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Jealousy

By: jack_straw



You read about and hear all the time about the husband who comes home unexpectedly, or shows up some place where he's not supposed to be, and sees his wife doing something he wasn't supposed to see.

You always think it's going to happen to someone else, until that fateful moment when it happens to you.

I wasn't supposed to come home from that particular business trip until mid-afternoon on Saturday, but here it was Friday night, and I was slumped on a stool in the bar of a suburban dance club in my home city.

I was watching my wife of 21 years and some man I'd never seen before cutting a rug like they were long-lost lovers. They were part of a larger group that I assumed were people from Susan's workplace.

Let me back up a second. Susan and this other guy didn't look quite like lovers, but there was a little too much familiarity, a little too much flirting for it to be completely innocent. 

I'm a great believer in the old adage, "where there's smoke, there's fire." And my wife and this fellow, who looked to be about the same age as she and I, were creating what appeared to me to be an awful lot of smoke.

I could smell trouble brewing, and I didn't like it one bit.

Before I got too far into this, I suppose this is a good time to introduce myself and my lovely wife.

I was born in October of 1960, and my full honest-to-God given name is Hans Deiter McDonald, and when I was a kid I'd punch anyone who called me that. 

My name arises out my mom's very sad history, and while I have grown to accept it, now that I know that history, I've been called Dutch for so long that it's really irrelevant.

My dad, Kenneth McDonald, met my mother when he was stationed in Germany with the Army around 1956. Mom was part of the steno pool, because she spoke and wrote perfect English, and Daddy was the company clerk to which she was assigned. 

The happy part of my parents' story is that they fell head over heels in love, got married and she came with Daddy when he returned to the States. They remained deeply in love right up to the day my mother finally succumbed to cancer in 1997. 

It's not hard to imagine why Daddy was smitten with my mother. She was beautiful, with sandy blonde hair, classic Teutonic features, big brown eyes and a figure that was close to being statuesque. 

Daddy was also good-looking and powerfully built, although he was actually an inch or so shorter than she was. He had dark red hair and the open ruddy features of the Scotsman. Needless to say, they made quite a couple.

No one ever talked much about my mother's background, so it wasn't until she was on her deathbed that I finally heard the story behind my name. She sat me down on the bed in my parents' bedroom about six weeks before she died and told me the saddest tale you can imagine.

By a cruel twist of irony, my mom was born Birgit Schilling in Berlin on Jan. 30, 1933. If you know your history, you will know that was the very same day that Hitler became Chancellor of Germany. Needless to say, Mom's birthday was never celebrated in our house with any enthusiasm. 

Her father – Hans – was drafted into the Wehrmacht at the start of World War II and was killed in the Ukraine in the fall of 1942. Considering what happened to his unit – they were annihilated at Stalingrad the following winter – he was probably one of the luckier ones.

Mom, her mother and her little brother – Dieter – managed to survive in Berlin as the war turned bad for Germany, and it looked like they might make it to the end. 

But one afternoon in early April of 1945, Mom was sent to the market, and while she was gone their neighborhood came under attack from Russian artillery. When Mom returned from the market, all that was left of their apartment building was a pile of smoking rubble. 

There had been no warning, and no one who had been in the building – including her mother and brother – had made it out alive.

Now, Mom was a smart girl. She had heard the stories about what the Russians were doing to German women in the towns they captured, and she knew that a pretty 12-year-old orphan would have no chance in their clutches. 

She never hesitated and she never looked back. She took off with just the clothes on her back, her little purse with her ID, some photographs and few worthless marks, and the meager food she'd just bought from the market. She walked to the west – followed the sun, as she put it – managing to sneak through what was left of the German frontline, until she came to a British Army unit.

The Tommies got her safely to the Red Cross, who put her into an orphanage in Bonn, and she managed to rebuild her life. There she learned how to speak and write English.

Mom was a strong woman of impeccable character, but she never really got the chance to grieve for her mother and her brother, and there were always those odd moments when she would dissolve into tears, seemingly over nothing. She'd leave the room, stay behind the closed door to her bedroom for awhile, then come out later with her composure restored.

To my knowledge, my mother never absolutely insisted on getting her way in anything. Growing up in Hitler's Germany will do that to a person. But she absolutely insisted on naming her first son after her father and her brother, and Dad never put up the first objection.

But my Pappa McDonald had served in the Navy in the war, on anti-submarine patrol in the Atlantic, and while he had the utmost respect for my mother, and was quite fond of her, he had a little trouble accepting a grandson named Hans. So he called me Dutch, and it stuck (thank God).

Of course, inevitably some schoolyard joker would call me Hans, and we'd argue, then we'd fight. Until about the seventh grade, it wasn't certain whether I'd ever amount to anything in school, because I spent so much time in detention for fighting.

I guess with puberty came some kind of understanding, both internally and externally. I came to a kind of peace with my name and with myself, and the fact that I was tough enough to fight for my honor gave me the respect of my classmates.

I grew to be right at six feet tall and fairly athletic, with dark blond hair, and I now have a thick mustache that is my trademark, I guess, to make up for my rapidly-receding hairline. I played football and ran track in high school, then went to the university, and on into the work force in business.

When I was 23, I had a job about 100 miles from the university where my younger sister was going, and her senior year, she moved into an apartment. She soon became good friends with her next door neighbor, a nursing student named Susan Waldorf.

Sissy quickly became convinced that Susan and I would make a lovely couple, so she set us up for a blind date. To this day, I don't know what it was about Susan that appealed to me, but by the end of the night, I was in love, and so was she. 

By the third date, I was spending the night with Susan and enjoying her very active body. We both loved sex, and we were totally compatible from the start. Just 18 months after meeting, we got married, not long after she graduated from college.

Let me tell you about my wife, because this is a key part of what happened in this story. 

I happen to think Susan is very pretty, but she's not someone who stops traffic. She has straight dark brown hair that she usually wears about shoulder length, with cute features. She's about 5-foot-5, and her breasts aren't anything special; they're not too big, and they're not too small. Ditto her butt; it's just right, but nothing excessive.

Her personality is the same way. She's fairly shy in most situations, but get a few drinks in her, get her started and she can be the life of any party. I'm the same way, except I'm not nearly as shy as she is. 

The point I'm getting at here is that my wife is about as average a person as you'll find. So, to my mind, a man who makes a pass at my wife has to really want to make a pass at my wife, because she's not someone that most men automatically think of in those terms.

But until that fateful Friday night, the very idea would have made me laugh. Susan and I have been devoted to each other from Day One, I've never cheated on her and I never imagined that she'd cheat on me.

Along the way, we had three kids – Peter is 17, Brooke is 15 and Keith is 12 – and we settled into our careers. I moved up into a middle management position for a national corporation and Susan got into hospital administration after a dozen years in nursing.

Less than a year before this incident, Susan accepted a position with a large hospital, and I began to see some subtle changes. She dressed up for work a lot more than she did in previous jobs, and this group was a lot more social than in her other stops. 

About once every few weeks, a group from her work would have a social night, always on a Friday, and they'd hit some clubs. I was rather surprised in the middle of that summer when Susan started joining them. She has never been the type to be a bar-hopper, but she's always been able to knock down drinks with the best of them, me included.

I must stress that these nights always ended innocently. Susan always came home around midnight, maybe 12:15, always a little tipsy, but not sloppy. We'd go to bed, and she'd let me do about anything I wanted with her. So, truthfully, I didn't mind them one bit.

But I never went with her. I don't know why, but it just never came up. It wasn't that I was specifically not invited, but I wasn't directly invited, either. And, the truth is, I wasn't that keen on going anyway. 

After the kind of weeks I have in my job, when Friday night rolls around, all I'm interested in is getting home and relaxing. When the kids' high school has a home football game, we like to go, but otherwise, my idea of a good time on Friday night is to lie back in the recliner with a cold beer and read.

It was getting toward the middle of November, just starting to get some chill in the air. I had to spend that entire week in Dallas, for a big meeting with some major stockholders in our company. 

The plan was that we would spend the week with meetings, conclude our business on Friday afternoon, then we would attend a banquet that night, before flying home on Saturday. 

Those plans all changed around 10:30 Friday morning. We were in a meeting, when one of the senior vice-presidents suddenly started to clutch his chest and the next thing we knew he was on the floor curled up in the fetal position in full cardiac arrest.

By the grace of God, where we were meeting was easy to get into and out of, and it was five minutes to the nearest hospital, so they managed to save his life. But the meeting was over, and the banquet was cancelled. 

I had no interest in staying another night in Dallas if I didn't have to, so I got my flight changed and flew on home late Friday afternoon. I tried to call Susan's office to tell her I'd be home early, but she had already left.

When I landed, around 8:30, and got my luggage, I called home, and Peter told me that Susan had gone out with her friends from work. He gave me a couple of places where she thought they'd probably go.

I'm not sure why I decided to join them. I guess I just wanted to see my wife so bad, plus I was really keyed up from the events of that day. I tried her cell phone again, but got her voice mail, which I thought was unusual.

They weren't at the first place I stopped, so I moved on to the next club, a large sports bar. I walked in and I saw them, and I was just about to walk over to her table when the guy sitting next to her leaned in close to her and put his arm around her shoulder. He said something pithy, and she laughed heartily and gave him a very warm look. He pulled his arm off her shoulder, but stayed very close.

There was just something in the way they were interacting that knocked me for a loop. For one thing, Susan looked like she was having the time of her life. She was extremely animated, and not just with the guy sitting next to her. I hadn't seen her like that in years. 

And she looked great. She was quite well made up, she was wearing a tight dress that accentuated her curves and I was soon to notice something I hadn't noticed until then. She'd lost about 15 pounds. I don't know how I could have missed it, but she was definitely slimmer than she'd been just a few months earlier.

I just stood there like I was stuck in cement, then did something I would later regret. I slipped to a side booth, out of Susan's line of sight, but where I could watch her. I ordered a beer, and just sat there. 

So many emotions were churning in my heart, and jealousy was foremost among them. My wife of 21 years, the only woman I'd ever loved, was having a better time with some stranger from work than she'd had with me in probably 10 years.

I guess when you get to a certain point in your marriage things start to become mundane. You get into a rut, and that's where Susan and I were. I was working long hours, especially during the week, I was drinking more than I should and I was irritable more than I should have been. 

And, to be fair, Susan wasn't exactly Little Miss Sunshine, either. We'd bitch at each other some – nothing major and we always kissed and made up – but there was some friction going on in our marriage, some baggage accumulating. The fact that we had three teenagers (well, two teens and a might-as-well-be-a teen) heightened the tension.

But Susan sure didn't look tense or irritable on this night, and that just made my mood that much darker. Remember, I'm half-German and half-Scottish, so you can only imagine how foul I can be when I'm in a down mood.

My mind was conjuring up all sorts of conspiratorial thoughts about what Susan might have gotten up to when I'd been gone on other trips, or what she might do later on that night, knowing I wasn't supposed to be home until the next day.

I drank three more beers before I heard her group rustling up to leave. I watched as Susan's friend helped her get her coat on, and sort of escorted her out with the rest of the group. By that, I mean he kind of took her elbow and sort of guided her out.  

I sat way back in my seat, but Susan's attention was riveted to her friend and she never noticed me. As they walked out, I overheard one of them mention the name of a popular dance club. I watched out the window as Susan climbed into the passenger seat of a double-cab pickup truck her friend was driving, and another couple got in the back.

I waited 10 minutes, then settled my tab and moved on to follow them. I had to know what was going to happen, if anything. By this time, I'd calmed down a little bit and was thinking semi-rationally. I just wanted to see what was going on, then I'd decide what to do later, based on what I saw.

This dance club catered to an over-30 crowd, which was why they chose it. Rather than the kind of techno-pop the kids dance to these days, this club features a mix of mostly rock, with a little bit of country thrown in. 

And the place was doing a tremendous business that night, so I had no trouble getting into the place without Susan spotting me. I found a spot at the bar to stand, then slid into a seat when one opened up. 

From where I was seated, I had a clear view of the dance floor, and I could look in the mirror behind the bar and see the large table where Susan's group was sitting, but she couldn't see me.

As in the previous club, Susan and her friend sat quite close together, but I didn't see any sort of touching that would indicate that they were lovers in any way. But they danced together for much of the time they were there.

The moment of truth came when a slow song came on. I expected Susan to retire to the table, but she and her friend stayed on the dance floor. 

I could feel my heart breaking as I watched my wife slow-dance with this man. And yet, as I watched, they didn't appear to be exactly clutching at each other. 

Yes, he had his hand on the small of her back and she had her hand on his shoulder, and their other hands were clasped together. But it was simply the standard pose for a slow dance.

When it was finished, though, the man put his arm around Susan's shoulder and she put an arm around his back as they walked back to the table. But that was it. 

Still, they continued to flirt, and there were a couple of times when it looked like the guy wanted to kiss her, but never could get an opening. One time when he moved in that direction, Susan even shook her head, but she did so with a very warm smile and a pat on his hand, which appeared to linger. 

I studied the man while I sat and sucked down a few beers. He was kind of tall, about 6-2, and slender. He was very good-looking, with a full head of dark hair, and he was dressed immaculately. Susan certainly appeared to be taken with him.

The more I watched, though, the less I liked him – and not just because he was a stranger making a pass at my wife. He just appeared to me to be too slick, kind of a glad-hander type, the sort who thinks they can make a person buy anything. The way he was dressed, the way he smiled, the way he acted all made me think that he considered himself God's gift to women. 

Eventually, some of her group decided to call it a night, and began to drift away. At last, by about 11:30, it was just Susan and her friend, and the other couple who had ridden to the club with them. Susan and her friend were still dancing, but she had started drinking sodas, so I figured they were about to wind things up. 

Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, the foursome settled their bill and left the club. Again, the guy she was with kind of escorted Susan out, but didn't do anything further, and they didn't notice me.

Nevertheless, I was about half-lit by then, and burning with jealousy. This guy, whoever he was, was stealing good times and close moments with my wife that should have been mine. And yet, I had already started to think about when it was that I had last taken Susan out like that. It had been awhile, several years, in fact.

I was also starting to think about a lot of things, not the least of which was just how good Susan looked when she worked at it. She hadn't dressed up like that for me in quite awhile, but then she'd gone and lost 15 pounds and I hadn't noticed it.

I followed them, and from what I could see, everything was above-board. They drove the other couple back to the first bar where they'd been, then the truck drove back to the hospital, where Susan's car was parked. My heart was in my throat at the thought that my wife was alone in this man's pickup truck. 

I watched from a safe distance as the truck stopped behind Susan's car, and she got out. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, when I watched her walk around to the driver's side. He had his window down, and they chatted for a minute or two, then suddenly Susan leaned in and appeared to give the man a kiss. 

It was just a quick peck on the lips, then she stepped back and waved as he drove off. Nevertheless, I was shaken to my core. I just stared as my wife stood there and watched as the truck turned out of the parking lot. Then she kind of shook her head, and got into her car.

Having lived in this city most of my life, I know all of the shortcuts to get from one point to the other, and I raced home in order to beat Susan to the house. Along the way, I thought about how I wanted to handle what I'd witnessed that night.

And, really, what had I seen? I'd seen a ladies man clearly putting the moves on my wife, and I'd seen her flirting back, culminating in what was probably a quick goodbye kiss. 

But I hadn't seen any real intimacy between them. They hadn't held hands, hadn't groped each other on the dance floor – when they'd had ample opportunity – and, except for their final moments together, hadn't kissed.


Jealousy



Something was going on, but it was obvious that whatever it was, it was only in the incipient stages. 

I also thought again about my wife, why I'd fallen in love with her, and how I had let us get into a rut. Hell, I'd even started to let myself go physically. Until about five years earlier, I'd stayed in great shape, but as the demands from work mounted, I'd slowly developed a bit of a pot belly and I wasn't as strong as I used to be.

An idea was starting to form in my mind, that maybe I was going to have to win my wife all over again if I was to continue to stay married to her, which I did, very much. I just hoped it wasn't too late. 

I did beat Susan home and walked in the front door with my suitcase and my hang-up bag. Brooke was up watching TV when I came in and she jumped up and hugged my neck in surprise. I decided to leave my bags on the floor where Susan could see them the second she walked in the door, then went upstairs and changed into some gym shorts and a T-shirt.

Ten minutes later, I heard the front door open, then a kind of gasp as Susan saw my stuff and realized that I was home.

"Dutch?" she called up the stairs, and I emerged from the landing smiling as if everything was fine.

Susan seemed a little hesitant for just a second, like she wasn't sure what to do, then she raced up the stairs and gave me the welcome-home hug and kiss I had come to expect when I returned from these trips.

"I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow," she said. "If I'd known you were coming home early, I wouldn't have gone out with the gang."

"I called your office, but you'd left, and I called your cell about 8:30, but you didn't answer," I said in a pleasant tone.

I told her what had happened, and I thought I saw just the briefest flicker of guilt on her face as I told her about my "late-night" flight home. I told her it had been a bumpy ride, and I'd had a few beers to calm my nerves, which explained the alcohol on my breath.

We walked together to the kitchen, and that was when I began my campaign to reel my wife back in the fold. I looked her up and down appreciatively and whistled.

"That dress really looks good on you," I said, then I hesitated as if seeing something for the first time. "Have you lost weight? You sure look like you're slimmer than you have been."

Susan beamed at the compliment.

"I didn't think you were ever going to notice," she said. "You know, hospital employees get a free membership to the Y, and I've been taking my lunch there the past couple of months. They've got a real nice salad and juice bar where I can get a light lunch, and I take a step aerobics class three days a week, then I walk the track the other two."

"Any particular reason why you decided now was a good time to lose weight?" I asked, as I poured a glass of fruit juice and sat down at the table.

I tried to phrase the question as innocently as possible, but I still caught a startled look in Susan's eye when I asked that.

"N-no, not really," she said. "You know I haven't been happy with the extra weight I've been carrying around, and I just felt like this was a good time to start getting rid of it."

Yeah, right, I thought, with just a trace of sarcasm. Wouldn't have a thing to do with that new friend you're wanting to impress, now would it? That's what I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. Instead, I decided it was time to cut to the chase.

"Susan, can I ask you a serious question?" I asked. 

Again, there was that brief flicker of concern, but I smiled at her to ease her fears.

"Are you happy?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she said. 

I stood up then and gathered my wife in my arms.

"I mean, are you happy with your life? Are you happy with me?" I said, looking her straight in the eye. "Is there something I can do to make your life better? I did a lot of thinking on the plane ride home, and I really think something's missing in our marriage."

She looked away and buried her head in my shoulder as she hugged me tight.

"I wish you weren't gone so much," she said. "There are times when you just don't seem to be a part of my life, a part of any of our lives any more. I miss you. We all miss you. I wish you'd pay more attention to what's going on around the house, do things as a family more than you do. It seems like your whole life is wrapped around your work these days, and we just get the leftovers." 

I felt a sense of shame, because she was right. I was letting my work consume me, and my wife and kids were just getting the crumbs. 

"Do you still love me?" I said softly, and for that I gently lifted her chin so I could look her in the eye.

"Of course I still love you," she said without hesitation, and this time she met my gaze completely. "You aren't perfect, but neither am I. Things could stand to be better between us, but you're still my lover, my husband and the father of my children, so yes, Dutch, I love you."

"Good, because I love you too, Susan," I said. "I'll do anything I can, change anything I have to if it will make you happy."

At that, I brought my hand around and softly cupped one of her breasts, and a soft gasp escaped her lips. She looked up at me with a smile on her face, but I also thought I saw a little relief on her face.

"You think you've got some life in this thing?" she said as she reached down and squeezed my cock.

"Well, we won't know if we don't try," I said. "I won't make any promises, because I did have a few beers on the plane, but I will give you whatever I've got to give."

We told Brooke good night and ascended the stairs. I heard music coming from behind the closed door to Peter's bedroom, so I knocked quickly, stuck my head inside and greeted him, then asked him to turn it down a little.

By the time I got to our bedroom, Susan had shed her dress and was in her bra and panties. In seconds we were naked with just the bedside lamp burning. I ran my hands over her body and she moaned softly, then gasped as I slid two fingers between her bubbling labia. 

Susan was hot and wet as I fucked her with my fingers and rolled her clit with my thumb. I could feel a hard-on trying to stir in my loins, trying to overcome the effects of the alcohol in my body. I had the idle thought then that I needed to really cut down on my drinking, if only for the sake of my sex life.

But I was an old pro at this game, and I knew there was more than one way to please a woman. I slid down the bed and captured Susan's nipple between my lips, licking and tugging at the pink nub with my teeth.

"Ohhhhhhh, yeah," Susan panted. 

She has super-sensitive nipples, and I always make it a point to see that they always get plenty of attention. All the time, my fingers were working in a slow steady rhythm in her juicy cunt.

Susan knew what was coming, because when I feel like I've had too much to drink, I always compensate by using my mouth on her. And this was no exception. I slid between her legs, grabbed her butt in both hands and pulled her fragrant pussy to my face.

I didn't fool around, because I could sense that she was close to the edge. I swiped my tongue up her furrow, tasting her essence before wrapping it around her swollen clit.

Susan thrust up with her hips, trying to push as much of her crotch into my face as possible, and I obliged her by getting my whole mouth on her cunt, eating her with purpose. I could feel her hands in my hair, stroking my head gently as she held me in place.

Harder and faster, she ground her pussy into my voracious mouth. I sucked her pussy into my mouth, I stabbed her opening with my tongue and I kissed her clit with my lips, bringing her orgasm rapidly to the surface. 

Susan was making little yips as she began to hit her peak, then with a loud gasp, her whole body stiffened then she shuddered as her climax washed over her. I kept my mouth clamped on her pussy as I sucked up the fruits of her passion.

I reached down with one hand and stroked my cock, which was nearly rock-hard. I pulled my mouth away, and looked up at my wife, who looked back through slitted eyes.

"Ummmm, yeah, fuck me, Dutch," she breathed. "Give me your cock."

When I'm at full roar, I have a cock that's bigger than most, about 7 inches and pretty fat, and even when it's not at its best, as it was this night, I can still dish out some pleasure. I held my cock tightly at the base and pushed it into Susan's pussy, then lay on top of her, letting our bodies flow together.

We kissed then, hard and frantic, enjoying the union of old love. Truthfully, I never get tired of Susan's lips, which are quite sensuous, and her mouth, which is quite ravenous.

Susan wrapped her legs around my waist and worked her hips around mine and I drove my cock in her as best I could.

After about five minutes, however, I could feel myself running out of gas, so I pulled my wilting member out of Susan's cunt and slid back down for a second round of oral goodies. Again, she was awfully close and it didn't take long before she shuddered on my face again in a second, final climax.

When she was through, I slid up the bed and gathered her in my arms.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I gave you everything I had, babe."

"Hey, no need to apologize," she whispered sleepily. "You always give me your best, and that's all I've ever asked for."

I held her as she fell asleep, but in spite of my exhaustion I found sleep elusive. I knew without a doubt that my marriage was at a crossroads, and my future, our future, depended on how I reacted.

Jealousy is such a volatile emotion, a double-edged sword in the human psyche. It can corrode and poison a relationship easier than any other emotion there is, but it can also bring a person to an awareness they lacked previously.

On the one hand, I was pissed off that some joker was trying to horn in on my wife, and there was no doubt in my mind that this guy Susan had been with that night – albeit as part of a larger group – was making a pass at her. 

On the other hand, the mere fact that she'd left the door open enough to make him think he might have a chance meant that she wasn't entirely satisfied with our life together in some way. It was my job to do whatever it took to satisfy her to the point where she'd shut the door in his face.

I was pretty sure that Susan hadn't cheated on me – yet – but I knew that unless I took immediate steps to improve my marriage, that she would continue to entertain the notion. And the longer it went on, the more likely the chance was that she would eventually succumb to the temptation.

The way I look it is that a marriage is like a garden, and you have to keep working at it or it will start to wither. I'd let some weeds start growing in my garden, and they were choking the beauty of my marriage. It was time to start tending to the task of pulling them out and letting my marriage bloom again.

It was after I came to that conclusion that I finally fell asleep.

I think Susan must have gotten some sense of urgency as well, because the next thing I remember, it was morning and my wife was doing something she hadn't done in a long, long time. She was lying between my legs with my very hard – painfully hard – cock working back and forth in her mouth.

I just kept my eyes closed and wallowed in the feeling of Susan's good-morning blowjob. I did thrust up with my hips to let her know I was awake, and she redoubled her efforts. She sucked a little over half of my cock into her mouth and jacked the rest with her fist.

I had left a pretty hard dose of cum in my balls the night before, so I knew it wasn't going to take much of that before I came. I wrapped my hands around Susan's head and gently guided her motions as I filled her hot mouth with my cock.

I was close, close, close, then my body jerked hard and she buried my cock all the way in her throat as I spewed a rocky cumload straight into her stomach. She kept her throat muscles working until she'd milked me of every drop of cum, then she pulled her face from my cock, smacked her lips and crawled up in my arms.

"Good morning, lover," she said as we held each other.

"Good morning, yourself," I said, still panting from the exertion of my orgasm. "What brought that on?"

"I just realized that it's been awhile since I woke you up that way, and I wanted to thank you for last night," she said. "I know you were tired from your trip, but I appreciated your efforts. Sometimes I think I don't tell you that enough. I don't know, maybe I've taken you for granted, but I really do appreciate everything you do. You're a good man, Dutch, and I still thank God for your sister, after all these years."

"I could say the same thing," I said. "We've kind of let things slide in our marriage a little bit, and I want to try to get that passion back. I still say the best time of my life was that 18-month period when we were dating. Remember? God, we were in love. Susan, can we get that back?"

She just buried her face in my shoulder and I think she was shedding some tears. I held her for awhile, just soaking up the pregnant silence.

"Dutch, I want to grow old with you," she said softly, when she'd composed herself a little.

"I've got an idea," I said suddenly. "Let's go into the city this afternoon, just you and me. We'll do whatever you want. Go to a movie, shopping, whatever. You make the call."

For a second, Susan just looked at me like I'd been abducted by aliens. And, to be honest, she had reason to be incredulous. It was a Saturday in mid-November, and for years I had spent practically every Saturday afternoon in the fall perched in front of the television watching college football.

But at that moment, a football game wasn't nearly as important as making my wife happy. So we got the morning paper and looked to see what was happening in the city, and we both had the same idea. 

There was a big show going on at the city's largest museum of art, and that's where we went. Susan loves that kind of stuff, and, truthfully, it was a show of historical art and artifacts that held my interest as well.

After we left the museum, we drove downtown, and held hands as we walked through the trendy shops. I let Susan buy a dress that caught her fancy, I bought some shoes I needed, then we went to dinner, and I had not the first drop to drink.

It was a truly magical day, and there were more to come. I started joining Susan for lunch at the Y, and worked on losing my gut and firming up my body. I recalled from my high school days of playing football how to get on the weights, and I hit them with a vengeance.

I cut my drinking way down, and so did she. We started doing things as a family, and I started to pay particular attention to Susan. I started sending flowers to her work for no particular reason, and our sex life really took off.

We were going great, and then I almost let it all slip away in one moment of jealous anger.

