12 comments/ 29748 views/ 13 favorites It Wasn't Me By: wantsomefun1951 This story was difficult for me to write. Not because there's violence or anger. I've done that before. Not because it's dark, although it is. This isn't the first thing I wrote that you weren't supposed to giggle or rub your way through. It has the good v. evil struggle that some writers explore, although I'm not sure, in this case, how good "good" is, or whether "evil" is to be hated or pitied. I felt the urge to create something disturbing and to challenge myself to write something I've never done before. Here's my first attempt at writing a story with male characters who interact sexually. They love each other, for a variety of reasons and in a variety of ways. * * * * * * * * * * "Put the knife down, Randy," I said. He acted like he didn't hear me. I walked closer to him and clicked off the safety on her gun. "For God's sake, Randy, put the fucking knife down and get off her. Now." I was struggling to keep my voice calm. This was my brother, after all. My identical twin brother. "You're being a real buzz-killer, bro," he said. "You always were. Never any fun. Always acting like you had to be the conscience for both of us. Well, it's time to shut the fuck up and back the fuck off. You should know why I have to do this," he said. He pushed himself up on one arm, still on top of her. He moved the knife slowly away from the side of her neck, a tiny red line appearing as he slid just the gleaming point of it over her skin, teasing her with it. He thrust his pelvis, forcing his penis further into her. There was nothing I dared to do. Maria somehow controlled her breathing as Randy rested the tip of his switchblade in the hollow of her throat. "You know what happens next, don't you, bro?" He pushed again, driving his cock deeper into Chief of Detectives Maria Rodriguez' shaved pussy. "I'm gonna fuck her better than you ever did, and then I'm gonna kill her. Just like all the rest." Thrust. "What do you mean, 'all the rest'?" "I'm onto you, Ronnie. I've been watching, you know. You're the king of short-term relationships. You never wondered why those girls stopped calling? Why you couldn't reach them? They're dead, that's why." "Dead?" "Don't feel bad. They didn't love you. They weren't worthy of you. They just needed a good fuck." Thrust. "You killed them?" If that was true, my twin brother was a serial killer. "Yeah. They were trashy, dumb sluts. No one misses them. This time, you caught me, so you get to watch. You might as well. You're the guilty one here. If you pull that trigger, the entire world will see you that way. You're fucked, just like your current girlfriend." Thrust. "Put the gun back where you found it, bro. You know I'm right." "You killed them? You killed those women?" I asked. "Sure. It was easy. They let me into their homes, 'cuz they thought I was you. You never even told some of them you had a beloved twin, did you? That hurts, bro. Anyway, they trusted me, at least until they knew they were going to die. Abject terror on the face of a dumb bitch can be a big turn-on." Thrust. "The cops haven't stopped you yet, but I will. This ends now. I'll kill you. I'll blow your sick fucking head off," I said. "Well that will just solve everything, won't it?" Randy asked, flashing me what appeared to be a smile. Thrust. "They'll think you're guilty of ALL the murders if you kill me. It'll blow their minds. I'm already dead, remember? Plus, my DNA is as close to yours as anyone on earth. Fuck that 'copy number variants' shit on gene matching. You left enough DNA in those girls' homes and pussies to confuse anyone." "So what?" I shouted. "If they start with the assumption that you're the killer, they'll be able to poke holes in a genetics defense. You're fucked, bro. The only way you stay off death row is if you let me live." Thrust. "She dies, but I live." "No, she lives, and she testifies to the whole damn thing. I won't do time, Randy. I won't have committed a crime. She might have to bust me for something like illegal discharge of a firearm or some such shit, but no more women will lose their lives because of you." "I do believe you're serious. You are, aren't you?" he laughed. The tip of his ugly knife was still poised to perform a rather messy tracheotomy on Maria. Thrust. "Dead fucking serious. I will kill you. Put the knife away, and get off her now," I said. I took a step closer to the bed. There was no way I would miss his head at this distance. "Don't get any closer, Ronnie," he said. Thrust. "Here's how it's going to go down. You shoot me -- my weight alone will drive this blade practically through to her spine. She might bleed out, or she might drown in her own blood, but she will die. So will I, obviously, although for some reason you don't seem to care about that. You'll still be a killer, only now, it's for real." Thrust. "Don't hurt her, Randy. She doesn't know anything about you. No one knows about you." "She does now, doesn't she? There's really only one thing I can think of to do about that. You'd better leave if you don't want to see it." Thrust. "I won't let you do this." "Of course you will. You can't take the risk of murdering me. After all, it will be obvious that it was you that shot me, and if you killed once, who knows? They won't have me to prosecute. It's okay. I can see you understand. I'm watching your finger. I know you. Hell, I am you, and you're me. You're not gonna shoot." Thrust. Maria's quiet tears spilled over onto the pillow, her lips moving in mute prayer as he energetically raped her. Her wrists were held to the bed-frame with her service cuffs, and cruel lengths of bare wire cut at her ankles. Relentlessly, she strained against her shackles, spotting the bed sheets with the sweat and blood of her struggles. He pinned her to the bed with his body weight and kissed and bit lewdly at her neck. He was safe for the moment, and he knew it. Flaunted it. If I shot him now, the bullet could do as much harm to Maria as his knife. In the time that I've known this woman, we've played a few games. Cops and robbers was an obvious favorite. But those restraints were padded, and the most lethal object involved in a night of fun was a gently handled leather flail. Sometime, our evenings started out with me "resisting arrest" and then having to work my way out of mt bindings so I could overpower her and fuck her. This was different. There was no safe word. I felt cold sweat start to form on the back of my hand. Would he make a move, a mistake, create a split-second window of opportunity where I might be able to shoot him without having her die as a result? At this point, I wasn't worrying about the consequences. My brother would probably die very soon. It was just a question of whether Maria would too. * * * * * * * * * * We're identical twins. As children, we spent all our time together. We shared a room, and wouldn't have had it any other way. We were close, and as some twins report they do, we could sense each other's feelings about things, almost read each other's minds. The problems between us started our senior year in high school. We were trying things with girls, whispering to each other about them, sharing fantasies and secrets when we actually got to do something with one. I even let him pretend to be me to cop a feel from my one girlfriend, since he had never touched a girl's boobs. That was stupid. He managed to get her bra unfastened and to touch her bare nipples. I never got that far with her. When you share a room with someone, a soul you've known on some level since before your birth, you're