently back at her. Natalie shifted nervously in her seat. He always seemed to make her squirm and at times -- times like these -- it angered her. After all this was her house. Who was he to come in and make her uncomfortable? "Well?" she said, hoping her voice showed a hint of a backbone. 

"You're right -- everything you've said is true. I have been flying solo for a while and there are no problems plaguing the business that I can't handle. I am traveling and if I snap my fingers loud enough a gaggle of women will fall at my feet." 

Natalie rolled her eyes at his last statement. She caught his smirk, and blushed when he added a wink. 

"But, to answer your question and answer it honestly --- Remember a year ago, when I stopped talking to you, stopped talking to the kids, stopped talking to everyone we knew, pretty much cut myself off from the world?" Brian asked. 

"How could I forget. The kids were frantic -- angry -- frustrated -- and so was I. It was like you dropped off the face of the world and if it hadn't been for the phone calls from your attorney, the kids would have filled out a missing person's report," Natalie told him. 

"But you wouldn't have, would you?" 

She angled her head, lifted a brow and answered solemnly, "Eventually, after another year or two." 

Brian nodded his head in understanding. "I was fighting prostate cancer." 

Natalie's whole body responded to the confession. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes dropped to his lips, almost willing them to say he was lying. Her chest pounded and yet at the same time it felt as if her heart stopped beating. Her palms grew sweaty and her head began to ache. Again her lower lip trembled, but this time it was not because of her ex-husband's questions, but from the idea that he had been battling for his life and had left her and their children out of the fight. 

It took her an eternity or so it seemed, for her to regain an inkling of reality. She looked back at her ex's eyes and saw the truth clearly written beneath their blue color. "And now?" she asked, her voice shook with emotion; tears, yet to be shed, lay hovering on the edges of her eyelids. 

"I'm cancer-free," Brian told her. A soft smile rose from his lips, showing off his dimples. 

Natalie felt herself slowly retracting from the emotional roller coaster she had just experienced. The tears began to fall, her lip was bitten down, the shaking stalled by the pressure of her teeth. Her hands moved to her lap, where she clutched the material of her skirt, balling up the napkin that had been lying there. She didn't hear Brian scoot his chair away from the table, nor did she realize he was coming up beside her until her chair was being pulled away. 

"I'm sorry Natalie. I'm sorry for everything. For fuckin' up our marriage, our lives, your life, the kids. Everyone I've hurt. I went through this alone because I chose too, because I knew that if I told the kids, that they'd tell you and you'd come to me and you'd be there for me even though I didn't deserve you. I didn't want that. I wanted you to come back to me for you --- and for me. Not because you felt obligated but because you wanted to." 

Brian's eyes were full of tears, tears that were so plentiful in number that they fell freely down his cheek. "Natalie, I am not asking for a promise for a lifetime of tomorrows. I just want a chance to show you how much you mean to me. How much you've always meant to me." 

She looked at him, saw the man she'd fallen in love with many years ago. He was on his knees, begging for forgiveness and in his eyes she saw the truth behind his words. Natalie slid from her chair and went into his arms. The warmth that radiated from his chest covered her like a blanket. He held her tight as she cried. She cried for the lost years and for the pain in her heart and ache in her chest. Tears fell in sheets down her face as she imagined life without him, even if it was to be a life full of anger and regret. More tears fell as she saw her future, slowing opening up to include him. The hole in her chest could be full again, if she took a chance on Brian... but could she? 

Natalie pulled away, touched his face and then wiped away her own tears. 

"We can't go back. We can't repeat the same mistakes. I'm not the same woman you married and I'm not the same woman you left," she told him. 

"I know." 

"No, I'm serious." 

Brian smiled warmly. "I know you are. Natalie, I've watched you these past few years. You've come into your own. You started your own business and yes, you've done a fine job. You have maintained this home, this land and you've managed to still be the perfect mom to our kids. I don't want the woman you were. I want the woman you are." 

She licked her lips, tasting the salt of her tears before taking another calming breath. "We have to move slowly," she told him. 

"I am okay with that," he admitted. 

"And date... not other people, obviously, but each other, for a long time. You're not getting into my pants just because you know all the right buttons to push," she said with an air of defiance. 

Brian's lip rose in a grin. "I'll agree to not dating others and I'll agree that we have a lot of dates for a long time, but not getting into your pants," he chuckled, "only a fool would agree to that." 

Natalie giggled, opened her arms and brought him into them. Their lips touched and for a moment she was transported to the past, where only he existed. When the kiss ended, she was breathless. "I never stopped loving you," she finally admitted. 

"I know Natalie and I never stopped loving you either. I was just an idiot, too strung out on power and money, easy to corrupt and easily corrupted." 

Brian rose from the floor, offered his hand to her and she took it. With their fingers entwined they stared at each other for a long time before she leaned in and kissed him again. "I think you need to head into the city and get a room for the night." 

His brow arched in confusion. 

"I'm determined not to let you back into my pants --- at least not yet." 

Brian laughed, agreed to her demand and kissed her again, before turning away. "Natalie," he said before walking out of the dining room and then out of the house, "thank-you." She couldn't form the words "you're welcome" because "thank-you" was already lodged in her throat. 

When he was gone, she locked the door and leaned against it. The sense of joy that filled her was unlike anything she had felt since the birth of her children. This time it would be different.



Forgiveness



Edited by Scalia

If I had to use a phrase to describe my wife Benita, it would be "fiery temper." I'm your typical white guy who, at the time, was lucky enough to find this vibrant beautiful no holds barred creature. She has more energy than any two women put together do and she loves me. How lucky is that? Well my luck had to run out sometime. I guess I'll just tell you how life can be ironic and maybe there should be room for forgiveness.

It all happened last week. Benita and I are empty nesters. We have two lovely daughters who look just like their mother did and still does. The three of them look more like sisters than mother and daughters. All three of them have coal black hair and tan complexions. The girls are a little taller than their mother, have the same figures, curvy but not fat. Although they all have, "C" cups. Their breasts look bigger due to their small frames. Three heart breakers, well at least one of them is a heart breaker.

As I said, it all came to a head last week.

I'm in my study going over the monthly reports when I hear a thud and the breaking of glass. I get up and move to Benita's private room door and knock: "Is everything alright dear?"

"What have I told you about reading Literotica, Benita? It's not good for your blood pressure. Not the "Loving Wives" stories again, you know you can't read that stuff and not throw a fit."

"Cream pies, what is a cream pie?" I listen to her explanation. "So this fictional character has sex with someone she is not married too and then gets hubby to go down on her? Do I have that right? Did he know about it? No! Did he find out about it?" I waited again. This talking through a door can get tiring at times.

"Well what did he do when he found out? Kicked her to the curb? So what has you so upset dear?" She is in full rant mode now this could take awhile. 

"So you thought she got off too easily. Nevertheless, he didn't take her back did he? No! Well what should he have done? There is only so much that the law allows darling."

"Burn the bitch? I think assaulting someone with fire for an act of indiscretion is both excessive and illegal." Now she is on a full-bore rant and if the door wasn't in the way, I might be ducking flying objects.

"Sorry honey, I took you too literally. Are you saying he didn't go far enough in his revenge? What would you have him do? After all he wouldn't want to go to prison over a worthless bitch, now would he?"

"He kept things quiet and everyone blamed him when the divorce went forward. He didn't even tell his kids and they sided with their mother. How sad, so you would inform the children? What if they are not old enough? Oh, they are in their twenties like our girls. Tell her co-workers, mother, and father. Don't you think that is somewhat cruel, telling the kids, is bad enough?" She just about screaming, now thank God the door is closed. 

"Aren't you being a little harsh dear? Doesn't a mistake deserve some forgiveness? Isn't posting pictures of the cheating couple on the internet and at her work classless? Shouldn't we turn the other cheek like it says in the Bible?" I turn off the voice recorder.

"I have to go do some business dear. Try not to break anything else and certainly not anything that is irreplaceable. I'll be back in about an hour."

"Yes I'm sure you do dear have to go bye." With that, I head out to see the attorney I hired two weeks ago when I found that my Benita had been having an on-going affair with one of her office managers. It's nice that she has given me the blueprint on how I should handle her infidelity. I'll add it to what is left of my heart and being the dutiful husband, I will do exactly as instructed by my loving wife.

I play the recording to my lawyer and ask if any of her observations are illegal. He informs me that I might get in trouble posting photos of a sexual nature on the internet but that I can certainly inform people of the affair through private emails. We talk about alienation of affection but our state doesn't allow suits of that nature.

I ask him about her employer's morality clauses. He says if they exist, we would need proof they did it on company property or on paid company time. I hand him the P. I. report showing them in a hotel room during a seminar, time stamped and authenticated. Not quite a slam-dunk but certainly something he can work with. 

We talk about my wife and I having a prenup dealing with infidelity as this was my second marriage; my first ended when she cheated on me as well. He tells me the court may overlook the prenup because infidelity is not a crime so there is a good chance that she will walk away with half of everything. Oh well, it is only stuff. Time to tell the children I guess.

Funny thing is they already know about her affair. They are the ones that told me about it. I email them the voice recording. My daughters are like their mother in one respect: they have no restraint in what they would do to a cheating spouse. They tell me they have already talked to both grandparents and the rest of the family. 

That brings us full circle to where we were when I started this little tale of woe. Time to beard the dragon in her den I suppose.

I return home with everything I need to bring an end to what was a good marriage but which over the last few weeks has turned into a sham. Benita is the most clueless person I know. I haven't touched her since my girls told me about the affair, nor said I love you either. I know the kids haven't spoken to her in the weeks leading up to today. She lost their trust.

I come in to find she is still in her cave ranting away about fictional infidelities. I slide a photo of her and her lover fucking on the hotel bed. "I've implemented your plan dear I hope you like it."

I go down to my den, close, and lock the door.

A few minutes later I hear her door open. "What did you say John? Oh no no no no...what have I done?"

Being told your wife is a common slut... hurtful 

Hiring a P.I. to get the truth... painful

Following your wife's orders... priceless

For everything else, there's Literotica



Forgiveness



I didn't plan for this story to be so sad and bittersweet. I'm sure many of my readers have dealt with the pain of knowing someone whose life has changed because of a drunk driver. Be careful this holiday season.

*

The cold wind went straight through me. I grabbed the edge of my winter jacket and held it tighter against my body. The wool scarf and mitts only barely held out the cold. I continued walking down the shovelled path toward my destiny. Each step reminded me of what I had achieved. Each step reminded me of all the mistakes I had made. I needed to see him. That was clear. I knew he was home. This wasn't going to be easy but nothing about this had ever been easy. The last five years had been full of ups and downs, like a roller coaster. It had taken me this long to get to this point and Christmas Eve was a good enough day as any to change my ways.

***

"Whose the girl over there?" Jordan asked as he sipped his white wine. He ran his hand through his thick blond hair and flashed a smile in the hopes that she would notice. I simply laughed.

"Ashley. She's replacing Claudia who is on sick leave. You should go upstairs sometimes as opposed to staying in your classroom all the time." I grinned and pushed gently against him. I loved teasing Jordan about a lot of things and the fact that the intermediate level teachers kept to themselves in an almost clicky fashion meant that we missed out on meeting and socializing with the rest of the teachers, until of course the annual eggnog party.

It had been an idea brought up a few years ago and had become a tradition. That was what was great about this school. Traditions. Our principal emphasized the importance of routine and tradition and embracing this idea in our holiday celebrations helped everyone out.

Jordan stepped away from me to go chat with the new girl. I looked around and smiled. I loved working at this school. It was comforting and enjoyable and most of all I loved teaching. It was something I had wanted to do since I was young and I had followed the proper path of a university degree and then a teaching degree. It was funny now that I was teaching Basic French to the intermediate level students, considering my degree was in English and Geography. I loved my students and loved that I could teach them another language along with learning skills and work habits.

"Why are you letting Jordan flirt with Ashley?"

I glanced over toward the voice and saw Patty. She was the oldest teacher in our group and was never one to shy away from the truth. 

"We're not dating. Never have. Thanks for reminding me." I smiled to let her know I was teasing but deep down inside it was the truth. We had never dated. It was a strange situation to have gone to high school, university, and now to work with your best friend. Everyone knew we were friends but only our close friends knew that we considered each other best friends. Patty wasn't the only one wondering why we never got together. She was just the only one to say it aloud.

The rest of the party went by quickly and as the sun set people started to make their way back to their classrooms to go home. I stayed around a bit to clean up. I didn't even realize that I kept glancing over at Jordan and Ashley as they continued to chat on the leather couch. His arm was over the back of the couch, inches from her shoulders. He was laughing and smiling as she told him about her family at Christmas.

The room was filled with the soft murmurs of whispers along with the clanking of glasses and cutlery filling the dishwasher. Once the staff room kitchen was back to normal I announced that I was going home.

Walking down the quiet hallway I had time to reflect on my relationship with Jordan. I had seen him flirt with other girls. I had known him through his two serious relationships. I had even caught him almost having sex that time at the cottage. I couldn't quite place what made me so jealous this time and by the time I entered my portable classroom my mind was fuzzier then before.

I closed the curtains and made sure my lesson plan was set for when we returned. A two-week holiday was what everyone needed and when the bell had rung a few hours ago the children had literally run out of the school. Most of them would go home to loving families. Some would not and we knew as a school team that the mending process would take weeks when those students returned.

I bundled up and grabbed the few presents that had been given to me by my students. It wasn't that I wasn't a popular teacher. The students liked me because I was caring and reasonable and more importantly it was a break in their day from their regular teacher. I always hated the overblown gift giving of Christmas time, which meant that Christmas for me was stressful. Only Jordan knew my feelings of this holiday. I should have realized the importance of that fact.

I didn't realize how snowy it had become and my footprints left a trail from my classroom to my car in the parking lot. I turned on the car and then spent a few minutes pushing snow off the windshield. I loved Toronto for so many reasons but the wintry weather was something I hated.

***

I had driven the route home too many times to remember. It was a short drive down the residential street and then onto the highway. They drive was short and then off the highway back onto residential streets toward my home. There were four teachers that all lived within walking distance of each other. I lived on the corner in the small terrace home. Jordan was actually four doors down in a similar home. Martin had a townhouse up the street and Sandra was in the apartments on the other side of the street. It was a good neighbourhood that had been built up in the ten years that I had lived here.

I was paying attention to the road but when the tractor-trailer started to fishtail up ahead in the other lane I had little time to react. The cement medium was not going to hold the huge trailer from going across to my lane and the wet snow had created a slushy mess. If I slammed on my breaks I'd lock the wheels and lose my ability to steer. The right hand lane had two cars and in the split second when I glanced over none of them had reacted to what was going on up ahead.

I gripped the wheel and took my foot off the gas pedal. The tractor-trailer suddenly jackknifed completely and the back end bounced over the medium into my lane.

My life didn't flash before my eyes. I had no time for that. My heart did lurch in my chest and my brain simply stopped working. I have no idea how I did what I did but the next few seconds were not a blur. They didn't exist. Time skipped over this part. My consciousness went from about to hit the sixteen wheeler to my car lodged perfectly between two trees that lined the side of the road.

Later I would find out that the crash was a fiery one that would have cost millions to recreate for a scene from a movie. This wasn't a movie. It was real life and what I had to deal with afterwards was more real then I ever imagined.

An inexperienced driver who had come from a holiday party himself was driving the tractor-trailer. The spiked eggnog had been too much for him and he was driving just a little too fast for the weather. When the truck started to slide, he slammed on his brakes causing the wheels to lock up and the back end to swing.

The back of the trailer skidded across his lane and into my lane. I had swerved and sped up, the passenger side of my car slamming into the front of the truck before spinning and landing on the grassy shoulder. Had I been driving just a little slower I would not have had time to make it around the trailer before it began it's carnage.

The two cars in the right hand lane were hit. The first car spun in donuts before smashing into the light post. The second car sustained most of the damage as it spun into the trailer and collided four times. After the fourth hit the trailer fell onto it's side and began to slide down the road.

The driver of the tractor-trailer was pinned and since he was not wearing his seatbelt sustained serious injuries. He was only twenty-two and was a father of two young children. His blood alcohol level was above the legal limit so instead of reporting him as a caring father who was working two jobs to raise his children; he was labelled a drunk driver. The media can be ruthless, even around the holidays.

The driver of the first car was badly injured but survived. He was in his fifties and although needed surgery to repair his broken hip he was fine. His name was John Anderson and he had been driving up to visit his parents who had moved into the new retirement home down the street.

I was fine. Uninjured in fact. Actually that wasn't true. I couldn't open the driver or passenger doors so had to climb out the sunroof of the car. Afterwards I wondered if the landscapers realized they spaced out the trees to be the exact width of a 2009 Ford Fusion. As I climbed out of the roof I twisted my ankle and broken my left thumb. It wasn't until afterward that I realized I was hurt. It's funny how when adrenaline is rushing through your body you don't realize the pain that you are dealing with.

The second car in the right hand lane didn't do so well. That was the car that held Jordan and Ashley. Jordan's car hadn't started in the parking lot and so Ashley had graciously offered to drive him home. I always wondered what would have happened had his car been working. Ashley wouldn't have been anywhere near the crash and maybe Jordan would have been a few minutes late or early and would have missed it as well.

I rushed to the first car and saw that the driver was awake. My lifeguard training kicked into high gear and after assessing his breathing and pulse I left him to go check on the other car. John was thankful for my help and although he was confused when I made him turn the car off, he knew I was making the right decision. Leaking gas, sparks, or other engine issues would just be a disaster at the moment.

Even to this day I'm not sure why I didn't check on the tractor-trailer driver. It had slid at least one hundred metres and was resting on its side. There was no way the driver wasn't injured but part of me, the devil inside so to speak, was telling me it was a better idea to help the innocent bystanders then the person who caused the crash.

I rushed over to the red Honda Civic and gasped. Ashley was slumped over unconscious in the driver's seat and Jordan was besides her holding his head. His blonde hair was covered in blood but he was alive.

"Katie! Help us! Please!" Jordan begged, as he tried to undo his seatbelt. I rushed around to the other side and desperately tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge.

"It's stuck Jordan. Can you climb out the window?" I asked. The impact had shattered all four windows but the damage to the body of the car meant that none of the doors would open.

"I can try," he said quietly. I glanced up and saw people all around. The road was well travelled and I knew that people had come to find out what had happened. I helped Jordan out of the car and onto the side of the road. He was twice my size, both in weight and height, but I was able to support him as he stumbled to the ground. 

I crouched down in front of him and began to assess him. His head was gushing blood but he had no signs of a concussion.

"What are you doing Katie?" he asked.

"I used to be a lifeguard remember? I've been training in first aid for over twenty years. Your bleeding but it's all superficial. The glass from the window probably caused it. You also probably have a broken arm and/or wrist." I was sounding so clinical but that's the great thing about lifeguard training, the routine gets in your head and you just run on automatic.

"Katie stop. Please go help Ashley."

I nodded and got up. The sounds of the fire trucks filled the air and I didn't have a chance to get Ashley. The firefighter pushed me aside, yelling something about a leaking gas tank and how the tractor was filled with flammable liquid. My eyes went wide and I remembered that I hadn't turned off Ashley's car.

If time skipped over the few seconds when the crash occurred then time stood still as the car blew up. It was an immerse sound and the fireball shot up into the sky. I didn't fall back from the explosion but right away the heat radiated from my front. I stepped back and dragged Jordan further away from the car.

I don't really remember what happened next. I'm sure the paramedics assessed both of us and we were taken to the nearest hospital. The police officer in charge interviewed both of us as we sat in the emergency room waiting to be seen. We stayed together and no one told us to remain apart. We took a taxi home together and thankfully the road was still closed so we took the back way into our street. Seeing the crash scene would have been too much.

The taxi pulled up between our houses and we stood on the sideway in the snowy December evening.

"I can't sleep alone. Can I come over?" I asked quietly. Jordan knew the look that I was giving him. It was the same look that I had given him only three times before in my lifetime. The first time was when my first boyfriend had broken my heart and I couldn't stop crying. The second time was when my father had passed away. The third time was when tragedy hit the school. That was a story for another day.

"I'll leave the door open."

Jordan walked into his home and I walked into mine. I grabbed my phone charger, clean clothes, and my toothbrush. I locked up my place and then walked down the path to Jordan's place. I entered and heard the shower running upstairs. After removing my coat and shoes I walked up the stairs and undressed.

I stepped into the shower and felt Jordan's comforting arms around me. We washed each other and then got into clean clothes. It was like in that moment we were a couple. Tragedy had brought us together and we were so stunned at the events of the night we didn't even question what we were doing. We would both spend the next five years asking questions and debating in our heads how horrible we were to do what we did. Jordan got over it quickly but I didn't.