It happened at her department's Christmas party, which was held on a Saturday night about a week before the holiday. It was being held at a reception hall that had been rented for the night. There are about 50 to 60 people in her department, so if you include spouses and significant others, there were probably a little over 100 people there.

Susan looked really good, with a strapless dress that was snug at the top, with a flared skirt that didn't quite reach her knees, and I wore my best suit. We each fixed a plate of hors d'oeurves and a drink from the bar then settled into the party.

There was a DJ playing tunes and the dance floor was quite active as we made the rounds. We'd been there about an hour or so, when I ran into someone I knew at the bar, and Susan moved on to mingle with her friends from work.

I spent probably 15 minutes engaged in a conversation with this fellow, and when I went back into the main hall to look for Susan, my heart stopped. She was on the dance floor doing the boogie-woogie with the guy I'd seen her with that night about five weeks earlier.

I choked down my anger, but as one song flowed into another, I kind of hung back and watched, to see what would happen, and as I did my blood got hotter and hotter. 

This guy was plainly trying to pick up where he'd left off a few weeks earlier, grabbing Susan's hand and twirling her around like she was his date or something. To her credit, Susan didn't look like she was very comfortable and did nothing to lead him on that I could see.

Still, she does enjoy dancing, so she was trying her best to enjoy herself under the circumstances.

Finally, a slow song started and Susan tried to leave the dance floor. But her friend wasn't having any of it. He sort of took her by the arms and guided her back onto the floor. I could actually see a sigh of resignation pass her face as she consented to a slow dance with this guy, who apparently couldn't take no for an answer.

At last, the song was over, and this time Susan did leave the floor and headed toward the ladies room. The guy and a couple of his buddies headed toward the outside doors to have a smoke. 

I always carry a cigar to functions like this, because it sometimes offers me a way to get out of a party where I'm not having a particularly good time. And I was not enjoying myself at all on this particular evening.

I walked outside, and the guy and his buddies were laughing about something. I walked over to lover boy and asked for a light, which he cheerfully lent me. Then he turned back to his friends. They were all tall, a couple of inches over six feet, at least. 

"So, Paul, how's it going between you and Susan?" I heard one guy ask, and I tensed up as I listened. 

They apparently didn't have a clue as to who I was, because they were talking as if I wasn't there. 

"Yeah," said the other. "We figured you'd already have her out in the car by now. What's the problem, buddy?"

"Aw, it's just a matter of time, fellas," said the guy, whose name I surmised was Paul. "She's just playing a little hard to get. But I guarantee you I'll nail her before the night's over. I'm telling you guys, she's a pushover. Once she gets a look at what Ole Paul's packing, she'll be putty in my hands. She wants it; I can tell."

I was seething at the way he was talking about Susan, my Susan, but I was also half-afraid he might be right, her body language on the dance floor notwithstanding. I decided to enter the conversation, just to see where it might go.

"What about her husband?" I asked, and they all three turned to look at me. "Aren't you worried that he might object to whatever you've got planned for this woman?"

"Nah," Paul said. "I hear her husband is a middle manager for some big corporation. Probably has a big spare tire around the middle and carries a four-inch dick."

They all laughed, and I laughed with them, although my laugh was directed more at the bastard's audacity that at any appreciation of his "humor."

"He'll be child's play," Paul continued. "I've never met a wife yet that I couldn't fuck, and once Susan gets some of me, hubby'll be the last thing on her mind. She's probably never been fucked by a real man."

"You're pretty sure of yourself," I said, trying my damnedest to keep my temper under control.

"Hey, mister, I've seen this guy in action," one of his friends piped up. "He's got the biggest dick in town."

"That so," I said, as I took a last puff of my cigar and put back in its tube.

"By the way, I don't think we've met," the third guy said. "I'm Luke, this is Brady and that's Paul."

"Ah, the famous Paul," I said. "I have heard about you. My name's Hank and I'm here with my wife. Pleasure meeting you gentlemen."

"Who's your wi..." Paul started to ask, but I was already gone, back into the hall. If I'd stayed out there any longer, I wouldn't have been responsible for my actions.

I found Susan at the bar, and she looked like she'd packed away a few drinks. 




Jealousy



"There you are," she said. "I've been looking all over for you."

I got a beer and told her I'd been outside smoking a cigar. Susan wrinkled her nose playfully at the smell, then led me around to meet some more of her friends. They seemed a nice enough bunch, although some of them were a little guarded toward me.

We had just gotten another round of drinks when Paul slithered up to Susan.

"Dance time, honey," he said, ignoring me completely as he grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to the dance floor. 

"Paul, I'd like you to meet my husband," she said, rather forcefully.

Paul turned to look at me and his face went pale.

"Dutch McDonald," I said, holding out my hand with a totally transparent smile on my face.

"Uh, ur, Paul, Paul Lefleur," he said, shaking my hand hesitantly.

There was a sense of foreboding, an atmospheric charge as I turned toward the bar and drained my beer in one big gulp. I was honestly going to let it go, and leave without causing a scene.

"Drink up, honey, it's time to go," I said to Susan.

"B-but, it's still early," Susan said in a puzzled tone of voice.

"I said, it's time for us to leave," I said with more force than I intended.

"Dutch, we've only been here a couple of hours and the party's not over until midnight," she said. "Dutch, what's wrong?"

I was about to answer when Paul pushed me too far. A little bit of a crowd was starting to gather as people sensed trouble in the air.

"Buddy, maybe she's not ready to go," Paul said, moving between Susan and me. "If you want to be a party pooper, knock yourself out. She's a big girl and she can find her own way home."

"Watch it, mister," I said in a low voice fraught with menace. "Susan, let's go."

"Why don't you..." Paul started to say, and that's as far as he got. 

He made the dreadful mistake of putting his right hand on my chest, to sort of push me away from my wife. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, then punched him hard in the stomach right under his ribcage.

Pappa, my grandfather, taught me how to box when I was 8-years-old and it became apparent that I was going to fight any kid who teased me about my name. It was a skill I'd never forgotten.

So as Paul slumped over with a "whoosh," of air, I hit him with a haymaker left hook right smack in the eye that sent him sprawling on his ass. 

"A real man, huh?" I raged at him. "I'll show you a real man, you motherfucker."

I was going to kick him in the balls when some of Susan's friends grabbed me and held me back.

I jerked myself free, turned on my heels and stalked out of the hall. I looked back to see if Susan was following me, and felt heartsick and enraged as saw her and the rest of her co-workers hovering over Paul. Well, fuck her, I thought. If she wanted him, she could have him. If she was more concerned about his welfare than mine, then piss on her.

I stormed out of the hall and it was like Moses at the Red Sea the way people moved out of my way. I threw open the swinging doors and just before they closed I heard Susan yelling for me to wait. 

I didn't stop, but strode right out to the car, and again I heard Susan yelling for me to stop. I ignored her, got in the car, turned on the ignition, backed it out, put the car in drive, turned to take off, and there she was, standing right in front of the car. I rolled down the window, and yelled for her to, "get out of my fucking way!"

But she just stood there with her hands on her hips.

"I'm not budging an inch until we talk," she yelled back.

I started to put the car in reverse and back out of the lot that way, when I saw that someone – a friend of hers, as it turned out – had pulled up behind me. That person got out and walked off, leaving me nowhere to go except forward. I tried one more time, but my rage was already beginning to dissipate.

"Susan, please get out of my way," I said.

"You'll have to run me over first," she said.

I rubbed my hands over my face, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would make the past hour or so go away, then I threw the car into park, shut off the ignition and got out.

"OK, you wanted to talk, so talk," I said.

"What the hell was that all about?" she demanded.

"He asked for it," I said.

"Like hell," Susan said.

"Susan, maybe you aren't seeing what I've been seeing, but he's trying his best to seduce you, and you're playing right along with him," I said. 

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Susan said.

"I saw you two together once before," I said, and I immediately regretted it.

"When was that?" she said.

"The night I came home from Dallas, that Friday night, I saw everything you two did that night," I said. 

I could see Susan's eyes narrow as her outrage built, but I'd already started, so I plunged ahead. I told her how I'd wanted to join her, then saw how wrapped up she was with this Paul, how I had hung back and followed her.

"Do you mean to tell me that you were spying on me?" Susan spat at me. "You thought I was having an affair with Paul?"

"Susan, I didn't know what to think," I said, and it even sounded lame to me.

"You don't trust me," she said, and now she sounded really hurt. "And all that bullshit about changing things to make me happy, all the attention, the flowers and all of that, is simply because you were jealous? Because you didn't trust me to say no to another man? I thought you knew me better than that."

"Susan, I meant all of that," I said. "But I saw your body language that night, and I knew from the way you were reacting that the door was open to him, even if you didn't realize it yourself. And I saw you in the hospital parking lot, when you gave him a kiss."

"That was a mistake," Susan said after a long second of realization, and a pained expression passed over her face. "I knew it as soon as I did it, but that doesn't mean I was going to sleep with him." 

"He certainly thought he was going to seduce you," I said. "You looked like you were having the time of your life that night, and I knew I had to change some things to make you fall in love with me again, to be the kind of husband you needed, or risk losing you."

"How do you know he thought he was going to seduce me?" she asked.

That's when I told her about the exchange I'd had with Paul and his friends earlier that evening, and when I told her what he'd said about her being a pushover, her jaw dropped and her eyes got wide.

"He said that? About me?" Susan whispered. 

"Quote, un-quote," I said, with emphasis.

"That son of a bitch," she spat.

You could see the steam rising from Susan's head as she whirled and walked back toward the hall. By a quirk of fortuitous timing, when she had just about reached the entrance, Paul and his friends came out. Paul still had an ice pack on his swollen right eye and he was holding his gut where I'd punched him. He wasn't ready for Hurricane Susan.

"You sorry bastard!" Susan yelled right in his face, and he looked up in shock. "Did you think I was just some conquest, some piece of meat, some trophy to hang up on your wall? I thought we were friends, but obviously I'm no friend to you. A pushover, huh? Well, push over this, asshole."

I couldn't help but laugh as my usually mild-mannered wife kneed poor Paul right in the nuts. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and I think she was going to kick him in the ribs when I managed to get over to her and pull her away.

"I think you guys had better take lover boy home," I said over my shoulder to his friends. "I think he's had a little too much fun for one night."

I was going to leave then, but something told me I'd better make sure Paul Lefleur understood how things were. I turned back and looked down at where he was still writhing on the ground in pain.

"One other thing, asshole," I said. "You got off light tonight. But if I ever hear about you sniffing around my wife again, your aching nuts will be the least of your problems. Is that clear?"

He just sort of nodded, and his friends just looked at me in disbelief as I took Susan by the hand and led her away. The car that had been blocking my way was gone when we got back to our car, so we got in and headed for home. We were both quiet, lost in thought, as I drove us home.

"You know, Dutch, you really need to do something about that temper of yours," Susan said after awhile.

"I'm sorry, Susan, but he pushed me too far," I said. "I held my temper as long as I could, but when he started coming between us, when he tried to push me away from you, I'd had enough."

"It is kind of nice to know that you'll fight for me," she said, after another short period of silence, and I looked over to see a small smile on her face.

"I love you too much not to," I said, and I couldn't help the emotion in my voice. "Daddy never recovered from Mom's death, and he was gone within 18 months. He was lost without her, and that's what I'd be without you. Hell, Susan, I know I'm an awful lot of trouble. I can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, I get mad at things, and I don't always do the right things when I should. I know you put up with a lot from me, and maybe I don't deserve you. But I couldn't bear to lose you. You're my life and I would be lost without you."

"I love you, Dutch McDonald," Susan said as she snuggled up to me. "Always have, always will. You are a pain in the ass, but you're my pain in the ass. And I do love you."

From where Susan was sitting, I had a good look down the front of her dress, at the swell of her tits, which I have always thought were just perfect. I felt my cock starting to stir, and I reached around her shoulder and slid my hand down her dress and cupped a breast.

Susan gave a sort of hiss as I rolled my index finger over her hard little nipple.

"Does the caveman think he's going to get some pussy, now that he's vanquished his mighty foe?" Susan said in a very ironic tone of voice.

"Sure would make me feel a lot better about tonight," I said as I continued to play with her nipple.

She just harrumphed, but her left hand dropped into my lap and she started to softly caress my cock through my slacks.

When we arrived home and I'd shut the car off, I pulled my wife to me and we kissed, hot and hard. I was still feeling the adrenaline rush from everything that had happened that night, and I was as horny as I had been in quite awhile.

Susan's hand kept rhythmically kneading my cock, which was threatening to put a hole in my slacks, and I cupped first one tit then the other as our lust began to take off.

When we came up for air, we both looked at each other, then we both chuckled.

"What am I going to do with you?" Susan asked rhetorically.

"Fuck me?" I said. 

"Yeah, I guess maybe I will," she said.

We barely took the time to greet Brooke and Keith, who were playing a video game, before we high-tailed it up to our bedroom.

I draped my jacket over the back of the chair that sits in front of Susan's vanity table, pulled off my tie, slid my shoes and socks off and started to unbutton my shirt. I looked over to see Susan striking a very sexy pose in just her strapless bra and panties.

Susan walked over to me and finished unbuttoning my shirt for me, and as I pulled it off, she bent down and licked, kissed and nibbled on my pebble-like nipples. She worked both of them while she unbuckled my belt, opened my slacks and let them fall to the floor.

My throbbing hard cock was poking through the hole in my boxer shorts as I pulled her up for a kiss of smoldering passion. As we kissed, I reached around and unhooked her bra, then slid my hands down and pushed her panties off her butt so that they fell in a satin pool at her feet.

I squeezed Susan's buns as I bent down and captured each nipple with my lips, and I was gratified to hear a hiss of passion escape her mouth. I could feel her soft hands pull down my shorts, and we stood together naked, ready for love.

I wanted something a little different, so I turned Susan around and guided her toward the bed so that she was on her hands and knees. I knelt behind her, swiped my fingers between her legs and discovered that she was very hot and very wet.

Susan groaned as I worked my fingers in her soupy pie, moving up to strum her clit, then I took some of her juice and slathered it all over my cock.

"Oh God, Dutch, fuck me!" Susan panted. "Get behind me and fuck me like I'm your bitch."

I sort of arched an eyebrow at that, because Susan has never really expressed any sort of desire to be dominated sexually, and, truthfully, I'm not sure I could do it even if I wanted to.

But I knew what she meant, and I was ready to give her what she wanted. I watched intently as Susan reached underneath her body and opened her pussy up with two fingers, inviting me to stick my cock in there and fuck her hard.

I gripped my cock at the base, pressed the head to her steamy slit and rammed it home with all the force I could muster.

We both groaned heavily as I filled my wife with my hard, angry meat. I grabbed her buttocks and in seconds I was happily fucking Susan from behind like, well, like a dog in heat.

I could see from behind that Susan's eyes were closed and her head was lolling around in mounting passion. She had fistfuls of the sheet clutched tightly in each hand as she worked her body in tandem with mine. Little mewling sounds escaped her lips as I bored my cock in and out, in and out.

For myself, I was grunting and groaning from the feeling of my wife's active pussy around my dick. I was churning relentlessly in Susan's twitching, velvety cunt, my body tensing to hold back the flood of cum that I had boiling in my balls.

I kept my cock working in a steady rhythm as I reached down and grabbed Susan's dangling tits, and as I squeezed her breast flesh, she stiffened, then went into a series of convulsions as her orgasm swept her away.

She cried out sharply from the intensity of her climax, and I couldn't hold it back any longer. With a gasping roar, I felt the crackling of my cum exploding through my shaft and out the end of my dick. 

I grabbed back onto Susan's butt as I pumped a huge load of cum deep in her clenching cunt. I just kept pushing as secondary cumshots spurted from my cock, until I was finally drained of every drop of semen I had to offer.

I pulled my cock from Susan's dilated pussy and we both slumped forward on the bed, as satisfied moans of pleasure filled the room.

We lay there for long moments in sweaty cum-soaked relief, our bodies molded together as if they were one.

Finally, I rolled onto my back and pulled Susan into the cradle of my arms.

"I'm sorry I got mad and ruined your party," I said softly.

"And I'm sorry I let things go with Paul like they did," Susan answered. "I guess I did lead him on a little more than I should have."

"Susan?" I said, in a kind of tentative tone of voice, and she looked up at me quizzically. "What would have happened if I hadn't seen you two that night? Was there any chance...?"

"I don't know, Dutch," she said as she rolled onto her back and looked off into space. "I do know I could never have cheated on you, if that's what you're asking. But something had to change. We couldn't go on like we were. We were drifting apart, and Paul saw an opening. Let me tell you, he was good. He knew just what words to say, just how to flatter me. He played off my frustrations, paid attention to me, listened to me. And that was a period when you weren't doing any of that. You were so wrapped up in work, in sports, in everything but me, and the kids, because they sensed it too."

"So what would you have done?" I asked.

"More than likely, I would have sat you down and we would have had the 'are you happy' conversation we had that night," Susan said. "And I would have made it very clear that our marriage was in real trouble, that there were others out there who were willing to give me the little bit of attention I needed. Dutch, I don't require a lot of maintenance, but I do require some, and I'd much prefer it to come from you."

"And?" I almost dreaded this part, but I had to hear it straight.

"If nothing changed, then we'd have probably separated, and who knows what would have happened after that," Susan said. "But I honestly don't think it would have come to that. You have some faults, but insensitivity isn't one of them. I know that, because you did do what you had to do. I knew it the very next day, when you gave up an afternoon of football to take me to the city. You knew, and, believe me, I appreciated it, a lot."

"Yeah, I did," I said, a little sheepishly. "You're the most important thing in my life, Susan, and I guess I just needed a wake-up call to remind me that I can't afford to take you for granted."

"Well, I needed one, too," Susan said. "I wasn't the easiest person to live with during that time, either. I let things go as much as you did, and I think when you started talking about making changes, I realized what I had with you and what I stood to lose if I didn't meet you halfway. It took both of us to let it get to that point, and it's taken both of us to start getting that spark back. I got a little selfish there, and I apologize."

We lay there letting our bodies drift into slumber. But I had one more thing to say before we fell asleep.

"Susan?" I asked. "If I ever let things get like that again, give me a sharp nudge in the ribs, will you?"

"I'll give you a swift kick in the ass, how about that?" she answered sleepily.

I just laughed as I reached over to switch off the bedside lamp before snuggling in with my wife.

Paul Lefleur didn't show up for work that Monday, then came in Tuesday with his letter of resignation, cleaned out his desk and was gone by noon. Last we heard, he'd moved out of state. 

Of course, Susan wasn't the only wife he'd gone after in the course of his employment at the hospital, and the husband of one of the others, one he'd successfully seduced, happened to be the son of a member of the hospital's board of directors. 

When Susan's boss informed this board member about the incident at the Christmas party, after calling Susan on Sunday to get her side of the story, the word was put out on Paul – quit or be fired. 

That Christmas was probably the nicest we've ever had as a family. There was a real sense that Susan and I had passed a major hurdle, that we had faced a potential crisis in our marriage, met it head on, and had emerged with our love stronger than ever.

Since then, I've followed through on the changes I made as a result of what I saw that fateful Friday night.

I still work as hard as ever, maybe harder, because at the moment I'm angling for critical promotion, but I've managed to put my job into perspective and worked at not letting it consume me the way it did before.

I've made lunch with Susan at the Y a daily habit and I've lost 20 pounds, I still send her flowers for no reason and we go out on dates two or three times a month, and we keep the drinking to a minimum. I hardly ever drink at home any more, and I may just quit altogether. Oh, and I am working at controlling my temper, trying not to let things get to me.

We both try to do a few more things with the kids than we did, and that includes getting more involved with our church and going as a family a lot more regularly than we did before.

As for our sex life, Susan and I have taken to embarrassing the kids ALL the time now, because we can't keep our hands off each other, and we spend at least two hours on Saturdays and Sundays with our bedroom door locked while we fuck our brains out. That's when we really stretch out and let our imaginations run wild. And, of course, we often put ourselves to sleep at night with some red-hot loving.

To sum it up, I've pulled the weeds and re-fertilized my garden, and the love that was always there between us is blooming brighter now than it ever has.




Jealousy



I'm not sure it all would have happened like that if I hadn't come home early from a business trip and seen my wife doing something I wasn't supposed to see, some place where I wasn't supposed to be.

You see, jealousy could have ruined us, but instead it made us stronger.



Jealousy



In disgust, Jeffrey Greenberg flung his copy of The Wall Street Journal to the rich oriental carpet in his opulent office on the 24th floor of the Nova Center building in Phoenix.

"That goddamn woman and her husband aren't going to draw a peaceful breath for the rest of their lives if I can help it," he snarled aloud. Striding to the open door of his mahogany paneled private suite, he glared at the closest of his several secretaries. "Get Aaron in here immediately," he barked and the startled young lady quickly reached for her phone. Jeffrey had just read the Journal article summarizing the speech of Ambassador Harrison Ward at last night's dinner meeting of the Council on Foreign Relations in New York City and he was fuming.

Retired since serving as one of Secretary of State Madelyn Albright's most trusted senior advisors during the last two years of the Clinton administration, Ambassador Ward's speech had expanded on his previously well-publicized criticism of the Bush administration in leading America into the Iraq war. A career diplomat for thirty-five years, Harrison had a distinguished career of success representing the United States in the Middle East, Africa and Asia before advancing to the highest levels of the State Department. His last overseas post before returning to Washington was that of Ambassador to one of the most critical Mideast countries at the time of the 1996 terrorist attack on the Khobar Towers in Saudi Arabia and the 1998 bombings of the Embassies in Kenya and Tanzania. Because of his unflattering opinion of current government policy in the Mideast, he had become a darling of the liberal establishment; ergo, one of the most reviled by conservatives. Right wing radio talk shows flailed him mercilessly. Among others, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh and Michael Medved vilified him as the secular personification of the Anti-Christ. Slobbering with rage, Michael Savage, nee Michael Weiner, venomously demanded his immediate imprisonment as a traitor followed by deportation. 

Following his retirement from the State Department, Harrison had been a visiting scholar at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, a frequent op-ed contributor to newspapers and the author of two books on America's diplomatic failures since 9/11 that ranked high on non-fiction bestseller lists. He was often a guest on television's Sunday morning Meet the Press and other political talk programs where he invariably bested his conservative opponents in debate. At sixty-one years of age, he had been supremely happy in a monogamous marriage to his beloved Mary Beth for twenty-nine years before losing her to a rare sarcoma cancer four and a half years earlier. Following prolonged grieving, he had married the prominent university educator, Dr. Carol Wilson-Greenberg six months ago. 

Carol was the divorced first wife of Jeffrey Greenberg and mother of three Greenberg children.

Jeffrey was chairman and CEO of several national healthcare companies and the son of Aaron Greenberg whose fortune came from his control of the national franchise chain of over 400 Kwik Kut hair salons. Upon earning his MBA at Stanford's Graduate School of Business at the age of twenty, he alertly predicted the growing importance of healthcare for the elderly as America's population aged. Just out of college and financed by his father, his first venture was the purchase of a decrepit senior retirement home in rural northern California. With nothing more than a new coat of paint on the pathetic cottages and a bit of external landscaping improvements, the facility was sold eight months later for a handsome profit. His father's investment was repaid with interest and his career choice was vindicated.

After several additional purchases, refurbishment and resale of small retirement homes, his first big coup was his formation of America's Hospices, a franchise concept that rapidly grew into more than forty care centers for the terminally ill in California, Nevada and Arizona. Over the years, the number of his acquisitions exploded through the aggressive use of debt and discreet bribes to government officials with regulatory authority over the healthcare industry. The final jewel in the crown of his empire was Nova Healthcare System, a network of 245 urgent care centers, assisted living homes and hospices nationwide. Some of the franchised facilities were adequately managed. Those that did not meet his demanding profit goals were ruthlessly disposed of. Settling on Phoenix as his corporate headquarters, Jeffrey's latest triumph was the Nova Center building, a recently completed 36-floor monument to his personal greed. Architects of stature despised the ostentatiousness of Nova Center's multi-colored rococo facade. Ever the showman, Jeffrey reveled in the building's ornate vulgarity, which was more in keeping with the sleaze of Las Vegas than a respected corporate campus. 

Almost all of his companies had at one time or another been the targets of investigation by state insurance regulators. The healthcare industry did not hold the professional competence of his many facilities in high regard but his competitors universally agreed that Jeffrey's aggressive advertising campaigns, which preyed on the financial fears of the aged, were spectacularly effective. His last major challenge was the allegations of Medicare fraud that surfaced three years ago. Instinctively combative, he loosed his army of attorneys and public relations flacks plus a few well-placed campaign donations in Washington and the matter was effectively contained. Many of the same tactics were employed to thwart last year's SEC investigations of Nova's off balance sheet subsidiary holdings. Despite his brash public demeanor, the recent backdrop of corporate scandals evidenced by the Enron, Arthur Andersen, WorldCom, Tyco and Adelphia experiences made Jeffrey realize that the SEC allegations posed a serious risk. Nevertheless, his aggressive counter-attack seemed to have quieted the situation and no indictments had been forthcoming. As insurance against a worst-case scenario, he had quietly placed considerable amounts of his personal wealth in private accounts in Switzerland, Luxembourg and the Caymans. Last year, he was able to obtain dual citizenship status with the State of Israel as a final precaution in case a self-imposed exile might prove desirable in the future. He remained deeply resentful of the cost that arrangement had required in overseas political contributions.   

Jeffrey's creed was to take no prisoners. In direct competitive business confrontations, he was never content to prevail. His life's goal was to brutally crush any opposition and, if possible, ruin the professional and personal reputations of his antagonists in the process. His view of the juridical process was that it can used as an effective offensive weapon and he became well known for bringing suits against his competitors for all types of alleged wrongdoing. His highly paid publicists were famous for their attack dog tactics in smearing the personal character of his real or imagined enemies.

Jeffrey Greenberg was not a nice person by anyone's definition. This characterization did not concern him in the least and he gloried in the knowledge that his reputation brought fear to many. His objective was total victory in every business and personal undertaking and the means used to reach his goals was irrelevant. Never an introspective person, he was totally unaware that his self-centered drive had become increasingly sociopathic through the years. He never gave a moment's thought to the well being of others or the ethics of his actions. His desires were his only priority. Once, early in his career before moving to Phoenix, the rabbi of an orthodox congregation in California diplomatically broached to him the spiritual value of an ethical life. Jeffrey's furious reaction to the suggestion that he meditate on the Nesane Tokef prayer of atonement between the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur holy days was to withdraw his young children from the congregation's Isaac Yaakov Elementary School and cancel further donations to that highly-regarded institution. When the rabbi had the temerity to recommend participation in the ritual of Kaparot, he ordered his staff to bar the cleric from visiting his office again.