living with a person who is inside your head. We knew when our horny talk would lead to some hand time under the covers when we turned our lights out. One night, just as I was discretely trying to cum into the tissues I had smuggled into my bed, Randy said, "I want to see it." "What?" "I want to see it," he repeated. "See what?" He chuckled. "I know what you're doing over there. After those videos we watched tonight, I was gonna do the same thing." "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied. "Bro, this is me you're talking to. Stop bullshitting. You were jerking off. Admit it." "Okay, yeah, I was. So what? It's not like I haven't heard you doing it." "I'm sure you have. I was gonna wait tonight until you fell asleep, but you were pretty loud. So, I want to see it," he repeated. "You keep saying that. What? You want to see my dick?" "Yeah," Randy said, turning on the light on the nightstand between our beds. "I want to see what it looks like when you cum." "It probably looks like yours," I said. "Haven't you ever watched yourself do it?" "Sure, but I don't think it will be the same. Please, Ronnie." It seemed like a strange request. We were supposed to be looking at girls, weren't we? "Ronnie? Please? I really want to see it," he persisted. "I don't know. That seems a little weird," I said. "Why? Because we're two guys?" he asked. "Well, yeah. That's gay, isn't it?" "I don't know," Randy said. "I'm not sure it counts since we're brothers." "That makes it even kinda weirder, doesn't it? Isn't that like, incest, or something?" I asked. "Look at it this way," my twin rationalized. "It's not gay if you watch yourself jerk off, is it?" "No." "And it's not incest if you make yourself cum, right?" "I sure as hell hope not," I smirked. "You and I are the closest form of relative a person can have. We're identical twins. Almost like clones of each other. We grew from the same egg and sperm. You are me, and I'm you. It would be like watching yourself jerk off in front of the mirror. I bet you've done that, haven't you?" he asked. "Well, yeah, I have." "I have too. Now I want to see it without a mirror. C'mon, bro. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone." Even though I knew Randy's logic was completely wrong, it made some kind of sense. Plus, I had been close enough that I would have a bad case of blue balls in the morning if I stopped now. "What do you want me to do?" "I don't know.... Just sit on the edge of your bed and whip it out." I decided I could do that. I had been thinking about hot, curvy, blond Chelsea, the girl that sat next to me in Calculus, before my brother interrupted me. I had caught her playing with herself in class, and that night, we did it to each other when we "studied" together at her place. In bed, I had been pretending it was her hand masturbating me instead of my own. She said she liked watching me cum. Was this so different? Looking back on that night, I know that it was very much different. I sat there on the edge of my mattress, my hard-on poking out though my boxer shorts, looking across the small gap between our beds at my mirror image, with an erection exactly like mine. Our twin instincts made us match our rhythm perfectly, his left hand on his cock synchronized with my right hand on mine. Randy had said it, and he was correct. It sort of looked like rubbing one out at the bathroom sink. Except, there was no sink, and no mirror mounted over it. My brother was watching me fuck my fist, and I watched him do the same thing. Being teenagers, it didn't take us long at all to be ready. It was weird, watching my mirror image cum into his hand, as I shot my load into my tissues. "Whew," Randy said after a while. "Thanks." "Uh, you're welcome, I guess." "Oh, get serious. You came like a damn geyser. I saw you. I watched you watching me," my twin said. "And it was cool. You liked it. Admit it." "I guess it was kinda cool," I mumbled. "You came a lot, didn't you?" "I don't know. It felt good." "Look at all this," he said, showing me the puddle of semen that threatened to overflow his hand. "Did you ever wonder what a chick tastes when she gives a guy head?" "Uh,... not really. I haven't thought about it much. I don't know what it feels like to get a blowjob, so I never wondered what she tastes. I don't even know what pussy tastes like, except for licking my fingers a couple of times after a date." "Remember Tami? That girl we met last summer when our parents took us to the beach for our eighteenth birthday?" Randy asked. "Yeah. I also remember you disappeared with her and wouldn't tell me where you went." "Where we went was back to her room, which you should have guessed. It's what we did." "What did you do?" I asked. "We had oral sex. I licked her pussy and she sucked my dick She even let me cum in her mouth!" "Bullshit," I said. "Twins' truth, Ronnie. I can't lie to you. You know that. Anyway, after I blew it in her mouth, she came up and kissed me." "Without, like, brushing her teeth or drinking something?" I said. "Yeah. It tasted funny at first, but then I thought, 'Why not? I expected her to taste it, didn't I?' When I thought of it that way, it got kinda hot." "Really?" I said. I wasn't sure I liked the idea. "It didn't taste bad, bro, honestly. Tami said she loved the taste of cum and the way it felt in her mouth. I was curious, so the next time I jerked off, I tried it." "Tried it?" "Yeah. Like this." He raised his hand to his mouth and licked up the semen pooled there. He showed it to me on his tongue, and then swallowed. "Ewww," I said. "It's not bad. It really doesn't taste like all that much, kinda salty and thick, like mucus." "Nice comparison." "Honest, it's fine," Randy said. "I dare you to try it." "What? No! That's disgusting." "Don't I remember you saying that about green olives a few years ago? You, the guy who has to have sliced green olives on all his sandwiches now? The one that makes Mom buy one of the big jars every week?" my brother asked. "That's different. Green olives are an acquired taste for some people. Yeah, when I first tried them, I hated them, but everyone kept saying how good they were, so I tried them again, and pretty soon I learned to like them," I said. "Same thing with cum, bro. You know how some of the chicks we see in videos call themselves cum-sluts, or beg the guy to shoot his load in their mouth? Look at their facial expressions sometime. Some of them seem to like the taste -- at least, they keep it in their mouths for a long time before they swallow, don't they? "Yeah, but they're getting paid to do that," I argued. "They're also getting paid to recite a few simple lines from a script, but most of them aren't even convincing with shit like, 'Oh, oh, you're so big, oh, oh, fuck me harder.' Right? And yet, some of them look like they like sucking cock and enjoy taking a cumshot from a guy. Don't you agree?" "Okay, maybe. I guess so. You know that chick Chelsea, in calculus?" I asked. "Yeah." "She says she's done it." "What? Swallowed cum?" Randy grinned. "That little slut! Wait! When the hell did she say that?" I chuckled. "I didn't tell you about this, but if I do, you gotta keep your mouth shut, especially around her and her friends." "We're both sitting here with our dicks out, bro. I can keep a secret," he laughed. Shifting my position so my now-limp cock dropped back inside my shorts, I said, "Okay, you know how I went to her house last week to study?" "Uh huh." "We studied anatomy," I laughed. "She let me finger-fuck her and she jerked me off, right onto her bedspread." "No way! How's she gonna explain