As we cuddled in bed he finally spoke.

"I want to wake up tomorrow morning and have it be the last day before the holidays. It feels like a million years has passed when it's only been six hours. I don't even want to think about what happened." I watched as he glanced past me to the clock that said eleven.

"I know. I went into automatic back there and as long as I don't think about it..." I trailed off. I was thinking about it. I was thinking about Ashley and then I began to cry. Jordan couldn't hold back any longer and we sobbed until we both fell asleep from sheer physical and emotional exhaustion.

The next few days went by fast. There were news reporters outside our house at all hours of the day. The funeral was held in the large church because every single student and parent at our school attended. Once that was over we had a few days of normal and then going back to school opened up the wound again. We had been trained on how to deal with grieving students but this was different. The students had to learn how to deal with grieving teachers.

***

I stood in front of the small house and knocked on the door. He knew I was coming over but I was still nervous. It had been five years and those five years had been a whirlwind of activity. This was something that I needed to do, not for my husband, not for my children, but for myself.

"Hi Katie. You didn't have to come over," Danny said.

"Yes I did,' I responded.

I stepped in and looked around. The place was decorated nicely for Christmas and there were presents under the tree. There were three stockings hanging on the wall and along the far table were picture frames filled with photos of his children. I had seen the pictures in the newspaper but it was nice to see them in colour and to see more of them.

"They are gorgeous Danny," I said.

"Thanks. They're with their mom until Boxing Day. I get them until New Years. They don't mind getting two Christmases."

"I can imagine. How old are they now?" I asked, my face soft and kind.

"Nine and six."

I sat down on the couch facing him. He had not aged well in the five years since the crash. I don't think Jordan nor I had either. I felt bad for him in so many ways but I needed to do this.

"I have forgiven you for your mistake. I'm sorry I spoke so badly about you during the trial. I should have said something else. I should have told them you were young and reckless. I know many people said three years wasn't enough time but it was too long. I should have said something."

I began to cry. I was babbling and talking so fast that I didn't give him a chance to respond. I continued through my tears.

"I hated you for so many years because I couldn't help Ashley. She was flirting with Jordan and I wanted Jordan so badly. The crash brought us together. I hated that it took a tragic accident for him to realize that he always loved me. It wasn't you I hated. It was me."

"Katie, stop." Danny stood up and held my hand.

"Let me finish," I said sternly. "I could have helped you first. Then both of them would have died. I could have helped her first. Then no one would have died. I could have done so much but instead I choose to help Jordan."

"No you helped that older guy in the other car. You're not selfish Katie and no one thinks that."

"Yes they do."

"I needed that time in prison to realize I was wasting my life. It worked out in the end. I'm allowed to see my children. You can't revisit the past over and over again Katie. It won't help."

I bit my lip. Here was a young man, almost ten years younger then me but so much wiser. He was right. I nodded.

"I guess I'm here to tell you I've forgiven myself and you."

***

Jordan had put the twins to bed while I was out shopping. They always went to bed effortlessly for him. It annoyed me but at the same made me happy. He was a wonderful father and amazing husband. The house smelled like peanut butter cookies. He must have made them with the kids before bed. As I walked through the house I saw the mess in the kitchen. I'd clean it up tomorrow. I walked up the stairs and quietly entered the twin's room. Both were sound asleep in their cribs. They both had Jordan's thick blonde curls but their faces were cute and chubby like I used to have. I tucked them both in and then kissed them softly on their foreheads.

I entered our bedroom and saw Jordan lying back in bed wearing flannel pyjama pants. Most days I would have commented on how sexy he was and it would have probably ended with us having a marathon evening of wild sex. Tonight was different.

"How was shopping?" Jordan asked.

"It was fine. I did something. Something you told me to do years ago."

Jordan sat up and put down his novel. He was always reading some new research on adolescent brain development. I had teased him constantly that it was only recommended reading for his principal qualification course.

"I went to see Danny. I told him I forgave him. I wasn't going to say it until I meant it. He then told me that I had always forgiven him but that it had taken a while for me to forgive myself. He was right."

I looked straight at Jordan and he finally understood what my problem was. It was never about Ashley. It was never about how we got married less then six months after the crash. It was never about the comments and whispers about our relationship. It was about how until this moment I never felt like I deserved to be loved the way Jordan loved me.

Jordan opened his arms and let me slide into his lap. I fit perfectly, settling against his body as my head rested on his chest. I felt his heart beat and the warmth of his body radiated against mine. His cock stirred a bit and we both knew that tonight was going to be romantic lovemaking.




Forgiveness



A young teenager's life is changed forever by his involvement in what he thinks is a rape. Ten years later, he attempts to "make amends" and learns that the price of forgiveness can be very, very, high.

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If you are looking for a highly erotic story to get you all hot, this isn't it. This is more of a "character study" than most of my writings. If you don't like character studies, don't read it. It has sex in it- some very graphic, very non-consensual sex. If highly non-consensual sex bothers you, don't read it. There is also Transvestite / Transgender / Gay sex. If that sort of thing makes you want to puke, don't read it.

This is also set in the 1960's so some of the language would be not be used today, but it was the way many people actually spoke in those days.

If after all those warnings, you decide to read this and the story makes you uncomfortable, please don't stop in the middle. Many of the discomforting threads resolve themselves in the end. Things aren't always what they seem.

This story is longer than what I usually post (11K words), but there is no way to separate the chapters into individual segments without leaving the story hanging in the wrong way. All five chapters are in this one, long post.

I don't know where this story came from. There is nothing I can point to as a basis or inspiration for the plot or characters. Obviously, everybody is over 18 and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * 

CHAPTER ONE OF FIVE

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"Baby Brother" tags along with big brother and three of his friends on the wrong night - or perhaps the right night. A chain of events ends with the five of them gang-banging a young black girl on a closed trail in the park late at night.

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I am approaching the end of my earthly travels. Everyone who could possibly be affected by the release of this story is dead, as I soon will be. It is time to tell the whole story so that everyone will know the truth about the events which changed and shaped my life. I am leaving this with a friend to post when the time comes. Some people may think they recognize the cities or the names, but be assured that I have changed so much that your guesses will not be correct.

It was 1959 when it happened- or perhaps I should say, when it began. I had just turned eighteen, but I was a very, very young eighteen. Almost all of the boys my age were already shaving daily. All at least had a full thatch of hair between their legs. My twin brother, Tony, had a thick black mustache. The closest I had to a mustache was a thin wisp of hair across my pubic bone just above my penis. I think it goes without saying that I was also a virgin.

Even though we were born at the same time, Tony and I technically weren't twins. I was what was called a superfoetation sibling. Mom evidently had another cycle after she got pregnant with Tony and I was conceived a month- or maybe two- later. Only one child was expected- there was no ultrasound in those days. Twins were a big surprise for both my mom and the doctors in the delivery room.

I was born first and the doctors assumed both of us were premature, so they rushed me to premie intensive care and reserved an area for the second twin. When Tony came out fully developed at eight and a half pounds it totally stumped everyone.

I was always small and way behind other kids in my class even though, because of health problems, I ended up starting school two years later than Tony. I was at least a year older than almost all of the kids in my class, but I was still smaller than any of them. That made me an easy target for bullying and teasing. Tony, on the other hand, was always one of the biggest- if not the biggest- kid in his class. Everyone not only left him alone, they avoided him whenever they could.

My sophomore year of high school the teasing got really bad. It was obvious that I wasn't as "mature" as most of the other kids in my class, so some of the boys in my gym class started making fun of me in the shower and calling me a fag. It would have been a lot worse except for two things. One, some of the kids in the class weren't fully through puberty either, and two, my big brother Tony would have beaten the crap out of anyone who really hurt me.

I liked to think that he was being a loving, protective, big brother- and maybe that was part of it, but mostly he thought that making fun of me and making me cry was his exclusive privilege. He always called me "Baby Brother," and I could tell that he loved the way it made me feel uncomfortable or even turn red when he did so in front of my classmates.

Then everything changed forever.

It was the summer after Tony graduated. He and three of his friends were going down to the park to watch a night baseball game. Baseball was a really big thing in my home town, but I guess it was in any small, Midwestern town in those days. A team from "the city"- that's what everyone called the nearby big town- was playing one of our local favorite teams, so a lot of people would be there. Tony and Rocky and Chuck and Dave weren't all that interested in baseball, but our town was your basic white suburb kind of place and the team from "the city" was mostly black. What Tony really wanted to do was cause trouble and make sure that "those colored boys know that they ain't really welcome here." 

I wanted to see the game and so I decided to tag along. For some reason Tony let me. In fact it was almost as if he had expected me to go with them that night. Often he would object or threaten me if I said I wanted to come with them and Mom would have to tell him to take me along, but this night he just said, "OK, Baby Brother, you are coming with us tonight. Maybe you will learn something special that will change your life."

Little did I know how true that would be. 

The game was actually pretty boring unless you liked watching very good pitchers strike out very mediocre batters. Tony and his friends spent most of the game drinking the beer that Rocky had gotten from somewhere and yelling insults at anyone who looked like they might be from the city. Once or twice I thought we were going to get into a fight, but the other people just moved aside or walked away shaking their heads. I heard one man mutter, "They're the kind that give rednecks everywhere a bad name."

When the game was over we had just started walking back to the car when Chuck said, "Let's take the shortcut." There is an area of woods, a couple of hills, and a creek between the ball diamonds and the parking lot. Your choices are to walk around along the main park road or go through the woods and over the hill. Rocky said, "Footbridge is out. Ice jam pushed it off the foundations this spring and they haven't rebuilt it yet." To which Dave replied, "Yeah, but you can step across on the telephone pole pilings." So, we cut towards the woods and the shortcut path between the ball diamonds and the parking lot.

The lights that normally lit the path were off and there was a sign that said, "Path Closed." But the sign had been knocked over and was laying flat on the ground. As we passed the sign, Tony said, "Baby Brother, why don't you put that sign back in place so no one accidently tries to cross through here." That was uncharacteristically thoughtful of Tony, but I did as he said and put the little barricade with its sign back in the middle of the path.

We were almost down to where the footbridge crosses over the creek when we saw someone walking towards us. She looked to be a little smaller than me. I knew it was a girl because she was wearing low heels and a very short dress. I knew she was from the city because even in the dim light I could tell that she was almost ebony black. Evidently she had taken the path last summer, and was surprised by the fact that the footbridge was out this year. She was probably walking back up to the diamond to take the main sidewalk out the long way to the parking lot.

"Looks like we found ourselves a n*gra whore, boys," said Tony. The girl's eyes opened very wide and she turned and started walking rapidly back down the path. Chuck and Rocky broke into a run and caught her just as she got to the little clearing at the bottom of the hill. I heard one of them say to her, "Hey, black cunt, where are you going in such a hurry?"

Tony and Dave and I came running up and Tony said, "I think she wants to have some fun. Baby Brother, this is your night to become a man."

I looked at him and he could see that I didn't know what he meant. "Baby Brother, this girl here is going to take you around the world - mouth, ass, cunt. After tonight, you will know what it's all about. Now get naked."

I just stood there until Tony pushed me in the center of the chest. "I said, get naked. You too, cunt... unless you want this to get really rough."

The girl stepped out of her shoes and lifted her dress over her head. She didn't wear a bra and was wearing tiny purple panties. She slipped them down her body and stood there naked. The dim light of the night made it looked like her black skin was oiled. She had no hair at all on her body. I didn't know if that meant she was that young or that she shaved. Her face didn't look young, so most likely she was just small, like me. I really didn't know because before that I had never, ever seen a live, naked girl.

"What are you waiting for?" Tony snarled at me. "We are letting you go first, but we all want a piece of this cunt tonight, too. So, get busy."

I kicked off my sandals and took off my shirt and jeans and underwear. As I stood there naked, Rocky said, "Jeez, Tony, he's a baby. Do you think he can even get it up?"

Tony grabbed the girl by the arm and pushed her in front of me. "First stop, France. Let's see how fast you can make him pop, cunt." He then pushed her to her knees in front of me and said, "Don't tell me you have never sucked a white cock before!"

The girl just bowed her head and sagged her shoulders and reached forward to kiss my penis. For some reason I wasn't hard. I guess I still didn't believe this was happening until her lips closed over my cock. 

"You can do better than that," growled Tony. I thought he was talking to her until he grabbed my shoulder and turned me slightly so he could yell in my face, "Don't embarrass me tonight, Baby Brother, or you will regret it the rest of your life."

"You're scaring him," the girl said suddenly and I realized that what little erection I had was deflated. 

"No, you're just not trying hard enough," he yelled back. "I'm going to give you some incentive."

With that Tony pushed down on my shoulders and said, "Lay on your back with your legs spread and let her get to work." I did and then he pushed the black girl's head down over me so that she was between my legs on all fours with her ass in the air and her head in my crotch.

Tony pulled the belt from his pants. "Listen, little n*gra cunt," he yelled at her, "me and my friends are going to whip your ass until you can show us his cum dripping from your mouth." With that he and Chuck and Dave started swinging their belts and whipping her as she tried desperately to make me cum. 

"And if you can't do it, little brother, we are going to flip you over and whip your ass while you suck on our cocks." I didn't think that threats could make you have an orgasm, but seconds later I came in the girl's mouth.

"After France comes Greece, Baby Brother. Let's see if you are any better working on her other end." He then poked the girl with his shoe and said, "You know the position cunt. Let's see that black eye winking at us." I got to my knees and she turned her butt to me and pushed toward me. I thought it would be hard to enter her, but I slid in fairly easily.

Then I heard her say with contempt, "Shit, he must be smaller than my little brother and he's only seven."

Tony answered her, "No smart ass from you cunt, just fuck ass. And to keep you quiet, we are going to put your mouth to use until you get him off."

With that Tony pulled his cock out of his jeans and stuffed it in her mouth. I tried, but again nothing seemed to be happening. I guess you have to have time between shoots even when you are eighteen, and I couldn't get myself to cum. I was barely stiff.

Chuck had taken Tony's place in her mouth and Rocky and Dave were standing behind me. "You know," Rocky said, "his ass looks almost as appealing as hers. If he doesn't finish soon, I just might make myself a sandwich."

I heard Tony's voice from beside me, "Don't you go fucking my brother in the ass unless I tell you to, but with the way things are going, it's looking like he's not worth much more than that. Maybe he's just a sissy boy that's not good for anything but ass fucking."

Fear worked again and suddenly I was able to cum. Almost as soon as I had finished, Tony pulled me off the girl and said, "You don't deserve the final stop. Leave fucking a woman's cunt to a man. You just stand over there until we are finished."

What else could I do? I did just like he told me to and stood there while the four of them fucked her in the mouth, the cunt and the ass for well over another hour. When they were finished, she was curled up on the grass, crying. 

Tony came over to me and said, "You disgust me. I thought I had a baby brother that if I treated right would become a man. Maybe I should have treated you like a baby sister. Get dressed."

I reached down to pick up my jeans and underwear when Tony said, "No, wait a minute. Wear these, they will probably fit you anyway."

He threw me the panties and dress that the girl had been wearing. I stood there holding them until he added, "Put them on or we throw you down on the grass and take you around the world like we did her. Shit, you probably have a cunt hiding under there somewhere."

I started crying quietly, but I put on the panties and the dress. They actually did fit me. Her shoes even fit, though I wasn't used to the lift of the heels. Tony picked up my jeans and took my billfold out of them and put it in his pocket. "We'll leave these so she has something to wear to sneak home. He then threw the clothes and a hand full of bills down on the crying girl. "For your services. Not bad for a black cunt. Not a big league whore, but who knows, maybe you will learn to be a pro someday."

Then Tony pushed me down the path toward the parking lot. I was scared that somebody would see me in the dress, but there wasn't much I could do about it. Luckily, there was no one around when I hopped across the poles where the bridge used to be because the dress rode up and showed the purple panties.

When we came out of the woods, there were only two cars in the parking lot. One was Tony's. The other, a beat up, older model, probably belonged to the girl we had left in the woods. I ran across the lot to Tony's car hoping to jump in before anyone saw me, but I heard Tony's low laugh just as I got there. The car was locked!

I was forced to stand there by the car while Tony and his friends sauntered slowly across the lot. Tony used his key to open the front doors and reached around to open the back door on the opposite side from where I was standing. I was afraid that they were going to leave me standing there in the parking lot until Rocky came up along side me and told me to get in the middle. I heard Dave unlock the door and I jumped in as fast as I could.

Tony drove all over town with me cowering in the back seat between Rocky and Dave. Chuck kept laughing at my discomfort from the front seat as Rocky and Dave ran their hands up and down my bare legs. Tony even went through the drive through for some hamburgers.

I know that people could see me, but no one seemed to notice that I was wearing a dress, or maybe they thought I really was a girl. We drove around for an hour or so and by the time we got home, I had decided "The hell with it." I just walked from the street to the house. 

Mom and Dad were watching TV and didn't turn around as I walked past the archway to the living room. "Did you have fun at the game?" Mom asked. 

"I don't think he will ever forget it," answered Tony as I went up the stairs to my bedroom.

As I closed the door to my bedroom I could suddenly see myself in the long mirror on the back of the door. I was shocked. I did look like a girl in the dress. Suddenly, I was hard once again and lay back on my bed and lifted up my dress and stuck my hands inside my panties and began jerking off. I came even stronger than I had with the girl in the park and fell asleep with my hands still in my panties. 

It wasn't until the next morning when I woke up still in the dress and panties that I suddenly realized what we had done. My brother and his friends... and I... had raped a girl!

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END OF CHAPTER ONE OF FIVE

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CHAPTER TWO OF FIVE

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 This chapter is primarily transition from the original event to the time of retribution. You can skip it and still follow the story if you want, but it is helpful in order to understand all of chapters 3,4,&5.

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I didn't come out of my room at all the next day. I kept looking out the window of my bedroom waiting for a police car to drive up to take us away... but nobody came. There was nothing in the papers that night or the next or the next and it seemed that all was forgotten. But that was not to be.

The long arm of the law may not have been reaching for us, but fate or Karma or the wrath of God or whatever you want to call it seemed hellbent on revenge for what we did. A few days later, around midnight, a state police car pulled up to the house and two officers came to the door. 

I dressed in a real hurry and ran down the steps in time to hear one officer ask, "Does your son own a dark blue sedan with the license plate "TNYSRDE?" 

With a very shaky voice, Mom answered "Yes," and the officer continued. "Is your son home tonight?"

Mom's eyes were wide with fear as she struggled to say something, but just then Tony came down the steps and said, "That sounds like my ride. Is something wrong?"

Both officers looked surprised and shocked as they looked down at their notes and back up at Tony. The older officer asked, "Did you loan your vehicle to anyone tonight?"

"Yeah," he answered, "Chuck and Dave said they needed wheels for the night and I told them that as long as they paid for the gas and didn't scratch the paint, they could use it."




Forgiveness



I heard one officer telling the other, "That would correspond to the IDs that we found at the scene. The first names were Charles and David." He then turned to Tony and said, "I am sorry to inform you that your friends were evidently involved in a serious accident."

"How serious?" asked Tony and the officer replied, "They hit the center support for the underpass where Countyline Road goes under the interstate. They both probably died on impact, but it didn't matter. The first witnesses on the scene said the car was totally engulfed in flames, and they couldn't get anyone out. Both bodies are pretty badly burned so we weren't really sure who was in the vehicle. We started here because the vehicle is registered to you, but it sounds like the two fatalities are your friends Chuck and Dave. I am very sorry about your friends. What is left of your vehicle was towed to the police impound lot until our investigation is finished."

Mom breathed a sigh of relief that her worst fears were not realized. But the wrath of God was not finished. It was exactly one week later when another State Police car stopped in front of the house. This time there was a State Police office and a plain clothes detective. And this time mom's fears were realized. "I am afraid to inform you that your son, Tony, was involved in a disturbance downtown this afternoon. He and his friend, Rocky, were killed. Detective Brooks thinks it might have been a drug buy gone bad, but I think that Tony and Rocky were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had a lot of cash on them and Tony had several ads for used cars in his pocket. I think they were there looking for a car when something happened. It's a pretty bad neighborhood."

"How did he die?" asked my mother.

"Rocky was stabbed by a local pimp known in the area as 'Blue-eyes.' Blue-eyes and your son were shot at close range by an unknown assailant. No one saw anything. No one knows anything. No one is saying anything. That's the way it is down there in that area. I think that Blue-eyes stabbed Rocky for some reason, but I have no idea why. Maybe he was trying to rob them or maybe when the shooting started he thought Rocky was part of the setup. Like I said, wrong place, wrong time."