Physically, Jeffrey was a small thin man with a receding hairline of dark curly hair and a light olive complexion given to a faint sheen of perspiration. His body was hirsute. He never weighed more than 155 pounds in his lifetime. Though not a sportsman, his energy level was incalculable and he frequently left colleagues and enemies alike exhausted in the wake of his normal sixty-hour workweek. His overbearing personality and rapid speech drained others ... "he sucks all the oxygen from the room," one exasperated employee once correctly commented.  He seldom hesitated to interrupt or talk over others while they were speaking. His incredible energy was clearly visible in an intense body language of quick movements and the never-ending tapping of his glistening $1,600 Armani shoes. He often leapt from his chair and paced the floor to make a point in discussion or to issue orders to subordinates. His dress was conflicting. In business, he invariably wore an impeccably tailored dark English suit, glistening white shirt and the most conservative of contrasting tie. At home and on vacation, he favored flamboyantly colored silk sport shirts, shorts, sunglasses and sandals. His vanity was vulgarly displayed in the most expensive jeweled wristwatches, a diamond-encrusted wedding band and an ostentatious platinum necklace chain that cost $18,000 after a negotiated discount at Tiffany's.

Behind his back, many sneered at Jeffrey's small-man disease and it was probably true that he suffered from a Napoleon complex. If a luckless employee overly argued a contradictory opinion, termination would frequently result. Usually, the individual involved remained silent and received a reasonably golden goodbye handshake. If Jeffrey was unduly angered by the person's attitude, the reward was sacking plus carefully placed rumors of professional incompetence or personal turpitude, a tactic designed to hinder future employment. Unquestioned personal loyalty was demanded of every Nova employee but they were compensated handsomely for their obsequiousness. Not surprisingly, his board of directors, senior executives and mid-management wannabes were a legion of sycophants.    

Jeffrey's personal life followed much the same course. He demanded unquestioning commitment from family and acquaintances. Those who bowed to his oppressive yoke enjoyed the fruits of a lavish life style. Those few who had the courage to rebel, even in the smallest detail, became targets of his long-lived wrath. One example was his first wife, Carol Wilson.

Carol was the only child of a somewhat pedantic English professor at the small and undistinguished Breckenridge College in downstate Monmouth, Illinois midway between Galesburg and Burlington, Iowa. Blessed with a remarkable intellect, Carol had formed definite goals early in life. Professionally, her objective was to become a nationally recognized leader in tertiary education. Personally, she developed a taste for the physical possessions of life that the modest salaries of academia could never provide. The solution to these conflicting objectives was found when a mutual friend introduced her to Jeffrey Greenberg while both were graduate students at Stanford. Jeffrey was a gifted student in his last year of the university's business school. Three years his senior in age, Carol was finalizing her doctoral dissertation in the School of Education. Carol was not at all physically attracted to this frenetic little man whose hair was already beginning to thin. Still, his supreme confidence and energy lent credence to the future business ambitions that he boasted of to anyone who would listen.

Initially, Carol was appalled at his gaucheness. However, there was no question that his unmitigated gall was an essential characteristic of a successful entrepreneur and she fully realized that entrepreneurism was the modern road to personal wealth and the privileges that provided. She mused. Maybe, just maybe, this frenzied young man might be worth a second thought. They would never have a mutuality of intellectual interests of course but let's face facts. My career is my first order of business and his family's money can grease the skids in the academic world as well as anywhere else. Musing further, she perceived that Jeffrey's gene pool had given him the promise of doing exceptionally well in business himself quite beyond family money. He's never said it but it's obvious his primary objective in life is to exceed his father's wealth. Yes, she coldly calculated, this little Jeffrey and I might make a pair at that.

Warming to the chase, Jeffrey was delighted to introduce this tall and self-assured patrician blonde as his personal trophy to his Sigma Alpha Mu fraternity brothers and he launched a targeted courtship. Carol forewent further thought of a love match and initiated her own campaign to win his affection. Ever promising but never delivering physical pleasures, her seduction of Jeffrey was masterful. Within a month, he was a mass of sexual frustration. 

The week after their joint graduation from Stanford, they eloped to Reno for a quick justice-of-the-peace marriage without family, friends or religious liturgy. The dismay this brought to the Episcopal Wilson and orthodox Greenberg families bothered neither Carol nor Jeffrey. The stage Carol had set was for a partnership of mutual material gain, not a warm, loving and sharing relationship.

While at Stanford, Carol had built on her teenage sexual experiences through several brief liaisons with student peers and a few more intense affairs with faculty members. One of the latter resulted in a rather ugly divorce action with her being named as correspondent in the suit brought by a vengeful wife. She was by no means virginal and was supremely confident that her highly skilled sexual techniques could manage Jeffrey's needs with ease. She was quite correct.

In the garish Lake Tahoe hotel selected by Jeffrey, their marriage was consummated. His physical energy evidenced itself in four missionary couplings during the night, none of which lasted more than ten minutes. With no more than cursory foreplay, Carol experienced considerable personal discomfort. She had a pang of pity for the ineptness of her husband and attempted to slow his brutish mountings but his premature climaxes defeated her best efforts. Carol came nowhere close to satisfaction that night. So this is what the physical side of marriage to Jeffrey Greenberg is going to be, she contemplated. I should have imagined as much. Dozing fitfully, she was awakened repeatedly to receive another of his inelegant approaches or listen to his unending descriptions of future business plans.

       

Eleven months into their marriage, a son, Aaron, was born who proved to be a loyal supporter of his father during and after his parents' acrimonious divorce eight years later. Named for his paternal grandfather, Aaron followed his father's lead in attending attended Stanford. Joining Nova Healthcare immediately after graduation, his personality became even more abrasive than that of his famous father. He held most of his colleagues in disdain and every Nova employee feared him. He became his father's primary source of information on executive gossip and who could be trusted. His negative opinion frequently led to an individual's unexpected departure. 

Sixteen months later, Jeffrey and Carol's second son David appeared and he was Aaron's diametric opposite. A sensitive but assertive boy, he dramatically announced his homosexuality at age fifteen and Jeffrey emotionally shunned him from that moment on. Now a family tradition, he too graduated from Stanford and in his mid twenties became the nationally prominent executive director of a large nonprofit gay organization in Seattle. Through the years, David remained an embarrassment to his father who never mentioned his existence socially or in business. He became a treasured son to Carol who deeply respected his commitment to his chosen lifestyle, despite her own total heterosexuality.

Fourteen months after David, daughter Sarah arrived. Now twenty-three and a Yale law student, Sarah was a dedicated social liberal whose opinions closely paralleled those of her mother and her mother's new husband, Ambassador Ward. Sarah's last meeting with her father had been while he was visiting New Haven and it was a catastrophe. With two huge Bombay gin martinis before dinner and almost a full bottle of expensive pinot noir under his belt, Jeffrey launched a diatribe against her traitorous left wing socialist views and the perverted lifestyle of her college friends. Sarah attempted to answer with her own reasoned but opposing beliefs, and that led to a furious outburst by her father. Talking loudly over his daughter, he lost control of himself, threw his napkin on the floor and stalked out of the restaurant leaving her alone under the embarrassed glances of the surrounding diners. Taking a sip of her own drink, she reddened in anger at his boorish but all too typical behavior. The only redeeming virtue of the evening was that her father's current wife, an overdressed and affected English woman four years Sarah's senior in age, wasn't there to gloat over her humiliated stepdaughter. Later that night she called her mother in Washington to describe the incident and vow that she never wanted to see Jeffrey again. Once again, Carol was placed in the awkward position of placating her daughter while trying not to condemn her father.

Many times through the years, Carol thought of her marriage to Jeffrey with an ambivalent conclusion. He was unquestionably gauche and embarrassing in social situations. She was often repulsed by his violent sexual demands that almost always left her unsatisfied, nothing more than a chattel to satisfy his immediate need. Still, it was undeniable that his phenomenal business success had indeed provided the many advantages of wealth that she had desired from childhood. Their three children were a mixed blessing. David and Sarah bonded wonderfully with their mother and Carol loved them to the depth of her being. Aaron? Well, Aaron so reflected his father's negative characteristics that she had to admit he had become lost to her emotionally and that was a sad reality. Despite an unfulfilled marriage, Carol remained staunchly faithful to her husband and firmly rejected many opportunities to dally with desirable and highly placed men of business, government, the professions and academia. She took perverse pleasure in the knowledge that whatever her shortcomings, she had never betrayed her marriage vows. The same was not true of Jeffrey.  

During her first pregnancy, Carol became painfully aware of her husband's infidelity. Short trysts became long-lived affairs that Jeffrey skirted but never fully denied. His libido was only a part, and a small part at that, of his philandering. Far more important was the ego enhancement he gained from being seen with young women of beauty and there were many available to share his attention and wealth. Deeply hurt by his increasingly open boasts of conquest, Carol began to regret her own faithfulness as three children were issued from their unpleasant couplings.

Thoroughly disillusioned with her husband and everything he represented, Carol sued for divorce in the eighth year of the marriage. Son Aaron was then seven, David five and daughter Sarah four. The divorce action was based on well-proven charges of Jeffrey's numerous adulteries. His army of attorneys fought hard and the acrimony of the suit was well publicized in the society pages of the Phoenix papers. The one grievous error Jeffrey had made, never to be repeated, was that in his youthful inexperience he had neglected to require a prenuptial agreement. Following her successful action, Carol found herself to be a very wealthy divorcee and the subsequent growth of her acquired equity shares in Epic Healthcare multiplied the value of her large cash settlement many times over the years. The settlement provided that Aaron would remain with his father while she gained custody of David and Sarah. Although visitation privileges were generous, the division of custody well suited the individual wishes of both parents and the children. All of the children were placed in the most expensive of private boarding schools until they reached college age. During their few overlapping undergraduate years at Stanford, David and Sarah saw each other frequently but almost never associated with Aaron.  




Jealousy



After the divorce, Carol was free to pursue her professional goal of academic leadership. Adopting her maiden name, Dr. Carol Wilson advanced rapidly until being named the first female dean of students at a large west coast state university. Jeffrey went on to an ultimate total of four marriages, the latest to the ostentatious daughter of a well-known British real estate tycoon whose vulgar, self-centered personality exceeded his own, however improbable that may be.

Carol's recent marriage to Ambassador Harrison Ward had a unique history.

For twenty-three years preceding his death, Harrison's father had been the well-liked Rector of All Saints Episcopal Church in Monmouth, Illinois, the same small town location shared with Professor Wilson and his family. In addition to their common faith, The Reverend Ward and Professor Wilson shared many intellectual interests. The two became close personal friends and their friendship grew to include the members of both families. As a tenured professor of English literature and an Episcopal priest, neither were men of financial means. The bonding of the families became even closer as their only children, Carol Wilson and Harrison Ward, were born within three months of each other.

As classmates in the local public school system from kindergarten through high school, Carol and Harrison were distinguished students and both were active in many extracurricular activities. Harrison captained the high school basketball team when it advanced to the quarterfinals of the state tournament in his senior year before bowing to the powerhouse of Dubois High School from Chicago's south side. Carol led Monmouth High School's debating team to first place in that year's statewide tournament in the capitol of Springfield. Both were members of the National Honor Society and graduated with near perfect grade point averages. Their superior academic and extracurricular records brought generous scholarship offers from several prestigious universities to both of them. With her ambition to become a leader in higher education, Carol opted to attend Stanford while Harrison was confident that his acceptance at Harvard would lead to a diplomatic career in government.

Both were physically attractive. Carol was tall, almost statuesque. An assertive young woman with dark blonde hair, she had a strong stride and forceful body language that exuded confidence. Over six feet, Harrison's face was long and craggy with an overly large nose. His face, heavy eyebrows and thick thatch of unruly dark hair gave him an appearance not unlike a young Abraham Lincoln. Indeed, he had once played that role in a high school play. He could not be described as handsome but somehow his appearance was imposing in a youthful way that was memorable. His wiry muscular frame was the quintessence of teenage masculinity.

Carol was always in demand socially and she had an almost magical ability not to break hearts as she easily moved from boy friend to boy friend throughout high school. Many of her female classmates were jealous of her unconscious skill in attracting the most eligible boys but she was indifferent to the unflattering gossip of the less talented girls. With equal grace, Harrison was not without success in late evening tussles in parked cars but was careful not to sow his oats in such a way that teenage pregnancies might result.

Having spent much of their childhood years in each other's homes as their parents visited back and forth, Carol and Harrison remained virtually unconscious of the other's physical appeal until almost all of their high school days had passed. In their senior year, an epiphany of awareness occurred that all too quickly led to their first sexual experience. In a frenzy to make up for lost time, the two teenagers were enthralled with the mysteries of their bodies. Finding hidden locations where they could pleasure each other without interruption was a challenge in their small rural town. Finally, a pristine knoll hidden by a copse of willow trees was found along Cedar Creek five miles away that well served their needs. For use during the coldest weather, they pooled their part-time job earnings to purchase an oversized arctic sleeping bag. When the time finally came to leave Monmouth for college, they flipped a coin to decide who would inherit the frequently used item as a souvenir. Harrison won and Carol laughingly made him promise to use it well with the Wellesley girls that he was sure to meet at Harvard.    

While enthralling, their youthful encounters did not lead to any expectation of a continuing bond by either of them. They both maturely recognized that college and the beginning of a career in their chosen fields lay ahead and prevented a committed relationship. In late August before leaving for their first year at college, Harrison splurged by renting a room in the Best Western motel in nearby Galesburg. A bittersweet afternoon of lust brought their adolescent liaisons to a close. With a few tears of regret, the warm memories of their experiences were tucked away, not to be revived for over four decades.

Following their respective university educations, Carol married Jeffrey Greenberg and bore him three children before their divorce and her climb to a position of national prominence as a university educator. As expected, Harrison passed the State Department entrance examination with ease and started a slow ascension toward the highest diplomatic ranks. At age twenty-seven, he married the former Mary Beth Denton of Swarthmore, Pennsylvania, a Wellesley graduate he had met while at Harvard. Following a memorably successful marriage blessed with two sons, Mary Beth was diagnosed with liposarcoma cancer and painfully lingered for two years before her death ten months short of their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Harrison grieved incessantly for months before a skilled therapist guided him to the necessary skills of coping with life without the wife that he had adored for so long.

While they never had an opportunity to see each other after high school, the occasional publicity describing their careers kept both Carol and Harrison reasonably aware of each other's professional accomplishments. Harrison showed Mary Beth all of the reports he saw about Carol and Carol occasionally mentioned Harrison to her husband, usually to his snort of derision about pointy-headed diplomats in striped trousers. After her divorce, Carol casually monitored Harrison's many diplomatic achievements through newspaper articles and his frequent television appearances. She was pained to learn of his wife's passing and sent him a deeply sincere letter of sympathy on that occasion.

Carol did not remarry after her divorce but found ample opportunities to enjoy several short-lived mature relationships founded on mutual professional respect and personal friendship. The companionship and sexual pleasures of those relationships were unquestionably enjoyable but never led to anything more than an affectionate involvement. Once, a prominent west coast industrialist became smitten with her charm and proposed to divorce his wife of over twenty years to enable their marriage. Complimented, Carol did not reciprocate the depth of his feelings. Also, she was unwilling to inflect the pain of her own divorce on the man's wife whom she knew socially. With her usual deft diplomacy, she skillfully declined the proposal and ended the affair amicably.

Occasionally, when she was not in a current personal relationship, Carol retained the services of an expensive escort service recommended by the wife of a wealthy philanthropist as a source of experienced companions to satisfy her physical needs without complications. Discreetly meeting young men with such unlikely names as François, Piet and Rogelio to explore her most erotic fantasies, she always emerged physically exhilarated but with little thought of her partner's well being. After all, she rationalized, these men are nothing more than skilled tradesmen dedicated to serving their client's desires. Once, while catching her breath after an exhausting session with a German-speaking companion named Konrad, she smiled to herself. If only Jeffrey Greenberg could have matched ten per cent of this athlete's abilities, I might have considered continuing our marriage. I'm afraid poor little Jeff would be well advised never to enter into a sexual contest with any of my friends from the escort service. Where in the world do they find such men? They're always ready and it seems like they never need to rest! There must be a factory for sexual robots somewhere! I wonder if I could buy some stock in it?

Three years after his wife's cancer death, Harrison was scheduled to be one of many speakers at a three-day conference co-sponsored by the Council on Foreign Relations and the graduate school of government at Carol's university on the west coast. With the objective of bringing prominent speakers to cities beyond the eastern seaboard, the popular CFR series had featured numerous American political personalities, diplomats and foreign heads of state. Now available for personal appearances following his retirement from government service, Harrison's prominence commanded mid five-figure fees for a single speech and six-figures for participating in multi-day conferences such as this one. Between his speaking engagements, book sales and frequent television appearances, Harrison's net worth had rapidly expanded.

As dean of students, Carol could have manipulated any role in the conference she wished but she decided to forego active participation. Of course she intended to attend all of Harrison's presentations to observe her old friend in action and would be obliged to host one of the evening receptions. Tantalizing herself, she reminisced. It's been four decades since I last saw him face-to-face ... good heavens, forty-two years if my arithmetic is correct! My God, we're sixty now, where has the time gone? I wonder how he's changed since Monmouth High School? She continued her reverie. How have I changed? Stroking her soft blonde hair, she reflected. These gray hairs certainly won't impress him, I'd better get a rinse ... but who's thinking of impressing anyone? He's just an old friend ... well, maybe a flame from the past but nothing more. Still, it'll be good to see him and to bring each other up-to-date on our children.

Harrison was totally aware of Carol's prominent position with the university and her divorce of several years ago. Like her, he was looking forward to their September of life reunion during the conference. He reflected. So many miles have gone by and so many bridges have been crossed since our childhood. A few successes, so many failures. So many dreams still unfulfilled. Unconsciously drawing in his stomach, he had a fleeting moment of apprehension about his appearance and what Carol's reaction to him would be. Come on, guy. This is nothing more than seeing an old flame, nothing more. Despite his words, Harrison enjoyed a giddy flush that reddened his face and momentarily stirred his groin. "Calm down my beloved," he whispered a mantra of fidelity to his deceased Mary Beth, "I'm not about to jump into another woman's bed." How wrong he was.

Given the tense geopolitical situation in the Mideast, there was an overflow audience of attendees for the conference that exceeded the expectations of both the CFR and the university. With the speakers reflecting many gradients of the political spectrum, media coverage was intense. Thankfully, the expected student protests failed to materialize and the three days passed without incident.

Carol maneuvered her hosting responsibilities to the second night's reception and was free to simply be one of the crowd at the opening night gala. Quickly passing along the greeting line of conference speakers, she finally arrived at Harrison's position as he was exchanging a few words with the state's junior senator, a staunch supporter of the administration's position on Iraq. "Hello again Mr. Ambassador," she softly said.

Although he expected to run across Carol sometime during the conference, Harrison was momentarily tongue-tied as he turned to see her, a most unusual situation for the experienced diplomat. "Uh ... Dr. Wilson ... I mean Dr. Wilson-Greenberg ... how good to see you here," he stammered. "What name do you go by these days anyway?" Reddening, he stumbled on, "Of course I mean it's good to see you here, where else would I mean ... this is your university after all, you wouldn't be anywhere else, would you?"

Rescuing her old friend from his embarrassment with an engaging smile, Carol bantered back, "You're a history buff Harrison so you'll remember that Abe Lincoln was so shy that he mumbled incoherently whenever he met a beautiful women. I'll take it as a compliment that you're in your Lincoln mode tonight." Leaning closer, she continued, "Do you think I could impose on you for few minutes of your valuable time to share a glass of our state's great wine after you're finished with this frightful greeting line?" Accepting his broad smile as an acceptance, she started to move to the next person in the receiving line before turning back for a final moment. "And I think Carol would be a fine name for you to call me." Smiling, she continued along the line of dignitaries before retiring to the wine bar to wait for him.

Holding up a glass of merlot for him as a more relaxed greeting, Carol beamed as Harrison weaved his way through the throng to join her. Accepting the glass, he grinned. "Thank you, Carol. Wow, this crowd is unbelievable." Glancing around the packed reception hall, she answered, "Well, I'm sure the CFR warned you about the hospitality of our university, but I do agree this is a rather fantastic turn-out. And you handled the opposition masterfully during your presentation ... Harrison, you're nothing short of awe-inspiring! I think I'll set up a campus fan club for you." Quietly, she leaned closer and whispered, "You've come a long way from Monmouth, Illinois my dear and I'm proud of you!"

Taking a sip from his glass, Harrison smiled back. "I'd say you're the one who has traveled far and I want to reciprocate my pride of you. You're a true gift to the academic world, Carol ... but we both knew you would be, didn't we?" Now that mutual compliments had been exchanged, he gazed fondly at his old friend. "And may I add that you look stunning tonight? We can't fib about our age to each other can we? The years have been kind to you, far kinder than to me." 

"Oh come now, I can see a few wrinkles and a gray hair or two that weren't there in high school, but you're still the same handsome teenager I remember," Carol diplomatically teased before thinking, God, how I remember that young man ... what would life have been if we hadn't drifted apart so quickly and so far? Oh well, the past is the past and can never be repeated, regardless of what we might wish.

They broke their reverie to describe their children and the accomplishments that made them so special to their parents but Harrison sensed her comments about son Aaron were superficial at best. A few minutes were spent on Carol's hopes for the continuation of a political speaking program next year at the university similar to this week's conference. He described his hectic schedule of personal appearances. When the conversation paused for a moment, Carol tenderly touched his hand. "Harrison, I hope you will accept my deepest sympathy on the loss of your Mary Beth. The pain of her illness must have been unbearable for you. I'm so very sorry, truly I am."

Harrison sighed. "Thank you, Carol. I guess I just collapsed into myself after her passing ... but her time had come and her suffering was finally over, thank God. I was emotionally numb for months afterward. Finally, I was fortunate to be introduced to a very talented therapist who helped me come to grips with my grieving. I guess you could say that he rescued me. He helped me realize that while Mary Beth was my past, the future belongs to me and whatever I make of it. I still shed a tear from time to time, but one strange thing is that each day her face is less clear to me. Her appearance is fading from my memory and I can't understand why. We were so close for so long that I thought I'd remember what she looked like for the rest of my life. But that's not the case."

"You're recovering, Harrison, just like a surgery patient recovers," Carol replied. "The scar will be with you forever, but underneath the scar the body heals itself in time. Just give yourself all of the time you need. You have so much to give to the world. Try to free yourself from the past so others can receive your gifts." Seriously, she added, "Have you had an opportunity to meet any women socially in Washington? Anybody that might get you away from work and be with friends again? It's been over three years since you lost Mary Beth. It's time for you to take everyone's advice and move back into the world." As she expressed her compassion for this still grieving man, an intriguing thought entered her mind. Could I possibly be the instrument of his emotional rebirth?

Their meeting at a university conference forty-two years after their teen-age farewell launched a new journey for them both. Soon the ravages of age disappeared and they were young again in each other's eyes. Carol was ravishingly beautiful to Harrison and Harrison was the most handsome man in the world to Carol. They reveled in the ease of their conversation. Both sensed a twinge of physical desire that was pleasurable. They made a date to meet the next morning at the campus Starbucks for coffee before the start of the day's conference events. Carol drove Harrison back to his hotel and she wished him success for the rest of the conference with a soft hug of affection. Hesitating a moment, he mentioned that he would be speaking at a conference sponsored by the San Francisco Chronicle in three weeks time and asked if her university duties could possibly allow them to meet in the Bay Area. Drawing her BlackBerry from the depths of her purse, Carol reviewed her schedule. She shuddered when she realized just how much juggling would be needed but never mind that now. Smiling brightly, she answered, "Of course I can easily do that Harrison. I'd love to see you again in three weeks."

Whistling absently as the sole passenger in the elevator to his floor in the hotel, Harrison fantasized. "Mmmm ... I wonder ... maybe, just maybe, I can talk Carol into share a few private hours with me in San Francisco." He slipped deeper into fantasy and was pleasantly surprised to find himself becoming erect.

The grandeur of the turn of the century Saint Francis Hotel in San Francisco was an unparalleled venue for the rebirth of their friendship. The luxurious suite that the newspaper had provided as the host of Harrison's speaking appearance overlooked the romantic galaxy of lights that was Union Square.

Due to heavy rain, Carol's arriving flight at San Francisco International was forty minutes late that evening and they taxied hurriedly to reach Alioto's on the wharf before it closed. Over a seafood dinner and light wine, they continued the conversation started at the conference three weeks earlier. After laughing over the academic politics that was so much a part of Carol's life, Harrison described the demands of his busy travel schedule from one engagement to the next. Deferring intimate talk about their respective families for a later time, he expanded on his views of the Mideast situation that greatly illuminated her geopolitical understanding. Well fed and happily content to be in each other's company, dinner came to a reluctant end and they held hands while continuing to chat in the taxi that drove them to the Saint Francis.

Carol knew Harrison was staying at the Saint Francis but neither had said a word about where she would spend the night. Confidently assuming they would share his suite, she handed her overnight bag to him to carry as they left the taxi and strolled through the lobby. Neither said a word as the elevator door closed quietly behind them.




Jealousy



In the suite, Harrison dropped Carol's travel bag on the expensive carpet and faced her. For a tantalizing moment, they stood silently gazing at each other in the subdued light of the luxurious sitting room. Without a word, they moved together, embraced and gently kissed. He held her face between his hands and treasured the classic beauty of his old friend. They kissed again, this time more insistently. Time ceased to have meaning. Burying his face in her dark golden hair, he inhaled her light floral perfume and drew her closer until their bodies molded intimately. Carol clearly felt his expanding need and responded by gently thrusting her pelvis forward to nestle against him, an erotic gesture that unambiguously signaled acceptance. They turned toward the bedroom.

Silently, they worshiped their bodies as each helped the other shed their clothes piece by piece. There was no hesitation. There was no shyness. The memory of that last teenage afternoon in a modest motel room in Galesburg so many years ago was fresh in both of their minds. Their mature bodies were softer now. Carol's full breasts had become slightly pendulous. Harrison's stomach lacked the defined muscles of his youth. Their passion was no less strong than it had been more than four decades earlier. There was no haste as he languidly readied her for his entry by delicately kissing her throat and caressing her soft breasts. He teased her swollen nipples between his lips. He lovingly kissed her abdomen and marveled at its firmness with only the faintest of stretch lines testifying to her three childbirths. His kisses lingered over her slowly opening thighs before turning to her welcoming moistness. She clasped his head and drew him closely into her. For many minutes he tasted her deeply and she writhed in delight. The two caring adults of sixty years joined perfectly and shared themselves as lovers have for millenniums. They showered their bodies with attention, both wanting to satisfy the other's lust before attaining their own release. Harrison raised himself and Carol joyously welcomed the strength of his penetration. Tender deep thrusts and slow withdrawals replaced the aggressive thrashing of youth and he relished the dark musky scent that confirmed her arousal. They approached petite mort with unhurried anticipation. In the throes of a prolonged orgasm, Carol grasped at his shoulders, rolled her head and whimpered. Moments later, Harrison grimaced. His body tensed and he gasped as he burst.

Later, with Carol's head on his naked stomach and her soft golden hair splayed over his chest, the afterglow of their joining revived their spirits. They exchanged sighs of contentment. She tenderly held and kissed his flaccid maleness and he stroked her back with the same gentleness. They had found love and reveled in its discovery before drifting into a fulfilled sleep.