that to her Mom?" Randy chuckled. "I don't know. But listen! She said she might give me a blowjob some time, 'cuz she's done it before." "High five, bro!" It was only after we smacked hands that I realized we used the hands we had jerked off with. * * * * * * * * * * About three weeks later, I finally got up the nerve to ask Chelsea out. We had a good time at the movies, and she kept her hand on my knee as I drove her home. She invited me in, and I sat on the living room couch with her. We started making out, and it was getting pretty good. Her nipples were hard in my hand inside her bra, and her fingers were playing with my cock inside my pants. "Remember what I said I might do some time?" she purred into my ear. "What's that?" "Suck this," she said, fumbling with my zipper. Suddenly, the hallway lights came on. "It's time for your date to leave, Chelsea," her mother's voice called from the top of the stairs. "Now." "Okay, Mom," Chelsea replied. "Dammit!" she whispered under her breath. I couldn't have agreed more. When I got home, Randy was awake. I'm sure he could tell by my silence as I got undressed that I wasn't happy. "How'd the date go?" he asked. "It was great until her mother interrupted us," I said. "What did she interrupt?" "Chelsea was getting ready to go down on me." "Bummer, bro! So she didn't?" "No." "Aw, I'm sorry. Blowjobs are great!" "You told me. Guess I'll just have to wait." He looked at the front of me, and saw wet spots where pre-cum had moistened my shorts. I was half hard. "You're horny as hell, aren't you?" Randy chuckled. "What do you think?" He gave me a taunting laugh. "I know what you're doing tonight before you go to sleep." "Probably." "There's no probably about it. C'mon, bro. You know you're gonna suffer if you don't." "My balls are sore already," I said, flopping on my bed in just my boxers. "When you go off tonight, it's gonna be like a fire hose, isn't it?" "Probably," I said. I began stroking myself through the fly opening in my underwear. In seconds, I was at full attention. "Damn, you're hard, aren't you?" "Yeah," I said, rubbing my now-hard cock out in the open. We had done this several times by that point, so it was no surprise that my brother started playing with himself too, standing right next to my bed. His eyes were fixed on my cock, and, I have to admit, I watched him stroking himself, too. Then he did something I didn't expect. He grabbed the waistband of my boxers and started pulling them down. "What are you doing?" "Getting these out of the way," he said, removing my shorts from my legs so that I was now sprawled on my bed, completely nude, jerking off. Then he removed his own underwear and sat on the edge of the mattress next to me, equally naked, stroking his own cock, identical to mine. "She was gonna blow you, huh?" "That's what she said," I replied, still rubbing my hard, straining, leaking cock. "Did she give you a handjob?" "Inside my pants, yeah, but she didn't finish me," I said, remembering the feel of her fingers on my confined manhood. "Did it feel good?" Randy asked, jerking off purposefully. "Yeah, considering the fact she couldn't really get to it." "Was she doing it overhand or underhand?" "Huh?" "Like this?" he asked, stroking himself for me with his shaft in his palm, fingers on top and thumb out, exactly as I was doing. "Or overhand, like this?" He turned his hand over so his fingertips ran along the underside and his thumb was in his pubic hair. On the out-stroke, he ran each individual finger sensuously over the wet head of his cock. "Underhand, I guess. I don't know. I was busy playing with her tits," I said. "I think overhand feels better. More intense, brings me off faster," Randy said, still jerking off but watching what I was doing with great interest. "I always did it this way," I said, indicating my cock poking out through my fist. "It works fine." "But this should feel better," he said, pushing my hand away and wrapping his own hand, overhand-style, around me. "Wait a minute, Randy," I said. "What the hell are you doing?" "I feel sorry for you, bro. You need to get off. I'm just trying to help." It felt strange and very wrong to have him touch me. He knew what he was doing, which wasn't a big shock. His hand felt fabulous on my cock, working my pre-cum into a lather as he masturbated me. His one hand was rubbing me, and with his other hand, he was stroking himself. It Wasn't Me "Doesn't that feel good?" Randy asked as he continued to move both his hands in the same rhythm. "Yeah, I guess it feels better when someone else does it to you," I moaned. I had given up on the debate about the wrongness of what he was doing to me. It felt too damn good, and I really needed to blow my wad. "Too bad you couldn't have gotten a blowjob from her," Randy murmured, watching my cock in his hand. "Blowjobs are awesome." "Yeah, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," I groaned. I was working my way up to cumming, for only the second time in my life at the hands of another. This was so damn wrong, but it felt so damn good. "You don't have to take my word for it," Randy said, an evil glint in his eye. "How's that?" I asked through the fog of my impending orgasm. "I'll show you." He leaned down and licked the head of my cock. "What the fuck?" I exclaimed, pushing on his shoulder to move him away. "You can't blow me!" "Why not? I bet you'd suck yourself off if you could. I know I would, but our dicks aren't THAT long and our backs don't bend that way. But I want to do this for you." He shoved my hand away from his shoulder and knelt, leaning over me, to work on me some more. I have to admit, he seemed to know what he was doing. At least, he knew where all the good spots were on me. Who would know better what feels good to a guy than another guy? "Randy, you have to stop that," I moaned. "Why?" he asked, releasing my cock from his lips. "I can't let you suck me off!" "Why not? It's not like anyone's going to know. I told you before, this is more like self-stimulation than it is sexual contact with another, 'cuz we're the same person," he said, just before taking my cock deep into his mouth again. He bobbed up and down, sucking, licking; doing everything he knew to make me feel good. It was odd, seeing my identical twin brother making love to my cock, since it looked like ME giving a blowjob. It was odder still to see his own cock, so much like mine, standing erect between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto my bed. He looked damn near as turned on as I was. Pretty soon, I knew it was inevitable. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop that," I gasped. "I'm not going to stop. I want you to feel good, bro." There was nothing more I could do or say. I felt my load rising, building pressure, preparing for release. Involuntarily, my hands went to hold his head in place, and I began to spurt. He took it all, and when I was done, he pulled off, showed me my load in his mouth, and then swallowed. "Damn, bro, you came a lot!" he said. "Yeah," I said, still reeling from the effects of my intense orgasm and the way in which it was achieved. "You're not gonna leave me hanging, are you," he asked, licking some spillage from my now softening shaft. "Huh?" "Will you help me with this?" he asked, pointing to his leaking, bouncing cock. "Just play with it a little. I'm so damn close." It seemed only fair, so I took his cock in my hand. He was right, of course. It felt just like mine. The same size and heft, but still, so much different. He moaned as I stroked him, and in just seconds, I felt him expand in my hand. I rubbed him some more, and warm goo shot out on my hand, wrist, and bedding. Randy got some tissues and wiped his cum from me. He did what he could with the wet spot on my bed. "Now, you know what a blowjob feels like, bro," he said. I slept soundly that night. I thought guilt over what we had done would keep me awake, but the exhaustion of my orgasm overcame that. The next day, things were as they always had been between my brother and me. I didn't bring up the events of the night before, and neither did he. A few evenings later, I was in bed, almost asleep. "You horny, Ronnie?" my brother whispered in the dark. "Why?" "I am. I can't stop thinking about what we did the other night," Randy said. I didn't say anything. "Ronnie? Are we okay?" "I just didn't think my first-ever blowjob would be from my brother." "I didn't think I'd be the one to give it to you, but you liked it, didn't you?" I couldn't think of what to say. "You came buckets," he said. He sounded defensive. "Yeah, I did. I don't know what a blowjob is supposed to feel like, but that was amazing," I admitted. "I kinda liked doing it." "You did?" "Yeah," Randy said. "Remember when I said I would suck myself off if I could?" "Uh huh." "Well, that's what it felt like, kinda. And at the same time as I was getting you off, it got me really close myself. Well, you saw that!" "Yeah," I said, thinking of how forcefully my brother's cock had erupted in my hand. "I almost lost it when you came in my mouth, especially since your stuff tastes just like mine." "It does?" "Yeah. Kinda figured it would. We're identical, we eat pretty much the same stuff, so I expected it would taste the same. You still haven't tasted yourself, have you?" "No." "I think you should." I realized I was hard. Hard enough that I had to jerk off to avoid blue balls. I sat up and put my feet on the floor, facing Randy. He was lying on his back, naked, dick in hand. "I'll help you, if you help me," he said. Could I do it again? I sure wanted a hand on my cock. Somehow, his felt better than mine. "Come over here," my brother said, slowly stroking himself. I pulled off my t-shirt and shorts. He moved over on his bed to make room for me. I thought we would just play with each other, but he gently pushed me onto his back, and took me into his mouth. "Randy!" I gasped. His tongue felt so damn good. "Yeah, bro?" he said, taking a break from wiping his tongue up and down my shaft. "That feels so good!" "Glad you like it. Would you help me?" He turned in the bed, so his swollen manhood was in easy reach. I didn't even really think about it. I took him in my hand and started moving, the same way on his cock as I like to do on mine. Randy went back to work on me, bathing me with his tongue and giving little sucks and toothless nibbles to the head. I wanted to be in his mouth so badly. My brother was giggling as he played with me. "You give a pretty good handjob, bro," he said. "I've had some practice on a cock pretty much like this one." "The one I'm licking? The one I'm gonna make cum in my mouth?" "Yeah." "It's just like the one in your hand, isn't it?" "Yeah." "You know what it needs, don't you?" he asked, swirling his tongue around the ridge of my helmet. I thought I knew what he meant. When he moved his hips closer to my face, I was sure. "I don't know whether I can do that, Randy." "You didn't know whether you could eat green olives, either." "That's different." "How?" He took my cock deep into his mouth and held it there, working his tongue on it as well as he could. It was a lot different. I knew it then, and I sure as hell know it now. But this was my brother, my closest relative in all the world. The one person on the planet who really understood me. Our parents were older, and they always seemed a little bewildered by the two of us. We did things they couldn't comprehend. This would be one of them. I guided him to my lips. I learned a lot that night. Cum doesn't taste that bad. It wasn't as bad as green olives when I first tasted them, but I couldn't really say I liked it the second time Randy filled my mouth, either. I learned what I did and did not like when getting a blowjob, and we experimented with that. I learned that his hands felt good holding my ass cheeks as I shot onto his tongue, and his butt felt okay to me, too. Things stayed pretty much the same between us for a few weeks. Breakfast with the parents, senior year classes, Mom's cooking, homework, and hanging out. We were best buddies in front of everyone, just as we always had been. We even double-dated two sisters a couple of times. They thought it was cool when we tag-teamed them in a make-out session in their parent's basement, but we couldn't get past third base with them. At night, alone in our room, we talked. Sometimes we played games. Sometimes, we played. Randy didn't seem to mind that much those nights when I wanted to just give him a handjob, although he loved it when I blew him. He was willing to do whatever I wanted. Incest guilt kept getting in my way, along with a healthy dose of homophobia. I knew there would be hell to pay if anyone knew, but Randy didn't seem that worried. Graduation night, we went to a party. Chelsea and I had dated off and on, although our relationship seemed to work better as friends with benefits. I drove, she rode shotgun, and Randy and his date, Heather, were in the back. On the way there, I glanced in the mirror when we drove under a bright streetlight. Just as I thought, they were trading hands. The party was what I expected. A bunch of drunken high school graduates, a keg of beer, someone's parents out of town, a hot tub -- you get the picture. Things got better when giggling Chelsea and Heather led us into an upstairs bedroom. That night was Randy's first time having conventional vaginal intercourse with a girl. Chelsea and I had made love several times by this point, and Heather had lost her virginity to her ex. Randy later told me that hearing Chelsea and me fucking right next to them, and feeling us make the mattress bounce got them together. They seemed to enjoy it immensely. Since we had always done everything together, Randy and I had followed everyone's expectations, including our own, and applied to the same colleges. We had both gotten accepted to our top two choices, so of course we opted for the same school. We were going to live on campus and be roommates -- that had been agreed upon for years. But now, we would be going as more than brothers. I worried about that. One night, I had to speak up. We had turned out the light about a half hour earlier, but I knew he wasn't asleep. Neither of us had mentioned sex in a couple of days. "What's it going to be like on campus, Randy?" "Cool, I hope." "I mean, what we do." "College is a whole new world, bro. People are more accepting of alternative lifestyles." "What the hell does that mean?" "It means, when we get to campus, I don't care who knows that I'm bi and like sucking my brother's dick. Isn't that what it means to you?" "You're going to come out on campus?" I asked. "Not come out. Coming out is for gays. I'm just in love with you, bro. If people find out, whatever." "I want to date women." "Okay." We were quiet for a while. "You know Chelsea got accepted to where we're going, don't you? It was a late acceptance, but she's in if she wants to go," I said. "I guess you're all excited about that." "I like her. We don't love each other or anything, but we have fun and she's cool with that. It'll be nice to have someone if I can't hook up on campus." "Duh! Hello! I'll be there for you," Randy said. "You know