We went down to the morgue later that night and viewed the body. Tony looked really strange laying there on the cart. It was almost like he was asleep. I kept expecting him to open his eyes and say to me, "I guess you're next, Baby Brother. Get ready for it."

I sort of fell apart after that. My grades at school got so bad that there was no way I was going to graduate, so I dropped out. I took a couple of dead-end jobs just to get enough money to drink and stay drunk and wait for the hand of death to ball itself into a fist and slam me into oblivion like it had Chuck and Dave and Rocky and Tony.

The school had sent me to some counselors who decided that I was over-reacting to my brother's death and tried to help me with grief therapy. Maybe I should have told them about the rape, but I knew that would just put me in jail. After a couple of arrests for this and that I ended up with court-ordered counseling and group therapy that tried the same thing. They kept telling me "You have to let Tony go and move on with your life."

Tony wasn't my problem. In a way I was glad he was dead. The morning after the rape he had pulled me aside and said, "Don't throw away your new outfit, Baby Brother. Some night when I strike out with the girls I might just have you dress up for me and see if you are as good a cocksucker as that black whore was. Hell, if you put on a little makeup, I might pop your brown cherry just to see what it feels like." 

And people thought that I was all torn up that he was dead and gone! My problem wasn't that he was dead. My problem was that five of us had raped a young girl and four had died within ten days. Wasn't it obvious who was next? Why plan for college or anything else? I was just keeping time until my day of justice finally came.

Then I went to the AA meeting in the city. Actually, the only reason I was there was that it was winter and I was on the street. The choice was to attend this meeting at the storefront mission or stay out on the street and freeze my ass. Not a hard choice really, but at the meeting I heard them talking about the twelve steps and that one of the steps was to make amends for past wrongs. 

When I heard that, an idea began to form in my head. There was no way to un-rape that girl, but maybe if I went to her and explained that it wasn't my idea and that my brother more or less forced me to do what I did to her, she might forgive me. I knew that what I did was wrong, but maybe, just maybe, she would forgive me and the hand of death would be held off for a while.

I stopped drinking and started trying to figure out how to make amends.

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END OF CHAPTER TWO OF FIVE

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CHAPTER THREE OF FIVE

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 The price of forgiveness can be very high. What would you be willing to do to be forgiven for something that had been bothering you since you were 18 years old.?

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I had decided that the only way to put my life back together was to find the girl that we had raped and tell her how sorry I was for what we did to her. But how do you find someone that you saw only once ten years ago and who evidently never reported anything to the police?

I got another low-level job as a night dishwasher at a local restaurant and more or less cleaned myself up. Then, after a couple of months, I went to see Detective Brooks. He is the one who had come to the house the night my brother, Tony, was killed. He was still a cop in the downtown precinct, so first thing one Monday morning, I took a bus downtown and told the desk officer that I wanted to talk to Detective Brooks to confess to a crime that I had committed. The officer gave me a very weary look and said, "Sit over there. Detective Brooks will be down to get you in a few minutes."

A few minutes was actually almost an hour and a half, but eventually Detective Brooks came walking in and asked for me. When we got back upstairs to his desk he motioned me to sit down and asked, 'So, what did you do?"

"I raped a girl." I said. "Actually Tony, Rocky, Dave, Chuck, and I raped her."

"Your brother's been dead for over ten years, kid. When did this rape take place." I told him the whole story, including how my brother had made me wear the girl's dress home. I didn't tell him about masturbating on my bed in that dress that night.

"So you want to beg forgiveness, do you? Or is it just that you know the statue of limitations on rape is seven years and you want to brag about what you did because I can't prosecute you?"

"I just want forgiveness," I replied. "I didn't know there was a whatever of whatever on rape. I just want to tell her how sorry I am. Do you know anything about what happened? Do you know who this girl was?"

Detective Brooks laughed and shook his head, "You know, kid, this explains a lot that really didn't fit together about the deaths of your brother and his friends. Yeah, I've got a good idea who this girl is, but she isn't the poor, innocent, little victim you imagine her to be. Her name is Violet Lovejoy, better know as Little Violence. She was one of Blue-eye's girls back then. Today she runs a very exclusive 'escort service' over on Aiken Alley. You can go talk to her, but the only way you are going to get forgiveness out of that ice bitch is if you pay for it. Now, get out of my office and go home and learn how to be a man... or are you still just 'Baby Brother' like everyone called you back then?"

I looked up "escort services" and found "Violet's Exclusive Escorts." It didn't give an address, but it did give a phone number and I called it. "I need to speak to Violet," I explained to the young woman who answered the phone. 

"Nobody speaks to Violet on the phone, honey. Too many electronic ears. You tell me what you need to say to her, and I can take care of you."

"No, I have to speak to Violet. I need to ask her to forgive me for raping her in the park ten years ago."

There was a long pause with voices in the background. The young woman then asked, "Is this Baby Brother?"

I answered, "Yes," and she replied, "Just a moment."

Seconds later, a different voice came on the line, "Come to 1137 Aiken Alley. Come alone, and don't park your car near here. Park it at the big parking deck on Adams Street and walk up the hill. Be here tonight at 8:30 on the dot. This is your one chance to speak with me. If you ain't here on time, you missed your one and only chance to find out what really happened to your brother and his three friends."

I couldn't eat at noon or in the evening. I was too nervous. It was only 7:00 o'clock when I parked my car in the parking deck. I walked around downtown for an hour or so, and a little before 8:30, I walked up to Aiken Alley. Technically it was Aiken Street, but it had been a home for houses of prostitution for so many decades that everyone referred to it by the name it had back when these streets were mud and horses pulled fine carriages up the hill to the "sporting houses" on Aiken Alley.

At exactly 8:30, I knocked on the door. A young black girl opened it, looked at me at said, "You must be Baby Brother. Follow me."

She took me to the back of the house and up a long staircase that wound back on itself a couple of times. It felt like we must be on the fourth floor, but the house didn't look that big from the street. We finally reached the top and the girl pressed a large button next to a strange-looking door. A few moments later, a buzzer sounded and the doorway- actually a section of the wall- popped open. The girl grabbed me by the arm. "This way Baby Brother," she said and pushed me through the door. As soon as I was through the opening, I heard it close and lock behind me. The click sounded as loud as any jailhouse cell door that I had ever heard.

The room was very dim, but I could tell that there was a figure sitting at a small desk-like piece of furniture against one of the walls. "So, you are Baby Brother," she said. "What brings you to me, and why shouldn't I kill you like I did your big brother and his friends?"

My knees went weak and I almost fell to the floor. She had killed Tony... and Chuck and Dave and Rocky! "I didn't want to do it that night," I stammered out. "They made me do it, but that doesn't change what I did. I am here to beg your forgiveness and try to make things right."

"You want my forgiveness, do you Baby Brother? Forgiveness has a price. Like in the courts- reparation and punishment." She intentionally pronounced it "rePARartion and PUNishment," and then she smiled at me when I winced.

"I could have killed you at any time in the past ten years- you know that, Baby Brother? I let you live because I knew that you didn't have the balls to rape me. Hell, you could barely even get it up. But forgive you? No way in hell. Unless you are willing to go through what I went through, you can go beg on the street corner for forgiveness, cause you sure as hell ain't getting it from me!"

I tried to stand up as straight as I could and say as firmly as I could- actually I was barely standing and spoke in a quivering voice, "If that's what it takes, I'll do it. I'll do anything to get your forgiveness."

"You sure about that, Baby Brother? Your big brother and his friends put me through an awful lot back in that park. You willing to go through what I went through?"

I lowered my head even further and said, "Yes."

"I'm not sure I heard you. If you really mean that, say it like you mean it, and call me 'Ma'am' when you do!"

I raised my head and spoke as loudly as I could, but it still came out almost a whisper, "Yes, ma'am, I am willing to go through what you went through in order to receive your forgiveness."

"Then get naked!" she yelled.

I looked up at her, and she must have seen the look of shock in my eyes.

"The first thing that happened was they stripped me. Get naked! Now! Do it fast! Just let your clothes drop on the floor where you're standing!"

I started taking off my clothes when suddenly I heard a loud "smack!" and felt the sharp pain of a belt across my buttocks. "Faster, white ass," she yelled as stroke after stoke of a belt pounded my ass and thighs. Finally I was standing naked before her.

"Next time you come here, I want any hair below your neck gone. You got that?" Then she added with contempt in her voice, "Looks like it shouldn't take much to remove what little fuzz you've got!"

I nodded weakly. "Yes ma'am, I will remove any hair below my neck."

"Good, now come over here and give me pleasure with your mouth." She sat down on a small ottoman, lifted her skirt and spread her legs. She was naked beneath the skirt.

I had just knelt before her when the door opened and two young, black girls entered. "This is Baby Brother," Violet said. "I want you to encourage him to be the best cunt-lapper in the world."

I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but then both girls removed their robes and walked naked over to the dresser and took something from the top drawer. Violet grabbed the back of my head and pushed me against her clean-shave pussy. "Lick and suck, Baby Brother, lick and suck... because this doesn't end for you until I cum." 

I began licking and sucking and pulling on her clit with my lips and teeth. Her cunt began to respond almost instantly. The smell of her juices was overpowering and I unconsciously backed my head away for just a second. There was a loud double pop-smack as the belts hit my ass. I yelped and groaned and tried to move away from the belts, but Violet pulled me back and said, "Like big brother said to me that night, 'This doesn't stop until I cum, so you had better get with it.'"

I don't know how many times they hit me with the belts. All I could think of was making Violet cum. I realized I was starting to get an erection and a stray thought entered my head, 'You are sucking a whore's cunt while two other whores are beating your ass and you have a hardon that could punch through steel. You are sick!'

I don't know how long I sucked and tongued while the girls swatted, but suddenly it was over. Violet gave a loud, yelling moan and clamped her thighs firmly on my head. I was pressed so hard into her cunt that I couldn't breathe. I was afraid that she was going to kill me by suffocating me when just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Violet pushed me backwards and I fell to the floor.

"Not bad for a skinny white guy, Baby Brother. Next time we are going to re-enact more of what happened on that trail. It's a pity your brother made you wear my clothes home. I woulda kept that dress for just this day and made you wear that dress and thong so I could rip them off you like Tony ripped them off me."

"I still have them," I mumbled. "I don't have them at the apartment above the restaurant. They are still in my closet at my mom's house... along with your shoes."

Violet laughed- a deep solid laugh that made my whole body go cold. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she said as she continued laughing.

Then her voice got cold and firm again and she spat out, "That's what I want you wearing this Saturday night at 7:00 pm. Just the dress and panties. No shoes, no coat, nothing that covers you up at all. And I want you to park in the big lot downtown. You park on the roof of that parking deck and walk barefoot all the way down on the ramp. Don't take the stairs or the elevator; you take the ramp. And you bring me your parking pass and one of those little reminder cards next to the elevator that say "You are parked on level 8."

"You will come back to the door in the alley where Tina lets you out tonight. Knock on the door and beg me to let you in. I want you to be kneeling there while you say, 'Mistress Violence, your humble slave, Baby Brother, begs to be punished by you.' You had better be very convincing, because if you aren't, I won't let you in, and who knows what kind of people might be lurking in that dark alley."

Violet grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back so I was looking up at her through her legs. Her pussy glistened beneath the short dress that was still hiked-up above her waist. "And remember, if I find ANY hair below your neck, I will make you suffer like you have never suffered before."

She threw me back down to the floor and strode out of the room, smoothing her dress as she walked. One of the naked whores- I guess it was Tina- grabbed my elbow and said, "This way, Baby Brother." 

She dragged me by the elbow back down the flights of stairs, and when we reached the landing at the bottom, she pushed a hidden button on the wall and a door in the outer wall of the house popped open. It wasn't until she pushed me through the doorway that I realized that I was still naked. 

I was standing there in the alley terrified and naked wondering how I was going to get my car and go home when the door popped open again and the other girl stood there in the doorway holding my clothes. They were all wrapped together in a big bundle. "You might need these, Baby Brother," she said as she threw the bundle out into the middle of the alley. I watched as they landed ten feet away in puddle of muddy water. 

Before I could turn back towards the door, it closed once again, and the light above the door went out, leaving me in almost total darkness. I just stood there for several minutes more or less in shock. Then as my eyes got used to the blackness, I walked over to my now sodden clothes and slowly pulled them on. My belt was gone as well as my underwear. They probably had used my own belt on me upstairs, and evidently overlooked my underwear as they picked up the clothing. 

As I began to walk back down the hill to where I had parked my car, I realized that the lack of underwear was probably not an accident. The wet jeans rubbed against my ass with each step I took and it wasn't long before I was taking very small painful steps as the denim scraped against the welts from the whipping I had just received.

By the time I got to the car I was in so much pain that I could barely walk. I looked around and seeing noone nearby, stripped off the jeans and got into the car naked from the waist down. The seat felt cold against my raw asscheeks, but at least it wasn't wet and it wasn't denim. I don't know if the lady in the booth could see that I was naked from the waist down as I paid the parking fees, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get home and go up to my apartment and jerk off.

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END OF CHAPTER THREE OF FIVE

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CHAPTER FOUR OF FIVE

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 Baby Brother finds out what the true cost of forgiveness might be.

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I was still in bed the next morning when there was a knock on the door of my apartment. When I opened it, a rather large, but very beautiful black woman stood there holding a shopping bag. "A package from Miss Violet," she said sweetly. "She said you probably know what to do with it, but just in case there are written instructions."

She handed me the bag and left. Inside the sack was an enema bag, a couple of bottles of some sort of liquid laxative, several bottles of hair remover, and a large butt plug. Yeah, I had a pretty good idea what I was supposed to do with it, but I figured I'd better read Violet's instructions anyway.

"Baby Brother," it read, "I don't want any nicks or cuts on that white skin of yours, so use this cream to take off what little hair you have. Use it tonight, and then repeat it on Friday night- not during the day Saturday, I don't want you coming to me stinking of this shit. Use the purgative on Thursday. It will totally clean you out. Don't eat anything solid on Friday, or Saturday, and Saturday morning, you give yourself five enemas. It should run clear after two, but you do all five or I will know. There is lipstick, eye liner and eye shadow in the bag along with a remover. You practice putting that on every morning and every night. I want it to be perfect when you get here Saturday. And no jerking off starting tomorrow. You can pump yourself dry all you want today, but I want your balls full when you get here Saturday."




Forgiveness



It was signed "Mistress Violence," and under the signature was another note saying, "That is what you call me from now on."

The hair remover cream stung a little, especially on my balls, but I left it on the full time it said on the package. Then I took a warm shower and all of my hair just washed off. My skin felt especially slick, but it didn't turn red or hurt or anything. There was a slight smell for a while. I don't know if it went away after a few hours or I just couldn't smell it anymore.

I tried putting on the makeup, but it came out really bad. I wiped it off and put it back on two more times, and it was a little better, but it still looked crooked and smudged. I wiped it off the third time and decided it was time to go home and get the dress.

The dress and panties and shoes were right where I had left them in a box in the corner of my closet. Mom hadn't changed anything in my room or in Tony's. I guess she thought that she had lost both her sons when Tony got killed. She kept telling me I was always welcome, but she always added, "If you aren't drunk."

I wasn't drunk and Mom wanted me to stay, but I told her I had a job opportunity and if it worked out I might get a better apartment. She again told me I was welcome to stay there. I ended up staying for supper, but left as soon as it started getting dark. She asked what was in the box, and I told her it was just some clothes I might need for the new job.

As soon as I got back to the apartment, I stripped and put on the dress and panties. They still fit. I didn't try on the shoes since Violet had told me to come barefoot on Saturday. I really wanted to lay down on the bed and jack off like I did that night it happened, but I was afraid that I would get the panties dirty, so I took them off. I kept the dress on, but bunched up way above my waist. Mistress Violence said I could pump myself dry, and I did. I kept imagining myself between her legs with the two naked whores whipping my ass and I just kept getting hard and coming and coming and coming. Finally I was too sore or tired or whatever to even get it back up, and I fell asleep on top of the bed still wearing the dress.

I had to work Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday night, so rather than taking the medicine Thursday night, I took it Thursday morning. It cleaned me out good. I wasn't sure I would be able to go into work, but by five o'clock I stopped having to go to the bathroom, and by six I was able to work. I was running late, though, and forgot that I still had the makeup on. Jamie, one of the cooks who had always treated me well, greeted me with, "You switching sides?"

I didn't know what he meant at first, but then suddenly realized that I was still wearing the lipstick and eye makeup. "Oh," I said, "Little Tracy in 2B wanted to practice being a beautician and I let her work on me. I just forgot to wipe it off."

"Pretty good job for a twelve-year-old," he replied.

That made me feel good. It meant that I was getting the hang of it.

Then he added with a smile, "But if you every want to step over to the other side, I've been dying to find out what that cute little ass of yours looks like."

I hadn't realized he was gay, and I hadn't realized that people were looking at my ass while I worked. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but since I was going to be showing more than my cute little ass at Violet's on Saturday night, I didn't say anything.

The next night, I used the hair remover again. I didn't see any hair anywhere, but Mistress Violence said to do it twice, so I did. My skin got all soft again, and my ball sack was smoother than it was, so maybe there was a little bit of hair still on there.

When things got slack around ten, Jamie came over to me and said, "I know you said you aren't interested, but yesterday you had on makeup, and today you smell of hair remover. Who are you getting yourself all dolled up for, honey?"

I turned bright red and stammered out, "Mistress Violence." I don't know why I said it, but I didn't know what else to say.

"Ahh!" he replied. "Playing slave for a femdom. You be careful, honey, or this Violet person will eat you alive." He made a pouting face and said, "And I won't ever get to play with that cute little ass of yours."

Then he smiled at me and said, "If you ever need to get away from your Mistress, just tell me. I knew Violet before she became Little Violence. We came up out of the gutter together- well as far as we could get, anyway. I'm going to have my own restaurant some day, but I will always have a room and bed for you. Of course, the bed will be mine, but I think you would like that." He laughed and went back to preparing food for a new order.

As I stood there washing pots and pans and feeding dishes into the dishwasher, I kept hearing his words go through my head, "this Violet person will eat you alive." Maybe she would, but if that was the price for forgiveness then so be it.

Saturday morning I gave myself the five enemas like Mistress Violence had ordered. There were two packets of powder with a note that said I was supposed to use them in the first two enemas. They caused me to cramp really bad and I expelled some dirty looking water that looked liked it had mucus floating in it. The last three were plain water and they flushed everything back out and the cramping stopped. By the last enema, there was nothing but clear water coming out.

I started getting ready around five. I knew that was way early, but I wanted to have time to redo my makeup if I got it wrong. I didn't. The eye liner was thin and straight. My eyebrows were highlighted, but not smudged. The eye shadow blended slowly to nothing just beneath my eyebrow ridge. When I looked into the mirror, a rather pretty girl was looking back at me.

I took off my pants and underwear and put on the panties. I'm not very big, but panties are not really made for a penis. I ended up tucking it back between my legs so it wouldn't stick out of one of the leg holes. I hoped it would stay there, but I didn't know how to keep it in place. I found out later there is a special sling for that- or you can use surgical tape. I just tucked and hoped. I very carefully pulled the dress on over my head, making sure that I didn't smear any of my makeup, and I was ready- at least physically- for what would happen at Violet's later in the evening.

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END CHAPTER FOUR OF FIVE

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CHAPTER FIVE OF FIVE 

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 Baby Brother relives that fateful night from Violet's perspective and at last finds forgiveness.

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I parked where Mistress Violence told me to park, on the eighth level of the main parking deck downtown. I didn't know why she insisted that I walk down the ramp rather than taking the stairs, but after several different cars slowed and whistled and hooted at me and made various lewd suggestions, I got the idea. She wanted me to know what it felt like to have people seeing you as a sex object. By the time I got to the bottom of the ramp, I felt dirty, and I don't mean the grease and muck that was sticking to the bottoms of my feet.

I walked up the hill to the street called Aiken Alley and down the true alley that ran behind Violet's. I knocked on the back door and said, "Mistress Violence, your humble slave, Baby Brother, begs to be punished by you."

A voice from behind the door said, "I didn't hear you, and I don't see you on your knees."

I got down on my knees and said loudly, "Mistress Violence, your humble slave, Baby Brother, begs to be punished by you."

The door opened. Tina was standing there as well as a blond, white girl. Tina was wearing a nice-looking dress. The white girl was naked. Tina said, "Useless here will wash your feet and knees so you are presentable."