In the soft light of the morning they pleasured each other again, unmindful of the pelting rain that brought a second wet day to the Bay Area. Reassured of his affection by another shuttering climax, Carol turned on her side toward him, brushed the dark hair from his forehead and teased his chest for a moment with her fingers. Propping her head in her open palm she gazed fondly at his unhandsome face and smiled. "I have a confession to make. I didn't book a room for myself because I knew we were going to share each other from the moment I saw you at the conference ... I just didn't know it would be so soon ... and so incredibly perfect! Maybe it's a good thing that we drifted apart after high school. Being with you again is like discovering sex for the very first time! It took forty years but now you have a scheming woman on your hands Harrison. You're my target so be on your guard because I'm coming after you with all talons bared ... and I'm not going to let you escape from me again!" Grinning silently, he squeezed her shoulder as she continued. "Last week I was building up my nerve for this trip and I even bought a new negligee to vamp you with ... it's absolutely scandalous! Remind me to wear it for you tonight." Seductive bedclothes had not been a priority item for the resurrection of their affection.

Events moved rapidly. Despite Harrison's harried schedule and Carol's administrative responsibilities at the university, they found time to meet and love each other during his speaking trips to Chicago, Minneapolis, Denver and Atlanta. To avoid the remote possibility of unexpectedly running across Jeffrey or her son Aaron, Carol did not join him for his presentation in Phoenix. Harrison was of course fully aware of Mr. Greenberg's unappealing business and personal reputation, how could he not be from the frequent press reports? Carol openly described the pain of that marriage and the humiliation of Jeffrey's endless philandering. In tears, she rued her youthful weakness in being drawn to his wealth by her own immature greed for the privileges money could bring. She told him of her abiding love for David and Sarah and her despair over having lost Aaron to his father's influence. Harrison described his pride in his two adult sons, both of whom were married with small children. His eldest was a mid level State Department officer living in suburban Virginia. The younger, a Naval Academy graduate, commanded a Marine rifle company in Iraq.

Their positions had become reversed. Carol had successfully comforted Harrison's heartbreaking pain over the loss of his dearly loved Mary Beth. Now it was his turn to rescue this wonderful woman from the emotional scars of her past mistakes. Each day they grew into closer harmony. Mary Beth faded into a cherished soft memory for Harrison and Carol was born into a new life free of malignant memories. Together they closed the book of the past. The future was theirs to share.

They married exactly six months less one day after they rediscovered their love in San Francisco. All of their children save two served at their wedding in the National Cathedral in Washington. The wedding attracted considerable media attention and the cathedral's side altar room reserved for the ceremony was crowded with guests from the business, academic and government worlds. Harrison's son in Iraq was unable to secure leave for the wedding, as his unit was deeply involved in the continued fighting in and around Ramadi. In Phoenix, Carol's son Aaron petulantly refused to attend the ceremony or any of the several receptions and parties.

The forgotten man, Jeffrey Greenberg, silently scowled and pledged revenge. That woman will never escape me, he darkly promised himself.

Resigning her deanship at the university, Carol agreed to continue in a consulting capacity that would require several days each month in residence on the west coast plus her availability for long distance assistance on specific administrative issues via phone, email and fax. Harrison reduced his heavy schedule of speaking engagements for a few months to enjoy his newly married bliss but continued to be much in demand. Soon his schedule was as busy as ever but now he had a magnificent new bride to accompany him on his travels.

The two settled into Harrison's comfortable but relatively modest town home on Dumbarton Street in Washington's historic Georgetown district. Having had the good fortune to discover this delightful century-old Edwardian house with its small rear garden at an affordable price while just starting his State Department career thirty years ago, it soon blossomed with Carol's decorating touches. Neither Harrison's political prominence nor Carol's academic reputation could be denied and their evenings became full with social invitations from the leaders of Washington's liberal establishment. "Don't ever refer to them as Eastern elitists or you'll have every right wing radio kook in America crucifying us," he pleaded. None of the talk shows needed that advice and he continued to be flayed as a Marxist-Leninist blight on everything that was patriotic.

The loneliness of the past several years disappeared in a blaze of physical fascination for both of the middle-aged newlyweds. They joked over their long ago need for the sleeping bag along Cedar Creek. Carol asked if he ever used it to entertain the Wellesley girls as she had urged and he admitted to its occasional service. They experimented with a few of what Carol called New Age sexual positions that would have been outrageous in their youth before realizing such exertions should better be left to their children. Returning to somewhat more staid but totally rewarding coupling, their libidos were more than satisfied as they discovered the joy of a quiet mature passion that lasted for hours before, during and after exquisite climaxes. Never had Carol experienced the depth of loving desire that was Harrison's gift to her, certainly not with the frenetic Jeffrey Greenberg. For years, Harrison had enjoyed a similar intensity of feelings with Mary Beth but his new love was no less rewarding. Few were the nights they didn't enjoy the pleasures they freely offered each other. Carol's contentment was clearly evident to their friends in her slightly flushed complexion and sparkling clear eyes. Harrison walked with a new bounce. Always the pragmatist, he had his doctor prescribe a supply of Viagara as insurance against the fatigue of a busy day but the medication was seldom needed. They laughed over a comical TV commercial for a competitive male stimulant featuring a rather idiotic-looking "Bob" and his unmistakably well-serviced wife ... "I wonder if we look that obvious?" they asked each other.

For several months one argument, and only one, plagued them. Before their marriage, they fully disclosed their respective financial positions to each other and to their lawyers and money managers. Although Harrison's recent earning power had generated a net worth approaching two million dollars excluding the value of the Dumbarton Street house, Carol's finances dwarfed his by almost twenty-fold. Again, the shadow of Jeffrey Greenberg darkened their home as virtually every cent of her wealth came from her long-ago divorce settlement and the subsequent compounded growth of her Nova Healthcare stock. Despite his urbane sophistication, Harrison resented the source of her money and he implored her to prepare a nuptial agreement to avoid the appearance he was dependent on her wealth. In the security of her love, Carol adamantly and repeatedly refused his request despite her lawyers' advice to the contrary. Finally, a compromise of sorts was reached. Carol kept her wealth in her name and willed its inheritance to her children only while Harrison did the same with his money. As a condition for this compromise, Carol demanded the right to use her funds for a major renovation of their Georgetown home and to buy a retirement cottage on Cape Cod. Additionally, she insisted on financing at least one lavish foreign vacation trip for them each year, new cars and a few other luxuries. Grumbling that he felt like a kept man, Harrison had no real alternative but to accept her largesse. Once he joked that John Kerry must have felt the same when he took the wealthy but cheeky Teresa Heinz as his bride. One of Carol's weaknesses was that she thoroughly enjoyed entertaining and she usually paid for their frequent at-home parties in spite of his complaints. When his protests grew too vocal to ignore, she quieted them with a comforting sexual treat that turned him into a most agreeable spouse.

Carol had no desire to control her husband through money as Jeffrey had controlled her and Harrison's strength of character prevented him from becoming subservient in any way. Theirs was a marriage of love and they vowed to keep it that way forever.

Shortly after their marriage, Jeffrey Greenberg read the Ambassador's two books and occasionally watched his Sunday morning television appearances for no reason other than curiosity. Their political positions were diametrically opposite and he grew to loath Harrison's low opinion of the administration's Mideast policies as an expression of traitorous sedition against President George W. Bush and his War on Terrorism. Beyond the anathema of political thought that Ambassador Ward represented, Jeffrey's festering sexual jealousy grew over this lowborn elitist who was undoubtedly enjoying the undeniable charms of his first wife in bed. "Jesus H. Christ," he exploded to his son Aaron. "A preacher's son no less who never had a pot to piss in is wallowing in my money! And from what the papers say, that stuck-up bitch wife of his is providing a damn soft life for him with all of their parties. It's enough to make me puke. I'm sorry for you Aaron. She's your mother but she did everything she could to poison our marriage ... her, not me! Always looking down that straight Roman nose of hers at me like I was some kind of a garden slug. Forever parading her university friends and their oh-so-superior intellectualism in front of me. It was sickening. God, I should have dumped her as soon as you were born."

Aaron was not insensitive to his father's pitiful plea for sympathy. Neither was he stupid. He had long realized his parents were never well suited but he refrained from voicing his opinion. "Dad, I know your marriage was hell for you and probably for Mom as well but it's time to put it behind you." To turn his father away from his dark memories of Carol and return to the present, he continued. "Remember, you have a company to run and you need a clear head for that ... one thing that's coming up immediately is our suit against Community Health and we're both scheduled to sit for depositions next week. Let's have a father-son drink together and review again just what we're going to say." Even as he spoke, a dark premonition of events to come troubled Aaron.

Fueled by his son's less than enthusiastic support, his jealousy of Carol's new husband, her obvious contempt for him and his rage over the divorce settlement forced on him by his own folly in not having a prenup combined to drive Jeffrey into a deep funk. His current wife was in London visiting her family and later that night he started to plot in solitude. Revenge was going to be his!

The next morning in the office at his usual starting time of six thirty, Jeffrey cancelled his earliest meeting of the day and summoned his chief public relations manager for the first of what became a series of planning sessions to destroy the reputations of Ambassador and Mrs. Ward. The members of the cabal soon grew to include his top in-house counsel, the senior partner of his law firm in Phoenix and managing partner of the same firm's Washington office, the president of Nova's public relations consultants and two trusted government lobbyists. "Murder," Jeffrey announced. "We're going to kill the character of His Majesty Harrison Ward and show that patrician spouse of his to be the slut-bitch she really is!" For the first time since Carol and Harrison's marriage, Jeffrey felt energized ... he was alive!

Son Aaron sat in a few of the meetings and continued to be disturbed by the depth of his father's hatred and how far he was apparently willing to go to smear his mother and her new husband. I hope Dad can control this rage that's consuming him, he worried. I've never seen him this angry before and it's not healthy for him or me or the company. He's becoming obsessed and this whole ugly business is starting to take on a life of its own that can bring a lot of people down. Despite his increasing anxiety, Aaron remained silent and did nothing to deflect the course of action that Jeffrey had set in motion. 

An early decision of the plotters was to retain the services of The Gunderson Group, a shadowy investigative firm with global connections. Gunderson's charter was simple: track every day of Harrison Ward's life and find some personal misstep that could be used to stain his character. Then do the same thing for his wife from the moment of her divorce to yesterday ... "No, goddamn it! Not just through yesterday. Include today too," Jeffrey screamed!

Little personal dirt could be discovered about the Ambassador. The best Gunderson could uncover were fifteen-year-old rumors of an unproven dalliance with the wife of a senior Syrian diplomat while Harrison was posted to the Embassy in Damascus. Unfortunately, the woman had died from quite natural causes four years later, leaving a distraught husband and two teenage children. "I don't give a shit if she's living or dead," Jeffrey exploded. "Invent an affair between them if you have to... just make it look so goddamn blatant that it endangered U.S. relations with Syria. And get moving on the financial angle. If you can't find some example of money laundering, invent something there too ... come on, use your imagination. What the hell do you think I'm paying you for? I said murder and that's exactly what I meant ... I'm going to kill that SOB's reputation and his wife's too!"

Through a few quiet words to selected members of the right wing media, the rumors of the old Damascus romance were floated. The few press comments that resulted in Rupert Murdock's newspapers were quickly refuted by the respected past Ambassador to Syria, now retired. The mainstream broadcast and print media ignored the rumors and no one of consequence paid attention to this out-of-date information, true or not. Even Ralph Reed, former leader of the Christian Coalition, and America's moralizing icon Bill Bennett scoffed. "You're kidding, a fifteen-year-old sex scandal? Give me a break, that's yesterday's news. Wake up pal, this is Washington and who here isn't hiding something?" Pat Robertson made a disparaging comment on his 700 Club television show but wisely refrained from continuing when his political advisors said it might backfire against his defense of Tom DeLay and that discredited Congressman's ties to Jack Abramoff. Still, Harrison had a gnawing blip of concern over the source of the rumors. "Why are those old lies surfacing now?" he wondered. "And who's spreading them?" He of course kept silent on the subject in his public life. Carol accepted his private denial without question.

The money laundering charges were another matter. At times in his career, Harrison had indeed been involved when significant sums were secretly passed to corrupt Mideast officials to influence their governments' policy decisions. His integrity in those dealings was beyond question, but unscrupulous writers could cleverly twist the very fact of their existence to his disadvantage and Jeffrey Greenberg's operatives were not known for their scruples. The gossip became ugly and Harrison retained Pricewaterhouse Coopers to conduct a private audit of the amount, composition and source of his personal finances in case such evidence might prove necessary.

During the growing maelstrom of negative publicity, Carol provided the emotional support her husband so richly deserved. Together they pondered the reasons he was being so fiercely attacked and who might be abetting the smears. The answer started to emerge when the front cover of one of the leading supermarket tabloids suddenly screamed, "DIPLOMAT'S WIFE FROLICS WITH BOY TOYS! Details on page 17."

Jeffrey had hit pay dirt!

The discovery of the story was a once-in-a-lifetime fluke. In following Carol's path since her divorce, one of Gunderson's several investigators happened to be in Los Angeles on a lead and struck up an innocent conversation one evening with the dark haired young man sitting next to him in a popular bar. The man happened to be Giancomo Pazzini, a twenty-nine-year-old Italian economics professor from Bocconi University in Milan who was in the States on a two-year teacher exchange program at USC's Marshall School of Business. As the discussion expanded, the handsome bachelor mentioned that he occasionally moonlighted for an upscale Los Angeles escort service to supplement his modest academic stipend. Smiling conspiratorially to his new friend, he alluded that he specialized in providing comforting companionship to ladies of means. Warming to this interesting conversation, the Gunderson operative discovered that most of the service's clients were women of l'age certain that lusted for the attentions of younger men with superior physical abilities and endurance. In particular, demand was high for young men from Europe such as himself to satisfy the romantic fantasies of many of the firm's customers. With a touch of machismo, Professiore Pazzini went on to describe several of his personal experiences with the neglected wives of prominent business and community leaders. "I even had the pleasure of serving a university dean once and I must say it was pleasant to be with another academician for a change  ... a women dean of students, no less." Asking which university that might be, the Gunderson employee was speechless when Carol's school was named!




Jealousy



Greenberg money was quickly placed in the right hands. Several of Giancomo's colleagues were located and confirmed that middle-aged women who could afford their expensive services were frequent clients. One of the men was a certain Konrad Steiner. A native of Obersalzberg in southern Bavaria and a physical trainer in a Hollywood gym by day, the muscular thirty-two-year-old readily disclosed his two experiences with Dr. Carol Wilson in German-accented English. "Of course I remember her. Grosse Gott, that woman was insatiable," he reminisced. "There was nothing she wouldn't try and she kept me going for hours." With Jeffrey's $5,000 cashier's check as his reward, Konrad had no hesitation in relating each experience in lurid detail to the tabloid's tape recorder. He then happily posed for photos in a tight T-shirt and spandex shorts that were skillfully placed next to Carol's face for maximum effect on the magazine's front cover. Additional young men from the escort service further confirmed Carol's identity and the news of this remarkable scoop was soon out ... that paragon of academic attainment and bride of the famous Ambassador Harrison Ward was an out of control, sex-crazed nymphomaniac! Tabloid heaven!

Harrison and Carol were devastated. Dissolving in tears, she confessed the truth of the allegations to her husband. Trying to explain her fall from grace during a period of her life when she was single and desperately in need of physical release from her demanding schedule, Carol wept inconsolably, begging his understanding and forgiveness. "I was never unfaithful to Jeffrey during our marriage despite what he did to me, not once," she wailed, "and I will never betray you, my love. Forgive me, Harrison. I was weak. I sinned. I had to protect my reputation at the university and I thought I could trust those men. The woman that introduced me assured me of their discretion over and over again. I thought I was safe. I can't change what I did but that's not me now. I'm not the person I was then. How can I ever face David and Sarah and your sons again? Even Aaron? They will despise me! Everyone I know will hate me! Everyone else will laugh at me. Oh God, Harrison, I'm disgraced! I need your strength. Help me. Please help me!" She collapsed.

Carol's unhealthy but understandable reaction to the pubic revelations of her mid-life liaisons with young male prostitutes was to retreat into a self-imposed isolation of self-hate. For the week following the tabloid's publication, she seldom left her bed and wept for hours. Harrison cancelled his appearance at an important conference at Princeton to provide what little solace he could. Insisting they consult their family physician, a heavy medication of relaxants was prescribed that allowed her to drift into fitful sleep. He summoned Carol's children, his own sons and their spouses for an agonizing family meeting. He was gratified that his Marine son was in Quantico on temporary duty before returning to Iraq and could attend. He was also surprised that Aaron quietly flew in from Phoenix for the meeting. He did not hide their mother's past indiscretions and begged for their compassion. Because Carol was in no condition to confront the children, he asked his Episcopal priest and a respected psychologist friend to join the assembly to help provide some insight into her past behavior and to urge the succor she so desperately needed. Harrison instinctively knew the media would shred his public persona but he stoically put that future carnage aside to care for his suffering wife. Initially in shocked silence, the family united in their determination to protect their mother from total disintegration. Surprisingly, even Aaron appeared to share the grief of the moment although he remained strangely silent during most of the evening's discussions.

Early the next morning, Aaron called Harrison to ask if they could meet privately. An hour later in the quiet den of the Ward's Georgetown home, Aaron was ashen as the two men faced each other. First asking if his mother had a quiet night, he requested a drink ... "a scotch if you have it. I have much to confess."

Their conversation filled the morning. In tears, Aaron disclosed the existence of, and the participants in, Jeffrey's conspiracy to ruin the Wards and his own presence during several of the planning meetings. In front of Harrison, the archenemy of his father, he excoriated his epiphany. The venomous hatred his father was capable of became painfully clear to him. The sexual jealousy of his father for Ambassador Ward, whose only crime was to honorably love a decent but flawed woman, was transparent. Aaron now realized that his father's loathing of Harrison was not only for his political views. It was because this man had given meaning to the life of a woman who had scorned him. Jeffrey's hatred was personal and it was lethal. In a paradoxim of remorse, Aaron repudiated his father and every malicious feature of his own life that Jeffrey had imposed on him. In deep remorse, he begged for Harrison to forgive his cowardliness in not resisting his father's diabolical plan of revenge. Wrenched with guilt, he atoned for his transgressions with prayers in Hebrew, just as the ancient Israelites had atoned for theirs. In his prayers, he cursed his father and begged for God's intercession in stopping this evil man's actions.

Together, Aaron and Harrison quietly visited his mother's bedroom. Kneeling at her bedside, Aaron bared his soul and pleaded for absolution. In her drugged sleep, Carol remained unaware of her son's presence as her chest slowly rose and fell with her breaths. Her chalk white face was shocking for her son to see and many strands of gray were clearly evident in her disheveled blonde hair.

"Aaron," Harrison softly said, "we must stop your father before the death of your mother is on his hands. Our doctor is worried she could lapse into a full breakdown that might have suicidal implications and I'm watching for the symptoms he alerted me to. But right now I'm talking about her emotional death. Will you help me to help her?"

"Anything," Aaron sobbed. "Anything at all."

With only Aaron among the children at his side, Harrison made several phone calls and swiftly arranged a secret planning meeting with close confidants to answer Jeffrey's conspiracy with a counter strategy. Among the participants were highly-placed officials of the Justice Department, Securities and Exchange Commission, Central Intelligence Agency and a top Medicare administrator from the Department of Health and Human Services. Harrison correctly perceived that Jeffrey's wallet was his Achilles' Heel and that would be the group's first target.

The group's attention first focused on the recent SEC allegations of corporate malfeasance. Next were the claims of Medicare fraud perpetrated by Jeffrey's Nova Healthcare System. "This guy's greed is right up in Bernie Ebbers' league," the SEC official snorted. "Several of us even had a suspicion that he spread some money around our department last year to squelch our investigation of his off balance sheet transactions. I'm going to have my internal affairs people reopen that investigation pronto."

The HHS representative spoke up. "The corporate structure of Greenberg's empire is a rat's nest of interlocking companies that has frustrated every one of our Medicare fraud investigations. He must have spent a fortune in legal fees to set everything up to be as confusing as possible ... very clever on his part I suppose and it's going to take a lot of digging to find out who owns what." With a deep sense of shame of his father, Aaron interjected. " I can help. Give me a list of exactly what you need. I know where to look and I'll be back to you in a few days."

The CIA executive added, "We know that he bribed some Israeli politicians to get dual citizenship status two years ago. The Israelis have a history of being hard-nosed in refusing extradition for white-collar crimes so whatever we do has to be done awfully quietly or he'll be in Tel Aviv in a heartbeat. And with his money in Switzerland and God knows where else, he'll be living there high on the hog ... oops, I hope I didn't offend anyone's dietary laws!" Again, Aaron spoke up. "I know about some of his overseas accounts. It'll be a mess to sort out but I'll try to get enough details for you to start working on."

  

"Now the press," Harrison introduced what would be the most delicate matter of all to manage. Without their own evidence of the tabloid's allegations, the mainstream media stayed well away from the story in fear of civil litigation if the rumors proved false. Of course this didn't stop right wing radio from linking Carol's behavior with President Clinton's several escapades. "Typical liberal morality, vermin that they are ... just one more example of liberalism being a mental disorder," screeched Michael Savage in his earthy Brooklyn accent. Savage's conservative broadcasting colleagues weren't far behind him in their condemnation of the Ward's family values. It was a depressing period for Harrison and all of the children but there were no further tabloid revelations. In two weeks, the story passed into the dark archives of Washington's forgotten outrages. So it goes in our nation's capitol. There is always new dirt for the muckrakers to report on.

Two universities cancelled Harrison's scheduled appearances as a result of the publicity but after a month his agent reported that his demand was as high as ever, perhaps higher as many people wanted to witness first hand how a husband in such an anguished situation handled himself. For reasons no one could understand, his book sales actually increased after the tabloid story. During the ordeal, Harrison conducted himself with stoic resolve and refused to allow his personal hurt to be visible in public. Thanks to excellent medical care, rest and her husband's unconditional love, Carol began a slow return to mental equilibrium. While she would never again be without the moral pain caused by her indiscretions, her inner strength started to reassert itself. If anything, her adoring love for her husband became deeper in appreciation for his unwavering support during her time of trial. Aaron's metamorphous of love for his mother provided the leadership for the younger family members to rally around and they helped to shield her from further agony. A few fair weather acquaintances refused to see Harrison and Carol again but their true friends created a cocoon of protection and love that surrounded them both.

Harrison's CIA friends made some quiet calls to their senior contacts in the LAPD. Grizzled police veterans in plain clothes swiftly visited Konrad Steiner, Giancomo Pazzini and their other escort service colleagues. Nobody ever discovered the content of the discussions but Professiore Pazzini resigned his appointment at USC and returned to Milan within the week. It was discovered that the forgetful Herr Steiner had somehow neglected to notice that his tourist visa had expired seventeen months earlier and he was passed to the local INS authorities for an over-night stay. The next morning he was extended the courtesy of being personally escorted by two burly agents in a black van with government plates to LAX for a leisurely return to Frankfurt. Under the watchful eyes of the Lufthansa flight crew, the agents thoughtfully removed his shackles once he was rather rudely jammed into a seat in the last row of the Economy section of the waiting 767. The other curious passengers were then allowed to board. Reporters searching for follow-up details on the story were puzzled to find the residences of their primary sources of information empty. The police, however, had assembled more than ample dossiers on Jeffrey Greenberg's involvement in the story's publication and the evidence made interesting reading for Harrison, his family and his many friends in high places in Washington.

The counter attack was launched.

On a Wednesday morning, the tranquility of Nova Healthcare's executive offices in Phoenix was shattered. First, the company's in-house counsel nervously reported to Jeffrey that he had just been served with a Securities and Exchange Commission summons to appear at an investigation of their offshore tax havens. Within an hour, the same distraught executive called again. This time, a Justice Department subpoena had arrived alleging wire fraud in certain fund transfer transactions. Later the same day, Jeffrey was told that federal agents from the Department of Health and Human Services were in the building with an audit order for the firm's Medicare transactions for the last nine months.

Jeffrey reacted typically. Seething in rage, he raced to confront the HHS agents and ordered building security to physically remove them from the premises. Flailing his arms and spitting obscenities, the red-faced little man literally leaped on the back of one of the agents before being restrained by his worried managers. The more intelligent company executives retreated from the unsightly scene and found it prudent to become intensely preoccupied with other business matters in their own offices. Many started to fear Nova's house of cards was beginning to fall apart. More than one started to bring their résumé up-to-date as insurance against what the future might hold.

The intention to commit fraud is notoriously difficult to prove and Jeffrey deployed his full army of attorneys into battle with his federal antagonists. Little-by-little, details of corporate malfeasance in overcharging Medicare claims were uncovered and litigated. The vast majority were judged to be quite true and the nine-month federal audit was extended to cover the last three years. It became increasingly obvious that Nova had engineered the largest fraud of the federal Medicare program in the nation's history. Moreover, the fraud had apparently been designed in the company's early history and had expanded in scope ever since. State insurance regulators in virtually every state launched their own investigations of Nova's activities and the fines they assessed were monumental.

The SEC investigation was even more brutal. Several times Jeffrey and his top lieutenants were subpoenaed to appear at hearings in Washington and now he felt the heat of public disclosure. The Wall Street Journal regularly covered the hearings and the mainstream newspapers devoted considerable space in their business pages to Jeffrey's travails. Cable television's CNBC morning market coverage frequently reported on Nova's problems and CNN's Lou Dobbs lamented the sorry state of the government's oversight observance of the entire Medicare system. Even madcap Jim Cramer slammed Nova with a resounding negative "hoo-ah" in his nightly Mad Money TV program. Brick by brick, Jeffrey's professional reputation was destructed and his name became linked with the likes of Dennis Kozlowski, John Rigas, Bernard Ebbers, Gary Winnick, Ken Lay and other real or alleged corporate criminals.

Nova's stock price plummeted. From a position of frothing arrogance, Jeffrey retreated into naked fear as his attorneys encountered one defeat after another. With the free-fall of Nova's stock, irate shareholders brought a class action civil suit against CEO Goldberg and eight of his top executives. One of the shareholder victims was Carol. The vast majority of her net worth was in Nova shares. Their value had declined by almost eighty percent and further losses looked probable. Carol made no attempt to divest herself of her Nova holdings as penance for the pain she had brought to herself, her husband and her children. 

Deciding to remain in Washington to help weather the storm with his mother and her husband, Aaron became a prime target for Jeffrey's hatred. "I should have known he would betray me once that bastard Ward got his claws into him. I loved that boy. I taught him everything I knew. Now he shits on me. I have nobody with me. No one. I did everything for him that a father could do ... now he's gone. He and that faggot brother of his ... and that left-wing bitch I used to call a daughter. Everyone's gone."

In a pathetic appeal for sympathy, Jeffrey called London to beg for the emotional support of his current wife. "The third trip this year for Christ's sake," he moaned. "What the hell is so goddamn appealing about England?" The butler in her father's luxurious Belgravia home answered the call and respectfully told him that his wife had left two days earlier for a week's holiday in Cap d'Antibes with several of her friends. Jeffrey had no inkling she had planned a side trip to France during this visit and he asked which friends had accompanied her. Several male and female names were provided, among which was Desmond Toomey, a critically acclaimed Irish playwright and notorious womanizer. Knowing well his young wife's strong sensual appetite, the stomach-churning dread of her possible infidelity swept over Jeffrey as a final betrayal. Three days later his concern intensified. The ever-present Paparazzi had captured a series of photos of her cavorting topless with the dark haired Toomey on a sunny Riviera beach. London's yellow press gleefully featured the photos accompanied by the caption, "American Husband in Business Hell ... British Wifey in Holiday Heaven!" Looking carefully at the published photos, Jeffrey studied Toomey's muscular body, which was clearly on view as he sat smirking in the male equivalent of a bikini, a virtual thong that appeared to be well filled. Jeffrey's frantic calls to the contact phone in France that his wife had left with her father's household staff were answered by a man's recorded voice in English with a strong Irish accent. None of his calls were returned. Alone in Phoenix, Jeffrey writhed in agony. His life was disintegrating.