that. I'll be there for you in every way I can. And I do love you." "I know you do." I had never had trouble expressing my feelings to Randy before, but I sure was now. His expression of love sounded a lot different from his smart-ass "I love ya, bro," talk of only a few months ago, and I wasn't comfortable with that. * * * * * * * * * * It was a couple of weeks before we were supposed to leave for college. My phone rang. It was Chelsea. I could hear her wailing when I hit the green button. "You son of a bitch!" she screamed into my ear. "What?" "You are SO damn lucky I haven't called the cops. I'm still not sure I won't." "Babe, what are you talking about?" "I need to know where you were last night." "Here, in my room. I told you I didn't feel well." "Where was Randy?" "I don't know. He went out." "You rotten son of a bitch!" "What the hell are you talking about? What's wrong?" "You or someone who let me think it was you, came over here and tapped on my window last night. I let you, or him, in, and proceeded to get fucked, and not very nicely. We've fucked hard before, but never rough, and this was pretty damn rough. It was the way he sounded when he came and the way he threw me around. I finally got away from him and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and he said he was Randy but that YOU had told him to come over and fuck the shit out of me. So, you're a no-good, rotten son of a bitch, and we are through! You will never see me again!" "Chelsea, wait!" "What?" she spat. "This had better be good." "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Are you saying Randy came over there and made love to you and pretended to be me?" "NO! I'm saying that either you came over here, roughed me up and damn near raped me, or he did, and if it was him, you put him up to it. Either way, I'm all ripped up and bruised, and you're damn lucky I don't have both of you arrested, you son of a bitch!" She hung up on me. I kept trying to call her back, but finally got the message that her phone was blocking my number. Randy walked into the room a short time later. "Motherfucker!" I growled, throwing him against the wall. "Chelsea called. What the hell did you do?" "Chill, bro, chill," he said, dusting himself off. "It was necessary." "Necessary? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "You were getting too close. You were spending an awful lot of time with her." "Yeah? So what's that to you? And what does that have to do with raping her?" "Bro, I didn't rape her, okay? She wanted it, 'cuz I told her I was you. I told her you felt better and needed some dirty love. I wasn't the one who took her clothes off. She did that. She took most of mine off, too. So no, it wasn't rape. I just got kind of rough with her." "You hurt her!" "Too bad." "Too bad? Too fucking bad?" I shouted. I was trying to convince myself not to punch him. "Why would you do such a thing?" "'Cuz I'm pissed at her! She's no good for you! She's no good for us! Don't you see that?" "Randy, what are you saying?" "I'm saying that I love you, Ronnie! She was coming between us! I was jealous, all right? Are you happy now? You got me to say it," he blubbered. I really wanted to hit him then. He had no right to do what he did to her. I felt something for Chelsea, I'll admit. She was a "friend with benefits." The emphasis was at least as much on the friend part, and I was glad we would see each other on campus, away from meddling parents. I had thought about trying to be more than just fuck-buddies. Now, my crazy brother had ruined that. But I couldn't hit him. He looked so pitiful, tears streaming down his face. My face. I couldn't take it anymore. "Randy, I'm going to sleep at my buddy Jack's house tonight. I can't stay here with you. We'll talk in the morning." I threw some stuff in a backpack and left him crying alone. My phone woke me in the morning. It was my mother, frantic because my brother and I didn't come down for breakfast. Neither of our beds had been slept in. I went home and checked our room. Everything was in place, except for the few things in my backpack. Randy's toothbrush was in the holder, and his phone was on his charger, but he wasn't there. He came home three days later, at the end of his seventy-two hour involuntary psychiatric commitment. Randy had stolen some pills, a bottle of booze, and some razor blades and broke into an empty house to see what he could do with them. The cops found him. I slept in the family room until I left for college. Chelsea contacted her second-choice college and was able to enroll there. I never saw her again. Randy went to community college and lived at home. My folks never did find out what sent him over the edge, or if they did, they carried that secret to their graves. They had him committed to the hospital a few more times, and then, he dropped out of sight. Finally, he rigged a crude gasoline and propane bomb to destroy the house he was living in. He sent messages to several people telling them what he was doing, but by the time anyone got to his place, the walls were falling in. Firefighters found his badly charred remains in the ruins of the area where the fire appeared to have started, a shotgun near him and most of his head pulverized. His identity was never questioned, since his wallet was somewhat intact and his burned-out car was next to the house.. The Medical Examiner ruled it suicide by gunshot and arson, although he stated that the shotgun blast itself was obviously fatal, so he didn't understand the motivation for the fire. The family followed Randy's well-known wishes and had the few remains properly cremated, and the ashes scattered to the wind. * * * * * * * * * * That was years ago. A part of me was glad to have him out of my life. I had never questioned the "fact" that my brother was dead. I wouldn't have found out tonight if I hadn't forgotten my phone on Maria's coffee table. I used the key she gave me to let myself in so I wouldn't wake her up, since she had early duty in the morning. I had just found my phone in the dark when I heard something from upstairs. At first, I thought it was the TV, so I decided to go upstairs and see if she was still awake. By the time I got to the top of the steps, I recognized his voice. He saw me come into her room. They both saw me pick up Maria's gun. * * * * * * * * * * "I'm starting to think about cumming in this bitch, Ronnie. You sure you want to be here to see that?" my brother taunted. "I will kill you," I said. "Aw, that's no way to talk. It's not like you didn't drop a load or two in here yourself today, and I doubt she was cherry when you got to her." Thrust. Maria suddenly spat in the face of her rapist. "God forgive me, but I hate you, you sick fuck. If he doesn't kill you, the State will, and you'll deserve it." "Oh, she's a feisty one, isn't she, bro?" Thrust. "Talking shit like that when she knows I'm gonna kill her after I take care of business. The other women just cried." "Why, Randy? How many times have you done this?" I asked. I wondered if I could pull the trigger. "You don't know why? Because I was afraid you might fall in love with them. I couldn't have taken that. We need to be together again. You and me, bro." Thrust. "That's not going to happen. I told you that when you got out of the hospital the first time. I told you we could never sleep in the same room again. I told you I would never be your lover." "I need a second chance with you, Ronnie. We're grown men now. The past is the past. I just want us to be together." Thrust. "How many times, Randy?" I shouted. "Five," Maria answered for him. "I