The naked girl knelt down and began washing my knees and then lifted up my foot and put it in the pan of water she was carrying. She thoroughly cleaned both feet and dried them. Then she turned and bowed even lower while looking up at Tina. "Good enough, Useless," Tina spat out the words at her. Then she said, "Show Baby Brother why we call you 'Useless.'"

The girl rocked back so that she was more or less sitting down and the grabbed her knees and spread them wide. The space between her legs was blank. There was no pussy or slit or anything. There was just a small round hole where her ureter should be. Tina laughed. "Useless is a eunuch. She used to be a he 'til Violet had everything cut off. With no prick and no balls, the female hormone pills work pretty well. She's got curves and tits and everything now. Everything, that is, but a cunt, and around here, that makes her 'Useless.'"

Leaving Useless sitting on the floor with her legs splayed, Tina said abruptly, "Come with me."

I followed her up the steps, but we didn't go all the way up to Violet's room like we did the first night. About half way up there was a large landing and a doorway in the wall. Tina pushed a button on the wall and the door opened. "Violet invited a rather large crowd for this special performance tonight," she said.

I had no idea what she meant until we stepped through the doorway into a short hallway that led to the building next door. The building next door was an old theater and we entered just in front of the stage. If we had turned right and gone down a set of stairs, we would have been in the audience. But we turned left through a doorway and ended up backstage. Tina looked at me and said, "We put on some rather special shows here from time to time. Violet's invited all of our regular customers." Then she took me over to one corner of the stage. It was rather dim, but I could see that there were fake trees on the stage with fake grass covering most of the floor. There was a path painted down the center.

"When the curtain opens and the applause finishes," she explained. "You just saunter slowly down that path. You don't need a script because you ain't controlling anything tonight, not even your own body."

After she walked away, the lights dimmed further on stage. I stood there in the darkness waiting. Even without a script I knew what was going to happen. This was the path through the park where Tony and Rocky and Chuck and Dave and I had raped Violet ten years ago, and tonight, it was going to happen to me.

I could hear some sort of introduction from in front of the curtains, and then they were quickly pulled open. The lights came up on stage as the applause died down and I started walking down the path. I had only gotten about half way when suddenly five people jumped from the trees and grabbed me. Four of them were very huge, very black men. The fifth was Violet.

Violet looked at me and said very loudly, "Looks like we found ourselves a cracker whore, boys." I knew those words. I could hear them in my nightmares about that night. Violet had turned and run when Tony said that, so I turned and tried to run back upstage. "Hey, white cunt, where are you going in such a hurry?" she said, laughing just like Chuck had laughed when he said it.

Violet lifted my chin so she could look me straight in the eyes and said, "I think she wants to have some fun." Then she added, "Get naked, cunt... unless you want this to get really rough." I wasn't the only one who remembered every word that had been said that night.

I lifted the black dress over my head. Everyone in the audience laughed at my tiny purple panties. I slipped them down my body and stood there naked. Now I knew why she had insisted that I have no hair below my neck. That was how she was that night.

She pushed me to my knees and one of the black men stood before me. "First stop, France. Let's see how fast you can make him pop, cunt," She said in a voice filled with contempt. Then she added, "Don't tell me you have never sucked a black cock before!"

Like she had done that night, I just bowed my head and sagged my shoulders and reached forward to kiss the penis that was in front of me. Unlike me on that night, however, this man was rock hard and ready when my lips closed over his cock. He grabbed the back of my head and thrust himself into me. It wasn't really a blow job. He was face fucking me and driving his prick to the very back of my mouth. When he spurted, it didn't even touch my tongue, but went straight down my throat.

The next man lay down on his back with his prick sticking straight up into the air. As I crawled toward him, I could hear Violet sneer, "Listen, little cracker cunt, me and my friends are going to whip your ass until you can show us his cum dripping from your mouth." With that she and two of the black men started swinging their belts and whipping me as I tried desperately to make the man cum. 

"After France comes Greece" she said with a laugh. "You know the position cunt. Let's see that brown eye winking at us from between those lily white cheeks." I put my head down almost to the ground so that my ass was high and open. One of the black men smeared something on my ass and then worked it in with his finger. Then he knelt behind me and impaled me with a single, hard thrust.

I cried out in pain and Violet said, "I think we need to keep you quiet. We are going to put your mouth to use until you get him off." One of the naked, black whores ran on stage with a thick, flat pillow and dropped it just above my head. Violet lowered herself down to sit on it and pulled her dress up to expose her naked cunt. "You keep sucking and licking until he comes in your ass, Baby Brother. And then keep on sucking and licking while the rest of them have their turn."

I did. I don't know how Violet kept from cumming. She was pouring juices all over my face, but her voice remained as calm as if we were sitting at her desk having a normal conversation. Finally the fourth black man came in my ass, and Violet said, "It's time. Get ready for this, Baby Brother, because it might be the last thing you ever do." With that she suddenly clamped her thighs around my head and pulled me tightly to her cunt so that I couldn't breathe. I could feel her quaking and thrashing beneath me as everything slowly faded out.

When I came to, I was in her office. I was lying on a couch, naked, and she was sitting at her desk as if nothing had happened. "You didn't know about that last part, did you, Baby Brother?"

I looked over at her with no idea what she meant.

"You didn't even feel LeRoy nail you in the ass with that hypo because you didn't know it was coming."

She looked at me like I was a sick puppy or something. "That's why your are still alive. You never knew that while Tony was putting you in that dress, Chuck and Rocky were wacking me up with a couple of hypos that Blue-eyes had given them. One was a sedative to knock me out. The other was a hotshot of almost pure heroin to OD me."

I stared at her wide-eyed. "The only problem," she continued, "was that Rocky was dumber than a rock, and he mixed up the needles. They gave me the hot shot in my ass and mainlined the sedative. The sedative didn't quite kill me, and my fat ass saved me from the heroin because it slowed how fast it went into my system. I was out until morning, and I felt like shit, but I wasn't dead like Blue-eyes wanted me to be.

"I laid low because I knew that Blue-eyes had to have set it up. He knew that the cops in your town wouldn't bother to investigate the death of an OD'd black whore. They would chalk it up to a stupid black bitch getting hold of some of the good stuff.

"I saw your brother's car a couple nights later, and took off after it. I had a gun and was going to use it, but when they saw me, they thought I was a ghost come back from hell to get them and raced away. We were doing almost 90 when I pulled up along side of them and sort of pushed them off the road into that overpass. I didn't know until the next day that your brother wasn't in the car."

"The cops never knew what happened, but Blue-eyes did. He knew I had to be alive and he wanted his money back. Tony and Rocky had gone to him to hire me to give you your first time with a woman. Instead, Blue-eyes hired them to kill me. He gave them $500 and said they could have whatever fun they wanted with me before they did it. But I was alive, and he wanted his money back. That's why your brother and Rocky were there. Blue-eyes had said they were dead unless he got his $500 back.

"Like I said, Rocky was as dumb as a rock. He tried to muscle his way out of it, and Blue-eyes pulled a knife and stabbed him. They didn't see me coming up behind them as they were fighting. I put two bullets in Blue-eyes before he could turn around. Your brother knew he was a dead man. He just stood there and waited for me to do it.

"Just before I fired, though, he said something to me. He said, 'Don't hurt Baby Brother. He didn't know about any of it.' That is probably the only good thing your brother ever did in his life, and it is part of the reason why you are still alive. If it wasn't for that, I'd have killed you that same day. It wasn't until after I had taken over Blue-eyes operation that I found out for sure that you knew nothin' about nothin'."

She smiled at me. She looked like a totally different person sitting there. Then she said softly, "I forgave you a long time ago, Baby Brother. I did all this tonight so that you would forgive yourself... and so that you would recognize what you truly are."

I just looked at her with a blank face. I still didn't understand.

She sighed. "Both of us learned a lot about ourselves that night. I realized that I was a lot stronger than anyone- including me- thought I was. And I realized that you were a submissive sissy boy. You got stiff when your brother beat your ass. And when Dave said he wanted to fuck your ass, you grew at least an inch inside me. I also realized that night that I like being in control. I knew that I had to take out Blue-eyes and take over his operation. Actually, I probably would have eventually taken out Blue-eyes sooner or later, regardless of what else happened that night."

She walked over to me and held my face in her hands. "Life beats you by trying to make you be something you aren't. That's how the shit in this life destroys you. You are what you are, Baby Brother, but you can still find happiness in your life. Jamie is here to take you home. He loves you, or at least he lusts after you. He will treat you right and give you what you need."

I started to get up off the couch. Violet held out the dress and panties. "These fit you in more ways than one, Baby Brother. Wear them with pride."

As I started to pull the panties up over my legs, she swatted my ass lightly and said, "And if you and Jamie ever get tired of each other, I can always find a place for you here. Some of my customers like a cute, white ass once in a while."

I had just pulled the dress over my head when Jamie came into the room and said simply, "Let's go home, Baby Brother."

It was finally over. I was forgiven.

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END CHAPTER FIVE OF FIVE

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EPILOGUE

Two years later, Jamie and I moved to San Francisco so he could open his own restaurant. Miss Violet was a silent partner for the first ten years until Jamie got the loan from her paid off. By then, times were changing. A new breed of politicians had taken over in the city and were cleaning it up. Most of the old houses on Aiken Alley were torn down. I heard that Violet retired and moved away.

Jamie and I had 42 wonderful years together. My only regret was that we were never able to officially marry. A local reporter once asked us how we had stayed together for so long. I smiled at him and said, "I think it was because we both learned early on, the value of forgiveness."




Forgiveness



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END OF STORY

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Forgiveness?



There is no sex in this story. Just a conversation between a husband and wife about cheating.

*****

"Sit down Honey. We need to talk." I said to my wife as she walked into the house. 

She had just come home from work and looked at me strangely as she tossed her keys onto the end table and put her purse next to her recliner. 

"I don't know what has gotten into you but I need a shower and I'm tired. We can talk later," she replied rather bossily and turned for the stairs.

"Sit down," I said. "Our marriage is at stake."

I had been agonizing over this moment for weeks. I wasn't entirely sure that this was the right idea but I had made my decision. I was committed. Let the chips fall where they may and I would have to live with the consequences. It was time to see just how important our marriage was to my wife, to find out just how much she loved me, to find out if we would be together after tonight.

"What is so important that it can't wait a few minutes?" she said sitting down with a frown on her face. "and what do you mean our marriage is at stake?"

I drew in a deep breath.

"I have a confession to make," I said. "I have a story to tell and I need you to listen to me. Let me get through it without any interruptions. When I'm done I'll ask you what you want to do about it. Can you do that?"

"I guess so," she answered. "But this is really strange. You're starting to scare me a bit."

"Let me start by telling you how much I love you. We have had 32 years together and I love you more today than the day I married you. Our children grew up in a loving home with a fantastic caring mother. I have never once felt that you were giving any less than your best in this life we have built. You have made my life complete."

I started pacing the living room floor. This was harder than I thought it would be. I was glad our kids were grown and living on their own. I wouldn't have wanted them to hear this conversation. My guts were churning and I broke out in a sweat.

"This is so hard but I'm just going to have to say it. I cheated on you."

She started to stand, already opening her mouth to reply. Her face looked confused but the confusion was turning to anger.

"Let me finish...This happened a long time ago. I was depressed and feeling like a failure and in a moment of weakness I allowed myself to be seduced. I have felt guilty about it ever since. It's a secret that I thought I would take to the grave. In fact, I had not thought about it in years."

"So why are you telling me now?" she asked. She still looked angry but seemed to be in control of herself.

"I got some news recently," I replied. "It brought the memories back. It brought the feelings back and I realized that our marriage deserved honesty. Our marriage is more important to me than anything in the world except for the lives of our kids."

"If our marriage was so important," she snapped at me, "then why in the HELL DID YOU FUCK SOMEBODY ELSE!" 

"It was a mistake. One mistake in 32 years. I don't expect you to be happy about this, but can you honestly tell me that I've been a bad husband? Haven't I supported you emotionally and financially for all of our life together? Haven't I shown you every day how important you are to me? How much I love you? How important our union is?"

"You are an asshole!" she said. From the look on her face I could tell that she was building up a head of steam and it was about to get really loud.

"A good husband?" she laughed. "I would have said so before this but now it all seems like a lie. You aren't being a good husband if you are just an asshole who is being on your best behavior because you feel guilty."

"That night was an isolated incident. It had nothing to do with our marriage. It was just a moment of weakness. The feelings I have for you are genuine. I will love you forever. I want to be with you forever. I want you to...I need you to forgive me."

"You betrayed me and you want forgiveness? You shit on our wedding vows and you want me to pretend everything is fine? You hurt me like this and you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes I do." I said firmly. "I want you to remember the 32 years that I have been a good husband and provider. I want you to balance that against a mistake I made one night over 20 years ago. I believe that although it was wrong, that the relationship we have had is more important than one night of betrayal. I want you to be my loving wife. I want you to open up your heart and recognize that forgiveness is better than anger and conflict."

"Get out of my sight. You disgust me," she said coldly. "I will be calling a lawyer tomorrow to start divorce proceedings and you can be sure I will tell the kids why when they ask."

"I love you. Can't you find it in your heart to forgive me? Can't we please let the past go and concentrate on our future?"

"I said get out."

"No chance of forgiveness then? No chance that we can move past this together? You want to throw our marriage away without giving me one more chance? Can you just think about it first? Maybe for a night? Sleep on it before you make a life changing decision?"

Something in my voice must have warned her that she might be rushing into a decision without all of the information. She did know me very well after all. I could tell she was thinking hard. Trying to figure out what I had left out. What I was holding back. 

"I wish you hadn't told me. I was happy," she finally said. "I would have been by your side until I died but I can't forget what I now know. I will never be able to stay with you now, knowing your betrayal."

The anger seemed to be gone and she just looked sad now. She looked as sad as I had felt for the last few weeks leading up to this confrontation.

"Please don't give up on us," I said with tears in my eyes. "Please?"

"You had better leave," she replied sadly. "I still love you but it's over. I don't want to be married to a cheater."

I still had tears in my eyes but my sadness was being replaced by righteous anger.

"That's a shame," I said. "I gave you every chance to save this marriage. I was ready to forgive you. I was ready to ignore what I had found out even though it destroyed me inside."

"Forgive me?" she said looking confused again. "Forgive me for what?"

For a moment she stared at me. She could see my tears, but now she noticed that there was anger in my expression. Doubt flickered across her face as I continued.

"I know about James."

Her shocked expression and sudden tears confirmed my information. I had still been hoping that somehow the e-mail I had gotten 3 weeks ago with the pictures was a cruel hoax.

"I was devastated when I found out. It has taken my weeks to figure out what to do about it. I just couldn't decide."

"Wait!" she cried. "I can..."

I interrupted her.

"So I decided to let YOU decide. I decided to let you determine how I would handle things. Everything I said tonight was a lie. I never cheated. I have always been true to you. If you had been willing to forgive a single indiscretion on my part I was willing to forgive your year-long affair."

"But you don't understand," she began again. "I..."

"I am giving you the same forgiveness you were willing to give me."

That seemed to deflate her and she stopped trying to talk to me. I walked over to my desk and picked up the divorce agreement I had picked up from my lawyer earlier that day. Walking back over to her I placed it in her lap as she sat there crying and looking lost.

"I am not vindictive. It's a fair split of our assets and I filed under irreconcilable differences. You can have the house. Tell the kids whatever you want. I wouldn't damage your relationship with them." 

As I picked up the keys to my truck and headed for the door she screamed "NOOOOOOOO!"

The slamming door cut off her scream and my tears began again. Driving away I thought back on our years together. I couldn't figure out why she was unwilling to forgive me for what she thought I did considering her own indiscretions. I guess I'll never know.

*****

This is not a true story. It's just another foray into my twisted mind.



Forgiveness



Tears flowed as I stared at the wall, a strange sorrow gripping me. I had dreamed again of loss and betrayal and it colored my day grey and dark. My husband would be home soon, and he would see my sorrow. My heart ached, for I knew it would hurt him to see me sad. It always did. He loved me so, this beautiful man I had married. He knew and understood the grief and the pain in me, and he forgave, always. Yet I could not forgive myself for the broken past that haunted me, nor for the intrusion of that grief and pain on our beautiful life together. I was ruining it. I knew it. Still these dark moods swept over me, and I knew they came because in my heart I was tainted and undeserving of the deep love my husband gave to me everyday. Yet despite my revulsion of myself, I yearned for his comfort, his forgiveness, and the love he always gave so freely. I cried with my own shame as I yearned for him to return home.

He knew I was sad today. I had called him, mostly to warn him because it seemed so terribly unfair to ruin his day with my foolishness without warning. At my tenth apology he had sighed wearily saying, "It's all right, there is nothing to forgive." The resignation in his voice as he hung up triggered more fear and a certainty I had driven away the only man I had ever loved, who had ever loved me. I had cried again at that, and cried still, aching and grieving with the certainty of my own unworthiness.

The key sounded in the door and I leaped to my feet, brushing the tears off my cheeks and out of my eyes as if the hideous red swelling of my face would not betray what he already knew, that I had been crying most the day.

He looked at me, and I saw rejection and loathing in his eyes. But he pulled me into his arms and held me softly, kissing the top of my head with the tenderness I had come to expect from him. I knew then the loathing I saw was my own imagination, as ever, born of my inability to forgive my past. 

He sighed deeply, then gripped my shoulders and pushed me away from him gently. He looked into my eyes and I could see resolve there.

"We are going out," he said. Surprise made me stare at him. He usually pampered me when I was sad, holding me close, and telling me over and over that everything was fine, that I was ok. This stern resolve of his was new, and suddenly I was curious.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

His shuttered look worried me as he turned back to the door he had just entered. "Out. Are you ready?" I grabbed my purse and left with him, riding silently in the car.

After a few seemingly random turns, he handed me a long black silk scarf. "Tie this around your eyes," he said.

"What?" I stared at him again.

"Just do it," he said, exasperation coloring his tone. So I tied it, wondering what the surprise was and hoping he wasn't taking me to a fancy restaurant because I wasn't dressed for it. After a while, the car stopped.

"Stay there," he said, "I'll come around." He opened his door, and I waited, ears straining. Then my door opened.

"Will you trust me?" he asked. "You know I will never hurt you."

"Of course I trust you," I said, turning to his voice, reaching to pull the blindfold down. He caught my wrist and stayed my hand. I felt a cold bracelet, then heard the clicks of a handcuff closing against my wrist. He pulled me out of the car, kissed my lips softly, fleetingly, before he turned me around firmly, grabbed my other hand, and handcuffed me behind my back.

What the hell? Shock rooted me to the spot. I would have stared if I wasn't blindfolded.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, startled and starting to feel a little scared.

"Trust me," he said again, softly in my ear, before he pushed into my mouth something that I could not spit out. Cold shock iced my veins when I realized it was a gag. Anger followed by fear stung my eyes with tears. I whimpered. "Silence!" He commanded, giving me a hard pinch on the back of my arm. I cried, but kept silent. Trust him, he had asked. He had never harmed me, and I chose then to trust him, despite my fear and confusion. A weight was placed on my shoulders, and I realized he had draped a long coat over me, pulling the hood over my head. I heard him rustling in the car, then close the car door. He grabbed my elbow firmly, but not hard, and walked me forward. I closed my eyes behind the blindfold and walked with him. 

I knew when we went inside, though we never paused in our walking, I could feel the difference in the air, and hear the people around. He stopped me, and I heard elevator doors open and we stepped in. By this time my heart was pounding hard and fast, and the gag in my mouth was starting to get uncomfortable, but not painful. The elevator opened and we walked out, his grip on my elbow guiding me through turns and finally to a stop. He opened a door, then guided me through it. It felt like a room, quiet and still.

"Sit." He said, his voice still hard, and cold, and commanding, twisting my heart with fear. I sat. Then he took my leg and moved my foot about a twelve inches in front of me and handcuffed my ankle. My other foot was placed in front of me, about two feet apart from the first and also handcuffed. I sat, unable to lean back, my feet spread apart and bound to something in front of me. I tried to pull my feet back, but they failed to move. My husband removed the gag from my mouth, and while I loosed my jaw he said in the same cold hard voice, "You were crying today. Why?"

"Why?" I repeated dumbly. Silence answered me. I waited but still there was no answer. Finally I said, "Because I was sad."

"Not good enough. Have a better answer when I get back." The coldness in his voice scared me, and he left the room. The tears stung my burning eyes, dampening the blindfold.