Thanks to Aaron's quiet investigation, several of Jeffrey's personal accounts in the Caymans and Luxembourg were identified but the secrecy of Swiss banking laws thwarted inquiries in that country. Nevertheless, several recent fund transfers to the accounts in the Caymans and Luxembourg were detected and everyone assumed the same would be true for his accounts in Switzerland. A red flag was raised about his possible flight to escape justice, probably to Israel. In Phoenix, Jeffrey's usual high visibility was suddenly replaced with total silence as he retreated into an invisible man role. The concern in Washington was well placed.

Through the CIA station in Tel Aviv, the Israeli passport control authorities were alerted to the possible arrival of a Mr. Jeffrey Greenberg, most likely under an alias. In case the arrival might be missed at the Ben Gurion International Airport, the passport officials instructed all of the country's major hotels to report guests that matched the distributed photograph. Among the managers of the luxurious Tel Aviv Renaissance Hotel was a retired IDF officer who undertook to provide information on his guests as a patriotic duty when requested by the government. It didn't take long for Harrison and his friends to learn that a small middle-aged man named Ira Kubrick traveling under an Israeli passport but speaking with an unmistakable American accent had checked into the $3,800 per night presidential suite of the Renaissance. And yes, the man's face matched the photograph although he now had a shaved head that was already beginning to sunburn under the hot Mediterranean sun.

A few more messages from Washington to the CIA station chief in Tel Aviv caused a clandestine surveillance of Mr. Kubrick to be established. Discreetly filmed videotapes were flown to Washington and Harrison's group became painfully aware that Jeffrey Greenberg had indeed eluded their grasp with his escape to Israel. Following twenty-two days in Tel Aviv marked by nightly visits to the city's most expensive restaurants with a variety of overdressed young women, his move to a leased villa in the Zohar Hot Springs complex at Neve Zohar on the Dead Sea was monitored. His companions at the villa and its meticulously landscaped gardens were two rather spectacular blonde women estimated to be in their early twenties with deeply tanned bodies that were alternatively displayed in the skimpiest of bikinis and flowing white togas. Harrison sighed. It was quite clear that Jeffrey was living large indeed in his private Garden of Eden. "All he needs is a latter-day Bathsheba to complete the picture," a jealous CIA agent opined.




Jealousy



Weeks turned into months. Months became a year then a second and a third. Nova Healthcare System passed into Chapter 11 bankruptcy and shareholders ultimately received distributions valued at a few cents on their invested dollar from the creditors' court appointed trustee. The scandal had rocked Medicare and Congress enacted sweeping reforms to rebuild public confidence in the entire federal healthcare system. The Congressional hearings brought the worst of partisan bickering to the television audience and numerous HHS officials were retired, several to federal prison for their acceptance of Jeffrey's bribes. The SEC investigation was the final straw that shattered the Goldberg empire and several of Jeffrey's senior lieutenants received sentences well over twenty years in length. Those that escaped imprisonment found their professional reputations ruined beyond repair.

The halcyon days of the Harrison's first few months of marriage were tarnished by an unfair public perception that Carol was somehow enmeshed in Jeffrey's corporate crimes even though no one could offer a shred of evidence to that effect. At the insistence of the board of trustees and with deep personal embarrassment, the university's president quietly suggested that her full retirement might be in everyone's best interest and her prior academic prominence slowly faded from memory. Her financial well being had been decimated.

Harrison's agent continued to market his availability for speaking engagements but they were increasingly difficult to obtain with reluctant sponsors. He penned a third book on America's Mideast quagmire but the subject had become overworked and sales were not encouraging despite an exhausting signing tour. One previous supporter was heard to say that the scandal surrounding Mrs. Ward had turned Harrison into something approaching damaged goods with persons of influence in international diplomacy. "It's a pity that another's actions often affect persons not at all involved," he sanctimoniously philosophized. 

The Greenberg and Ward children returned to their professional lives and endeavored to repair the stained family reputation. By and large they were successful in their efforts but their careers had scattered them geographically and that prevented frequent visits with their parents in Washington. Realizing his State Department career had been dead-ended by the scandal, Harrison's eldest son left government service accepted a mid-management job with a manufacturing company in Milwaukee. His Marine son had been reassigned to a backwater supply billet in Okinawa and his future promotions appeared hopeless.

Carol and Harrison clung to each other as they tried to survive the hurricane that had consumed their private life for so long. To conserve their diminished funds, they sold the little-used Cape Cod cottage that had been the centerpiece of their retirement plans. Fortunately, they owned their Dumbarton Street home in Georgetown free and clear but lavish entertaining was a thing of the past. Slowly, they retreated into a modest lifestyle not unlike many aging people throughout America. Even more slowly, the grinding stress of their public humiliation eroded their deep love. They remained good friends but the furnace of passion that surrounded their early marriage had been replaced by a quiet companionship. They continued to value intellectual conversation between themselves and with the few old friends who occasionally visited. Although Carol had gained considerable weight and Harrison's face now carried a perpetual frown, their silver-haired appearance remained distinguished looking. The intimate smiles and tender words of endearment that were so much a part of their first year together became less frequent. Petty arguments became common. A glass of wine shared over dinner became several strong scotches in the afternoon. Their physical communion was infrequent and dispirited.

Four years later, the hostilities in Iraq had finally sputtered to their disillusioning conclusion for the United States and the legacy of terrorism continued throughout the Mideast. On a stifling July evening in Jerusalem, a relatively minor incident occurred that was duly reported in newspapers worldwide. One of the city's better restaurants had been the site of a suicide bombing that resulted in four fatalities, including the perpetrator, and nine injuries. Among the fatalities was Ira Kubrick, a gentleman in his late sixties who held joint Israeli-American citizenship and a young woman who was believed to have been his dinner companion. In London, Desmond Toomey showed the article to his long-term lover who happened to be the adulterous fourth wife of Jeffrey Greenberg. Because her solicitor had told her that Mr. Greenberg's money was so well hidden it would be a waste of time to chase a lucrative divorce settlement, she never bothered to rid herself of her unloved husband.   

Three months after the incident in Jerusalem, most readers in the United States missed a small newspaper article that reported the death of forty-six-year-old Aaron Goldberg, apparently the result of a self-inflicted drug overdose. The body had been discovered in an advanced state of decomposition by local teenagers in a deserted wooded area overlooking the Atlantic south of Ocean City on Maryland's eastern shoreline. The report correctly stated that Mr. Goldberg, a life-long bachelor, was the son of Jeffrey Goldberg, the disgraced head of the defunct Nova Healthcare System who had himself disappeared almost a decade earlier.



Jealousy



Jeff's admiring gaze swept over his naked pet's beautiful body as she slept. She was slightly on the chubby side and only of average height, but she had deep soulful brown eyes that were usually black with desire, thick chestnut short hair with natural blond and auburn highlights, a nicely rounded ass, and large breasts with small pink nipples. She was perfect.

As if sensing her Master's sensually intense stare, Cassie stirred, slowly coming awake. She smiled at him as she awakened fully. "Good morning Master."

"Good morning pet; I trust you slept well?" He smiled as she blushed and nodded shyly.

"Yes Master I did; you exhausted me last night."

"That is what I intended and I would like to do so again this morning. However, I made plans for us to go shopping today, so hurry and go take a shower." Jeff watched as her eyes widened in surprise, curiosity, and delight before bouncing off to the shower. He grinned as he saw her still bright red ass and got up to dress.

Coming back barely fifteen minutes later, Cassie recognized the outfit laid out as one of Master's favorites; she also realized the skirt was so short it'd show the welts that were still present after last night. Still, she knew better than to question him and quickly dressed in the skirt, high healed sandals, lacy pink bra, day collar, and pink off the shoulders tank top; pink was his favorite color on her. 

"Do you know how bad I want to just drag you down right now and fuck your sweet little tight cunt until you're screaming and begging me to stop?" The sound of his voice and words coupled with the feel of his hard erection pressing against her and his hands cupping her breasts made her shiver as heat rolled through her, making her cunt wet. He chuckled in her ear, knowing exactly the effect he had on her. "There's another thing before we leave angel. Bend over the bed for me." She did as he asked, spreading her legs wide, suspecting he was going to put in the butt plug he always used when they went out. Instead however, he drove his cock deep inside her cunt, making her moan loudly as she clutched him tight. Master didn't give her time to adjust, continuing to slide his thick hard cock in and out, deep and hard, each time he thrust forward pushing her against the bed.

Cassie felt her cunt tighten hard around Master's cock and knew it wouldn't be long before she came. "Ohh god Master, I'm so close! Please let me cum! I need to cum so bad for you Master please let me!" Master ignored her though and kept driving his throbbing cock hard inside her. "Oh fuck Master please! I can't hold it much longer!" Still he ignored her, thrusting in repeatedly until suddenly he stiffened and with a loud groan shot his heavy load of cum deep inside her cunt. Then slowly he eased out, slide a think lubricated butt plug deep into her ass, replaced his cock with a vibrator, and attached clit stimulator to her clit before sliding a pair of white cotton panties on her. He then pulled her into his arms and kissed her neck softly, telling her what a good girl she was, holding her until she stopped trembling.

Finally they were on their way, her Master making small talk while Cassie slowly controlled herself. She knew her Master had the controller to the vibrator and clit stimulator, which meant the day was going to be long and torturous for her. It already was torture; she hated when Master would take her to the very edge and leave her there, not allowing her to cum, and he knew it. Suddenly she gasped loudly as the silent but powerful clit stimulator started buzzing, stimulating her already hard clit. Then as suddenly as it was turned on, it was gone.

"That will happen anytime I feel that your attention and focus is not on me angel."

"I'm sorry Master; I was distracted. I'll do my best to not let it happen again."

Jeff smiled, knowing exactly what her thoughts were. God he loved his pet. It was amazing how far she had come since their first day together, just over three months ago. She was always so eager to learn and her body reacted to him like a finely tuned instrument, doing exactly what he wanted when he wanted. Maybe he'd give her something special tonight. But first, shopping.

Cassie stared in amazement at all the objects as she entered the sex shop. She had never been in one, and was quite excited Master had brought her here now. More than that, she was allowed to pick out one thing and he would buy it for her. Like a child she wanted to run around and look at everything at once, but that would be unacceptable to her Master, so she stood quietly if a bit impatiently by him as he spoke to the manager. Looking at him, she noticed he was attractive with dark green eyes and blond hair, tall, though not very muscular. Quickly she looked down as Master turned on the vibrator, causing her to jump slightly and drawing the manager's eyes to her. Holding her breath, she prayed he couldn't hear the vibrator. As he returned to the counter she sighed in relief and followed her Master through the shop, looking wide eyed at all the toys.

Jeff was furious. He brought he precious angel to this store, and she check out another man! Not only that, but she continuously smiled at him. His slut with flirting with another man! This was unacceptable. Careful to keep an eye on her, he picked out a few things of his own as he counted every smile, every sly look, and every time she bent lower than necessary to show that man her lovely cotton covered ass. An as that belonged to him. Going back to her and gripping her arm tightly, yanking her to the counter where he paid for everything they picked out, then to the car, pushing her in and driving home, turning on the clit stimulator.

"You are not allowed to cum so do not ask!" he barked out.

Sitting there wide eyed, she wondered what she had done to make her Master angry; she knew she had behaved perfectly in the shop after all. Then it hit her; he caught her flirting with the manager. Whimpering softly, she started to tremble in fear and apprehension, suddenly wishing she had chosen something other than the soft suede flogger. Shifting uncomfortable, she hoped he would hurry and get it over with. She hoped, but she doubted it would happen.

Once home, Master ordered her undressed and kneeling. Standing over her, he stared at her trembling for. She was scared. Good; she should be. She was his and only his; obviously she needed to be reminded. Taking off her day collar, he replaced it with the heavy black leather play collar and attached the leash to it. When that was done he jerked her to her feet and led her to the basement. He could feel her shaking more as they reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed her to her knees; she'd never been punished before and was fighting the urge to cum. Having absolutely no orgasm control, he was proud she lasted so long and turned both devices off before taking them out, leaving the plug in. The vibrator he put in her mouth as he went to put the clit stimulator up and get his bag. Coming back to stand over her, he finally spoke.

"I'm very disappointed in you angel. I had a special night for us planned, but you ruined it by your flirtations. I cannot begin to tell you how bad you hurt me, not to mention how jealous you made me." He faltered slightly as the tears started welling over her eyes but determinedly went on; she had to learn. "Fro that I will have to punish you. I don't enjoy it but you need to learn so you don't repeat the same mistake. Do you understand?" She nodded, shaking pitifully. He removed the vibrator and said, "If it gets to be too much for you, use your safe words."

Cassie licked her dry lips as she trembled and watched as Master pull out a new pair or large and painful looking nipple clamps. Gently, he started to caress her breasts and nipples, making her forget about the clamps as she moaned and closed her eyes, her body responding immediately to his touch as always. Just as she relaxed completely, he attached both the clamps at the same time, causing her to cry out in pain. The clamps applied more pressure than she was used to and she wasn't sure she could handle it. But then her determination kicked in, making her take deep calming breaths; she was determined to make up for her error. Still, if this was just the beginning, she wasn't quite sure she could handle it.

Smiling, Jeff pulled his pet to her feet. He was so proud of her taking the heavy clamps without complaint, though he knew how painful they must be on her sensitive nipples. Kissing her neck softly, he bent her over the gym horse and heard her gasp of pain as her breasts fell forward. Ignoring it, he bent down and quickly tied her ankles to her writs, binding her uncomfortably but effectively. Then he grabbed the flogger his pet picked out.

"Mmm...such a lovely toy angel, though I had hoped to use it for pleasure first, not punishment." He sighed softly, running the many tails over her still tender ass. "However, this must be done. Be sure to count them as they fall, and don't forget to thank me pet." So saying, he began.

Cassie tensed, trying to prepare herself for the first blow, but it didn't help. Master brought the flogger down hard on her ass, ripping a scream from her throat and making her eyes fill with tears. "One thank you Master." The next one was no softer. "Two thank you Master." On and on they went until she was sure her ass was nothing but on big burning bruise, each strike harder than the last. At she was crying uncontrollably, and by twenty she was in shock, floating somewhere outside her body. Finally it was over and she was being held tight in her Master's arms as he whispered in her ear, though she wasn't sure what or how she had go there so fast since she didn't remember being untied.

Jeff was proud of his angel. Even in her agony she obeyed, never once stopping counting, though he was sure she didn't know it; she seemed in shock, floating in subspace. Gently he picked her up, knowing she wouldn't be able to walk, and carried her up to their bedroom. By time he laid her on the bed, she was back to herself. As he kissed her softly he removed the clamps, smothering her cry of pain with his mouth, gently massaging her sore nipples, bringing the blood back. Softly he kissed down her neck to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as his hand slid down to her cunt, quickly preparing her to receive him. Then kissing her hard, he thrust deep into her with a loud groan.

Crying out as Master fucked her, Cassie wrapped her legs tight around his waist, the pain that was her ass all but forgotten. Master had never fucked her so hard before; it was like he was trying to possess her. Still, the pain from the force only added to her pleasure, not detract from it. Soon she was clinging tighter to him as she got close. "Please Master let me cum! I need to cum so bad for you!"

Jeff drove harder into her. "Tell me who you belong to slut."

"Oh god Master I belong to you! I'm your slut, your whore, your bitch. Please let your cunt cum for you Master!"

"Yes bitch, cum for your Master!" He grunted in satisfaction as she screamed and convulsed around his cock, feeling her cum hard. He drove in even harder. "You're mine angel; you belong to me and always will. Don't ever forget it." With that, he thrust one last time, making her scream before he exploded in orgasm, covering her cunt with his cum. Panting heavily he rolled off her and pulled her against him as he quickly fell asleep.

Cassie yawned and snuggled closer, lightly running her fingertips over his chest and kissing her beloved Master's neck. "I love you Master," she softly whispered. Her last thought before falling asleep was that she would never try that experiment again.



Jealousy and How I Overcome It



I'll start by telling you a bit about Nicole, and myself, we've been together 11 years now, I'm 33 and she's 31 with a couple of kids. She's a lovely woman, 5'3 petite with small 32b breasts, good looking and the perfect wife and mum.

If I'm honest our sex life isn't up to much, I work a hard physical day job and she works hard as a stay at home mum, juggling the kids and housework amongst other things and by the time we get the kids to bed of an evening its often relax on the sofa time watching a bit of TV then to bed...and most nights without sex.

I've got a lot higher sex drive than Nicole and find it very frustrating, she's also not very adventurous, will not try anything new and bulks at any of my suggestions. She doesn't give oral, she no longer lets me go down on her and often turns her head when I try to kiss. She doesn't masturbate and has no sex toys.

Its basically a quick rub of each other until she's ready then I hop on until were both done and then off to sleep. As frustrating as it is I just couldn't bring myself to ever cheat on her because I love her dearly and only want her.

I've forever been trying to get to the bottom of why she's like this, is it because she's tired from her daily routines, so I started to help out a lot more round the house which she'd appreciate and I did think it made a slight improvement in her willingness to have sex but it was still the same routine motion sex.

Started to wonder if she could be possibly seeing someone else but that's a definite 100% no, she's just not that type, never has been and has always been dead against cheating.

But now basically I just don't think I'm doing enough for her sexually, and this just brings on this long time fantasy of mine for her to have sex with another man.

Let me tell you years ago when we first got together, she was 19 and I was 21, I was extremely jealous of other males around her, she was gorgeous, slim with a bubbly personality and would often get looks and attention from other men which I found incredibly hard to deal with, in fact I hated it and made things bloody hard for her.

We constantly argued about it and after these rows I knew id been an arse because I knew she loved me and wouldn't cheat.

We moved in together after two years and the jealousy became worse, I would dread her nights out with friends because id sit at home with my mind going in to overtime thinking up all these scenarios of her chatting with other men, id constantly be ringing her, abusing her down the phone and when she come home would have a go at her again, through all this time she stayed with me which put my mind at rest coming to the conclusion she must've really loved me even though I was acting a total prick so I thought id try hard to overcome this and the only way I knew how was to realise that although Id hate the thought of her around other men id often fantasise and masturbate thinking about her cheating on me, weird how the mind works!

So I played on this, I would get on the pc when I was free and read up on threesomes and cheating wife's and come across the term cuckolding, and I've got to say it completely changed my attitude towards her, I started to speak to other men who were in to the same thing, chatting with men who called themselves bulls that would be ever so willing to use my wife and I loved it, from hating her going out I now looked forward to it so id have time to get back on the pc and play with myself wishing she was up to no good with another man but knowing exactly what she was doing, drinking and having fun with her friends. 

I can honestly say hand on heart that the whole cuckolding scene had near enough completely cured me of my jealousy, and we were getting of brilliantly, the sex improved, especially when she'd return home and even sometimes it would be me who wasn't up to it because my dick was worn out from the wanking!

She'd defiantly noticed the change in me but obviously I couldn't tell her how id managed it, id often talked to her about threesome but she'd always say no. But a couple of years later on her 23rd birthday we went out for a meal and a drink in a bar after, and Id wound myself up all day that I would confess my fantasy to her and I did, she was shocked, but despite my embarrassment the alcohol helped me push it further and she gradually started asking questions -- 

How can you love me and want me to have sex with another man? Told her I don't know the answer to that but what I do know is that I love you more than I can imagine.

Is it because you want to sleep with other women? No that couldn't be further from the truth, I have no intention of shagging any other women.

Next was -- I think your just trying to trick me and if I said I would you'd go mad, 

I assured her this was defiantly not mind games and that id thought about it for a long time and it was actually what helped me overcome being jealous.

She never agreed to it and although she was acting like she was dead against it she started to say some things that got me excited and gave me hope.

I asked her (knowing that she only had two brief encounters with other men when she was 18) wouldn't you just like to go wild for once and have one more man before we settle down, she replied hesitantly that maybe yes she would, but she loves me too much to do that.

At one point I said I rather her go with another women but knew she wouldn't do that and she even hit me back straight away with 'well what if I wanted a to meet a couple', said that id love that even more, would be all my dreams come true.

She also said that if she did ever do it she'd have to do it alone because she couldn't have sex with me watching, I agreed as the thought of her doing it alone while I suffered somewhere else also really got me going.

I said to her if we ever did do it then if either one of us has regret after we would never do it again, 

'but that's the trouble, I cant talk for you but what if I end up loving it so much I wouldn't be able to stop it and would want more even if you are full of regret' was her reply, I didn't know what to say to that, I didn't have an answer but the cuckold thing came in to my head and I suddenly thought well then id be a proper cuck if she decided to carry it on even if I didn't want her to, but I didn't bring this up, I figured telling her I wanted her to shag another man was quite enough without scaring her off totally with the cuckold/hotwife lifestyle.

Anyway we went home that night and had brilliant sex, but afterwards and with both of us sobering up I was hit with embarrassment and told her not to listen to me I was drunk and was just talking in fantasy land and wouldn't want it to become reality.

Nicole said she'd figured that, also looking a little embarrassed.

I was thinking during that day and going over the conversation we'd had the night before and was really worried by her eventual answers, id hate to lose her and what if by her going with a well hung man who's fantastic in bed opened her eyes and she ended up leaving me, id be distraught. So I decided not to mention it again and try to put it to the back of my mind, which I did...for a while.

We got married, had a couple of kids and was enjoying life but suddenly out of boredom and the same nearly non existent sex life it all started flooding back but this time it wasn't me who tried to talk or push her in to anything...to be continued.



Jealousy and How I Overcome It Ch. 02



So now everything was coming back to me, I constantly had thoughts of her with another man on the brain, id watch porn on the net always imagining it was Nicole, and even started to wake up in shock after having the most realistic dreams of her cheating on me and having all sorts of feelings, jealousy, sadness, anger, almost gut wrenching but always with an erection and that it turn would make me doubt I could go through with this in reality, so once again id decided not to push her on the subject again.

One night after we'd shared a bottle of wine indoors which lead to sex I asked her in the middle of it to tell me a fantasy of hers, she ignored me so when I asked again she told me to tell her mine,

'You know what mine'

'No I don't' she replied

'You do, you know I want to see you with another man'

Don't know if it was because we were having sex at the time but she didn't rubbish it this time around, simply making moaning noises as I was fucking her.

'We'll have to find someone with a nice big cock for you'

'Mmmmmmmmmm'

'You must want to know what a big one feels like surely'

'Oohhhhhhhhhh' was all I heard and I could feel her start to cum, so carried on fucking her faster and harder until we came together. I went to sleep after happy that she's obviously got off on hearing the fantasy while being fucked.

Anyway a couple of months had passed and we decided we both needed a night out together as we hadn't been out for ages, we packed the kids off to her mums and hit the town. While there we bumped in to a group of our old friends, one of them Mark was a very close friend of mine who id regrettably lost contact with a few years ago.

We all had a good drink, and about midnight the couples that we knew there had all gone home, just me Nicole and a few of the still single men.

They invited us to go to a club with them but we were too drunk to do anything but go home and get a kebab on the way, Mark said that sounded like a good idea, so we finished our drinks and the three of us left wobbling down the street to the nearest kebab shop, when in there I asked Mark if he wanted to come back to ours for a drink before calling it a night.

Now no word of a lie I had no intention or devious plan to get him back so he could shag the arse off Nicole, it was just really good to see him and with it bringing back lots of youthful memories I didn't really want the night to end.

So he agreed, ran next door to get some beers and wine and with the kebabs in hand we set off, and besides I always pictured the other man as a stranger.

When home we carried on our drinking, and I must admit started to get thoughts in my head, not helped by me keep catching Mark eyeing Nicole up at every opportunity when he thought I wouldn't notice, but again I was too scared to do anything about it, worried thinking that she would soon sober up and go mental if id suggested anything.

An hour or so passed and feeling really drunk and tired I conked out on the sofa only to wake up some time later in the dark of the living room, lights and TV off with a blanket over me. 

I figured Mark had gone home, I was busting for a wee and as I got up I noticed a pair of shoes on the floor that defiantly weren't mine. Being drunk I was a bit puzzled but then started adding two and two together and my mind went in to over drive yet knew id be totally wrong because there's no way she would do anything like that, not Nicole she hasn't got it in her but the shoes were just staring at me so decided to creep upstairs, and my ears weren't lying to me, I could defiantly hear the covers rumbling, and soft moaning.

It took me forever to get to the door without making a noise, I was scared to interrupt whatever was going on, and at the same time convince myself that she wouldn't do this to me, I was really starting to regret ever putting the idea in her head but when I reached the door which was only slightly open enough for me to see what was going on and with the bedroom TV on with no sound, I was hit with the most powerful feeling of jealousy and anger id ever felt.

To see the woman that I love with all my heart, the mother of my children on her back legs spread either side of his body and him thrusting in and out of her left me feeling very sick but I couldn't take my eyes of the sight, realising that this is what I wanted, her to be sexually satisfied and from what I could see she certainly was feeling that way. 

Now I know most stories on here tell of the husband looking to see a huge cock stretching his wife to the limit, well this is all true so I'm going to tell the truth,

He wasn't huge but I could tell he certainly had another inch maybe two on my five inches, and he defiantly had a bigger girth, but the best site was the big pair of bollocks slapping against her arsehole as he fucked her.

My feelings started to turn to lust, I was actually being cuckolded before my eyes, seeing one of her hands on his arse cheek, squeezing it, digging her nails in with the other hand on his head while they tongued the faces off each other was now giving me the most intense feeling I've ever had.

She was certainly moaning a lot more than she ever has with me, could make out her whispering in his ear 'fuck me, fuck me, ohhhh fuck me'

When he started moving her in another position it made me jump, it quickly come across me I should either go in there and ask what the fuck was going on or get out of their way to let them carry on, I said to myself I wasn't man enough to put a stop to it so I crept off downstairs back to the sofa and wanked at the noises I could hear every so often coming from my bedroom, my bed but I wouldn't let myself cum knowing that once I released the hurt and pain of what was happening would come flooding back.

About and hour passed in which I couldn't sleep, still busting for a piss even more by now when I heard someone coming down the stairs, I quickly turned into the sofa pulled the cover up and pretended I was asleep, the footsteps came in to the living room and I could hear Mark putting his shoes back on and leaving the house closing the door quietly behind him.

I gave it another 15 minutes but couldn't take anymore, I needed to be next to her but even more than that I needed this piss, so I went up relieved myself, stripped off and got in to bed. Don't know if she was asleep, I couldn't tell but after lying there for a while wide-awake I decided to spoon her, it felt so good having her in my arms again, she now had a t-shirt on. I was still aroused with my erection digging in to her bum. 