remember those cases. Just shoot him. I'll take my chances." "You stupid bitch," my evil twin laughed. "There are more, but you'll probably never find some of them. Well, YOU sure as fuck won't, Ms. Chief of Detectives Maria Rodriguez with the big tits and the tight cunt. You'll be as dead as they are." Thrust. "Stop, Randy. Stop! Stop right now. No one else has to die," I pleaded. "Sure they do. This cop cunt knows a little too much. She won't talk too well with her throat cut nice and deep from ear to ear, though, will she?" Thrust. "I won't let you do it." "We've been through this. You can't stop me. She's dead whether you shoot me or not." "Put the fucking knife down and get off her. Last chance," I said. "Baby, shoot him and call 911," Maria said. "That would be a dumb thing to do, Ronnie. You really want to watch me cut this bitch's head half way off?" Thrust. Maria said, "I've made my peace, baby. Shoot the motherfucker. Then call 911 and a priest." "Shut the fuck up, whore!" Randy growled. "Give a guy some quiet so he can bust a nut, will you?" I know how my brother gets when he cums. I've tried to forget. Thought I had succeeded. There would be a second or two when he'll be so lost in himself, I might get lucky. Maria might get lucky. It Wasn't Me "You may want to look away for a minute, bro. I'm about to wash her cervix." Thrust. "Shoot him!" Maria begged. Randy's eyes were darting between mine and my finger on the trigger. Thrust. "I'm gonna spunk now," he said. "Get ready, bitch." "I'll kill you, Randy, so help me God, I will." He was pushing deep now, hard, and fast. I saw the look in his eyes. He was ready. "You don't have the stones to pull the trigger, bro." He thrust and held it. His eyes went out of focus, and he held his breath. In that split second, I saw the knife loosen in his hand. Maria had taught me how to shoot. My wrist was ready for the recoil. It Wasn't My Fault Let me start by saying that what happened wasn't my fault. Not entirely anyway. I mean, come on, I was a virgin and Stephen wasn't. Of course, instead of believing me, Mom sided with Stephen (big surprise!). I'll tell you what happened and you'll see. First off, my brother Stephen is a pervert. He's also not really my brother. When I was four, Mom married Kyle, Stephen's dad. My own father was long gone by then and Stephen was about six. In keeping with Mom's desire to have a perfect family, I call Kyle "Dad", Stephen is always introduced as my brother and I'm introduced as "Stephen's little sister". You know how some guys want a son? I don't think Kyle cared so much but I know Mom was disappointed when I was born a girl. I overheard her once telling Aunt Pam that if she'd had a boy, my father might not have left. I know she didn't mean for me to hear her but I did. I was ten and it seems like Mom's was been disappointed in me ever since. She never comes out and says she's mad at me. Whenever she thinks I've screwed up, she just sighs and says that she's "disappointed" and I used to feel bad. Oh yeah, what happened. It was Saturday morning. Mom had gone shopping and Dad was at work and I was taking a shower. I like to sleep in on Saturday mornings and now that I'm sixteen, my curfew is midnight so I'm not usually asleep until one or two in the morning. I'm in the shower and I thought I'd locked the door (again, because Stephen has had this obsession with catching me naked for about nine years now. It wasn't a big deal when I was going on eight and he showed me his thing because I asked him to when we were playing in the basement. I chickened out on pulling down my shorts to show him mine and when he grabbed at my waistband, I screamed. Mom and Dad both came running down the stairs and since Dad got there first, Stephen got a spanking. Ever since he's felt I owed him a view.) I didn't realize that there was tape on the latch so it wouldn't catch. All someone had to do was push the door open. As I said, I was in the shower. Whenever Mom and Dad aren't around, I like to use their bathroom. I don't think they care and Mom has a handheld shower massage attachment that feels good to lightly pulse the area between my legs with. I started dating last year and there hasn't been anyone serious enough to make me consider having sex. My braces came off last year (finally!) and, unlike Mom, I'm slender with small boobs. They're nice boobs (I know because two months ago I worked up the nerve to let Tim touch them under my tee shirt and he said so. I think I would have liked Tim to be The First because he's this totally gorgeous and funny senior but now he's dating Deanna Prescott who I hear lets him do a lot more than feel her boobs). It was kind of by accident that I figured out how good the shower massager can feel. To be perfectly honest, I always felt a little weird washing down there with a washcloth. The first time I had it set on fine spray, there was a little tingle. Now I know to put it on pulse and move it back and forth until the tingle gets so strong that I think I'll have to pee. I was doing this and enjoying the tingle when the shower curtain pulled back and a blast of cold air hit my skin like a slap. "Oooh, someone's getting clean and dirty at the same time!" I looked to see Stephen standing in the bathroom with his thing in his hand. It definitely wasn't the limp little pee pee he'd shown me when we were kids. I was looking at a purply red cock! I yelled for him to get out and he just shook his head. "You still owe me a look see." "You've seen enough!" I wanted to pull the shower curtain shut but he was holding it and I didn't want to have to explain to Mom if it got ripped. "Come on, I'm letting you look at mine. The least you can do is let me see what's under all that hair." "I don't have that much hair!" My bush might look a little heavier than some of the other girls in gym class (especially the blondes!) but it's no where near as thick as the other brunettes'. My shoulder length hair is a light brown and my bush is only slightly darker. Some of the girls talk about having to trim theirs or wax it. Mine's still downy soft. "You got enough that I can't see your cherry. Or don't you have your cherry anymore?" The summer before last, Stephen "nailed" Jenny Fischler. That's how he said it to his buddy Alex on the phone: I nailed that slut Jenny Fischler while she was babysitting. Yeah, she wanted it. And she got it. Unlike most pervs, Stephen isn't a drooling creepazoid with pimples and greasy hair. He plays football and baseball and his yearbook picture looks like the All American boy. After straight A's (except for one B), he's planning to go to college and already has two scholarships lined up. "That's none of your business!" By this time the water's turning cold and, along with everything else, my tits feel like they're frozen. The only warmth is in my crotch and I can feel the heat on the palm of my hand as I try to cover myself. "Look," He reached and turned off the shower. "All you need to do is turn around and bend over. Then I'll go." "Promise?" "Promise." "Put your thing away." There was no way I'd turn my back on him with his cock pointing right at me. "What's wrong with my cock?" He began to stroke himself. "I haven't had any complaints." "I don't need to see it." I tried to sound prim. "And I'm not going to turn around until you put it away." An idea occurred to me. "Otherwise, I'll just stay here until Mom or Dad gets home." "Fine." He sighs and I watched him do up his jeans. "Now, around and grab your ankles." I did and there was a low whistle. "Sis, you have the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen." "I