I sat in the silence for an eternity. The only sound was the heater warming the room. I shrugged the coat off my shoulders, too warm to wear it. My heart pounded hard and fear twisted me. He hated me, I had driven him to this. This man had only given me love and I was so despicable, so vile, so unable to release my demons that I had driven him mad with my crying and my fears, and how I never fully let go and opened up to him, too afraid the taint within me would curdle his love. As it had.

My heart lurched and tears soaked the blindfold. I sobbed, hunched in the chair, my hands bound behind my back. Unable to even wipe my nose, I sniffled constantly, vainly praying I would not look disgusting when he returned.

He would return, he must return. Trust him, he had asked. But what was he doing? Why had he left? Not good enough, he had said. What wasn't good enough? I wasn't good enough. Of course, I knew that, I had known it all along. Yet even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself, twisting his words. He loved me, my husband, he would never say I wasn't good enough. What had he said? He would return, he had said, and something else.

Have a better answer.

The memory doused my tears in a cold wave, as if ice had been injected into my veins. Have a better answer.

Something slid a little inside my head. Suddenly I wanted to please him. A better answer. Maybe a better answer would mean he wouldn't leave me again in the awful silence of this overly warm room.

Why had I been crying? That's the answer he wanted. Why had I? I thought hard, my brain racing, fearing now that he would return before I had a better answer than because I was sad. Sad at what? My shoulders were beginning to ache and my back hurt. I tried to lean back, but that only crushed my hands. No amount of shifting eased the discomfort. It must have been forever since he had left, or maybe it was just a few minutes. Still I had no better answer.

What made me so sad that I would cry all day despite loving my husband and the beautiful life we shared? What made me so sad that I never quite opened my heart all the way, never quite trusted. But I did trust him, I did. But I never trusted myself, whispered the back corner of my mind, the place that always knew the truth, the voice I ran away from. It's impossible to run away when you are handcuffed and blindfolded in a quiet room alone.

Real fear stabbed me then, hard in my stomach. I did not fear for my safety, I knew my husband would never harm me. What I feared were the answers he wanted, the answers he had chained me up to find.

The door opened then. I called out to my husband, calling his name. Silence greeted me, but he walked around. I could hear his step, and smell his cologne. I always loved that cologne. Often it was enough to arouse me. To my shock, now was no different. I called his name again. He barely kissed me, his lips lightly brushing mine, as if in apology. I tasted the whisky he must have drank while gone, then gasped as the gag was placed back in my mouth.

Without a word he freed my hands from each other, the cuffs dangling from one wrist. Grabbing me tightly by the shoulders he raised me to my feet, then pushed me forward, hard. Face first he pressed me, bent over a table. I protested, but the gag made it sound like a moan. He held my free wrist, brought it down and cuffed it to the leg of the table and repeated it with my other hand.

My thoughts spun out of control, my heart pounded violently and I was breathing hard. The table was padded, like a massage table, hip high, it supported my entire torso and my head. My hands and feet were cuffed to the legs, and I could not move them. My back muscles protested the sudden change in position.

He walked to the far side of the room and I heard a zipper, a long, deep-throated zipper from a bag. He stayed there awhile, rustling around.

Why had he gagged me again? I knew my answer, I had a better answer, if only he would let me tell him. My heart pounded.

He approached me again and leaned so close I could smell his cologne and the whisky on his breath. That smell reminded me of our honeymoon, suddenly, and my cheeks flamed.

"Hold still," his voice cracked, but his command and control riveted me. I had never heard him use that tone with me. Tears started again. I had screwed up my perfect marriage.

Something cold pressed against my ankle. Then a hissing sound followed. The cold moved up a few inches, followed by the hiss. I froze completely still, my hands grabbed the legs of the table.

He's cutting my clothes off! With agonizing slowness the cold scissors cut up the back of my leg. He was very careful when he reached my panties, to slide the scissors under them. I felt the elastic give with the cut as my arousal tingled and shame burned my cheeks. He repeated the cuts up my other leg, then finished with a slow cut right across my crotch, severing all that covered me. He pulled the ruined pants from under me, and left me bent over and exposed in the warm air of the room.

He ran his fingers lightly across my ass, and I felt the lust flame in my loins. I whimpered, almost glad the gag kept the sound from traveling. His fingers found the bottom of my shirt and the cold scissors sliced my shirt and bra off of me in slow inches. By the time he was finished I was quivering with anxiety and lust and shame, disoriented and confused.

He pulled the gag out of my mouth again and placed a straw to my lips. I sucked at the cold water, taking long drinks. He set the glass down nearby and then ran his fingertips lightly down my back and across my exposed ass. I trembled, but said nothing.

"Why do you cry?" he asked.

"Because I feel guilty and ashamed." I was ready, but my voice cracked.

"Guilty?" he repeated, and I knew he was surprised. Then cold steel chilled his voice as he demanded, "What did you do?"

The tears started again, and I cried softly. Crack. Fire burned across my ass. Crack. A second followed it immediately. I cried out and he snarled, "Answer me! What did you do?" Followed by a third strike across my ass.

"My past, my past!" I cried, sobbing, shocked, my ass on fire. "You know what I did!" He cracked that thing across my ass again and I shouted, "What the hell is that?"

"It's a strap," he whispered softly, suddenly, right by my ear, his warm breath raising goose bumps. He slowly drew the strap across my cheek and down my back. I shivered at its slow soft path, amazed the same tool had set such fire welts.

His hand, warm and gentle, cupped my ass just then, caressing me softly, as he knows I like, feeling even more erotic since my skin still tingled and burned.

"Why do you feel guilty? It wasn't your fault." He said, as he did every time we had this conversation.

I shook my head, denying him. Crack. The strap whipped across me again, causing me to cry out.

"Answer!" Dark steel growled through his voice, and I suddenly feared he was getting angry. Crack, again, and again I cried.

"It was my fault! It was!"

"How?" he said, pausing in his strikes, not touching me. I quivered, my ass on fire, lust burning. I was desperately afraid he would find out and hate me for that.

"Because I didn't say no enough. Because—" I sobbed my grief, my guilt, unable to continue. His hand was back, caressing me softly, arousing me further.

"You said no once. That is enough. You know that. Why do you still feel guilty?"

I cried instead of answering and the strap again welted me. Finally I sobbed what I knew he would hate hearing, what he always hated and what burned in me always. "Because I'm tainted, evil, I deserved it, what they did. No one will ever love me." I cried, the tears pouring, my grief bleeding through my heart.

Crack. He whipped my ass and my thighs hard, searing flame, hissing as he struck, "How DARE you say that about the woman I love? How dare you insult my love so much?" He whipped me more, until I cried and sobbed apologies, begging him that I knew he loved me. Still I could not say that I was not guilty. My voice cracked on the words. He stilled, and the room was eerily silent.

"There is more, isn't there?" He said so softly I could not tell where he was.

I cried again, humiliated, sobbing. He grabbed my hair and pulled hard, "Answer me! What else?" The lust that swept through me as he grabbed me was a mockery of the truth. I sobbed, "He made me come."

He released me and caressed my cheek softly. I wished I could see him, see if he was as revolted by me as I was by myself. "Explain."

His soft whisper cracked me like an egg. I explained how the first one had demanded I give him everything. How everyone after just recreated the same man. Denied a right to choose, to want or not, he had made me believe I had no right to say no, because no was never listened to. Then sobbing in guilt and shame, I explained how he had made me come, taking advantage of my youth and my sensitivity, making himself the master of me by making me come whether I wanted or not, gloating his triumph. I closed up after that. Guilty over those stolen orgasms, I never again let go, fighting every orgasm.

"I'm so horrible," I cried, feeling disgusted with myself, with my past. "You deserve so much better than me." I sobbed, expecting the strap again.

His finger slid inside me. Shock held me still as he explored my wet cunt. I moaned, ashamed he found my lust, my arousal. He stroked me inside, sliding his finger in and out and around, while he whispered so softly I had to hold my breath and strain to hear him.

"Since you have decided you are guilty, then you will be punished. You will be scourged of this, do you understand me?" He slid a second finder into me and I moaned as he stroked them hard within me. His thumb caressed my clit, and my juices were dripping as he stroked me until I was moaning and tightening up, building toward climax. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I breathed, sounding more like a woman in heat than one being punished.

"You will not come. I forbid it," he said, still stroking his fingers inside of me, his thumb teasing my clit as he knows I like it done. "Say it," he commanded.

"I will not come."

"Should be easy for you since you hold yourself back all the time anyway," he said a little cruelly as he kept stroking me, teasing me, building my pleasure.

My thoughts tripped over each other. Suddenly I wanted to come more then I ever had before.

"You will not." He ordered, as if he had read my mind. "Not until you have been punished. You will not come." His fingers were making me crazy, but I repeated my command.

"I will not come."

That's when he pushed the dildo inside of me. He strapped it in place, then he turned it on to vibrate. He rubbed his thumb along my clit some more, and I nearly came right then. I hissed and pulled myself from the edge of orgasm as I always did, feeling the wave recede. But usually I could stop, pull away, but this time I could not. I couldn't move and that vibrator was building me up again.

My husband's thumb abandoned my clit, making it easier to resist the nearing climax. He caressed my cheek with thin strands that tickled, and ran it across my shoulders.

"Cat o'nine tails," he whispered. "For your guilt."

Anticipation, not to mention that vibrator, quickened my pulse.

"What is your guilt?" he asked.

"I am tainted." 

He whipped my back. The tails stung less then the strap, at first, but they built up fiercely. The fire and ice of the whipping seared me. He demanded their names as he whipped me, and the stories. I told him everything, sobbing my grief, and my guilt as the sting of each whip burned the memories. I trembled and shuddered, and he repeated his order that I would not come while I was still guilty.

Broken and sobbing, my mind aching from the memories, my back stinging. He removed the vibrator and I shuddered at the sudden emptiness where it had been. He slid his hands gently along my hips, as he always did, and I sobbed at such a loving and familiar touch. He gave me another drink of water, then left me along in the room again.

I cried in the silent room, my back stung and fire burned along my nerves. I think I slept a little. I must have, because I woke to the door opening again.

He moved around the room, though I couldn't tell what he was doing. His warm hand cupped my ass again, caressing softly. I whimpered, still aroused.

"You've done well," he whispered, and an immense joy swept through me. "We are not finished yet, I think." His words raised goose bumps. What could he mean? My flesh stung, my heart had bled itself dry, and I was so aroused I thought I would come if the wind blew.

"Over and over in your telling," he spoke softly, "you kept saying you didn't say no enough." While he spoke he slowly, deliberately, and carefully squeezed lubricant onto my ass. The cold, slippery liquid running slightly, raising shivers in me. His finger slid around my anus, teasing. "Yet with each of them, you said no more than once, and was not listened to. They did not stop." His teasing finger eased into me, opening me. I whimpered, relaxing as he stroked me, sliding gently in and out of my ass. "I know that you believe that one no is all you need. So it's time to remember what you already know." He inserted a small vibrator into my ass and turned it on. I moaned and trembled.

His hands caressed my ass again, then circled my hips before they slid up my back. That's when I felt him, hot and erect and naked against my cunt. I shuddered violently to feel his cock against me, pressing slightly. I nearly came right then, but my punishment wasn't over yet.

His hands slid up my back and he ran his fingers through my hair. "Do you want me?" he asked. I whimpered, trying to move, anything so he would bury that cock inside of me. His fingers tightened in my hair and he pulled, growling fiercely, "Tell me, do you want me?"

"Yes!" I cried, my cunt quivering as he pulled my hair. He thrust into me then, slowly, expanding me around his cock. I could feel him pressing against the vibrator in my ass, and I shuddered and shook, riding the edge of orgasm, but not crossing, not allowed yet.




Forgiveness



"You know, I can prove you've learned about no." He said as he fucked me with his hard cock, my cunt gripping him tight, trying to keep myself from coming just because he entered me, though I wanted to.

"How?" I moaned, barely coherent.

He picked up his rhythm, riding me faster, sliding in and out of me, slick with my juice and the lubricant. He was fucking me harder, plunging into me until every thrust was making me tremble and shudder, aching for release. He reached own and caressed my clit. I groaned with it, holding back like he had made me promise, growling with desire.

"You never once said no to me tonight," he whispered. Something snapped in my head, and the grief fled. Joy and love flowed past the broken dam, filling me completely.

"I want to come." I moaned as he fucked me everywhere.

He laughed then, throaty and deep, "Then come."

And I did, screaming with it, shaking and trembling so hard I never felt him throbbing, I just heard him moan, and felt the warm rush of his cum inside me.

He released my restraints then, slipped off the blindfold, and he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to the bed where he caressed me softly all over, kissing every welt he had made, kissing my lips softly and stroking my hair.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said as he kissed me. "I didn't know what else to do."

I cupped his face in my hands and I looked deep into his eyes, full of love and devotion. "You saved me. It was tearing me up. I couldn't forgive myself." I kissed him with my whole heart. "You gave me a path to forgiveness."

He made love to me then, tenderly and gently, like the delicious lover he was. And I came, twice, and easily.



Forgiveness



As both a writer and a reader of erotic stories I have watched the arguments rage back and forth at the stories, at the public comments, on the bulletin boards and in emails. When a spouse strays, when should forgiveness be offered and when should it be withheld? Its pretty easy to make one general observation. No matter what how any given story handles the situation, its certain to offend someone. 

First, let's define "Infidelity". It's not as easy as it might appear at first glance. Does the term require the partner have sex with someone else? Does it encompass flirting, or necking, or making out in the back seat of a 64 Dodge Dart? Where is the line in the sand that the crossing of moves the action from innocence to betrayal?

Originally, I was going to automatically rule out any action that took place in an open relationship. I'm not sure that I can do that. Even in those relationships, there is often an agreed upon set of limits. When those limits are crossed, when the agreements are broken, isn't it the same as cheating? I recall a very interesting story where a couple joined a swing club. As it turned out, one of the partners was doing it to reopen an affair with a lover from before the marriage. To me that's cheating. Why? Because its deceitful. One person is doing something behind the other's back.

Is it cheating if it doesn't include sex? Please, no discussion of what goes on in the White House. Oral sex is sex. Anal sex is sex. Sex between two women or two men is still sex. Is there such a thing as emotional infidelity? Cyber sex, phone sex, girls confessing, guys bragging, or heck, girls bragging and guys confessing. Am I cheating if I confess to a close friend my fantasy of sex with Sean Connery? Or with a VERY close friend my fantasy of Faith Hill? 

No, of course not. The line can be very fine though. For the purposes of this discussion let's confine the definition of cheating to physical contact of the closest kind. Real, one on one (or more than one) sex involving lots of sweating, intimate contact and probably orgasms. If that isn't a clear enough definition for you, I'm sorry. Why are you on an erotic website?

Once a spouse, partner, or boyfriend/girlfriend has indeed cheated, or perhaps been fortuitously interrupted as they were getting undressed in bed together, AND the partner is aware of what has transpired (no flag, no foul), what happens next? 

From my review of a lot of stories and a lot of comments at Lit, I find two extreme schools of thought on forgiveness. The first school holds that any crossing of the fidelity line is unacceptable. For example, I once received a condemnation of a character in one of my stories because when she was kissed by a long ago lover, she kissed the lover back before regaining control of herself. This school of thought considers adultery unforgivable, plain and simple. The usual response seems to be "Kick the offender out and with luck they'll catch AIDS and die a horrible death. That'll teach 'em!"

The difficulty I have with this view is that there is no margin for error. A college girl gets drunk at the same party her boyfriend passes out at and ends up screwing with the star quarterback. Is she in the same classification as the mild-mannered father of three who bangs the 18 year old babysitter every Saturday night on the pretense of taking her home or the soccer mom who takes on the entire starting defensive squad of the Pittsburgh Steelers?

I don't think so. Among anything else this makes me think of the old "hung for a sheep as a lamb" chestnut. This seems to mean that when the girlfriend sobers up she might as well do the rest of the fraternity and perhaps the girl's field hockey team while she's at it. What's done can never be undone.

The second school holds the complete opposite opinion. With love and understanding, nothing is impossible. Indeed the farthest edge of this group holds that no offense has even been committed. All boundaries and agreements are artificial and only stifle the happiness that comes from complete freedom to act solely as one chooses. Indeed, the partner should be happy that they have the fortune to be with someone who is so open and free.

Here my problem is that liberty becomes license. Then the person really is doing the basketball coaching staff and the entire secretarial pool at the office. It doesn't matter that they are abandoning their children, their job and creating heartache for the one that they supposedly love. As far as I'm concerned, it has to work both ways. Generally I see most of those type stories as having one person who loves too much and the other who doesn't care for anything past the moment.

Generally there is a lot of shouting that goes on between these opinions. One accuses the other of being "wimps". The second tells the first that they're "Nazis". 

Then in the middle, we have the dreaded moderates, of which I confess myself to be one. When we are asked if an affair can be forgiven we answer firmly and with great conviction, "It depends". I believe that some errors are forgivable, and some are not. I've written stories with both types of endings. To my mind, its not just the length of an affair, nor the deep the involvement is that is the key, although certainly I want to discuss those issues. What matters to me when I'm trying to decide on one of my stories or on one that I'm reading is a myriad of factors.

It is said that men look at affairs from the physical side, women from the emotional side. I doubt that its that easy but perhaps it does shed some light on the subject. When confronted with an erring spouse a woman is more likely to wonder "Do you love her?" A man, whether he vocalizes it or not, wants to know "Was he better than me in bed?" In both cases the actual words are likely "How could you DO this to me?"

First of all, how did the affair happen? Was it planned or did it suddenly and unexpectedly take place? A husband gets sloshed at an out-of-town business meeting and ended up in bed with some stranger. Compare this with a girlfriend who plans for weeks how she is going to spend the weekend with her old flame at a reunion that she has made sure her current boyfriend is not going to be at. The more effort and planning that goes into an affair the deeper the transgression and therefore the harder it will be to forgive.

Second, what overt harm did it do to the partner? I'm not just talking about being brazen about the whole affair, although the more and the harder one rubs their partner's nose into what is happening the slimmer the chances of forgiveness are. Other factors include; is the cheater denying the partner anything, be it sex, affection or time spent together? Although we are on an erotic site and therefore tend to think of the denial, lessening or quality of sex being the biggest injury, often its not. Intimacy means a lot more than just sex, and not just for women either. The withdrawal of the cheater from the partner whether caused by guilt, indifference or simply lack of time to balance everything going on is as damaging as the physical actions themselves.

Is anyone else caught up in this? Are children involved and are they suffering because of the actions of the cheater or the reactions of the other person? The more devoted a parent is, the harder they will probably find to forgive when the kids have been affected. At the same time, the consequences of a divorce, especially a bitter one, have to be taken into consideration. I'm not saying "stay together for the sake of the kids", but it is a strong consideration.

Third, where other factors at work here? Was there alcohol, drugs or blackmail involved? Particularly in the case of being drunk, that's an excuse, not a reason. An adult who doesn't know when to stop drinking shouldn't be drinking at all. That college girlfriend up above has a better excuse than a 40 year old married woman for getting drunk. Drugged unwittingly is rape, not cheating. And blackmail, especially as used most often here, comes from making a voluntary misstep, the compromising pictures of the wife with the boss for example. If the first time didn't happen then the blackmail wouldn't exist. It does however, tend to make further offenses more understandable.

Fourth, and perhaps the most important factor of all, how does the cheater react when caught? Some things are almost certain to happen. As long as possible the cheater is going to deny what has happened. When confronted with proof, the next instinct is to attempt to minimize the damage as much as possible. These actions; coupled with the standard "I can explain", "This is the only time its happened", and the most famous "I just love you, it was only about sex" are panic reactions. They spill out in a desperate attempt to soften the situation, make it appear not as bad as it is, make the cheater appear less wrong.

Now there are those stories we find here where the cheater simply shrugs and basically says "Its all your fault and I'm not going to stop." Assuming this isn't revenge sex or something like that, then the partner is going to have to take a really hard look to see if they can get live with the situation as its presented to them. I'm not talking about the "willing cuckold" type stories. No forgiveness is needed when the partner willingly acquiesces to the affair. This is about people who are hurt and want the affair to stop. Can they live with the cheater's ultimatum? Some will. Some people will be so in love that they'll suffer the hurts in silence to keep that partner. Most won't. It certainly isn't a good starting place.

Most people though, unless they were planning on heading out the door already when they were caught, will try to salvage the relationship they were in. They may have been cheating but there had to be something of core value with the partner they were slipping around on. Otherwise they would have simply packed up and gone long before. Eliminate money and status reasons, cheaters like that are simply quieter cases of "I'm not stopping". We're talking about the people who didn't think of the consequences, didn't consciously admit they were really jeopardizing their marriage. These are the people who want to be forgiven, hope to be forgiven.