I started to try my luck and started working my hand down lifting her t-shirt up and groping her arse to find she had her knickers back on, working my way inside she moved and pulled my hand away, I tried again and she knocked me back again.

'Come on Nic, I cant sleep, I need sex'

She giggled, 'leave me alone, we can do it tomorrow'

I gave up frustrated but I knew for obvious reasons why she was trying to avoid it.

I broke off the cuddle and five minutes or so passed when she rolled over to face me and told me id woke her up and she can't sleep now, she snuggled in to me telling me she loved me.

'I love you too, what happened to Mark'

'I don't know, I fell asleep the other end of the sofa and when I woke he'd gone, didn't want to interrupt you so put the cover on you and crawled up to bed'

'Oh right, was a good night wasn't it, very good to catch up with him' I asked

'Yes was a very good night'

Yeah I bet it was I was thinking to myself, part of me would have loved her to confess but the other part of me was loving the fact that she was blatantly lying to my face.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek, turned over and said she was going back to sleep.

So I tried to touch her again, my hand over the front of her knickers which were clearly wet, this time she didn't stop me so I rubbed her clit through her knickers.

'Your so wet'

'You've got me all horny' she said

'I've never felt you this wet before, haven't been thinking about my fantasy have you'

'What fantasy?'

'Don't play dumb Nic, you know by now'

'Remind me'

'You taking a strangers big cock up your cunt and being made to feel how you never have before'

'mmmmm yeah, that does the trick'

'So you like that now, you want it?'

'Maybe...we'll see'

I was now finger fucking her and sucking on her tit, she was really in to it, humping my fingers 'fuck me, come on, I need your cock'

'In a minute, I'm enjoying fingering this wet pussy' with that I pulled my hand up to my face and let her watch me lick and suck my fingers that were coated in a mixture of her cunny juices and his spunk, it defiantly tasted different from normal, she looked at me and god knows what she was thinking but I could see the look of fear that I would notice something wasn't right.

'You taste fucking beautiful' I told her and could see her relax straight away, I stuck my fingers in again, pulled them out and pulled them up to her mouth, now in all the 11 years together she would never have taken my fingers in her mouth after id been fingering her yet I was amazed to see her jump at the chance of me feeding her what she knew would be Marks cum, bear in my she doesn't give me oral or ever let me cum anywhere near her face this was another big surprise for me.

Id had enough and mounted her, had no intention of making her cum, I didn't give a shit, I just wanted to fuck her, fuck this good little wife/mother who had been a total slut that night, I woman that I didn't recognise. She was clearly loving the fact that she was getting her second cock of the night, I told her I was Cumming, 

'No not yet, I'm not there yet'

Carried on fucking her as fast as I could, just as I could feel myself Cumming I pulled out crouched over her pointed my average size cock at her face, she just froze and my dick shot out 4 or 5 big streams of cum that had been building up all the time she was fucking my friend so eagerly earlier, all over her face. I couldn't believe what I had just done but I felt like that was my way of getting back at her a little. I also couldn't believe she didn't have a go at me, guilty conscience I'm guessing. 

Then I simply said 'Thanks for that' I turned my back on her and soon went to sleep, leaving her running to the toilet to clean herself up.

Things changed some bit from that day on...to be continued



Jealousy, Arousal, Kim, Jim, and Me



Kimberly and I finally had the house to ourselves and we took full advantage of it. In order to save money, our daughter Joslyn lived at home while she attended the local university. She had worked her way through school, most recently as a waitress. Upon her recent graduation, she interviewed for several jobs and received a very good offer. With the money she'd be making she would be able to afford a condo of her own and move out. Because her finances had fallen into place, she decided to use a portion of what she made from waitressing to take a well deserved vacation before starting her new job. And so the minute Joslyn left for the airport, Kimberly and I were on the living room couch, pawing at each other like high schoolers.

"This feels so nice," Kimberly said between kisses. "I feel so...bad...like Jos could catch us at any time."

I nibbled at her earlobe and grabbed her breast. "I know, it's almost like we're sneaking something." I massaged her soft breast more and felt her nipple growing under her blouse and bra. I licked her neck and began unbuttoning her blouse.

Kimberly moaned softly. "I want to fuck you, right here, right in the middle of the living room."

I had all of her buttons undone and groped at her bra. I stared right into her eyes. I could see the lust lurking behind them. "You will," I said, "and you'll fuck me in the kitchen, in the den," I pulled her bra up over her breasts. They still looked wonderful: full and round, a lovely 38 D. She pressed her breasts together, accentuating her cleavage. I couldn't help but dive in. "And we'll fuck in the hall, in the bathroom, in the basement," I said between sucking on her gumdrop sized nipples. She tugged off her blouse and threw it on the floor. I then reached behind her and unhooked her bra. I tossed it into the middle of the room and we both noticed the lewd scene we were creating.

She pushed me away playfully and leaned back, giving me a toying smirk. She ran her hands over her tits, playing with her hard nipples. She then cupped them for me, offering them up lasciviously. Seeing Kimberly topless with just her jeans always makes me crazy, but at that moment the sexual energy radiating from her drove me into the stratosphere.

I moved to suck on her some more, but she pushed me away with her foot. "No, no, big boy. You have to do something for me."

I would have walked on hot coals. "What?"

"Strip," she said with such confidence that I think I got even harder if that was possible.

I licked my lips and smiled. I got up and pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it carelessly to the side. I then undid the button on my jeans and slowly unzipped. I found it somewhat difficult because my cock was so hard, but I managed. As I unzipped further, Kimberly's eyes grew bigger with excitement because she saw the bulge in my briefs. I had been leaking pre-cum, and a wet spot already formed. I let my pants fall the the ground and kicked them aside. Kimberly leaned forward a little in anticipation, her breasts swaying softly. I then put my thumbs in my waistband and slowly pulled down my shorts. Finally, my cock sprang free then slapped against my stomach. Kimberly applauded and made a throaty growl of approval. I threw my shorts onto the lounge chair.

"Now I want something from you, sexy," I said as I stalked to her. She squealed and feigned fright, but when I went for the button on her jeans, she lifted her ass off the couch to facilitate their removal. Once I tossed them aside, I slowly peeled off her panties which were soaked with her arousal. With a triumphant chuckle, I discarded them over my shoulder where they landed on the coffee table.

There we were, naked in the living room, and loving the freedom. I slipped a finger between Kimberly's legs and gently outlined her slit. "You're so fucking wet!" I truly was surprised.

She simultaneously took my cock and balls into her hands and said, "well you're so fucking hard!"

I leaned over and pinned her to the couch, kissing her, groping her, wanting her. She kissed and groped right back. I don't think we'd been that horny for each other in years.

Just then the phone rang.

"Fuck!" She yelled. "Let the machine get it."

"I'm way ahead of you," I said as I lazily humped my cock on her thigh.

After the beep, we heard Jim's voice. "Hey guys, pick up. Are you there? Anyway, I just wanted to say I'll be there soon. The traffic's got me all tied up. It'll be another 10 minutes or so. Ok, well, see you in a bit."

I dropped my head in defeat, resting it between my wife's perfect breasts. "Fuck, it's five already? I had no idea it was so late! I can't believe we so lost track of time."

She stroked my cock and said, "oh really? You can't believe it?" She gave my balls a squeeze and made her point. "You'd better save some of this for later, I'm going to need it."

"Don't you worry, I'm so fucking horny that I don't think anything will stop me." We kissed deeply one last time, almost loosing control of ourselves. I tried to rub my cock on her glistening slit.

"Stop that! We've got to get straightened up," Kimberly said pouting, as she pushed me away. My cock ached.

We looked at the living room and couldn't believe how bawdy it looked with our clothes strewn all over. I pulled my clothes back on, feeling quite frustrated as I tucked my raging hard-on back in my shorts. I noticed that Kimberly pulled her pants on without her panties. She winked at me and said, "I want you thinking about this the whole night." She wiggled her ass to accentuate her point.

Only a few minutes later the door bell rang. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kimberly lunge at the coffee table, snatching up her moist panties. "Can't have these laying about," she said as she spun them on her finger then tucked them into her pocket.

Kimberly and I had been friends with Jim since college. Jim and I met as freshman roommates and hit it off so well that we shared housing all through our four years. When I started dating Kimberly, both Jim and I figured our friendship would wane. We both knew how it went: once a guy meets a girl, his friends tend to take a back seat. However, we kept it together, mostly because Kimberly and Jim were so comfortable together. He was the best man at our wedding, and I was his. Apparently he was better luck than I because Kimberly and I were still going strong after 22 years while he and his wife had just recently divorced. He hadn't taken the divorce well. Even after Linda left him for the young stud at the health club, Jim just couldn't get back into the swing of dating. Over many beers, he would tell me how much he missed just having someone to wake up next to in the mornings, let alone missing the sex.

Since the divorce, we tried to give Jim opportunities to simply have a fun evening now and then. Nothing too scripted, just hanging out and not doing much of anything. Eventually, the old Jim began to emerge once again. He no longer felt depressed all the time, and he even began to laugh and joke like the Jim we used to know. Like other evenings, we invited him over for a few drinks, some dinner, and a video or two.

"Hey guys," Jim said when I let him in. I shook his hand and took the wine he brought.

"Hey Jim," Kimberly hugged him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"We were running a bit behind, what with getting Joslyn off on her trip and all," I said. "We figured we'd just order a pizza. That cool with you?"

"No problem," Jim said as he flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV.

As he sat, I couldn't help but think what had been happening there just minutes earlier. "C'mon Kim, go get that menu and I'll get us some drinks. The usual, Jim?"

"Yes sir. It's been a shitty day today. I'm just looking forward to unwinding."

I followed Kimberly into the kitchen and took some glasses down from the cabinet. I looked up and saw my wife shuffling through the drawer for the menu. I walked up behind her and nuzzled her neck.

"God, you send chills down my spine," she whispered.

I slid my hand into the back of her jeans and caressed her panty-less ass. "This is making me so fucking horny, knowing you're not wearing anything under here." I reached around to fondle her tits and found her nipples hard and protruding.

"Stop, John. You're driving me crazy."

I rubbed my hard cock on her ass and said, "Glad to know you've joined me."

I finally brought the drinks out and Kimberly ordered the pizza.

The whole time we were watching the mediocre movie and eating pizza, Kimberly tortured me. She'd make sure Jim wasn't looking then pull a bit of her panties out of her pocket where she had stashed them then, with a wink, shove them quickly back. Once, when Jim got up to go to the bathroom, she gave me a full tit flash, leaning over to let her breasts hang and jiggle. She almost didn't get put back together before Jim came back. The fact that she was taking such risks was making me nuts with lust.

When she and I got up to clear the dishes and pizza box, we took a minute in the kitchen to steal a deep, sloppy, sexual kiss.

"I can't believe how turned on I am knowing that Jim might catch you flashing your tits or showing off the underwear you're not wearing."

"No kidding," she said as she caressed my cock. "Actually, I'm really getting off on it, too."

With the boldness of lust, I shoved my hand down the front of her jeans and felt her wet pussy. "No kidding," I mocked.

An idea came into my head. Actually, it didn't just come into my head—it had been there pretty much all evening—I just acknowledged it for the first time. My head felt light and dizzy. My hand trembled a bit as I pulled it out of her jeans. I licked my lip and just blurted it out. "Would you like to show off a bit for Jim?" I immediately regretting my question as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Kimberly knows very well about my fantasy of seeing her fuck another man, but this was real life, this was our friend Jim, not some tawdry fantasy from some sex story.

But she didn't recoil. She didn't get a look of disgust on her face. She just stared at me with her cocoa brown eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

I thought my knees would buckle. Was she actually was considering showing off her body to our friend? I'd never felt so horny or so frightened in all my life. "Well," I started in a halting voice, "what if you go upstairs to Joslyn's closet, and...change." A very naughty smile slowly made it's way across her face and I could see she understood where I was going. "Then you could serve us our drinks. Properly."

She bit her lip, obviously thinking about the implications. I softly caressed her breasts and kissed her forehead. "I love you. I will always love you. I know you know that." I fingered her nipples and she moaned softly. "I really think I want this. I've been so fucking horny all day. I know I can handle seeing you showing off, having fun. I WANT to see you. I also have a feeling you want this, too." I couldn't believe we were actually considering this, but even more, I couldn't believe how much I wanted it.

She looked me square in the eye. "I do want it. I know what you mean about being so horny. I'm so worked up, and have been for so long today, that I don't think the opportunity will ever be better." Her eyes grew big and she smiled broadly as the truth of what we were considering sunk in. "I don't know if I'll even fit into it."

"If it's a bit too small, you'll look even sexier." I kissed her and she shoved her tongue into my mouth.

She leaned back and our eyes locked. "You're absolutely sure?" she asked, more out of excitement than doubt.

I put her hand on my cock and didn't say a word. She smiled and sashayed out of the kitchen, tossing her panties over her shoulder and shaking her ass at me as she left.

I gathered up her panties and returned to the living room and Jim said, "geeze, I thought you guys fell in."

I had no idea what to say to him, I was so nervous. I just chuckled.

Jim leaned over and asked, conspiratorially, "did you guys just have a fight? Kim stalked through here and ran upstairs without saying a thing. Now you're acting all weird."

"No, nothing like that. We're cool." You don't even know the half of it, I thought to myself. "I think she may have had a few too many cocktails."

"Oh..." Jim said and seemed relieved with the explanation. I liked it, too, because if he freaked out when Kimberly came back down, we'd have a ready made excuse.

We watched a few more minutes of TV and I drained my drink. I didn't want to get too drunk, but I thought I needed something to help relax me. Upstairs, I heard Kimberly walking around and knew she had put on high heels—an unexpected but perfect touch.

A few minutes later I asked Jim, "Need a refill?"

"Here, I'll get them, it's my turn."

"No," I said a bit too quickly. I was so nervous and excited. "I mean, don't worry about it, Kimberly's coming right back down, she'll get them."

He looked at me funny, like I was hiding something. I WAS hiding something, but I didn't want to tell him. I wanted him to get the full experience.

"Kim," I called, "could you come down and get us a couple of refills?"

"No problem...sir." And with that I heard Kimberly walking down the stairs. I saw her legs before Jim did. She wore the shiny black come-fuck-me heels she reserved for our bedroom dress-up fantasies. As she descended the stairs, her legs kept coming but no sign of pants or skirt could be seen. By now, Jim had looked over because of the sound of her heels. I saw his eyes widen as her legs were revealed. Then almost all of a sudden, she was in full view. My beautiful wife, my Kimberly walked right up and struck a pose in front of us.

Jim was speechless. So was I, for that matter. She looked unbelievable. I was so proud to be married to that woman. There stood Kimberly, looking sexy wearing high heals and Joslyn's Hooters uniform. The top was far too small as she predicted, but Kimberly somehow managed to squeeze into it. The effect was amazing. Because it was so tight, she decided to forgo a bra. Consequently, she jiggled and swayed lewdly as she moved and her nipples, erect from arousal, strained at the t-shirt. The orange shorts, too, were tight, but still they fit creating a wonderfully obscene curve to her hips and ass. To complete the look, she had pulled her hair up into a flirty ponytail. My wife simply looked fucking hot. I managed to take a quick glimpse at Jim and noticed a considerable growth in his pants.

"What can I get you boys?" she said. A look of amusement flashed across her face when neither of us could speak.

"Kim, I..." Jim said, "...I, um, god...wow!"

"You look incredible honey." I meant it. She had never looked so sexy in all our years together. Having Jim see her like that made it infinitely more exciting.

She giggled a bit and said, "you can put your eyes back in your heads, boys. Geeze, it's like you've never seen a woman before."

"Not one so sexy," I said.

Jim just cleared his throat a bit, and looked over at me. I know he was trying to determine if I was alright with this. I just winked at him and said, "what do you think, buddy?"

"She's incredible."

"You boys are so easy to manipulate. Show a bit of femininity, and you turn to jelly. Now hand me those empties, I'll get you all freshened up." She leaned over to pick up our glasses, giving us an unbelievable view of her cleavage. As she turned to go to the kitchen, she tossed her ponytail with a sexy giggle. Jim and I watched her curvy ass as she walked away.

"Holy shit, man! Are you sure this is cool?" Jim looked like a kid who just learned what Santa was all about.

"Yeah, it's cool. Do you like it?"

"Hmm, let's see...fuck yes!" he said without hesitation. "I always knew Kimberly was sexy, but damn, I had no idea...."

As if on cue, Kimberly came sashaying back into the room with our drinks. "Here you go fellas." Jim almost dropped his because he was staring at my wife's tits instead of looking at the glass.

When she gave me my drink, she gave me an are-you-sure-you're-ok-with-this look. I smiled at her and lightly ran my finger along hers as I took my glass. I just said, "Kimberly, when they designed that outfit, they had no idea how incredible it could look." I think she blushed.

"Do you boys want to watch another video?" She walked over to the video cabinet, and when she rustled around in the back, I knew what she had in mind. She pulled out an unmarked tape and went to put it in. She bent over at the waist, showing off her ass to my best friend and me. I could see that she still wasn't wearing any underwear, since the outline of her pussy lips was visible through the tight, orange shorts. I glimpsed at Jim and knew he saw the same thing.

Kimberly hit play, and the familiar cheesy music began playing. She walked over to the couch and sat right between Jim and me. We both stared at her chest as the overly-stretched letters jiggled. The video featured several women having a slumber party. They sit around, giggling, sharing fantasies and getting horny. Of course they begin stripping and "experimenting" with each other. Kimberly said, "I keep hearing my girlfriends say they don't understand why guys like watching women have sex together. I don't understand why they can't figure it out. I mean, just look at them, they're fucking sexy. Don't you think, Jim?" As she asked him, she put her hand on his thigh.

He mumbled, "oh, yeah," or something to that effect.

"What about you, John? I know you think it's sexy." She put her other hand on my thigh. I simply couldn't believe what was happening.

"Yes, oh yes," I said.

Kimberly just smiled like the cat who ate the cream, and left her hands on our thighs. Jim shifted, no doubt trying to get comfortable with a hard-on in his pants and my wife's hand on his leg. When I saw her hand begin to move up his thigh, I got an unexpected pang of jealousy. When her hand alighted on his hardened cock, I was dizzy with jealousy. Perhaps Kimberly sensed it, or perhaps she was just horny, but at that moment, I felt her hand rest on my hard cock, too. The combination of jealousy and sexual energy tingled my entire body. She gave me a quick glance and smile, and I knew I wanted to share my wife with Jim. No longer was this a fantasy, it was something that was going to happen, that I WANTED to happen.

Kimberly began to stroke our cocks through our pants. By this time, none of us were watching the video. I heard a small moan escape Jim's mouth, which made Kimberly smile. She cupped my balls and gave them a little squeeze as she continued to caress Jim's cock. Then, in a throaty voice dripping with lust, Kimberly said, "I want you two naked."

A defining moment in our relationship—all of our relationships—had arrived. Jim and I stood up, and while my wife watched, wide-eyed and dressed like a sex kitten in our daughter's way-too-tight Hooters uniform, we took off our shirts. I looked over at him and he was just staring at Kimberly. He fumbled with his pants button. I unzipped. And with a deep breath, I dropped my pants for my wife while my best friend did the same. We stood there for a moment, me in my briefs, Jim in his boxers, savoring the moment. My cock was so hard that it peeked up over the elastic band. Jim tented his shorts. Kimberly leaned forward, staring at the two men in front of her. "Take them off," she whispered.

I looked at Jim and he looked at me. At the same time, we slipped our underwear off and our cocks sprung to attention, saluting my wife. "Oh, my..." was all she could say. For the first time in her life, she had two men naked in front of her, excited about having sex with her.

During all the time I knew Jim, I'd never seen his cock when it was hard. A few times in the locker room or coming and going from the shower, I caught a look. It looked as if he was hung like any average guy. So I figured when he was hard he'd be about as big as me. But seeing him in his full arousal, I knew I had been mistaken. Looking at his cock, I knew he was not only longer than me by a couple of inches, but thicker, too. A worry flashed through my head: would Kimberly prefer his cock to mine? Would she find me unsatisfactory after seeing Jim? Hell, after EXPERIENCING Jim? Because that's where this was heading. My wife was about to have sex with another man, and I not only knew about it, but it had been my idea—and I was right there with them, would share in the event. My mind was racing with all these thoughts and so I didn't realize that Kimberly was beckoning us back to the couch with a curl of her finger.




Jealousy, Arousal, Kim, Jim, and Me



"Come sit back down, boys," her chest heaved with excitement as she patted the cushions next to her. I felt so exposed, being naked in front of Jim and Kimberly, particularly when I saw the lustful way she devoured us with her eyes. Two naked men, just for her. For a moment, I felt like just a cock to her. And I liked it.

Jim plopped down next to Kimberly and began kissing her. My best friend was kissing my wife as she caressed his cock! I sat down and began nibbling at her neck. She turned her head and kissed me deeply. I felt strange and exciting knowing Jim just had his tongue in her mouth. I felt her run her fingernails lightly up and down my shaft. I opened my eyes to see Jim kissing her shoulder and massaging her breast while she softly stroked his cock. I thought either my brain would explode or my cock would rip from being so hard.

"Let's make this a little more fair," Kimberly said as she stood up. Her hair was tousled with some strands having fallen from her pony tail. A wet spot had formed in the crotch of her shorts. Her nipples looked like they wanted to rip the cotton of the t-shirt. She took a long look at Jim and me, naked on the couch, hanging on her every motion. Two cocks stood straight up, two lustful men ready to have sex with one woman. She smiled with such satisfaction and confidence, then pulled the t-shirt over her head. Her full, round breasts bounced with their release. I didn't think my cock could get any harder, but it did. Jim was transfixed on my wife's breasts. His hand went to his cock and he smeared the pre-cum over his head. She swayed her hips and her breasts swayed with them. She looked incredible! Her hands made her way to the shorts and in moments she began sliding them down, teasing us. She exposed just a hint of her nicely trimmed bush, then turned her back to us with a cute and sexy wiggle of her ass. Next to me, Jim moaned as he began stroking his cock, watching my wife. I realized that I had been stroking mine, as well. Kimberly bent over a bit and slid the shorts all the way down, exposing her luscious heart-shaped ass. She kicked the shorts off to the side, and I noticed that the living room looked much like it had earlier, full of discarded clothes—though more than before—and naked bodies—again, more than before.

Kimberly kept the high heels on and walked back to the couch. "There, isn't that better?"

"Uh-huh," was all Jim and I could gurgle. She leaned over and caressed our balls. I could barely move, I was riveted by what was happening. I just watched as my wife's hand hefted Jim's sac.

"Stand up." We did. She then took us by the cocks and led us upstairs, keeping a firm hold us as we followed her like lost puppies. When we got to the bedroom, my heart skipped a few beats. The jealousy was back. Our bedroom looked the same, but it was so different because there was another naked man in it. I could smell Kimberly's excitement mixed with her perfume. She sat down on the bed—our bed—and pulled us in front of her. I was about to see my wife have sex with my best friend on our bed, on our sheets. Jim and I stood before my wife as she eyed up our cocks. She felt us, caressed us, tested the heft of our balls. I couldn't believe how much she was enjoying this. I had always thought that she enjoyed the threesome fantasy when we'd tease each other about it, but I figured it was really more my fantasy than hers. But with Kimberly sizing us up, licking her lips, and cooing, I think I may have misjudged her.

Then she said something that made me so horny, so jealous. As she caressed our cocks, she said, "God, Jim, you're so big and thick!" She said it with genuine awe. She said it with excitement. She said it desire. Of course I couldn't help but compare us. I'm about 6". He had to be at least 8". And whereas Kimberly can just get her hand wrapped around my shaft, she couldn't even come close when she grasped him. "And you balls are so nice and big," she continued. Then with a sly grin she added, "and I hope so full." She said this as she gently squeezed my balls and I thought my knees would buckle.

Then she kissed his cock. Just like that. No warning. No announcement. My wife leaned forward and kissed the head of Jim's cock. A string of his pre-cum stretched from him to her lips. "Mmm," she said and then wrapped her lips around his bulbous head. I stared in amazement as Kimberly worked her mouth back and forth on Jim's cock, pumping it while absent mindedly playing with me like an afterthought. I watched as she took a new cock into her mouth for the first time in nearly 25 years. Her eyes were closed, a look of pure enjoyment on her face. Then I noticed that I could see her wedding ring on her finger as she grasped a cock bigger than mine, holding it firm as she slurped it. I hated it and loved it all at the same time.

I looked over at my best friend. He stared at Kimberly's mouth as it traveled up and down his shaft. His expression of awe made me proud: proud that my wife could elicit such a feeling in another man. And I was proud that I was able to be a part of what was happening. He sense me looking at him and he turned his gaze to me. "I can't fucking believe this," he said, his voice a soft whisper.

"Neither can I," I said.

Kimberly just moaned and continued to slurp. It was a sound I'll never forget. So lascivious, so wanton, so...naughty. By now Jim's big cock glistened with her saliva and his pre-cum. My cock, too, was leaking. Kimberly sat back on the bed and just looked us over, her breasts swaying gently with the motion. The look of utter confidence on her face tore at my manliness. This was for her, now: all for her sexual satisfaction. I also knew it was precisely what I wanted, too. I had always wanted to serve her, to be a sexual thing to her, to just be a part of her "stable."

Kimberly continued to just stare at us, licking her lips. She reached up and let loose her pony tail. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and settled on the swell of her breasts. She shook her head to shake her hair out and again her breasts swayed. Next to me, Jim moaned. From the corner of my eye I saw his rock-hard cock twitch.

Kimberly pointed at me, then at Jim, and continued alternating as she said in a husky voice, "eenee-meenee-minee-moe-catch-a-fucker-by-the...cock. Well, Jim, looks like you're the winner." We weren't quite sure what he won, but we both knew it would be a hell of a prize. With that she propped up some pillows behind her back and spread her body out for her two men.

She ran her fingers lazily through her pubic hair and said, "John, dear, come here and get me ready to be fucked by Jim." She knew the directness of that statement would pierce me, and she was right. That simple sentence has replayed countless times in my head since that day. In that moment I thoroughly was lost to her. I would have done whatever she told me, and I did. I laid down on the bed between her legs and began to softly kiss her stomach while I caressed her thighs. Then I kissed lower. Her pubic hair tickled my nose as I continued down. I felt a weight settle on the bed and realized that Jim had taken his place next to my wife. I heard kissing and moaning and deep, passionate breathing. Still I continued to carry out my job. Kimberly's pussy was sloppy and wet with anticipation. She smelled like raw sex. Her clit, swollen and pink, looked like a little cock. I gently blew on it and I felt her body shudder. I kissed her fleshy lips and they responded by quivering. I slurped my wife's juices knowing full well that in moments they would help to lubricate Jim's cock as he entered Kimberly.

I licked and kissed her, looking up to see what they were doing. Jim feasted on Kimberly's breasts and she had a far-away look on her face. I felt the muscles in her legs tighten, I felt her pussy contract, then in a sudden burst, Kimberly pressed Jim's face to her breasts and yelled out in ecstasy. Slick juices covered my face as she came and came.

I slowed down my licking and let her recover from her orgasm. Kimberly stroked my hair as I softly lapped at her pussy lips. Meanwhile, Jim gently licked the underside of her breasts, softly bathing them with his saliva. Jim and I were both servicing my wife and I loved it.