do?" "Oh yeah." I jumped when I felt his finger and he withdrew it. "I can't quite see your cherry, though." "You can't?" In spite of myself, I was intrigued. "Here." He patted my rump. "Turn around." I did and Stephen offered me his hand. The master bathroom is big. There's a double vanity, a shower stall and a tub besides the toilet and the linen cupboard. Stephen took my towel from the peg on the wall and laid it on the floor. "If you're a good little girl and lay down, I'll give you a surprise." "I don't want any surprise." "Okay. If you're a good little girl and lay down, I'll kiss your cherry and never bother you again." "What?" "You heard me. I'll bet you'll like it, too." "What if I don't?" I was already being helped onto the floor. "You will but, if you really hate it, I'll do your chores next week." "All week?" "For chrissakes, Jackie, lay down and spread your legs!" I checked to make sure his jeans were still closed and did as he asked. Maybe it's the group showering in gym class but I didn't feel so shy. "Oh yeah, there's the cherry." He traced his finger along the inside of my pussy lips and I felt a little shiver. Before I knew it, Stephen was kneeling between my thighs and I could feel his tongue. It felt nice and I closed my eyes until he stopped. "You want more?" I nodded. "Then play with your tits a little...I bet I can make you cum." "If you don't, you my chores for two weeks." I think he said "deal" but by then he was talking into my pussy and I was feelin more than just the tingle. It was like the shower head tingle except that, instead of feeling like I'd need to pee, I could feel a bubble in my tummy. It didn't hurt, it didn't hurt at all. I stroked my nipples (they were like an inch long at that point!) and closed my eyes again. Stephen was making slurping noises and I could feel spit sliding into the crack of my ass. It tickled. Then I heard Mom's voice. "What on earth is going on in here!" I opened my eyes to see her standing in the doorway. It Wasn't My Fault Chapter 1 It wasn't my fault. I didn't come home early. The only thing I can think is that they must have lost track of time. I wasn't prepared for what I found. We'd, my wife and I, made love that morning before I went to work and there was no strange car parked outside our home when I arrived back from work, so I was clueless as to what was happening. What had been happening whilst I was at work. And for a long time before. After I parked my car on the driveway, I walked through the front door of the house, our house, pulled the door to, and realised that there was no smell of cooking. "Oh, well" I thought. Maybe she wants to eat out?" Even though I loved Myfanwy's home cooking, I didn't mind eating out and we generally ate out once or twice a month. I placed my laptop bag on the kitchen table, poured and drank a glass of water, I placed the empty glass on the draining board and walked through the house. In the back of my mind I wondered why I couldn't hear Myfanwy. Had she gone out? Odd. Surely she'd have told me? Sent me a text message? I walked upstairs and went into out bedroom to change out of my business suit and that was when my life, my happy married life, was brought to a very nasty and brutal end. Myfanwy and I had been married for fifteen years. We'd met on a sort of a blind date. Some mutual friends had introduced us at a barbecue they were holding and we'd hit it off immediately. Love at first sight? Is such a thing even possible? I'd like to think that it is. That's what I felt when I saw Myfanwy outside in the back yard of our friend's house all those years ago. We never had children, it just hadn't happened. My name, if you are interested, is Ken, a perfectly ordinary name. Myfanwy's interesting name comes from her Welsh ancestry and her Dad is still the chairman of the local Welsh Society set up when a slate mine had imported some Welshmen to come to mine slate in our state. The slate mine idea hadn't worked out, but there was still, 150 years later, a fairly large Welsh population in our part of the state. I looked down at our marital bed and saw Myfanwy and her lover asleep, naked, entwined together. The room stank of sweat and sex and I knew that I had lost her forever. My sweet, loving Myfanwy, she didn't love me. Perhaps had never loved me. Perhaps could never have loved me? I was, somehow, silent. I held it together as I walked out of the room, down the stairs and out of the perfect little house we had shared for ten years, leaving them sleeping the sleep of the just fucked. I knew perhaps I'd never see the inside of that house ever again. Before I left the house I made a detour via the kitchen. There was a park at the end of our street, so I shambled into it and heavily slumped onto a bench. My life was over. I was in shock. My life was over. Tears poured from my eyes. People avoided me. Good. Chapter 2 Myfanwy awoke first, smiling. "Hello, lover" she said, kissing her lover on the lips. "Hah!" Responded her lover, with a grin. "You wore me out. Waking up with you is the best!" "Shit!" shouted Myfanwy, suddenly panicking. "Oh my God! Look at the time! Ken will be back from work any time, now! Thank God he didn't find us! Hurry! Let's get dressed! Damn! It's nearly 6 o'clock and I haven't started anything for his evening meal, yet!" "Oh, gotta be the perfect little wifey, huh?" The sneer in the voice seemed out of character for her lover and it got to Myfanwy in a way that was sort of, what? Primal? "Yes!" She snapped. "I have got to be the perfect wife for my husband! If I can't stay faithful to him, the least I can do is cook him a good meal..." She suddenly burst out crying and her lover, embarrassed by this unexpected turn of events hugged Myfanwy's naked body and said: "Oh, Fanny, I am so sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I guess maybe I am a little jealous that Ken gets to wake up with you every morning and this is the first time I ever woke up with you." Her lover's hands wiped the tears from Myfanwy's eyes. Myfanwy nodded, but said nothing. They swiftly dressed and hurried down the stairs. "Look", said Myfanwy's lover. I'll help you in the kitchen, we can put up a scratch meal real quick." As they entered the kitchen they both noticed the laptop on the table, the solitary glass on the draining board. When Myfanwy focused her eyes on the table she gave a little shriek when she saw her husband's wedding ring on his laptop bag. "Oh, my god! He must have come up into the bedroom and caught us!" This time she didn't cry. This time she began sobbing her heart out, for real. The two women hugged together, both shedding tears as they stared into the gaping, smoking chasm that had once been Myfanwy and Ken's marriage. Chapter 3 I had no idea of how long I had sat in the park, but I realised it was becoming dark and I was cold enough to begin shivering, dressed as I was in my thin business suit. Finding Myfanwy and her friend Karen, my damned boss, in bed together, in our martial bed, for what that was worth, obviously sated from an energetic session of lesbian sex, had shocked me. I was flawed. Flummoxed. I had no idea that lesbian sex was what Myfanwy really wanted. The subject had just never arisen. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. No home, no wife and no job, either. Shit. My life had turned to shit! I had thought Myfanwy loved me and was as faithful to me as I was to her. And I thought that Karen had at least liked me. Well, how wrong could a fellow be? I got up from the bench, stretching my stiffened limbs and walked away from the park. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I could not go home. Because I honestly felt that I had no home. Chapter 4 They were sat at the kitchen table, Ken's wedding ring on the laptop case was a beacon of infidelity, it seemed to Myfanwy, a sign of her wickedness. She had never intended the making out sessions with her friend Karen to get so serious, so full on, to become a proper, real love affair. But they had. And now she had to face the consequences of her actions that had resulted in the breaking the heart of the only man she had ever loved. Karen looked at her. "We really fucked it all up, didn't we? Christ! What a mess! You broke the heart of your poor husband and I probably lost the best engineer I ever had!" Myfanwy picked her cell phone up and hit the speed dial for Ken's number and, seconds later, the phone began to ring in the side pocket of his laptop bag. "Shit!" she yelled, turning her phone off. "Now I can't talk with him!" More crying ensued as they clung to each other. "Don't worry, Fanny!" sobbed out Karen. I am sure he'll be all right." She hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt. Chapter 5 I walked until me feet started to ache. I was in a part of town I didn't know. I really needed to get a place for the night but I'd left my wallet at home so had no money for a hotel room. Then I noticed a sign: "Homeless Shelter." I shrugged. "Any port in a storm," I didn't even laugh at my own joke. I walked in, noticing how the step had been polished away by the tramping, tramping feet of so many homeless people down through the weary, empty years of hopelessness, helplessness, of broken dreams and of dying lives. The man at the desk had been reading the evening paper. He glanced up at me and said: "This is a homeless shelter." "I know." "You look well-heeled for a homeless person," he added, dubiously. "Yes. But I don't think I have a home. Or a job for that matter. This evening when I arrived home I found my wife and my boss fucking in our marital bed, so I left. I left in such a hurry I didn't bring my wallet with me, so I have no money for a hotel." He looked troubled. "I see. I can understand your reluctance to go home. At least in the short term. All our rooms are taken. However, we have a commons room on your left, with some easy chairs. I can let you sleep there, but that's the best I can do. Restroom facilities are through the door over there, to your right." I thanked him profusely. I walked into the room, took my shoes off and sat down in an elderly but not too uncomfortable easy chair. I think even slept a little. I had a dream of Myfanwy and Karen. They were taunting me, laughing at me as I cried out in my anguish. Chapter 6 The next morning I awoke when I heard someone singing an old style Gospel hymn. I thanked the man who was still behind the front desk, shook hands with him and left. It was just after 6 in the morning and it took me two hours to walk back to our house, or rather what had been our house. I knocked on the door which was quickly opened by Myfanwy. "Why did you knock, Ken? This is your home, you know!" I looked at her. "It used to be our marital home. Not sure about that, any more." We walked through into the kitchen. When I saw Karen was in there, my stomach lurched. "Honey, we need to talk" said Myfanwy. I shook my head. Fuck! What a cliché! We all say down round the table, well they sat opposite me, side by side. Myfanwy cleared her throat. "Ken, I know I hurt you very badly. But well, in away I am glad it is all now out in the open. You are still the only man I love, but as you now probably suspect, I also love Karen. "I love you, but I'm not in love with you, any more. However, I am in love with Karen, in that way." I felt sick. I felt numb. As I said, Myfanwy was sat close to Karen, I was on the other side of the table. That was, I knew, of great significance. Myfanwy looked concerned. "Ken. I am sorry to hurt you, I'm especially so very sorry you found out in the way you found out. Don't you have anything to say?" I cleared my throat. I felt a lump in my chest. "What can I say that can make you stop loving Karen and make you start loving me, again? There's nothing, is there?" I shook my head and continued: "There's nothing I can do, is there? If it were another man, maybe I could win you back by upping my game, or something. But Karen is a woman. And I do not know how to fight for the love of my wife, my loving, caring wife, with another woman." My voice dropped down to that of a whisper, I could feel my head starting to hang down. "I just don't stand a chance, do I?" Karen looked at me. I thought she'd be smug, but to my surprise, she wasn't. She looked at me in a kindly, compassionate way. "This is horrible, Ken. I know you are hurting and what's more I know I am hurting you. And even though I know this is going to continue hurting you, I just cannot give Myfanwy up. I love her too much for that." "So," I said, my voice sounding dull, "You'll be wanting a divorce then, Myfanwy? Are you going to rape me, financially?" "Oh, Christ, Ken, no! Yes, I want a divorce, I need a divorce, but I won't rape you, financially." She shook her head. "That would be unfair!" I nodded. "Thank you. At least I'll be able to start over, somewhere." I looked towards Karen. "You'll be wanting my letter of resignation too, I expect?" "Yes, please, Ken. It's for the best. Oh, God! This is so hard! Look, I'll give you three months salary instead of notice. I mean, it's not much, but it should help cushion the blow, somewhat." "Where did you stay last night, Ken? Will you stay there, again, tonight?" I shook my head: "I doubt I can stay there again, as they sort of made an exception for me. I stayed in the homeless shelter, downtown." They both shrieked at that: "Oh my god! Why?" said Myfanwy. "Because I was homeless." "But you have a perfectly good home... oh my God! You don't. Do you?" said Myfanwy, sadly. I shook my head. "And you both have me over a barrel, don't you? If I try to sue Karen for alienation of affection, I'll become the laughing stock of the city, the whole of our industry, even, when people find out my wife was stolen from me by another woman. "Best if I just take my lumps and slink away like a whipped cur. I will not fight the divorce. I'll go get a couple of cases and pack my shit and get out of your life, Myfanwy." Myfanwy looked at me, her eyes sad. "Where will you be going?" I suddenly felt bitterness toward her as I stood up. "Oh, Myfanwy! What does it matter where I am going? Why embarrass yourself and me by pretending that you actually give a flying fuck about where I will go, or what I will do?" She paled and the tears started again. "But I do care..." she started. "But just not enough to give a fuck, huh?" I left them, sniffling at the table as I went and packed up my shit. A pitifully small amount, to be honest. I gave them both a curt goodbye and walked out through the front door for the last time. I walked past my car, a company car and not mine any longer and walked the couple of miles to the bus station. I sent my widowed sister a text message, asking her if I could stay. Thankfully, she agreed. I made enquires and there was a Greyhound Bus departing in an hour, so I booked my ticket and an hour later I was starting my eight hour bus journey to the rest of my life. A week later I had got a job --at least Karen had given me a good reference- and I'd sent Myfanwy the details of my sister's address so she could serve the papers on me. My life sucks. But I had high hopes that it would suck less and less as time wore on.