Can they be? I can only decide for myself. Maybe yes, maybe no. You will have to choose for the stories you read or write and the characters you encounter or create.



Forgiveness



Tessa Jacobs was excited, sexually excited, even before she had arrived at this hotel rendezvous and she orgasmed just moments after Carl Selworth pushed his erect cock into her waiting cunt. 

She recalled that it was a good thing she was so worked up before she got there as Carl too was primed and ready. After stripping himself, as he walked in from the hotel door, he opened her dress to reveal her naked body underneath, grabbed her and after sucking all too briefly on her nipples, then rolling on a condom he apparently had in his hand, he had laid her back on the bed, pushed into her and began a rapid pounding in and out of her.

Although there was literally no foreplay, the pounding was having its desired effect as she felt herself building to a second orgasm, fuelled by her feelings of wickedness as she cheated on her husband Rob for the first time in their married lives.

This time Carl was not far behind and he too began to climax, pumping his cum into the condom.

"God Tessa, you are hot!" he exclaimed, almost totally out of breath as he rolled off her and lay beside her on the hotel bed.

Tessa was too much out of breath to respond and she laid back to examine the man beside her.

Carl wasn't quite as tall as Rob but he was bulky and when dressed as he had been every other time she had seen him, he gave the impression of being much bigger. He had made All American at State as a linebacker and had done so, at the time, by maintaining a solid regimen of bodybuilding, which, it appeared by the large paunch over his now flaccid cock, he had backed away from in recent times.

As she lay there, guilt began to creep into her thoughts. She was sure she loved her husband Rob and convinced herself that, if he hadn't already done it, and she had a feeling he may have, he would be fucking Carl's wife Sarah soon and that this was just sex, like scratching an itch. 

Besides, they had practically swapped already, the night before, as the four of them had been at Carl and Sarah's to celebrate Carl's latest major sale and later last night she had asked him outright if he wanted to fuck Sarah and did he want to watch her fuck Carl. She couldn't exactly remember what he had responded but she didn't recall him objecting either.

**

She had conflicting feelings through the entire evening that night before. Seeing how taken Sarah was with her husband had both excited her and made Tessa jealous. The way they fit so well into each other's arms made her think just maybe they had done this before.

She and Rob had a good sex life, she supposed, but after 7 years it had seemed there was too much "sameness". Sure, Rob was still romantic! He frequently sent flowers, not just for special occasions but, often, just because he loved her. He called her from work for "dates" and he sometimes arranged for them to have "dirty weekends" in a downtown hotel every now and then, occasionally they watched porn together and they went dancing frequently but, enjoyable as it all was, the sex, she felt, was still pretty much the same.

Rob was into giving oral sex and he would drive her to the heights most often bringing on her orgasm before plunging into her, which not always, but often, lifted her to a second climax.

As great as that was, Tessa wondered if they weren't looking for more variety and excitement as it concerned her that there might be more they were missing. The problem would be that more variety for her would mean more variety for him too and the possibility that she might lose him to someone else, frightened her.

**

Carl was in real estate but handled only commercial properties and, aided and abetted by the fact that a few years ago he was the town's football hero, he was still quite popular and had recently been somewhat financially successful.

Tessa's husband Rob was also successful, quite a bit more so in fact, but in nowhere near in as flamboyant a manner as Carl. Rob had built a small business into a financial success and he continued to work long hours to make it even more so. He had recently bought a second small business to compliment and support the one he already had and had been working to efficiently amalgamate the two. He had caught the attention of a huge international conglomerate and had already begun preliminary discussions about selling out his enterprises to them.

Tessa had met Sarah at the golf club and, after several encounters, they had become friends and decided to have their husbands meet over dinner one night. It proved to be a good thing as Rob, at the time, was looking for a larger office/factory facility and Carl was able to find it for him.

That, combined with the friendship their wives had formed, made them into a foursome.

Over the few years they had known each other they had become, if not the best of friends, certainly fairly close friends and on that night at the celebration for Carl's huge sale, things had gone further than ever before. 

Fueled by a great deal of champagne Carl had purchased for the celebration, all four had dressed formally, Rob and Carl in tuxes and the two women in formal gowns and they spent the evening dining and dancing and during that time they had become quite drunk.

Back at her home afterwards, at Sarah's request they had continued dancing. Inevitably Sarah had come over to Tessa and Rob and they had switched partners and the friendship, the booze and the atmosphere had led to some mild groping and kissing.

At one point, Tessa remembered the look of sheer delight on Sarah's face as her husband Rob lightly stroked Sarah's bare back as they swayed back and forth to the music. For the briefest of moments, she felt a spark of jealousy and worry but it soon gave way to the thrill of being with a different man and although her thoughts had not yet defined the vague fantasy she was having, it began to look like a swap! Carl appeared to Tessa to be bigger, rougher and different than Rob and different in this case for Tessa translated into exciting.

They stood, half leaning, half sitting against the bar, Tessa leaning back partially against Carl and fueled by her not pushing his hands away, Carl's passion increased as he moved them up to caress her bare tits underneath her dress and built-in bra. Clearly they had gone further than Sarah and Rob but Tessa was sure that would change soon, assuming it hadn't already, and in the meantime she enjoyed the thrill of doing something naughty.

She didn't really like the idea of Rob with Sarah. It made her jealous but she knew Sarah seemed to be lacking in her love life with Carl, and it was Sarah who had been pushing for them to get closer as couples. Sarah had said she hoped that some of Rob's romanticism would rub off on Carl.

Tessa convinced herself that this would be good for Sarah's relationship with Carl.

She had to admit that she thought maybe some of Carl's "roughness" might rub off on Rob.

Tessa loved Rob and what he did for her romantically, but she had it in her head that it would be exciting to get closer to a bigger, rougher guy so, she allowed Carl those liberties, justifying it by knowing she would have to allow Sarah the same opportunities with Rob. That was, of course, if Rob wasn't already feeling up Sarah as Carl was doing to her.

Sarah sure as hell looked entirely taken with Rob!

She was initially surprised as Rob was really conservative in some things and she hadn't really thought he would get into a situation like this but clearly Sarah was in 7th heaven as they danced so, she deduced, Rob must be doing something to turn her on.

The two men were really alike in some ways. Both were about 6' 2'', Rob a little more and Carl, a little less, but Rob was much more slender and carried his 195 lbs well. Carl weighed about 240 and gave the impression that he was much bigger. Only when they were side by side was it obvious Rob was taller than Carl.

**

As the evening went on, Rob became more and more aware that Sarah was pressing against him at every opportunity and he initially let himself enjoy the sensation as she was an exceptionally attractive woman and someone he liked very much, but, as it continued well into the evening, he began to look for ways to gracefully say goodnight and head for home.

He did look over to see what Tessa and Carl were doing but the lights were dimmed and from the angle he was looking, it appeared like they were standing side by side at the bar talking, Carl slightly behind Tessa.

Later that night as Rob called for a cab, Sarah belatedly had suggested they stay over but by the time she had mentioned it, the cab had been called and as the four discussed the invitation, the cab had arrived.

Sarah was clearly disappointed and Tessa remembered being mildly relieved but that was forgotten when Rob put his arm around her in the cab and they did some light petting all the way home.

By the time they arrived, although still quite inebriated, both were horny as hell.

Rob paid the cabbie as Tessa unlocked the front door. As soon as Rob closed it behind him, he was greeted with Tessa sitting on the sofa, her dress pulled up over her waist and her panties removed. 

Rob needed no directions. He dropped to his knees in front of her and began licking her very wet cunt. As drunk as he was, he managed to vary what he was doing, sometimes licking along the sides, sometimes lashing at her hardening clit and sometimes fucking her with his tongue. In spite of his efforts to extend the pleasure for her, she was too excited and she shouted out, "Oh Rob!!!" as her body shuddered in orgasm.

Feeling a little unsuccessful at being able to prolong her pleasure, Rob decided to keep lashing her cunt with his tongue and after a brief period of post orgasmic ticklishness, Tessa settled back and enjoyed having her husband bring her to a second orgasm.

As he was bringing her to the brink of that second climax, she began to verbally encourage him. "Did you feel Sarah up baby? Did she turn you on?"

"Oh yeah!" he answered as he continued to lash at her clit, remembering how it felt to hold Sarah in his arms as they danced.

"Are you going to fuck her? Do you want to watch me fuck Carl?" she continued, and just then she barely managed to get out the words before a second and strangely, much more powerful orgasm, fuelled by her vivid imagination, took total control of her body and her mind.

In the ecstasy of the moment Tessa failed to notice Rob's sudden change of mood and her orgasmic delight, combined with the booze and both physical and emotional exhaustion, caused her to relax and moments later she was fast asleep. 

Rob, being the kind and considerate person he was, once he realized she was asleep he cuddled up beside her, closed his own eyes and fell asleep as well, holding her close.

The next morning was chaos!

In the night he had struggled awake enough to lead her to their bed where they collapsed once again. Rob, not having got off himself, was still very horny but Tessa was barely able to get to there so he let her alone and let himself drift off to sleep. He was vaguely concerned about something, but just then he could not remember what. 

Although he would normally have set an alarm and more often than not, would have been awake well before it went off, the exertions of the night before, along with the booze had worn him out and he overslept.

When he finally did wake, he was late for the all important appointment that would, if successfully managed, set him up to sell his businesses and make him wealthy beyond his dreams, not to mention a guaranteed part-time "consulting" position at an inflated salary of $100,000 per year for the next 12 years

He was late and had to rush. He knew he had to talk to Tessa but just then there was no time.

**

Two hours after her husband had left, Tessa woke and her last memory of the night before was of an incredible orgasm her husband's talented tongue had given her as they talked about him fucking Sarah and her fucking Carl and she found herself horny rather than sated. Moments later her phone rang.

After an extended conversation during which she wavered from outright refusal to "maybe", she found herself finally agreeing to Carl's request that they meet to continue "where they had left off the night before" when he kept reminding her about Sarah and Rob.

Tessa had initially refused and was not going to agree to his invitation until she was at least sure Rob was doing Sarah but he had persisted, reminding her that Rob and Sarah seemed to be getting it on as well. On that point she wavered between annoyance at Rob and "getting even" and just continuing what appeared to have already begun among the four of them. 

Before she thought it through carefully, Tessa had agreed to meet him at the airport Marriott.

Although her conscience bothered her for a while, she soon remembered her orgasm from the night before as she had blatantly suggested her husband fuck Sarah and assumed it had turned him on as much as it had her.

So she ended up fucking Carl in the hotel room.

**

As her conscience prodded her, she lay silent in the bed until Carl began to snore and, finding it annoyed her, she poked him hard in the ribs which startled him and woke him up, but rather than be annoyed, he assumed she wanted more and he began groping her breasts.

She let him continue in the hopes that there would be some foreplay to excite her as much as she had been on the way over to the hotel earlier as she was anticipating the naughty things they would likely do. Moments later she was shocked to see that Carl was hard once again and he rolled between her legs and knelt upright, stroking his cock and putting on a second condom.

In a detached way she realized she was surprised that, except for his distended paunch, he was not bigger than Rob was. He seemed so much bigger a person yet he was no bigger in the cock department either. In fact, it occurred to her that he may not be as big! Although he dressed well and it was not apparent then, naked, he projected a pretty substantial potbelly and the word "slob" came into her mind.

As she was processing those thoughts, she failed to pay attention to what he was doing and soon he was upon her, his erect cock once more he pounding into her.

Not only was it NOT a turn on, she was no where near excited enough and before she could decide to tell him to slow down a little, she could feel and hear the unmistakable signs that he was about to cum again.

She recalled just then that Sarah had complained that Carl "got right in to fucking" and was a "bit rough" and she had mistakenly taken that as "different" and "exciting". 

Now she knew better!

"Tessa, you are one hot woman! We've got to do more of this and soon." Carl was clearly quite happy about his sexual performance.

Tessa wasn't sure what her predominant feeling was just then; guilt, anger, self-disgust or outright embarrassment. 

All of the above!

"Slow down Carl. I'm only here because it's obvious we were on the verge of swapping last night and maybe you and I got a little ahead of the game. I don't really know for sure. I've got a great husband whom I love. All we're doing here is looking for a little excitement."

It was hard to tell what Carl was thinking from the expression on his face.

"I know they were pretty close last night but I don't think Sarah would actually go for a swap. I know she and Rob were enjoying it, but she's too much into me for that, I'm afraid. She has been setting up all these romantic events for us for weeks now. It's like she can't get enough of me. We've been to a Bed and Breakfast in the country. We've had weekends in the downtown Hilton and lot's of nights when I get home she's got candles and stuff like that."

Tessa was disturbed at his comments and was about to speak when he continued after a brief pause, "I guess if I worked on her a bit, we might get her to loosen up. I'll do it! You relax and leave it to me." He said, knowing he had no intention of letting his wife fuck another guy, especially one like that wimp Rob.

"I'll get working on that swap and that'll make it easier for you and I to get it on when we want." He continued lying.

Tessa was upset and was having difficulty getting her thoughts in order so she could tell him off but before she could, he jumped out of the bed and headed for the bathroom.

"I gotta go. Got a new deal coming up that I need to process. There's a huge conglomerate moving into the area. Some hush, hush deal but I know they're looking for several million bucks worth of office and factory space and I'm going to tie up the best prospective place myself. I'm going to score big time." He boasted.

"I'll call you later. Rob's got that city business improvement meeting. I'm going to skip it. We can set up another meeting when I call you tonight." And with that he went into the shower.

Tessa was upset.

Rather than face him anymore, she gathered her shoes and the one-piece sundress which were all that she had worn there, dressed and went home to clean up.

**

In spite of the huge success of his meetings, Rob was troubled all day. He wasn't sure how to take Tessa's comment about him watching Carl fuck her. He certainly had no wish to do that. On the other hand, Sarah had felt great in his arms last night and he could distinctly recall being aroused but he hoped it had been little more than a fantasy to add to love-making with Tessa. 

The thought of it going any further than that, and more to the point, the thought stepping outside their marriage vows himself or of watching his wife fuck Carl, put him off.

He knew he would be late getting home that night as he had a meeting and he had to drop off his Navigator for servicing. He knew he needed to talk to Tessa, so he had his secretary Carrie clear his calendar for the following morning, then he called the florist and had a bouquet of mixed fresh flowers sent to her with a note that said "I love you! Rob."

**

For some time after Tessa and Rob had left that night, Sarah was excited! 

She wasn't sure just exactly why. 

For the past 2 maybe 3 years she had been on a constant downer and it had taken almost half that time to define what it was that was bothering her. Certainly Carl was a good provider. His recently improved income provided them with an excellent lifestyle, a beautiful home, nice cars, exotic vacations, memberships in the most exclusive golf club in the state and the finest of dining and entertainment choices.

But there was something missing!

Her sex life with Carl was, she had thought, good. They made love often. It was as if Carl couldn't get enough of her and that made her feel really good, but he seemed just to want to fuck and although he was big on her sucking him, he wasn't interested in giving oral sex.

Actually, she realized one day, he just wasn't very romantic. 

A new member she had met at the golf club, Tessa Jacobs, and she, had become good friends and over time began to share more personal stories. As Tessa described the wonderful things her husband did for her, Sarah thought some of it might rub off on Carl so, along with Tessa, she set about to introduce their husbands and perhaps build a closer friendship among them all.

Some of the responsibility for building a better love life was, she figured, hers and so she had set about trying to change things. She organized romantic candle lit dinners, weekends away at a bed and breakfast, candles in the bedroom and sexy lingerie. 

It seemed to make little difference!

Carl was obviously excited by her actions but the end result was always the same. He would get excited, maul her breasts a little, then push in and get himself off.

Then Tessa and Rob came into their lives and for a few brief times when Tessa would share stories of the things that Rob did for their relationship, she would live vicariously through them and on those days she would envision that Carl might do some of that for her and she would come close to satisfaction.




Forgiveness



Although it had not expressed itself in the form of a physical orgasm, the night of Carl's celebration over that major sale of a huge piece of commercial property, she had been thrilled to be in Rob's arms as he gently and lovingly had stroked her bare back as they danced together. His caring, gentle and, if the truth be told, "loving" manner was a total turn on for her.

Although the conscious thought of an affair or even a swap had not entered her mind, she had made sure she rubbed up against him every time she got the chance and she had tried to prolong the evening by inviting Tessa and Rob to stay over. To what end she had not thought clearly through, but she had tried. Unfortunately, Rob had called a cab, which had arrived by the time she extended her invitation.

**

Tessa was initially disappointed, then annoyed at Carl's sexual response, then a little fearful as she hurriedly put on her dress and left the hotel room while he showered. She all too late realized that by fucking Carl she might have taken the first major step to a swap and she would have to stand by while Rob fucked Sarah if he hadn't done it already. Jealousy surged through her but as quickly as it did, the prospect of Rob not proceeding with a swap and being pissed at her for what she had done, made her fearful. 

By the time she was in her car the feeling had turned to terror that her foolishness might be found out and most of all, the most powerful emotion she felt was self-loathing.

That self-loathing was magnified a thousand fold when only minutes after arriving back in her home, smelling of the sweat and cologne of the man she had just fucked in a hotel room, she found a beautiful bouquet of flowers with the attached note, "I love you! Rob."

That afternoon she spent most of it in the shower trying unsuccessfully to wash away her infidelity.

When Carl's promised phone call came that night she just let it ring then took the message. Fortunately he had been discreet and had simply thanked her and Rob for sharing the celebration with them and that he was looking forward to seeing them again.

**

Tessa's heart was pounding so hard she was sure Rob could hear it as he slipped quietly into their bed later that night after the cab dropped him off from his meeting. Tessa's mind was racing as fast as her heart as she had no idea what to do. 

Confess? 

Hide her adulterous liaison with Carl and if this, then how? 

Maybe, if Rob had already fucked Sarah, or, if she and Carl were to promote a swap and Rob and Sarah got it on too, it would hide what she and Carl had done or at least make them even.

What to do?

She felt a great deal of comfort when Rob snuggled up against her, put his arm over her as he often did, as if he were protecting her, murmured gently into her ear, "I love you!" as he regularly did and then he fell gently off to sleep.

**

Unlike her normal behavior, Tessa rose early the next morning as she had slept only fitfully and about 5:45 found herself wide awake. She got up, put on the coffee and was looking for something to prepare for their breakfast when she heard from behind her, "Good morning gorgeous!"

Rob wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek from behind. "This is a nice treat, having coffee ready for me when I get up. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you appreciate it."

Being the person he was, Rob decided that he should get right to the point so, after poring coffee for each of them, he asked Tessa, "What's on your agenda for this morning?"

Tessa was wary!

This was unlike any conversation she could recall having had with him. Why was he asking that? Did he already know about her and Carl?

"Nothing special." She answered nervously. "What about you?"

"Carrie has cleared my schedule for this morning. I'd like to talk to you about the other night at Carl's celebration."

Tessa felt some slight relief and managed to calm herself a little. It even occurred to her that she might go slightly on the offensive here. 

"I noticed you and Sarah were getting pretty close. Is there something about you two I should know?" she asked with more confidence than she actually felt.

"I really didn't think so at the time," Rob continued calmly, "as it seemed like four close friends getting together. I like Sarah and Carl's O.K., in small doses, if you know what I mean, but I'm more concerned with your comments when we were making love after we got home."

Rob moved around so he was directly facing Tessa and he looked into her eyes as he spoke. "You asked me if Sarah turned me on and if I had felt her up and I actively engaged in the fantasy of being turned on in a situation like that, but I couldn't imagine ever acting on it. When you asked me if I wanted to fuck Sarah and then you asked if I wanted to watch Carl fuck you, it upset me. I wanted to speak up then but we were both pretty drunk and exhausted, so I left it to today."

He went on, "For the record, Sarah is an attractive, desirable woman but given my feeling toward you and the vows we made, I most certainly do not want to fuck her and I do not ever want to even think about you fucking Carl, or anyone else for that matter.

I'm sorry if I have come on too strong here but as much as I enjoyed that night, I certainly don't want to be a part of taking it any further and if you feel you do want to, I need you to tell me up front right now!"

Rob could see Tessa was very upset, probably, he thought, by his bluntness. The look on her face made it all too plain and Rob began to think he had come on too harshly.

Tessa was petrified. She could see from what her husband had said that he knew nothing of her fucking Carl the previous morning but it was equally clear that he was not going to condone it or swap. 

She had screwed up big time and had no idea how to proceed.