I happened to look to my side and I saw Jim's cock, hard and big, resting on Kimberly's leg. His head leaked pre-cum, and he left a slick, wet spot on her skin. I just couldn't believe that another man's cock and balls were casually laying on my wife. I began to feel dizzy with jealousy again. I looked up at my wife. She had been watching me as I looked at Jim's cock on her. She continued to stroke my hair, but I also noticed that she was stroking Jim's hair as well. A ball of confusion grew in my stomach. She looked so beautiful with the two of us attending to her. But she was my wife—MY wife—and my best friend was suckling her nipples, his hard cock made a mess of her leg, and she stroked his hair in her post-orgasmic glow.

She smiled at me and my heart nearly broke. I knew what she wanted and I also knew that I wanted it, too. My conflicting emotions propelled me further. They swelled in me, propelling me on. My cock was harder than I had ever felt it.

She shifted her glance momentarily to Jim's cock, then back to me. "Do it," was all she said.

I sat up and moved to her side. She now had two naked, hard men on either side of her. I kissed her cheek, then I kissed her deeply on the lips. I turned to Jim and said, "I'd like you to fuck Kimberly now." They both moaned in anticipation. Jim straddled her, and began to rub his head on her soaked lips.

"Wait," she said, "John, I want you to show me how much you want this. I want you to couple us."

I thought I'd faint, but I really didn't know if it was from jealousy or from joy. I gave a quick look to Jim, as if to ask his permission. He nodded and said, "do it, John."

I reach between them and grasped his cock. It was the first time I had ever touched another man in this way. He felt familiar yet so different. Of course I had stroked myself many, many times, and the feeling of a cock in my hand wasn't foreign. However, he was bigger, thicker, fuller. With my other hand, I gently spread Kim's pussy lips. She was undeniably wetter than I had ever felt her before. I then took Jim's cock and lead it to her lips. I rubbed it a few times on her clit, and she let loose a short, yelp of pleasure. I couldn't wait any longer, and so I took Jim's cock and I inserted it into my wife. From there he did the rest, plunging deep into her with one long, beautiful, soul-fucking stroke. As their pubic hair meshed, my hand was still between them. I felt like an intruder. I felt in the way. I felt like I was invading upon something very private. But I also felt an odd sense of pride—pride that my wife was so sexy, so desirable, so...wonderful. It was almost a sin NOT to share her. I moved my hand and as I did so I brushed passed his balls. They felt unbelievably full and potent. I couldn't help but think how they were going to empty into Kimberly's womb, filling her with strange cum.

They embraced tightly, kissing, only adding to my feelings of intrusion. I just moved back a bit, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching my wife and our best friend fuck. He pulled out of her slowly, nearly all the way out, then slid back in just as slowly. The look of bliss on their faces was indescribable. He continued his in and out motion, increasing the speed and the force with every stroke. Kimberly yelled out, "Fuck yes! Fuck yes! Fuck me Jim! You're so fucking big. Fuck me with your hard, huge cock.

For his part, Jim grunted and thrust. He moaned, "Fuck yes, Kimberly...this is even better than I ever fantasized."

"Me too, me too!" she said as she spread her legs even wider for him.

I just sat there, watching, mesmerized. I touched my cock and was startled by how hard it was and by how much pre-cum oozed down the shaft. They were really going at it now, Kimberly's breasts bouncing and giggling with every stroke, Jim's balls slapping her ass. Her screams had morphed into short, staccato whimpers. Jim sweat as he thrust into her, moaning and grunting.

Eventually their fucking took on a more urgent, immediate rhythm. Kimberly just squeaked, "yes...yes...yes...." Through clenched teeth Jim growled, "I'm gonna cum...."

She grabbed his back, scratching him with her nails. I had never seen her so aroused in all our marriage. Jim's balls pulled up closer to his body and his ass clenched. With one final thrust he let out a guttural moan and Kimberly screeched.

"Fuck yes! I feel you filling me! Fuck...yes!"

And so at that moment my wife was no longer just mine. Another man was filling her with his cum, and she welcomed it, encouraged it, needed it. I saw his ass clench and loosen, clench and loosen as he pumped and pumped into her. She whimpered as she accepted it. Soon he collapsed on her and they kissed for several seconds. When he rolled off of her, Kimberly's body glistened with their combined sweat. Her hair was a tangled mess. She had a serene look on her face. The air in the room hung heavy with their sexual musk.

I felt...I don't even know what I felt. My stomach was in knots. My cock was raging. Jealousy, frustration, pride, awe, and intense sexual arousal all battled within me. When Kimberly recovered a bit, she turned her head toward me and smiled a wicked smile. She cocked her finger, motioning me to come to her. Jim sat back and watched as my wife took me in her arms and kissed me deeply. I could smell Jim's cologne on Kimberly as we kissed. Her body was damp and relaxed below me. She sucked my tongue then kissed my cheek, my neck, then my ear lobe. She whispered in my ear, "thank you, John, for letting me experience that. I love you so much."

I didn't know what to say, so I just said the first thing that came to me. "I love you, too." I think she needed to hear that, to know we hadn't destroyed our marriage. And we hadn't. Holding my wife and knowing that her body was overflowing with Jim's cum, I still knew she loved me and I loved her and that we always would. I said to her, "you looked so beautiful with him. I can't believe how horny that made me, watching you."

She turned her head so she could look me in the eye, almost as if trying to gauge my sincerity. When I smiled at her and began rubbing my hard cock on her thigh, she knew I meant it.

"Would you do something for me?" she asked.

"Of course."

She reached down and caressed my balls ever so lightly. She lowered her eyes a bit then looked back up, like an innocent girl suddenly gone naughty. "Clean me."

My last fantasy was about to be fulfilled. Kimberly was laying there with a pussy full of cum and just asked me to eat it out of her. I felt exhilaration. I felt excitement. I also felt a bit humiliated. I glanced at Jim and could tell he hadn't expected that, but it didn't look like it bothered him.

Then I kissed Kimberly square on the mouth. I proceeded to kiss down her neck, her chest, her cleavage. I detoured a bit to enjoy her full, soft breasts—so sensitive now due to the rough treatment Jim gave them. I kissed them knowing he had just suckled. The intensity of the moment was building. I kissed her stomach, her hips, her thighs. The closer I got to her pussy, the more I could smell their combined sex. I nuzzled in her feathery pubic hair then looked at her used pussy. Her lips were full and swollen. A sheen of her juice covered the entire area. And oozing from her I saw my best friend's cum. A glob of white semen was nestled between her lips, like a pearl in an oyster. I couldn't wait. I pressed my mouth to her pussy lips and kissed her. My tongue moved to where I had seen his cum and I licked. It tasted like her, but different. It tasted like adultery. I let out a soft moan, vibrating her clit. Kimberly stroked my hair and urged me on. "Yes, dear, eat it. Eat it all. Eat Jim's cum from my cunt."

I licked and I sucked and I swallowed. I thrust my tongue as deeply insider her as I could, scooping Jim's cum and eating it. After I thought I got it all, Kimberly contracted her muscles and I was rewarded with more cum. How much had he given her? I wondered. As I ate, Kimberly approached another orgasm. She squeezed my head with her thighs and held my face to her pussy. I managed to look up and saw that she had pulled Jim down to her breasts which he was happily sucking on once again.

"Fuck...fuck...yes...fuck...." was all she could say as she came again.

After she came down from her latest orgasm, Kimberly said, "poor John, you're the only one who hasn't cum yet."

I was well aware of that fact, but I knew what I wanted. I wasn't ready to cum yet, perhaps because I wasn't ready to let the fantasy end.

"If you two wouldn't mind, I like you to fuck again," I said.

Jim just laughed and said, "no problem there!"

"John, are you alright? Are we cool?" Kimberly was truly concerned.

"Oh, we're wonderful," I said. "I just have a specific idea for how I'd like this to wrap up."

After we all agreed to my plan, I went downstairs, still naked and hard, and left Jim and Kimberly alone to fuck again. As I gathered our clothes, I heard our mattress squeak and headboard hit the wall, knowing my wife was getting fucked by someone else. My cock ached from being so hard for so long. My head swam with all my feelings. My balls were tight and ready to explode.

I folded my clothes and put them in a neat pile on the coffee table. I then gathered Jim's clothes and folded them as well. I picked up the orange Hooter's pants and the low cut t-shirt. I marveled at how fucking sexy Kimberly looked in our daughter Joslyn's outfit. Later, after we talked about the experience, Kimberly would tell me that one of the most exciting parts of the night was the fact that she and our 21 year old daughter could fit in the same sized clothes.

I remembered the panties she tossed at me just before she left the kitchen earlier that evening (it seemed like days ago). I fished them out of the pocket of my folded pants and laid back on the couch, listening to my wife and her lover. I dangled her panties over my cock, letting them lightly stroke me. Soon, they were wet with my pre-cum. Upstairs, the squeaking increased and Jim and Kimberly became much more vocal.

I dragged the soft panty material across my balls and my cock twitched. I heard Kimberly shout out, "Fuck yes!" and Jim yell, "I'm cumming!" I smiled with satisfaction.

I gave them a few minutes to recover before I picked up Jim's clothes and the Hooters outfit. I walked naked up the stairs, my cock bobbing in front of me. When I entered the bedroom, Kimberly and Jim were laying in each other's arms, softly kissing and stroking each other. For about the thousandth time that night, jealousy hit me like a ton of brick. They looked so contented together, so satisfied. I cleared my throat and they looked up, almost embarrassed by the position I caught them in. Jim kissed Kimberly one more time then took his clothes into the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. I thought it odd that he would display modesty at that point, but perhaps he wanted to give Kimberly and me a moment alone.

I sat on the bed next to my naked and well fucked wife. I ran my fingers through her long, chestnut hair. She sighed and smiled, then took my hand in hers and kissed my fingers. "Thank you. I don't know how I can ever express what this meant to me."

"I know," I said. I glanced at her pussy. It was red, puffy, and very, very wet. Are you full again, just like we discussed?

She smiled at me and said, "what do you think?"

I grinned and gave her the Hooters outfit. She slowly put it on, taking time to let me see her perfect body as she covered it up again. When she pulled the orange shorts on, she bent at the waist, thrusting her ass toward me. I saw the folds of her pussy and the hint of Jim's cum. She shimmied them up her legs, then turned to me and played with her breasts, just showing them off.




Jealousy, Arousal, Kim, Jim, and Me



At that point, Jim walked back in, fully clothed. He stopped for a moment, taken in by the vision of Kimberly wearing only the orange shorts and playing with her breasts. She winked at him then pulled the t-shirt over her head and adjusted her breasts. Now, they were both dressed and I was still naked.

Kimberly assumed the role of Hooters girl once again and said, "if you'll just follow me, gentlemen."

"No problem there!" Jim said as we followed her down the stairs.

At the door, Kimberly and Jim kissed long and deep.

"Thank you, Jim."

"No, thank YOU," Jim said. Then he turned to me. It was an awkward moment, with him fully dressed and me naked, not to mention the fact that he had just kissed my wife and thanked her for the wonderful fucking. He nodded at me and offered a mumbled, "thanks."

"You made our fantasies come true, Jim," I said.

He smiled, seemingly relieved, then left into the chilly evening.

Kimberly turned to me and threw her arms around me. She gave me a long, wet, sloppy, deep kiss. She reached down and stroked my cock and caressed my balls. "Now sir," she said, snapping into her best waitress voice, "is there anything else I can get for you?"

"I hear your sloppy seconds are just wonderful."

"As a matter of fact they are, sir," she winked at me and gave a coy little jiggle of her bra-less breasts, "and they're very, very fresh." She turned and shook her lovely ass at me. "If you follow me, I'll serve you right away." With that she started up the stairs and I followed my cock right behind her.



Jealousy Burns



42 days. 8 hours. 22 minutes. 

That's how long it had been since the last time he beat and fucked her. 

His bruises on her ass and thighs . . . the bite marks all over her neck and breasts . . . the welts on her backside . . . they were just a memory of a time that was fast becoming the past. A time when he still wanted her. 

Her body was a pale, empty canvas waiting for the word, the call, or the text to let her know he wanted her. Well, blank if you didn't count the half-moon crescents inside of her palms and thighs from the dig of fingernails when she thought of him. 

She tried to play it cool. Be patient. But the frenzy set in: The body aches. The lack of focus. The painfully hard nipples that never seemed to go down even when she wasn't cold. The shame of her consistently wet cunt that throbbed to orgasm even in her sleep. 

She posted sexy pictures to the BDSM site where they met; sure he would love them and force him to pay attention to her. But he never liked or commented on any of them. She even wrote a poem about him that went ignored. 

Did he hate it? Am I being too needy? He's always loved my poems. Did he even read it? Maybe he just didn't see it? 

Insecurity flooded her. 

He appeared to be in no hurry. She no longer knew where she stood with him. He was cold, reserved, and noncommittal, acting as if he could take or leave her. In contrast, she wanted him. So much. The last time they were together, he promised he was going to take her ass the next time. He wanted to come in every hole she possessed, and he'd only sampled two. Though she'd never had anal sex before, the idea caused equal parts excitement and apprehension. 

She wanted more with him. But when she pushed, he simply shook his head, and said, "It takes time. We have to learn to trust each other." 

She noticed that, as of late, he wasn't so cold and reserved with another certain female. He loved all her pictures and commented on all her posts. They playfully flirted back and forth before her eyes day-after-fucking-day. 

Her jealousy ate away and burned her up inside. 

She hated the bitter taste of it. It made her feel small, ugly, and unwanted. Was this just his cruel way of telling her he was no longer interested and wanted her to slink away? She had the irrational desire to tackle the female that was taking his attention away. Take her down to the ground. Kick her. Claw her eyes out. Stand over her crumbled body with the spike of her heel digging into her throat and spit, "Not so pretty NOW, are ya, Bitch?" 

But that wasn't possible. So, she did the only thing she knew how to do. She tried to make him jealous. She began by outrageously flirting with a man she knew found her attractive. She uploaded pictures of herself naked, and responded to and encouraged his comments. She commented on his pictures, too. While she didn't find him all that attractive, she was sure to blatantly compliment him on his big, thick cock. 

She was surprised it only took two days. She was sure it would take him longer to show emotion, given how guarded he normally was with his feelings. Nevertheless, she received his text and was thrilled and surprised: 

Tomorrow night. Essex Motel. 8:00 p.m. Room 2. Put your blind fold on before you knock. Do NOT wear undies. 

Validation flooded her. Yes! He was jealous! He still wanted her. He still cared. 

She took her time getting ready for him. An hour-long bubble bath. Scrubbed her skin till it glowed with sugar scrub. Shaved her legs, not missing a hair. Waxed her pussy till it was as smooth as a petal. Pulled a tighter, light-blue dress over her head because he had once complimented how it hugged her curves and molded her breasts. She didn't bother with a bra, so he could see exactly how hard he made her nipples. She brushed her hair till it crackled and shined, anticipating the delicious feel of his hands wrapping and weaving through the strands. She put just the right amount of makeup on because he didn't like when she wore too much. Smiling to herself, she avoided the tube of water-proof mascara because she knew he loved the way the mascara streaked down her cheeks when he made her cry. 

When she drove up to the Essex Motel, she was disappointed to find it seedy and rundown. He'd always taken her to nice places before. The parking lot was empty with the exception of his car and a non-descript white sedan. A woman sat outside one of the rooms in a dirty, plastic chair with a cigarette dangling from her lips. She wore a thread-bare, black spandex dress with cutouts on the hips and a tired expression as she took long pulls from her cigarette. 

She wondered if she should call him. Voice her outrage over making her meet him at this disgusting, fleabag-ridden dump. He was always imaginative in their encounters. Always kept her on her toes. She grew to expect the unexpected when it came to his creative sadism. 

But this was questionable. 

And it hurt her feelings. 

But missing him propelled her from the car and towards Room #2 in anticipation. 

When she got to the door, she nervously looked down the breezeway, which was empty, except for the woman smoking two doors down. Taking a deep breath, she reached in her purse for the blindfold. Before putting it on, she met the woman's knowing eyes and smirk. 

With determination, she tied the blindfold around her head, secured it over her eyes, and knocked on the paint-chipped door. 

It took at least three minutes before it opened. But when it did, she melted into his warm hand when it gripped her upper arm to lead her in. She smelled the familiar warm of his aftershave before her nostrils were assaulted by the overwhelming smell of mildew and stale cigarettes. 

Despite this, she was soothed when she felt his breath in her ear and he said, "I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, too," she sighed. "So much." 

He guided her in until the back of her knees hit the edge of a bed. Then he grabbed her hair, twisted it around his hand, and kissed her. At first, his tongue was slow and searching, making her grow languid and warm with wanting. Then more insistent . . . harder . . . bruising . . . almost angry. Unprepared, she felt him push her dress up to her hips and shove his fingers into her wetness. 

"You're so wet," he gritted in her ear while he pushed two fingers inside. "Is it all for me?" 

"Yes," she moaned. "You make me this way." 

He spun her around and pushed her face down on the bed. The unpleasant feel of cheap polyester scraped her cheek. The musty smell emitting from the comforter made her nose wrinkle in distaste. 

"Why did you bring me to this place?" she had to ask at the sound of his zipper. 

"Because you're a whore, Baby. This is where you belong." 

Her heart sunk a little, but didn't reduce her wetness. She shoved the nagging unease of his words into the pit of her stomach and reminded herself how much he enjoyed the sometimes sadistic blurry lines between adoration and degradation. They hadn't been together long, but she was beginning to see and understand this darker side of him more and more. 

She moaned and gripped the scratchy comforter when he thrust into her. 

"Play with your clit," he demanded as he thrust. "I want you to come before your ass is fucked. It will make it easier on you." 

She did as she was told, though it took a good while because she was so nervous and, admittedly, more than a little afraid. When he felt her shudder into the mattress, he pulled out and rubbed the wetness on his cock into her asshole. 

"Spread your ass cheeks and wait for me," he said. 

She heard him pad to the bathroom, open the door, and relieve himself. With shaking hands, she spread herself open and waited. 

She tensed when she heard the sound of his footsteps return across the carpet. 

She sucked in her breath at the feel of cold lube squirted inside and around her hole. Then she felt the blunt tip of his cock at her entrance. He placed his warm hand against the small of her back in reassurance. It did little to calm her. 

Slowly, he pushed into her. 

It burned. 

It seared. 

It tore. 

She began to cry. 

"Oh. It hurts." 

He felt so much bigger in this hole than he did in the other. Because of the pain, she found herself begin to disassociate from reality in order to gain some relief from the searing burn. So much so that when he assured her, "Shhh. It's OK. Relax," his voice sounded miles away. 

His breath turned shallow. Ragged. He grunted as he thrust inside her. To make it feel better, she brought her hand to her front and started to rub her clit in an attempt to gain some pleasure that might overshadow the pain. She couldn't quite bring herself to orgasm, but it helped. 

His hand on her back moved to her hips, gripping tightly. He started to thrust harder inside her when he felt the muscles give and stretch. With her fingers, she pushed and rubbed the bundle of nerves that always brought pleasure. She focused on how much she loved the hard grip he had on her hips. How totally and completely he was taking her for his own pleasure and owning her. She reminded herself that this was something she wanted to give because she'd never given it to anyone before. It was important to him, so it was important to her. 

"Oh God yes," she moaned. "Take it. Just take it. It's yours . . ." 

Her words seemed to push him over the edge. She felt his thrusts stutter and begin to get jerky and out of control. His breathing became distorted and unfamiliar as he fell into the intense pleasure of his orgasm. His obvious appreciation of the act caused her to push hard on her clit as she felt him come. So hard, it pushed her over the edge, too. She screamed his name and bit into the dirty comforter. 

When he pulled out, she fell like a heap on the bed in exhaustion, breathing hard and still moaning. She felt his weight beside her and pushed her head into the feel of his fingertips as they ran gently through her hair. 

"Wow, Baby" He crooned, stroking her hair. "You really seemed to enjoy that." 

"Oh God. Yes, "she breathed and turned over on her back. "You have no idea. It was so intense. It's never been that way for me before." 

She moved her hands to up to her eyes to remove the blind fold, so she could see him. She wanted to know if he was as affected by their experience as she was. Her well-used behind ached, but the ache was delicious and worth it because it came from him. 

The gentle touch of his fingers in her hair slowed and became harder-more like a death grip-when she looked into the curiously icy blue of his eyes. She was about to ask what was wrong when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye at the foot of the bed. 

Incomprehension and confusion gripped her. 

They were not alone. 

As her back propelled up from the bed, she cried out from the grip he had on her hair. Then came face to face with a man, pulling his pants up. He smiled, adjusted his cock to the side, and zipped up. 

As she registered the familiar face, sickness seeped its way through her. First up her throat. Then down to settle in the pit of her stomach. Before ending with a spiky drive through the heart. 

His barely contained coldness dripped over her: 

"You two wanted each other so much . . . you have no idea how jealous I am."



Jealousy Drives Girl To Show Off



It was such a shock to me when I was on a weekend away with my boyfriend Eric and a friend of mine, Tania. It was mid-afternoon and we had just returned from a 8km run. I was getting a glass of water to drink in the kitchen and Eric was sitting in the lounge watching TV. In walks Tania, from the bathroom wearing only her black spandex halter-top she wore for jogging. In her hands she was holding the spandex shorts she had worn but she had nothing on covering her bottom. 

She stood there, a few yards from my boyfriend, in the nude. His eyes were about to pop out as he ogled her dark bush of pubic hair, shaped in a neat triangle of brown curls, but extending down with thinner growth disappearing into her butt crack. I was in total shock. I could not believe that she would not be embarrassed. I was a gasp as to what to say ending up being shocked into silence, as I stared at her physique from top to bottom, displaying a sweat soaked jogging top on top of a sweaty stomach leading to a bikini tan, with her white skin contrasted by the dark tanned skin surrounding it and the dark pubic hair in the middle. 

Tania was talking about how her new spandex shorts were really good in absorbing the sweat and that it was a great buy, but her stark nudity was so present in a place it aught not to be that it took the stage.

I hated the hypnotic affect it had on my boyfriend. When she eventually turned around to walk back to the bathroom, I noticed his glare follow her naked butt cheeks until she was gone from sight. I also noticed a mounting erection pushing out the fabric of his running shorts, so visible under the skimpy material.

I would never do anything like this. What a slut she is! I thought to myself. I wondered if she had done this on purpose or just walked out the bathroom, about to go for a shower, without thinking much of what she was doing.

The minute the bathroom door closed behind her, Eric's shock erupted in a smile, which he expected me to empathize with, but I was angry at her. I was angry at her for exciting my boyfriend. I was angry at her for being able to be so carefree and exhibitionistic when I was a shy prude. I was angry at her because this made me feel insecure and not good enough. Only yesterday Eric came back from the shops with a present of a tight white top for me and I refused to wear it in case it went see through.

I took out my insecure feelings on Eric. I walked past him put my hands on his crotch and felt his hard-on through his shorts.

"So this is what Tania does for you. You must be attracted to her then?" I remarked.

"I am just a normal male. This has nothing to do with me being sexually attracted to her, "he responded. 

I just walked out of the room and went to my bedroom where I could get some space and I read my book.

I was not very nice to Eric that whole evening. When we discussed why I was upset he said that I should not be such a prude and if I would let go a bit maybe I would be a happier person and we would have a better sex life. For a while Eric continuously hinted that he would like me to be more of an exhibitionist and show off my body more. 

"You have an incredibly sexy toned body with great legs and a round butt and well shaped firm round tits- why do you always hide it under so many clothes?"

I never had an answer. I suppose I was just shy or scared of being perceived as a slut or cheap. I never felt comfortable in tight or revealing clothes. I was always worried that I would get looks.

The next day I decided to maybe accept that I was stubborn and take Eric's request for me to become a bit more risqué to heart. I was feeling frisky and decided that I would not let my inhibitions get the best of me again. I had the morning to go shopping while the others were at the beach. 

I was walking in the shopping mall to the club wear shop. I though a little short mini would show off my toned legs and thighs and make Eric happy. I walked past a beauty salon and read the advert on the window.

"Special -- Get a full leg wax and receive a Brazilian on us"

I desperately needed a leg wax. Since I was a brunette my hairs were too dark to leave as some girls do. I didn't have a lot of hair but you really don't want any when you are in a bikini.

I entered the salon.

"Hi, when can I get an appointment for the advertised special?" I asked.

"We are booked all day today except for now" the beautician answered me as she looked at the booking sheet on the desk. 

What the hell! I decided to go for it.

"Please come with me" the lady guided me through a passageway and into a small room. 

"We will do the legs first. Please take your jeans off and we will get started" the beautician instructed me. 

I had my legs waxed until they were smooth and silky. 

"Have you had a Brazilian before?" she asked me.

"No, this is my first time. I have had a bikini wax though" I replied

"Ok, you will need to take your panties off and I will give you a tot of vodka to help num the feeling" she said as she handed me a little glass filled with vodka.

I was quite apprehensive so I downed the drink.

After the wax was complete, the beautician told me to stay lying down for a few minutes to let the moisturizing cream absorb. She left the room and came back a few minutes later with 3 bags in her hand.

"For ones first Brazilian we have a tradition to give a gift of a swimsuit. What size are you?" she asked me.

"I am a small or size 8" I answered.

"Well we only have white left in size 8. Here is your gift. I am sure you would look great in it with your petite figure" she said.

"Take your time and get dressed and I will meet you at the reception area to settle the account" she said as she handed me the plastic bag and left the room.

I opened the bag to find a tiny white t-string. It was like a g-string but had a t at the back where the strings connected. I had never worn a g-string before. I stood up and looked in the mirror. I looked so strange with no pubic hair. It was so smooth. I had never noticed how my pubes stood out with a fleshy look with the slit down the middle dividing them. I turned around to look at my butt. There were no whisks of hair protruding between my butt cheeks as I had before, but I noticed my reddish brown clitoris hanging between my butt cheeks as I bent forward. I had not seen it this way before with the hairs hiding it. It looked so raw, so sexy, it had a swollen hood.

I tried on the t-string. My ass looked almost naked, with the white skin contrasting to the tanned skin around the shape of my bikini. In the front the t-string was so high cut that it just covered my pubes and was quite stretchy pulling into my slit a little, showing the outline of two oval pubes divided by a slit through the thin fabric.

I left the t-string on and I got dressed, paid and left. I met up with the others but I didn't tell anyone about my adventure. 

We went out for the afternoon and then clubbing in the evening and never got back home until really late at night. Tania had a met a hot guy at the club, named David, and he came home with us for I suppose a one night stand. What else could I expect from my slut friend.

The next morning, I arrive at breakfast in my pajamas to see Eric and Tania sitting and talking at the kitchen table. Eric was wearing his pajama shorts and Tania was sitting in only blue satin bikini undies with a half halter top skintight against her big breasts. I was now convinced that she was hitting on Eric.

"Where is David?" I asked as I approached them.

"He is still sleeping" Tania answered.

I could not get myself to join them and instead I made an excuse that I was sick and I went back to the bedroom. The image of her size C tits with the nipples poking through the tight top and the undies visible as she sat on the bench was haunting me. I was getting really jealous. 