"I'm sorry if I came on a little strong there Tessa," Rob said, "but I will not go down that road."

His softer tone gave Tessa the space she needed to recover. "I'm sorry too Babe! It was the booze talking and I let it get too crude." she lied.

Rob's smile almost made her forget what had transpired and when he came to her and took her into his arms she responded passionately.

"Do I remember correctly that I passed out before you were taken care of the other night?" she said.

"You know I don't keep score Babe but, to tell you the truth, a little relief would be welcome."

"Hold that thought Honey, I'm going to shower and change. You stay right here till I come back." Tessa said as she quickly thought through a plan to provide that relief and show Rob how much she loved him.

After she showered and dressed in a new black teddy she had recently purchased, she went back down to find Rob still in his boxers and looking quite delighted.

After briefly modeling the teddy for him, Tessa pushed him back on to the sofa and knelt between his legs pulling his cock out of his boxers. He was already semi erect with anticipation and as soon as she brought her lips forward to engulf him, he became fully erect.

With feelings of both guilt and love coursing through her mind, Tessa set out to do everything she could possibly think of to make this a memorable blowjob.

Once he realized what was happening, Rob was ecstatic and he lay back to enjoy it. 

Tessa kissed the head, licked his sack, took as much as she could into her mouth at once and when she saw he couldn't hold out much longer she speeded up and sucked him in earnest, making it clear she was going to take it all.

Soon Rob signaled that he was about to cum then his body writhed in orgasm and his seed spewed into her waiting mouth. As soon as he recovered enough to do so, he drew her up beside him and kissed her passionately.

They lay together for quite some time as Rob repeatedly attempted to return the favor, but she was having none of that. She knew he would eat and fuck her to orgasm, but at least for the time being she wanted it to be all for Rob as her love for him, greatly enhanced by her guilt, was still foremost in her mind. 

She resisted all his attempts to make love to her, wanting to do things only for him and she gave him a second blow-job in the same day, something they had never done before.

After a while they got comfortable just snuggled together on the sofa.

Quite some time later they decided to have some breakfast out on the terrace and then, at that point, unknown to Rob, Tessa intended to return to bed for the rest of the morning where she would do anything and everything to please him, intentionally forgoing what he would do for her.

Rob had just run upstairs to put on his robe when the doorbell rang.

They both headed for the door with Tessa arriving first. She froze from the shock of seeing Carl Selworth standing there and was unable to stop him as he stepped toward her and spoke out in his state of sexual excitement, "Hey Baby, I just gotta fuck that pussy again today. I didn't get near enough of it yesterday. I see Rob's car is gone so I . . ."

He never did get to finish the sentence as Rob Jacobs appeared behind his wife, his face rapidly making the change from curiosity and confusion to anger and pain.

He looked at Carl with disgust and saw him blanche then turn away and run back to his car, showing what a coward he really was. Tessa's face told Rob all he needed to know and his heart began to break.

"Damn! Damn! Damn! Tessa how could you do that to us? Damn you." He screamed.

Rob turned and headed up the stairs to the master bedroom, more to hide the embarrassment of the tears he could not hold back. He slammed and locked the door behind him and impulsively headed for the shower to wash the smell of his adulterous wife off his body.

As soon as he finished showering he could hear Tessa banging on the door sounding distraught. After he dressed and managed, at least for the time being, to get control of his emotions, he called for a cab from the bedroom then finally unlocked and went out the bedroom door.

Tessa was still crying. "Rob, please let me explain. Please." 

"I can't imagine what there is to explain Tessa." He said angrily, "You fucked another guy. You broke our wedding vows. End of explanation! I have no morbid need to know the details. It doesn't matter how many times you've fucked him. It doesn't matter why! It doesn't matter to me that you apparently were about to do it in our house, maybe even in our bed this morning. It doesn't matter any more that you wouldn't fuck me earlier this morning, I assume to avoid giving Carl sloppy seconds. It doesn't matter that I have probably already had sloppy seconds. It doesn't matter that you two obviously got your timing mixed up and met while I was still home. 

None of it matters Tessa. Our marriage is over. Just get out of my sight for a few days while I calm down enough to talk sensibly with our lawyer and, by the way, Sally is my lawyer so you better get one of your own." 

Tessa was petrified at Rob's anger and he had finished his monologue and was headed for a waiting cab before she spoke up, "Please, no Rob. I love you. Carl was a mistake. Rob. Please!"

**

As the cab drove away Rob's cell rang and even knowing it was Tessa he decided to answer.

"Tessa, leave me alone. You've hurt me enough for one day. Please have the decency to let me be and let me get my head around this. I'll call you when I'm calm enough to discuss how we can best deal with it." he said, then hung up.

**

Carl Selworth was annoyed. It occurred to him that Rob just may come after him and Rob was in pretty good shape too. Not only that but now he would probably have to play up to Sarah. She would be pissed and he wouldn't be getting any for the next while. 

Hell, maybe Rob will walk out on Tessa and he could fuck her a few more times without Sarah finding out. He may even have to get back to fucking Jennie Lipton, the junior agent he was training. He wouldn't have stopped nailing her but she was getting too serious and was making hints about him leaving Sarah for her.

Just now he had bigger issues. He had made a $900,000, nonrefundable deposit on that choice piece of industrial/commercial property against an agreed upon $4.5 million selling price. He had begged and borrowed from everyone he could and even stole a little from the company trust account to add to everything he could liquidate of his and Sarah's.

He was sure he would be able to get between 6 and 7 million for it from this mysterious conglomerate his dad, who was the town's mayor, had told him about. The tax deal the town had offered this new firm had virtually guaranteed they would set up shop in their community and the only two suitable places were the land he had just locked up and the new industrial park they had zoned out on the north side of town. His dad had said it was highly unlikely that they would go to the park because there were no roads, nor water and sewage services there yet and it would take longer and cost more to build there.

Carl was convinced that not only would he make close to 2 million on the price increase but he would also pocket as much as $300,000 to $400,000 on the sales commissions as he would be both the listing and selling agent.

Once he had all the documents in order he decided he would go to Sarah and make a tearful confession before she heard it from someone else. He would point out that Tessa had come on to him and that she had set the whole thing up.

**

Carrie Bolton was doubled shocked!

First, she had not expected her boss to be in this morning and, second, he looked terrible!

"Are you O.K.?" she asked as soon as Rob got in the door.

"No Carrie. I suppose I'm not."

"Can I help?"

"No, not just now, thanks. Just hold all my calls please." Then he added "Including any from Tessa!" Then he went into his office and closed the door.

Once alone, the tears came again.

**

Tessa was petrified. She needed to talk to someone but she had no idea to whom. The logical choice would have been her friend Sarah but she had effectively closed that avenue when she had fucked her husband.

She had no idea what she would say to her sister or her parents and what would hers say when they found out?

More importantly, what could she do for Rob to start making things right? She shuddered visibly when she recalled seeing his face after Carl had come to the door, the pain written all over him. 

How in hell could she have done something so stupid?

It was even worse when she recalled that she had turned from a caring and considerate loving husband to a selfish brute.

Would she feel any better if Carl had turned out to be a marvelous lover who never failed to excite her? 

No, she finally realized, the potential loss of Rob's love wouldn't be satisfactorily replaced by anyone else no matter how physically exciting. She had screwed up . . . "big time!"

In a moment of clarity she realized how much she wanted, . . . no . . . needed some of that "same old boring love making" from Rob. 

**

Having gained some semblance of emotional control once more, Rob made the call he knew he had been putting off.

"Brooks and Associates." came the cheerful answer.

"Hi Roberta, it's Rob. Is Sal available?"

**

Sarah was initially angry and hurt and had gone into her room and slammed and locked the door behind her after listening to Carl's tearful confession that he had succumbed to Tessa's advances. 

She was initially unmoved by his tears and promises to make it up to her.

Somehow she did not feel anger toward Tessa.

The inevitable thoughts of revenge on Carl, once they occurred however, changed her outlook drastically.

At first she thought this might be a way to force Carl to become a more considerate lover and more romantic. 

The thought of not forgiving him didn't enter her mind even though she had suspected that he and that junior agent, Jennie Lipton, might be up to no good, but after she had followed them on a number of different days she could see that she had been wrong. In fact, it appeared to Sarah, as she observed them secretly back then, that they didn't even get along very well.

As she considered just how to force Carl in a new direction, her thoughts and feelings did a complete about-turn.

Slowly the idea of using Rob Jacobs entered her mind and, after running through a myriad of different scenarios, she realized she was thinking of a revenge fuck!

She knew that she could never bring herself to suggest such a thing and she had no idea how she would respond to him if Rob suggested it.

That was a lie!

Thinking back to how gentle yet exciting he was just the night before last, right there in their home as the two of them danced, brought her to the realization that, although she didn't yet know what she would actually say, she would find a way to agree and she would do it.

As these thoughts drifted through her mind, her left hand slipped in under her blouse and bra and began to caress her breasts as her right hand slipped down over her belly to her slit. As she conjured up visions of Rob's naked body against hers, him making love to her with his hands, his lips and finally his cock, she cried out loudly as a powerful orgasm coursed through her.

**

Outside their bedroom door while waiting impatiently for her to get over her tantrum, Carl found himself feeling a little guilty as he listened to her sobbing, then she quieted for a while then suddenly wailed out loud. 

Clearly, he thought, she is really upset over this!

**

Later that evening after realizing Rob had not come home after work, Tessa's upset grew worse. She couldn't focus on making some plan to convince her husband she loved him and that she had made a stupid, selfish mistake.

All she could think of was to tell him and to keep on telling him and showing him in every way possible that she loved and wanted only him. Her reverie was broken when the telephone rang and thinking it was Rob, she rushed to answer it.

"Rob!"

"No Tess, it's me, Sally."

Tessa could feel her chest constrict and she felt as though she would faint.

"Tess, are you there?"

"Yes." came the weak reply.

"Tess, I'm so sorry to hear about this trouble between you and Rob. Normally this call would be made by my secretary but we've all been friends so long that I asked Rob if he would mind. He said it was O.K. to call myself."

"Is he . . . is he divorcing me?" she sputtered, fearful of the answer.

"Tess, as his lawyer and his friend, I have advised him that he shouldn't be making any decisions of that sort until he has had time to calm down and think rationally. There are, however, some practical matters that have to be worked out in the interim and it would be best if I could discuss them with your lawyer. Have you contacted anyone?"

"No. I don't want a lawyer. I don't want a divorce. I just want to apologize and to have him give me a chance to earn his forgiveness."

"Tess, getting a lawyer doesn't rule out any of those things, but there are practical matters that have to be settled while you both calm down and consider what to do. I'd like to arrange for you to visit the County Bar Association over in Blackton. They'll help you engage someone. I'd take you myself but it would be awkward. We wouldn't be able to talk about anything related to this matter and we would both find that too hard to bear.

Have you spoken to anyone? Your sister April?"

"No Sal. I just can't do it right now. Can't you act for both of us?"

"No Tess, I can't and you have to take care of yourself properly so that when the heat of the moment has passed, you and Rob can decide what to do."

After a protracted conversation, Sally finally got Tess to agree to be driven to Blackton at 10:00 the next morning and to use their services to engage suitable representation. She had to reassure Tess time and time again that this did not necessarily mean there would be a divorce but was careful to be sure Tess understood there still could be.




Forgiveness



**

After taking a one bedroom apartment at the Residence Inn just outside of town, Rob had slept poorly through the night and in spite of showering, he felt grubby as he dressed in the same clothes he had worn the day before.

He expected to go to his house and pack as much as he could as soon as Sal called to confirm that Tessa was on her way to Blackton.

He was a long way from being able to face her without the hurt and anger overcoming him.

He hoped she would actually go as he needed to change for an impromptu meeting with the representatives of the conglomerate that had bought him out. Although he had been warned by Sally, his friend and lawyer, not to make any significant decisions until the immediate shock and pain had passed, he was considering rethinking one of their offers.

He had initially decided to take their offer of a part-time consulting position after the sale but they had also offered instead, a contract to take a V.P. role at the corporate home office in Los Angeles. It had come with a quarter million a year salary, stock options and a number of additional perks, but he had a foolish romantic notion that with the wealth the sale of his own businesses had brought them, he and Tessa might take a year or so, go on a world tour then settle down and raise a family.

That clearly was no longer the way to go but he had turned them down earlier and now was thinking he would like to reopen that discussion.

**

On her way home from Blackton, Sally had called Tessa to confirm she had been in touch with the lawyer she had just engaged and that she was sure he was someone she could work well with. Sally also warned her that Rob had moved out some of his clothes and personal effects so it wouldn't be too much of a shock when she arrived back home.

Tessa fainted.

**

Rob had found that the prospect of him taking a job with the Deston conglomerate had interested them so much, they were willing to stay on hold while he considered it further.

Over the next few days he buried himself in the work generated by the sale while he came to grips with the sudden change in his personal life.

Tessa called him several times a day, every day. He took the first call but could only reiterate that he was not interested in knowing anything more about her fucking Carl as he already knew more than he cared to; he was not yet ready to discuss a division of their property; they already had an interim agreement that would provide more than adequately for her needs and therefore, there was nothing to discuss.

He refused to take the rest of her calls.

So far, he felt he had not gained enough control to meet with Tessa face to face. Sally had worked out an interim arrangement with Tessa's lawyer that would meet her day to day needs quite comfortably without endangering his position as the offended party in a possible divorce petition.

**

Carl was uncomfortable.

He had ridden out rough times with Sarah before, especially when she had suspected him and Jennie. He had seen her pitiful attempts to follow and observe them and he had played the part well, both of them pretending they didn't get along.

Sarah usually was sulky and sometimes blubbery when upset with him but this time was somehow different and he decided he had better be careful, especially as he had put both of them in a precarious financial position to lock up that land, and he had done so without her knowledge and consent.

Her attitude bothered him too.

She had insisted he move to the guest room, which he had initially refused to do, expecting her to give in, but she hadn't.

She wasn't crying nor sulking all the time either, in fact, every now and then she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts and, he thought, she might have been smiling sometimes too.

**

A week after finding out that Tessa had been fucking Carl, Rob began to get more control over his thinking. The pain of her betrayal was still there but a new thought began creeping into his mind.

It was bad enough that she would do it at all, but with someone like Carl Selworth! Carl was O.K. in "small doses" as he had said before, but for a lover, he thought Tessa had better taste than that. But he also realized that he would never have thought she would cheat on their marriage either.

Having thought through this and, against Sally's advice, he accepted the offer of employment from Deston before calming down enough to deal effectively with his personal issues.

His first assignment as their Operations V.P. brought him an unwelcome surprise.

As he was most familiar with the local area, the businesses he had just sold them and the resources needed for the amalgamation, he was to proceed to purchase the land for the new facilities. Initially, he thought it was a "no brainer". There was a perfect piece of land right in town that he knew was for sale. The only other suitable site was in a, so far undeveloped, industrial park in the north side of town.

He was annoyed, . . . no, angry, when he found out that Carl Selworth was the listing agent for the land and even more so when he found from the listing disclosure that Carl also was holding a valid option on the land.

His first reaction was to review all the information in the hope that he could justify the industrial park as his choice but, try as he did, he found nothing and he knew he could not let a personal issue effect a corporate decision of this magnitude so he marshaled all of his control and called Carl.

**

Carl was about to refuse to take the call when the receptionist told him who it was, but when she added that it was about the land listing, he decided he had to take it.

"Rob." he started, much more loudly than he intended. "I'm real sorry about what happened. I should have resisted more I know and I'm ashamed that I didn't." he added, keeping with the story that Tessa had instigated it. "It was just sex Rob, no more than that. We were sure you and Sarah were headed in the same direction. I hope you and Tessa are going to be O.K.!"

Rob found himself beginning to choke. He hadn't thought that Tessa had started it but now that he remembered her line, "Do you want to watch me fuck Carl?" it seemed logical. 

He struggled but managed to regain control of his emotions and he went on, his voice no indication of his anger and hurt, "This is business Carl. I'm representing the Deston Conglomerate. We're interested in the Riddick land you have listed in town. When can we get together to discuss it?"

**

Rob once more closed his office door as he recovered from the strain it took to complete his call to Carl Selworth but he was interrupted by Carrie who told him Sally was on the line.

She apologized for bothering him but needed to let him know that, in the event that this matter had to go to court, she had asked for and got a warrant to examine the records at the Airport Marriott.

She had copies of Carl Selworth's credit card in payment for the room and a print out of a record of a call made from the room to Tessa at their home early in the day, a rather long call that might indicate there was no quick agreement between them to meet.

After pondering the information from Sally, Rob realized that even knowing Tessa did not appear to be the aggressor, it made little or no difference. She still went and fucked that asshole.

What it did do was expose Carl Selworth for the liar he was and that made Rob once again, re-examine the available land choices, unfortunately with the same result.

He finally decided to call Al Biller, Executive Assistant to the C.E.O. at Deston to update him on the land acquisition process.

It turned out to be the best thing that could have happened, short of wiping out all that had happened over the last week or so.

**

"Rob I was just about to call you! What can I do for you?" Biller said.

Rob explained that he had examined and re-examined all of the parameters and had determined that the in-town Riddick site was the best choice, that it was listed at 7 million but that he was sure he could get that down by as much as a half or even three quarters of a million and that he might have a deal by this time tomorrow.

"I'm glad you called Rob." Billing began. "Listen, John and I were reviewing the material around our new holdings along with Al Ralston, our CFO and we're looking at an even more aggressive expansion than we originally discussed with you. 

We now believe that the companies you sold us have put us in an even stronger position than we originally thought and we're thinking we should re-build this new facility with a view to expanding it again in somewhere between 2 and 4 years instead of the 7 to 10 we originally anticipated. 

We think you had better check with the town officials on the utilities capacities at the in-town site to be sure they will handle the new facility and an expansion in the near future as well. If they won't, we're wondering what you think about taking the land at the industrial park and putting in the larger utility capacities in the first place. It would delay the project and increase the initial costs but we believe we would more than make that up on the back end. What do you think?"

"Al, I need to bring you up to date on a personal matter that has a bearing on all this."

Rob briefly but dispassionately as he could, outlined the personal events that would lead him to try to avoid the purchase of Carl Selworth's land. He was relieved and pleased that Al Billing realized he was prepared to proceed in what he believed were the best interests of the corporation in spite of his personal feelings but now he was given the "green light" to proceed to negotiate for the industrial park land.

Before he delighted in calling Carl, he felt there was another call he should make.

** When the phone rang, Sarah assumed it was Carl again. He had taken to calling to see if she would like to go out for dinner and so far she had been turning him down. She wavered between answering and giving in and letting him think she was out.

When she looked at the caller screen she picked up immediately.

"Hello."

"Hi Sarah, it's Rob. How are you doing?"

"I'm O.K. Rob. Thanks. I'm so sorry this has happened to you. Are you and Tessa going to be O.K.?"

"I doubt it Sarah, but the wounds are still fresh. I'll need more time before I can answer that but I do need to share something with you if you don't mind."

Sarah could feel the excitement building in her. Her thoughts drifted to that night when they had danced and he had held her so tenderly, his hand gently stroking her bare back. 

There was no doubt in her mind at all now! If he asked to meet, she would. If he asked her to fuck, she would.

No. It wouldn't be fucking. It would be much more like making love and she would do it in an instant if he asked.

"Sarah, I've just sold my businesses and accepted a job with the new corporation that bought me out. My first task is to buy some land and up until a few moments ago it looked like I was going to have to buy it from Carl.

The corporate head office just gave me some new information that will lead us to buy elsewhere and Carl will not be the listing or selling agent."

"Go right ahead. He deserves what he gets and he'll just have to do without the commission." She answered forcefully.

"I think there's more to it than that." Rob responded. "He's also holding a valid option on the land that he didn't get for peanuts. I don't know for sure, but he may actually lose more than just the commissions.

Sarah, I don't give a damn how badly he gets hurt. Actually, that's not true. I'm going to enjoy sticking it to him, but I'm concerned about how much you may be hurt by it."

Sarah, although at first disappointed that he hadn't suggested getting together, felt a warmth flow through her when she recognized that this very special man would be concerned about her well being even after what her husband had done.

"I'll be O.K. Rob, I'm sure. Carl will be pissed about missing out on the commissions and maybe he'll even take a loss of some kind but I'll be O.K. Thank you."

"Sarah, I want you to promise me that if there is any serious issue for you that comes out of all this, you'll call me and let me be of whatever help I can be. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Carl about this conversation."

The only thing that could have made Sarah feel any better at that moment was if he had asked her to come to him and make love with him. What an incredible man he was!

**

As she put down the phone, Sarah heard Carl come in through the garage door and not wanting to let him spoil the moment for her, she locked their bedroom door and went back to re-living the conversation she had just finished.

Rob seemed to think that the loss of this deal might mean more than just a loss of some potentially large commissions and somewhere in the recesses of her mind, it began to bother her. That however, was soon buried by a return to her on-going fantasy of having sex with Rob.

Once again her hands found their way to her breasts and her now very wet pussy and as her mind replayed some of the more exciting scenarios she had envisioned in earlier sessions, her excitement level heightened. Then, as she added some new fantasies, she lost control and as she had a number of other times recently, she cried out loudly as her orgasm overtook her.

**

Carl heard her wailing once more but realized he was no longer concerned. Obviously she was still very upset about his liaison with Tessa but that wimp Jacobs had admitted he needed the land. 

It was a little flattering that she was still crying over him fucking Tessa but now Carl didn't really care too much what Sarah did. 

Soon he was going to be quite a bit richer.

**

April Adams was disgusted with what her sister had done. No doubt she loved Tessa but she was flabbergasted that she would do something so foolish as to possibly lose her marriage over it.

April adored her brother, as did her parents, and the idea that he may cease to be a part of their family was very upsetting.

She had initially shouted at her sister demanding to know how she could be so stupid and what could she have been thinking, but Tessa was so obviously devastated by what she had done, the additional criticism was wasted.

Tessa appeared to have been crying since this all came out over 2 weeks ago. She was pale and thin and her face reflected the terror she felt.

Finally, she gave in to Tessa's repeated requests and called her brother. She was taken back by his apparent cheerfulness when he first answered his cell as she had expected him too to be devastated. 

After a brief conversation with her that took away his delight at not having to buy Carl's land, he came back down to his former sad level.

In response to her request he said, "April, I have no idea what we would talk about. Sally and Rick Jammison are working on the property settlement. Tessa has all she needs to get by in the interim. What's left to talk about?"

April felt a sense of personal loss when he mentioned "property settlement" but recovered enough to say, "Rob couldn't you just come over and let Tessa say what she needs to?"

"April, if it's that important to you I'll come over, but I'm laying down some ground rules and if Tessa crosses the line just once, I'm leaving. Is that understood?"

**

"I'm sure we will be able to quickly agree on a deal for the land." Carl had begun. "As you are aware, I'm sure, I hold the option so I don't need to consult with anyone else. We will come to a quick agreement."

"Actually Carl," Rob responded, "I've just been in touch with the city works department and we're concerned about the utilities capacities for a future expansion. We may have to go to the industrial park."

Carl knew what Rob was doing. He needed that land and was just angling for a better deal.

"I can let you have it for 6.85 million." Carl offered.

Rob appeared concerned. "That's more than we're ready to pay, Carl. It's not even close. We'll have to have another look at the industrial park. I'll get back to you if we need to deal." He said as he left.

"Rob." Carl called out, "My offer is only good until noon tomorrow." he added, knowing full well he would be back. 

Carl was beginning to enjoy this.

**

Rob felt only a very little guilt about playing this game. He had checked and he had reported back to Billing that there would have to be serious upgrades made to the in-town system to handle the expansion in two years and they had already agreed to go to the industrial park.

By letting Carl think he was negotiating, Rob was now forcing Carl to extend any financing he had done to get the option.

**

It took Rob quite a while to steel himself to be ready to talk to Tessa. He was pleased that April had agreed to stay and "referee" in accordance with the conditions he had set for the talk.

He felt he was ready but he was not prepared for how he found Tessa. She was thin, pale and very exhausted looking and looked barely strong enough to stand upright.

After a few preliminaries, Rob got to the point. "You wanted to talk Tessa. This is your chance."

"Rob, I'm sorry for what I did. It was selfish of me to want to satisfy my curiosity that way and I sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I assumed you and Sarah were probably up to the same thing. I should have known better! I am asking you to give me the chance to earn your forgiveness. I love you Rob and I've too late realized how much."

"Thank you Tessa. I'm hurting from what you did to us, but realistically, I know I'll survive. I'm sure time will heal some of this and I certainly want to get to a time where I can sincerely wish you well too. I'm just not there yet and this is far too soon for me." He said harshly.

"Well couldn't you move back here and let me start earning your trust and forgiveness. There's nothing I won't do for you and for us." Tessa added.

"Tessa, I'm sorry if you've got the wrong idea. I want to get to a time when we can put this behind us and go on with our lives, a time where I would sincerely offer forgiveness but I'm not coming back here. I have no intention of doing that!"

Tessa looked shocked. "But surely you're not going to throw away all our years together over this?"

"I didn't throw anything away Tessa." He answered in a soft and gentle voice. "You did that when you chose to fuck Carl. Don't put this on me!"

"But that was a mistake." She argued. "It was a stupid, selfish thing to do but it didn't mean anything!"

"It meant a great deal to me Tessa. It meant a great deal to me that my wife would meet and fuck another man, breaking our marriage vows. It meant a great deal to me that my wife assumed I was ready to fuck another man's wife. I'm sorry it doesn't mean anything to you."

Now desperate, Tessa's voice rose, "It was just sex and lousy sex at that. It wasn't love like I have with you."

"What kind of love is it that you have with me, when you go out and fuck another guy while I'm at work? It doesn't sound like the kind of love I have for you. I have been and will continue to be, until we are divorced, prepared to forsake all others because that's the kind of love I have for you and that's the kind of love I want in return. As you have demonstrated that you don't feel the same way, it makes no sense for us to remain married."

Tessa was visibly shaken and did not respond for quite a while then finally said, "So . . . so you're never going to forgive me?"

Rob smiled a terribly sad smile and said, "Somewhere deep down I know I've loved you too much and too long not to forgive you Tessa, but I'm just not there yet."

**

Late the following night Rob's cell phone began to ring incessantly. It was clear Carl was becoming concerned. Rob had let Carl's deadline pass.




Forgiveness



Finally about 10:15PM, after having ignored more than a half dozen calls, he answered. "Rob Jacobs."

"Rob, it's Carl. I just called to be sure you knew we were good enough friends that I wouldn't hold you to that deadline. We can make a deal as soon as you're ready."

"Thanks Carl, I appreciate that but Deston has decided to buy in the park but thanks for your call.

**

That call from Carl Selworth had been his only break as he had come from his meeting with Tessa on a real downer. He was convinced that he could not return to a marriage with what she had done and it made him sad.

**

Sally assured him that the interim agreement would hold just fine and that she and Rick Jammison could handle anything that came up so Rob left for LA to get his new career started and to find a place to live.

It had been several days since he had closed the deal on the industrial park land and he had heard rumors that Carl was in trouble but, at that point, they were just rumors.

He tried to reach Sarah but was unable to and she had not returned his calls.

He did get calls from Ted and Sandra Adams, Tessa's parents, who clearly had been told everything and they were so sorry and hoped he could see his way clear to rebuilding the marriage with their older daughter. He tried not to raise any false hopes but he did, with sincerity, offer to stay in touch with them.

**

He spent the next 3 months getting to know his people and his job. It took a little adjustment as he had owned and operated his own business for so long, but John Sydenham the CEO and his right hand man, Al Billing, were really great to work with and he adjusted well.

He missed Tessa most in the evening when he was on his own. She called frequently but he ignored most of her communications. She had finally stopped leaving messages after a concerted attempt to reach him when he had her served with the divorce petition.

Every now and then he did answer and as long as she didn't start on about him throwing their marriage away or how it was "just sex" or even, it was "lousy sex", he would remain on the line and they would discuss neutral things.

It was during one of these calls when he was in a particularly bad mood that he asked how she and Carl were getting along. Tessa was hurt that he would even ask such a thing but finally got around to telling him that she had not seen Carl since that day when he had come to their door but from all local news reports, he was bankrupt. He had lost everything he and Sarah had and he was currently in jail as it was discovered that he had taken money from the company trust account.

She had no idea where Sarah was.

**

Rob began at once to try to track Sarah down. By this time he was firmly ensconced as Vice President of Operations and had made a few staff changes that left him with a working team in whom he had confidence. He left them to it and flew back to Atlanta.

**

April had not seen Tessa so excited. 

When Rob called to say he'd like to drop in, her spirits soared.

Later that afternoon he did indeed drop in and kissed both April and Tessa on the cheek as he said hello. Tessa had long since learned what were "neutral" topics and which would set him off, so the conversation was light . . . up until he asked about Sarah Selworth.

Tessa became agitated and asked why he needed to know.

Without hesitation Rob told them of his call to her before he dumped Carl's land deal and now he needed to know if there was anything he could do to help her.

They weren't able to help, so after a little more conversation during which Tessa once again asked for a chance to earn his trust and forgiveness, he asked,

"What do you have in mind Tessa?"

"I can see you're committed to Deston and living in LA now and that you're not likely to move back here in the near future, so let me come and live with you in LA. Let me show you, day after day and minute after minute, how sorry I am for what I did and how much I love you. I guarantee you will see that I mean it and that there is nothing I wouldn't do for you to earn your forgiveness and your trust."

Rob's face took on a pained expression. "Tessa, I can and have prepared myself to face you today and to control the images of you and Carl that float through my mind now and then, but having you there with me, day in and day out, would subject me to them every minute of every day. I don't want that."

"You're saying that you don't love me anymore, that you don't care, even a little?"

"Tessa, I love you so much that it still hurts to remember your blatant disregard for our marriage vows and, given how little they meant to you, puts any promises you make now, seriously in doubt." 

Tessa couldn't hold back the tears any longer and not having anything more to add, he left, once more kissing each goodbye.

**

After a call back to Deston's security chief, Ken Travers, Rob made a few enquiries at two motor vehicle license departments and soon found himself on a flight to Flint, Michigan and from there he took a rental car to Buckton where he found the Moonstar Café. He went there for supper.

After speaking briefly with the hostess, he was seated near the back of the dining room and moments later, as promised, he saw his waitress, Sarah, headed for him. He rose and hugged and kissed her in greeting.

She too had filed for divorce when she discovered Carl had liquidated all of their holdings, including a small trust of hers, left by her great aunt, and had lost it all. 

After they had talked for almost an hour, she asked if he would take her home where she would get them some coffee and, as he had asked for them, she could show him what documents she still had.

**

Although excited to see Rob, Sarah had been devastated by the turn of events when Carl's land deal went bad and hadn't worked up the courage to call him as he had asked and she was now embarrassed.

Rob was so solicitous of her and so charming, that in a short time her fantasies were coming back to her mind.

After a pleasant evening during which he told her he may be able to salvage some of her lost assets, he kissed her chastely and said goodnight, promising to meet her for supper the next day.

**

Rondex Corp. valued their relationship with Deston, particularly given that they had an exclusive contract to do their marketing and promotions. They were already looking for a larger facility and their contract with Deston would be up for renewal in 7 months. Just as important was that Deston had already announced plans to expand just after their new facility started construction.

It made good business sense to listen to Deston's new VP of Operations as he suggested he had a perfect site for Rondex to consider and after hearing him out, agreed to pursue the deal.

**

"Sarah, it's only a loan. It will enable you to pay off the liens against the option you still hold from the divorce settlement. As soon as you do that, I have a buyer for the land. With the loan, you will be able to exercise your option then resell to Rondex. After all debts are paid, including me, and all withholdings are taken care of, you will have about $350,000 to $400,000 left.

The courts have given you the assets, including the option, free and clear of any claim from Carl as he is now a convicted felon. The money will be all yours.

I knowingly and deliberately stuck it to Carl but I spoke to you first to try to avoid hurting you in the process. You have been hurt and I'm asking for the chance to make it as right as I can. Please let me loan you the money."

**

Rob's buzzer rang that distinctive tone that says the downstairs security desk is calling.

"Tessa Jacobs to see you Mr. Jacobs. Shall I admit her?"

**

"Thank you for seeing me." Tessa said, as she came in the door. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Depending on what you want, I cannot see why I wouldn't." Rob replied. "What brings you to LA?"

Tessa's face took on an expression that was hard to describe but looked a little like she was terrified.

"I have done a terribly selfish thing without looking first at what was really important Rob. You deserved better than that of me. I want another chance. I want to stop this divorce and try to rebuild our marriage. I want you to take me back. I promise you won't regret it. You have no idea how much I would do to regain your love and your trust."

Although he was pretty sure this was what was coming he stood silent for a while before he spoke.

"I'm not the guy for you Tessa!"

"What do you mean? Of course you are! I was just too stupid and selfish to keep that in mind."

"Tessa, you need to find someone who means so much to you that you wouldn't stray, someone who is more important to you than an exciting roll in the hay with an asshole like Carl."

"I had someone like that. I was just too stupid to realize it. Now that I'm faced with the consequences of what I've done, I know I would do anything . . . anything for another chance. I'll never make that mistake again."

"Tessa, I'm not about to subject myself to living with you again and wondering what you're doing when we're apart. I would probably end up making you miserable as well."

"You still won't forgive me?"

"I'm not as angry and hurt as I once was but it still flares up now and then. I sometimes wonder if you would be with Carl now if his land deal had been successful and he wasn't in jail. I can't have a life with someone I feel that way about."

** several days later

"Mr. Jacobs, there's a Ms Conroy asking to speak with you."

Rob strained to recall the name, a place or event but couldn't and asked his secretary to inquire what it was about.

"She has asked me to say she used to be Sarah Selworth."

"Put her on please!"

"Sarah, how are you?"

"I'm fine Rob, thanks to you. The lawyers have finished the deal, Uncle Sam and the State of Georgia have taken their pieces and Mr. James tells me I have about $435,000 left over and I'd love it if I could start spending it by taking you to dinner."

"Definitely! I'll call you as soon as I know when I'll be in Atlanta."

"Well actually . . . I'm . . . I'm here in Los Angeles and I was hoping you might be free some evening soon."

**

As she emerged from the hotel elevator into the lobby later that day, Rob realized he had forgotten how beautiful Sarah was.

She moved smoothly into his arms, they kissed, again chastely, and exchanged complimentary greetings.

They enjoyed dinner and talked about the land deal and the ups and downs of the process and Rob delighted in how excited she was. He had put her in touch with his broker to set up investments that would pay her a reasonable salary and hopefully let her avoid returning to waiting on tables in Michigan.

True to her word, Sarah picked up the tab for dinner but only after agreeing to let Rob take her to the lounge where he would reciprocate and they could talk and . . . maybe dance.

**

When reality meets fantasy, reality rarely wins, or even ties . . . but for Sarah, dancing with Rob and being in his arms was, in actuality, even better than she imagined. The only way this evening was going to get any better for her would be to have him come to her room and spend the night. 

Before much of the evening had passed, the invitation, although unspoken, was obvious to both.

When they had returned to their table Rob said gently, "Sarah, if things are still the same when my divorce is final, wild horses wouldn't keep me away but, until it is, please indulge me. I take pride in keeping my promises and I will keep my wedding vows until I am formally released."

Sarah's expression was hard to read but in truth it was a mix of admiration for his principles, disappointment that he would not be sharing her bed that night and excitement at the indication that someday . . . he might.

**

Sarah's divorce was quite quick in resolution as it involved a convicted, incarcerated felon. Rob had to contend with Tessa's lawyer who, at her request was delaying things hoping to avoid the divorce altogether.

Over the following weeks Rob met with Tessa and, occasionally her lawyer, a number of times and although he still felt the anger generated by her betrayal, it was nowhere near as intense and he found he could relatively calmly talk with her.

For her part, Tessa had learned what comments would trigger his anger and pain and focused on delivering the message that she had acted stupidly and selfishly, that she had hurt him more than it was possible to imagine and that the current relationship was making her pay a high price for her foolishness, that she would, given the opportunity, work for the rest of her life to demonstrate her love for him and regain his forgiveness, his love and his trust.

She called him periodically and now and then she came to LA to meet with him and make her plea. Each time she did, he would calmly explain that he was not going to put himself in a position of being reminded on a moment by moment basis how terrible her betrayal made him feel and she would acknowledge his pain and although she had learned not to say it, her face clearly demonstrated how much pain she was in herself.

**

Finally all the legal delaying tactics ran out of steam and the petition for divorce in the matter of Jacobs v. Jacobs was granted.

**

"I just happened to be passing by and thought I'd stop in and see how you are doing." Sarah began. "And if you believe that, I'll give you a really good deal and sell you the Brooklyn Bridge.

I see your divorce has been granted. I am sorry for all the pain you have been through Rob. On the other hand, I'd like to see you. How's chances of dinner?"

**

There was no doubt in Rob's mind that he was going to end up in bed with Sarah. The initial "hints" had long since become blatant invitations and although he was excited about it, Rob was wary that he not jump into any sort of an exclusive or, God forbid, a permanent relationship.

As they held each other tightly on the dance floor, Sarah was thrilled and would have married him on the spot, she was sure. He, however, had made it clear he was very happy to be with her and hoped they would see more of each other, but he was not yet ready for anything more than that.

**

Making love . . . that's what Sarah knew it to be. Rob's well toned body might have been a turn on by itself but he was so gentle sometimes and forceful and urgent at other times, making the whole experience so wonderful for her.

He had begun before they had even left the dance floor with his gentle stroking. He kissed her softly in the elevator on the way up to her room. He held her in his arms and kissed her passionately when they were in the door and it seemed to Sarah an interminable time before they were finally naked in her bed.

It all served only to heighten her arousal. She climaxed the moment his lips met her very wet pussy and came once more as he entered her. Sarah had never experienced such feelings.

They made love several times that night. Due to his self imposed avoidance of sex until his divorce was final, he didn't last long the first time he entered her, but Sarah could only remember the forcefulness of her own orgasm and the look of incredible bliss on his face as he finally came.

Late the next morning as she lay beside him, watching him sleep, some unwanted thoughts came to her mind. She could not help but compare him with Carl and realized how crude Carl had been and how wonderful Rob really was. She could not help but wonder how Tessa could have thrown away a man like this.

**

Sarah stayed in LA for about a month during which she and Rob spent almost every night together, except for a business trip he had to make to San Antonio. Near the end of the month it was clear to them both that Rob needed some personal space and although it pained her to do so, she decided to go back home to her parents in Michigan.

He took her to the airport and after promising to stay in touch, said goodbye.

**

They spoke on the telephone a few times but Sarah soon realized that Rob was not where she was, in terms of a relationship between them, and the calls tapered off.

After a few weeks, Rob began dating some of the available women he had met in LA avoiding any "office" relationships. He soon began to appreciate the dating scene and enjoyed it to the fullest. 

After about 3 months during which he had spoken to Sarah only twice, he began to wonder what he was going to do about his personal life and that line of thought made him realize there was something he wanted . . . no, . . . needed to do and, as soon as he could make the arrangements, he was headed to Atlanta.

**

Tessa was wary!

Rob had come to town before and had called asking to see her at other times too, but she hadn't managed to make any headway in convincing him to allow her back into his life.

The substantial settlement she received from the divorce made her, by most people's standards, quite wealthy and she had been using some of those resources to keep track of her ex-husband, knowing full well she would give it all up if she could only have him forgive her and take her back.

She was heart-broken when she found that Sarah and Rob were practically living together in Los Angeles and began to feel some of the pain Rob must have felt over her betrayal. 

She was encouraged when she learned Sarah had gone back to Michigan and even more so when it appeared she was staying there.

Rob had stayed in touch with her family and had called occasionally but this time he had asked her out to lunch. 

This time there was something different about him. He seemed more relaxed and he had that wonderfully exciting smile she remembered from when she first met him.

Tessa began to get excited.

After a lot of getting caught up on the news on both sides, Rob finally said, "Tessa there's something I've come to tell you."

Her heart leapt!

"You may not even be interested. It may not mean anything to you any more, but it does to me. Tessa . . . if it makes any difference to you at all, I want you to know that I have forgiven you. Whatever hurt you caused, I'm over it and I want you to know that I sincerely wish you every happiness. I hope you have a great life."

His manner was soft and gentle, as he so often was, but his words drove a dagger into her heart, as she recognized she was never going to get him back. She said, "This is it isn't it Rob? You're never going to give me another chance are you?"

His look confirmed her worst fears and with tears streaming down her cheeks she said, "You haven't really forgiven me at all Rob. If you had, you would let me back into your life and let me spend our time together making you happy and making you forget how much I hurt you."

"But I have forgiven you Tessa. I remember only a faint sadness and I am no longer angry and I no longer want to hurt you. I really do want nothing but happiness for you."

Tessa rose and walked away, devastated at the turn of events, leaving Rob confused and both of them wondering, "What does forgiveness mean?"