As I lay on my bed, with a volcano building up inside of me, I heard David wake up and go to the bathroom. I noticed that he had not closed the door properly.

I was not thinking rationally and decided I needed to take some retaliatory action. 

I pulled off my pajama shorts and top and with nothing else on other than the white t-string. I got up and I walked across the passageway and walked into the bathroom. 

"I never knew you were here "I said, acting surprised, to David as he was standing urinating at the toilet. 

"I just need to wash my teeth, but don't let me disturb you" I said to David as I walked up to the sink and took my toothbrush. 

I noticed his shock as he turned around to see me topless with my size B breasts firm and round and my nipples hard. In a trance like manner he focused in on my nakedness and just stood there, I continued washing my teeth as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

I was watching him in the mirror, watch me. I noticed him standing and perving at my ass, with the only material covering me a tiny thin white t string which disappeared into my round butt cheeks.

"Wow, I love your undies" he stuttered still not moving from the toilet.

I had a stabbing jolt of sexual excitement stem right through my body, as I realized my body was on display like a raw open wound. My nipples felt like lightning rods electrified. They hardened and stood out erect a few millimeters. My pussy was throbbing under the new swimsuit so much I almost felt the animalistic instinct to rock my hips with the internal rhythm of rising heat. I was naked, almost, and a strange man was taking in every inch of me, delighting in my exhibitionism, which was so foreign to me, yet made me feel so powerful, like a goddess. I didn't feel shy and want to cover up as I had imagined I would. Instead I felt my nakedness to be such a release. I wanted to show more. I wanted to be raped by his eyes. I enjoyed the attention. I wished I could pull my undies down and show him my newly smooth and hairless pussy.

I turned away from the mirror, still holding my toothbrush and faced David. He was wearing boxer shorts and he had a huge erection sticking out. He was suddenly self-conscious as he realized that I had noticed it. I was staring down at it. It looked like a thick pole in his undies. He seemed to suddenly get nervous and he started to walk past me. I smiled at him as he brushed my body with his, as he tried to squeeze past to leave the bathroom. 

I was not having much sex with my boyfriend on these holidays. I was feeling horny, on fire and sexually frustrated. I was also angry at Eric for flirting with Tania.

David left the bathroom. I locked the door behind him. I took my electric toothbrush and I closed the toilet lid, sat down on it and I switched the toothbrush on and pushed it against my clit through the new t string. I only got to feel hornier, but I wasn't able to masturbate myself to satisfaction.

I heard a knock on the door. 

"Hi its David, have a look out of the window" he shouted through the noise of the toothbrush. 

I looked out and saw Eric and Tania in the swimming pool. She was still topless and they were kissing. 

I was now mad as ever. My worries were confirmed.

I switched off the toothbrush and went to the door. David was not there anymore.

"Hey David, can you help me look for my contact lens. I dropped it somewhere near the sink and I cannot see to find it" I lied.

David came back into the bathroom.

I knelt down to the floor near him. He was looking for the lens as he took every opportunity to stare at my tits.

"Thank you for telling me about that slut outside" I said.

"Don't get mad rather do something in return" he said as he knelt up and put a hand on my thigh as I was kneeling.

I didn't remove his hand. Instead I sat down on the floor. I was at my horny limit and I just went with it. I put my hand on the outside of his undies and I grasped his erection and slid my hand down it and up again slowly caressing its head through his shorts. It was hard and a wet spot appeared by the head.

He responded by parting my legs, puling the t string to the side of my pussy and he tried to go down and suck me there. It was difficult for him to access me so I pulled the t string off my legs and I knelt on my knees. He lay down with his head between my legs. 

I felt his wet tongue against my pussy, with little strokes up and down the slit and then some nibbling on my swollen engorged clitoris. I let out a whine as I came. He then masterfully stuck his tongue into my wet pussy and I came again. 

As I then turned my body around to face his cock and suck it we stopped and kissed. I tasted the saltiness of my pussy on his lips. I wanted to touch his hard cock.

I put it in my mouth and I went up and down on it like a piston engine. I tightened my grip around its head as I came up as I had seen in porno movies. He wanted to get up and fuck me right there from the back as I knelt there giving him a blow job, but he didn't have a condom with him. I was not going to take any risks. 

"Can I do anal on you" he asked.

I had never had anal sex before.

He told me to go back into kneeling position. He slid between my legs facing me, but pulling himseld down so that his face was directly under my pussy. He put his hands around my butt cheeks and pulled me down towards his face. He licked my butt slit and then I felt his tongue welling up some moisture right on my butt hole. This was the first time I had ever been touched there. It was mesmerizing and extremely sensual. I had never known before that the butt was capable of feeling this. He then put a finger into the hole and I felt a sinking sensation together with a burning sensation and a rush at the same time. I tried to move my butt so that his finger was deeper in me. As it went in I was overcome with intense orgasms. I grabbed my new swimsuit and I put it in my mouth as I bit hard on it instead of screaming as I came again and again.

He then got up and started to thrust his hard cock into my butt hole. It hurt a little but it gave way and each time I felt his balls knock against my pussy I felt a new wave of renewed passion. I arched my spine upwards. I used the fingers of my left hand to caress my nipples as he thrust in and out of my butt. I felt fluids run down my legs from my pussy. I bent downwards and I took my other hand and I rubbed my clit ferociously. My fingers were soaked with mycum but I kept on rubbing away at my clit. I was rising in waves of excitement as I groaned loudly. I was feeling sore all over and tired and then David pulled his cock out of my ass and I felt spurts of his cum land on my back. This was unbelievable sex. We were both sweated out and tired. 

The others oblivious to this and were still in the pool. I wiped my sweated out body with a towel and put the t string back on.

David and I went for a swim to cool off. They were so surprised when David and I arrived for a swim. I had on only the white t string.

"Wow you look sexy!" Tania commented. Eric was shell shocked into silence.

"Have a look at my new look" I replied as I pulled down my t string to show my raw, red, smooth pussy lips.



Jealousy Explained



An insistent ray of sunlight poked me in the eye. I muttered and rolled over, burying my face in the satiny softness of the pillow. Automatically, I inhaled deeply, pulling the soothing scent of lavender deep into my lungs. The pounding in my head eased a bit and slowly thoughts filtered their way into my slushy brain.

First of all, I had no satin sheets. Secondly, they didn't smell of lavender. And, last but certainly not least, where exactly were my clothes?

I pushed myself up on my forearms and looked blearily around. I turned my head to the right and caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that wasn't mine. My long hair was mussed, my eyes still looked sleepy, but overall I looked content and pleased. It was the expression I always had after a particularly good night of romping in the sheets.

I flipped on my back and stretched luxuriously, enjoying the exotic feel of the satin against my bare body. I could have purred, I was so satisfied. It took me a bit to realize I could hear the sounds of a shower and I sat up, dragging the sheets to my breasts. I heard the water stop and I re-arranged the sheets to show off a bit of leg for my host. Whoever that may be, I thought, suddenly realizing I had no idea at whose place I was.

The door to the bathroom opened and out stepped a vision. Long, reddish hair, soft blue eyes and killer body. She was beautiful.

SHE??

I gave out a yelp and pulled my leg back under the sheets. My mouth dropped open when I realized where I was. I had apparently gone home with Ariana, one of the newer girls in our group of friends.

We had been out celebrating Allen's divorce from that harpy of a wife of his. The drinks and laughter had flowed unabated and memories of the previous night came in flashes to me, like scenes from a movie. I remembered dancing with Allen (who I had had a serious crush on when we were kids, but now we were all in our early 40s and he didn't look anywhere near as cute), and doing shots with Arianna. I remember we all started dancing together at one point after all the liquor kicked in, but I didn't remember leaving with her.

"Morning, sleepy-head!" my hostess called out to me, obviously not suffering the same after-effects I was. 

"Ummm...hey," I said, unsure of what else to say. 

"Great night, huh?" she said teasingly, as she slipped on a t-shirt and shorts. She approached the bed, her hair still damp from the shower. She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged at the sheet that was currently covering me. "Why so shy all of a sudden?"

"Woah, hang on! Don't do that!" panic was evident in my voice as I clutched the sheets closer. What the heck had I done? Could I really have possibly slept with another woman? And one I barely knew, to top it all off.

"Why not? Not like I didn't see everything last night," she said, moving closer.

"Okay, now you're freaking me out. Just what exactly happened last night? And where are my clothes?" I said, scooting away from her.

She gave me a sly grin and started to crawl over the sheets toward me. She reached out a manicured fingernail to stroke my cheek and I became paralyzed. She burst out laughing at my expression.

"Oh, this is hysterical! Relax, Kayla, nothing happened! You were too drunk to drive home, so I brought you here. You took off your own clothes and passed out. You couldn't have done anything if you tried," she laughed, rocking back on her heels. "Your clothes are drying. I put them in the washer this morning. Oh, and I called Jamie to come get you; it's almost one o'clock. I need to be at work in two hours or else I'd give you a ride home myself". 

I stared at her for a minute, open-mouthed. And then, of course, I started turning all shades of crimson. I stammered out an apology and she giggled at me, never taking her eyes from me. She leaned over, kissed my cheek and whispered, "You know, just because nothing happened last night doesn't mean something can't happen now. I've always thought you were irresistible."

"I'm flattered," I stuttered out, "but I think I'll pass. Especially since I have no idea what I would be doing."

"I'd love to teach you," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against mine.

"Okay, time for me to go!" I said, hopping off the bed and dragging the sheets with me. Arianna gave another giggle and bounded off the bed. 

"Fine, since you shot me down, I'll go see if your clothes are ready. Ha! At least you'll have to do the walk of shame from here," she said, laughing on her way to the laundry room.

When she got back with my clothes, I had barricaded myself in the bathroom. I heard her laughing some more (she was having a great old time at my expense) and she told me to go ahead and shower, that my clothes were outside the bathroom door.

I had to admit that shower felt wonderful and I freely used her body wash and shampoo, they smelled so heavenly. When I was done, I opened the door a crack and yanked my clothes into the bathroom. I slathered on some body lotion and quickly dressed, my hair still damp and falling in waves around my face.

When I came out and went into the living room, I was relieved to see Jamie was already there, sitting on the couch. She was wearing her yoga pants, a halter top and a ticked-off expression on her face. Her chestnut colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her chocolate brown eyes looked at me, unable to hide her annoyance. I knew she prized her early morning yoga sessions, so having to come pick up her hung-over best friend was a major inconvenience. I knew I would get chewed out the entire way home.

Arianna followed Jamie and I to the front door and I thanked her for putting up with me the previous night. She gave me a sexy little smile and trailed a finger down my arm. "Anytime, Kayla. I mean it." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie's eyes widen. Great, I thought. More explaining to do on the way home.

We got into Jamie's car and we weren't half-way down the block when she piped up.

"And what was all that about, Kayla? Something you need to tell me?" she was laying the sarcasm on big-time.

"Nothing to tell, Jamie! I passed out is all! She was just messing around," I replied, reluctant to tell her that Arianna had made a serious play for me. Jamie was not a big fan of Arianna's as it was; when Ari had started hanging around with all us, introduced through a mutual friend, Jaime had never warmed up to her.

"Really? Well, she sure makes it sound like you did a lot more than pass out," she retorted, punching the accelerator a little harder than necessary.

"Look, I passed out and woke up this morning. I took a shower, got dressed and now I'm with you going to...where exactly are we going, anyway?" I asked, realizing I didn't know where my car was.

"To my place. One of the guys brought me home last night. We dropped off my car and then went back to the club for yours. I'm sure you don't remember because you were having way too much fun with Ari."

"What are you talking about? What fun?" I was completely confused.

"Gimme a break, Kayla, alright? You and Arianna started dancing together when the DJ started playing some reggae stuff. The guys really enjoyed the show you put on. In fact," here came even more sarcasm, "I didn't even know you could dance that well. You really know how to move those hips."

"Oh, my God! What did I do?" I moaned out. "I'm never drinking again."

"You know how many times I've heard you say that over the years? And you usually say it after another disastrous one-night stand," she reminded me as she swung into her driveway.

I got out of the car and meekly followed her into her house. She tossed her keys onto the table by the front door; I noticed my keychain was already there. She pointed at it.

"There. There're your keys, so go whenever you feel like it," she said, sounding even more pissed as she walked away from me into her kitchen.

I ignored her words and followed her into the kitchen as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. She was about to open it when I saw her change her mind. She put the OJ back in the fridge and pulled out a beer. She quickly twisted off the top and took a long swig. That was very much out of character for my health-conscious friend.

She saw me staring and sneered. "I'd offer you one, but you had enough last night."

I was completely baffled by the fact that she was so upset. And, truth be told, I was starting to get a little angry myself.

"What's your issue? Are you pissed because you had to interrupt your downward dog or sun salutation or whatever to come get me?"

She didn't answer, just took another sullen sip of her beer. I waited to see if she said anything and when she didn't, I turned and started walking away. I suddenly wanted to get out of her house and go hide in my apartment for the rest of the day.

"Whenever you decide you want to talk to me, you know where I am," I said coldly as I reached for my keys.

"I'll make sure to call Arianna and let her know you're on your way back," was the biting response.

"I'm not going to Arianna's, you idiot! I'm going home and even if I was going back to Ari's, what business is it of yours?" I yelled, finally losing my temper and turning around to face her.

She threw the empty bottle into the sink and hurriedly came out from behind the counter, spoiling for the fight. Those eyes that could be so warm and affectionate were granite right now.

"It's my business because you were too fucking drunk last night to notice she was all over you! It's my business because she was pouring so much alcohol down your throat, that I thought you'd end up choking on it. It's my business because ever since she showed up, I've been scared to death that I was going to lose my best friend to her because she's all about partying and I know you love that," she paused, catching her breath. "And it's my business because when I saw her touch your arm today, I realized...," she stopped, her eyes starting to shine with unexpected tears.

I didn't want to speak or move or even exhale. Where was Jamie going with this statement?

She inhaled as deeply as she could and closed her eyes, squeezing out a tear that trickled down her right cheek. The sight of that tear moved me beyond words and also puzzled me; why was she crying when she had been so angry with me less than five minutes ago?

"I realized that she probably got to do with you what I've been wanting to do for so long," she said, her voice so heartbreakingly sad that I thought my own eyes would begin to water at any second. 

I stared at her, realization slowly dawning. She opened her eyes and looked straight at me, waiting for my reaction. Well, this definitely solved the mystery as to why Jamie disliked Arianna so much. 

Without a word, I pulled her into a hug and she began crying in earnest, making me melt. I hated seeing her cry; she was an incredibly strong woman and if she had reached the point of tears, it was because she couldn't handle the foreign emotions coursing through her. I knew her that well.

"Don't," I whispered in her ear, as she clutched me tighter. "Don't cry, sweetie. I didn't know. Nothing happened, okay? Ssshh....," I said, reaching up and pulling her hair out of the ponytail so I could stroke it. It tumbled free, going past her shoulders. I ran my right hand down its soft expanse as my left arm tightened around her waist. I murmured soothing words to her as I rocked her gently against me. The hitching in her body subsided slowly and she pulled away slightly to wipe at her eyes. I reached up and gently stroked a tear off her cheek. That coaxed a smile out of her and I gladly returned it, allowing my fingers to stroke her cheek even after the tear was gone. I could see the question in her eyes and I knew I had to answer her.

"Arianna would never take your place, Jamie. She can't be you. We've been through everything together. You mean more to me than I can ever say; telling you I love you doesn't even begin to cover how much I care. I wouldn't know what to do without you," I said as gently as I could. I was rewarded with a softness stealing over her eyes, taking the place of all that sadness; it was infinitely preferable. Both my arms went around her waist and I pulled her closer until there was nothing left to do but kiss her.

I had never felt another woman's lips on mine and the sensation was electrifying. I could feel her lips trembling beneath mine a little, but once she began responding to me, it stopped. The kisses were soft at first, gentle as a breeze. Hesitant, small brushes of lips. As our bodies melded against each other, the kisses became more urgent. When I felt the tip of her tongue touch my bottom lip, I slipped my own tongue out to meet hers. They became intimately familiar, stroking each other delicately, slowly until our internal heat started demanding more. 

Her hands slipped into my hair and pressed me more urgently into her. My hands responded automatically, reaching for the front of her pants and undoing the flimsy tie. Without breaking contact, she stepped out of the pants and my hands slithered over her butt, pulling her as tightly as I could against me. Her hands abandoned my hair and began undoing the buttons on my blouse. When she got it off, it joined her pants in a forgotten heap on the floor.

She was running her hands up my bare arms, her lips abandoning mine and heading for my neck, which was a major weakness. "Is this really happening?" she murmured against the base of my neck as she kissed her way up, giving me gentle nips. I had told her once that I really got off on small bites; apparently, she had filed that information away. 

My eyes were half-closed at this point, enjoying the feel of her lips on me. She got to my ear and gave me another little bite, along with a tug that I felt all the way down between my legs. 

"Yeah, it's happening," I answered her, once I could breathe. "And I can't believe how hot it is."

"It's gonna get hotter," she answered, starting to guide me to her bedroom, her lips back on mine. 

We bumped up against the bed when she reached down to undo my jeans. "No fair," she muttered. "You have more clothes on than I do."

"So remedy the situation," I replied, taking advantage of her looking down to start my own journey on her neck. I swept that beautiful hair out of my way and sucked gently as I worked my way up. I could feel her fumbling at my button and zipper and I heard her catch her breath as I worked my way back down until my lips were at the base of her throat.

"Kayla," she sighed, as my jeans hit the floor. I wrapped my arms around her waist as I kicked the jeans away. My head dipped between her breasts and I covered them with soft nibbles until I had her moaning. I went to pull the halter top off, but she reached up and put my hands on her breasts through the material instead.

"Not yet...please...just...," she started moving my hands over her breasts, showing me what she liked. I followed her lead, just slow, easy circles until I could feel her nipples hardening under my palms. My God, I thought. Was I really eliciting this reaction from her? I ran my thumbs as feather-soft as I could over her nipples, my eyes on her face the entire time. Her eyes had grown darker as she looked at me and I was almost afraid. Could I take her where she needed to go? Could I give her what she so apparently wanted? That's a lot of pressure for someone who had never been with a girl before. 

I lowered my head and just breathed against the fabric covering her. She groaned as I gave her small bites through the top. When I looked back up, she was looking at me and the look in her eyes was nothing but pure love (actually, there was a fair amount of lust in there as well). She reached out and stroked my face. The smile on her face was so delicate and beautiful that I had no doubt that she wasn't judging me or my attempts to give her the pleasure I wanted her to feel.

"You gotta tell me if I'm doing this right," I whispered. "Guys I can handle. You're different...obviously."

"Obviously," she teasingly said back and I was relieved to hear that note in her voice. So she wanted to play? I could deal with that.

"Okay, how's this?" I asked innocently, allowing my mouth to slip down over her breasts. I let my tongue flick at her nipple through the top and received a soft moan in return. "Or this?" I moved to the other breast and did the same thing. Another moan. 

"And....," I started going down the front of her until I kissed and nipped my way to her belly button. I ended up on my knees in front of her, my heart pounding at the next step. I knew that I was not ready under any circumstances to kiss her there, so I placed my hands on her hips to steady her and I leaned in, blowing warm air over the center o her cute cotton hiphugger. I ran my fingernails down the insides of her thighs and made her tremble. My fingers ran back up and quickly slowed down when I got to that spot between her legs. I was going to take my time.

I watched as my fingers gently went over her hiphugger, stroking as easily as if I was petting a new-born kitten. I was in awe when the tips of my fingers started sensing moisture. She was making desperate little sounds at this point and I slowly worked my way back up her body until my lips were back on hers, my tongue looking for hers.

I timed it perfectly; my fingers found her inside her underwear right as her tongue touched mine. She moaned loudly against my mouth and we fell onto the bed in slow motion. I settled myself between her legs, my hand between us. I watched her as my fingers rubbed and stroked her into another world. My own ache would have to wait, I had decided. This was completely about her. I wanted to leave no doubt in her mind how much she meant to me. 

She was moaning in total abandon now, her eyes completely closed. "Kayla," she whimpered. "God...go, keep...yeah, there...right...oh, God, don't...don't stop, baby...please." 

I increased the motion of my fingers, probing and stroking, insisting that she find the release she so desperately wanted. "Jamie," I whispered, as I began kissing her again. Her hands tried to come up to my head, but they fell back onto the bed as she began trembling in earnest. "Jamie," I said again, pulling away as her tongue desperately searched for mine again. "Baby, go with it." I sucked gently on her tongue as she began to moan and move her hips against my hand. "Come on, baby, go for me," I whispered, as my fingers started feeling the rush of juices from her. "I want this for you. Let it happen, Jaime. Don't fight it. It's okay."

"Oh, God....Kayla," she whimpered, as the orgasm took over. She cried out, her arms coming up and pulling me down on her as her nails scratched across my back. She spiraled upwards, waves of pure pleasure washing over her and then slowly she started coming down. I slowed the motion of my fingers, waiting for her to come back to me. I took my hand away from between her legs and wrapped both hands in that luxurious mane of hers. 

"Baby, open your eyes," I whispered and she complied dazedly; I probably looked that way as well after climaxing. I lowered my lips back to hers and just gave her kiss after kiss, my body feeling so comfortable against hers. She wrapped one leg around me and pulled the other one up against us, enclosing us even more. She reached up and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, a tiny smile on her lips.

"Kayla," she began, and I kissed the tip of her nose. It was adorable. 

"Talk to me," I answered softly, stroking her hair and looking into those eyes.

"Does this...this was unreal, but...does it change us, does it change the you and me that we are?" she asked hesitantly, her hand coming up to stroke my cheek.

I leaned my face into the caress and smiled at her. "Baby, it doesn't change anything. You and me will always be you and me. You're the greatest friend I've ever had and I think I just proved it. You took my chick cherry!" I said mischievously, enjoying the smile that grew on her lips.




Jealousy Explained



"I think we took each other's chick cherries," she answered, giving a little laugh. I loved the sound; it meant that everything was going to be okay.

"Yeah, and just so you know, I don't plan on crawling into any other girl's bed, okay? This is completely between you and me, nobody else. This is for us," I kissed her again. "This is a best-friends-only type of thing." I giggled as she poked me.

"Well, I should hope so! I don't need you turning into some sort of slut on me," she said, increasing her tickling. She grew serious for a minute and cocked her head looking at me. "Was this a one-time deal, Kay? Could it happen again? Does this make us gay or anything?"

"Let's not over-think it, okay? Whenever you feel the need for a little extra...attention from me, so to speak, you just let me know. And no, I don't think this makes us gay because, like I said, I'm not going to run off and screw other girls now. I dig guys too much for that! Besides," I said, still feeling like teasing, "it's going to be your turn next time so it better happen again."

"Oh, really?" she said, her hands going from tickling to sliding down my sides and hooking thumbs into my thong.

"Yeah, really," I said, as she slipped past the flimsy excuse for underwear.

"Well, what do you think of this?" she whispered, as she began to return the favor.

"I think," I gasped out, "that I'm not going home today."

"I think you're right," she answered.



Jealousy Ruins a Threesome



Poetically Expressed True Story: Jealousy Ruins a Threesome

A few years back, I shared a passionate embrace with a lovely chocolate woman beneath the shadows that the night hours bring. Our cuddle was an interlocked 69 position that allowed for simultaneous tongue baths to be willingly provided for one another. The only thing audible over the melodic chants of the spellbinding erotic music playlist, was the entrancing sounds of pleasantly noisy slurps, her tongue ring flicking swiftly on the tip of my throbbing nine inch extension, and the willingness in her submissive character to choke and gag herself on my length. As we orally engaged each other's arousal, a voice oozing magical seduction pushed alluring words into the air.

"Yes, Jazmine... Suck that big dick."

Jazmine's warm mouth was too full of my eager hardness to have uttered that sentence. The enticement of the feminine voice's approval of our sloppy oral combination originated from the open portal of my door frame. I was unable to obtain a clear perspective of the source of the alluring, yet unfamiliar voice. The smooth ass that acted as a rich chocolate plate for the pink meal in which I stuffed my face with was blocking my view of the seductive speaker. Without needing to take a glance through the shadows of the surrounding darkness, I remembered that Jazmine's friend had fallen asleep in my living room. An hour before that moment, her mind reached towards the upper galaxies after a session of inhaling exotic forms of the spiritual cannabis herb. So, her body rested on my comfortable sofa during her spirit's journey beyond the clouds. Jazmine and I left her deliciously thick friend's slumbering body in the living room to inwardly play amongst the stars, so that we could partake in each other's heightened senses. 

During that walk up the staircase while gratefully behind the slim beauty, I followed my temptation's orders to expose Jazmine's petite mocha ass from beneath her miniskirt. I eagerly commenced a session of delightful nibbling on her delicate hazelnut coffee toned derriere as her smooth knees sank into the carpeted staircase. Those actions of me feasting on the delectable ass that shook on top of wobbly legs was what inspired the 69 that her awakened friend had walked in on. 

Four years later, I still lack knowledge of the name of Jazmine's friend. My only bit of information on the mysterious woman's government title was that it began with the letter "M". Or maybe I heard the mumble incorrectly. I mean, I did make it difficult for Jazmine to clearly utter her best friend's name with accuracy. It was likely a tremendous feat attempting to scream a name with my rod of hardened Nubian flesh plugging her voice's sloppy doorway. Shock also consumed Jazmine's marijuana heightened awareness after learning that her best friend of many years secretly desired a physically intimate session with Jazmine's beautifully brown body. So I can imagine that screaming her best friend's name with sexual intimacy being carried in her tone of voice was a difficult and confusing task. Jazmine just expressed a week before that moment that women weren't appealing to her in the least. She even went as far as to say that even the mere thought of women intertwining sexual efforts was nauseating to her imagination. I couldn't help but to grin when I observed the perfectly curvy nameless shadow's womanly nectars dripping from the formerly heterosexual Jazmine's chin after she came up for air. 

A series of glowing lines delivered from the moon and stars through window blinds was our only form of lighting. In the dim lit area of the multi-partnered performance on top of soaked linen sheets, I witnessed the satisfaction in the nameless woman's eyes as she basked in the memorable talent of Jazmine's mouth for the first time. Erotic beauty unveiled its taboo tale before my very existence as I danced with my hips between the jiggly backside of Jazmine while admiring the joy in her friend's fulfilled face. She radiated the satisfaction of having years of playing the close friend to Jazmine, finally pay off as she made her Bff's lips creamy for the first time. While the unnamed thick siren unleased her watery climax all over Jazmine's face and my drenched sheets, I delivered massive strokes into Jazmine's gooey center; reaching nine inches into the rear of Jazmine's exposed pink canal as her ass spread for my eager entry. My pelvic thrusts sent tremors and jiggles through her soft petite ass, which generated moans that oozed through her vocal cords. Jazmine's shrieks of passion vibrated onto a clit that was too taboo for the mouth that it throbbed in. 

Jealousy crept into our atmosphere once the nameless curvy shadow requested to also partake in Jazmine's experience of the male talent deep within her hydrated pink reaches. Her wishes were instantly granted when I pulled myself from Jazmine's tight container of moisture and squatted behind her friend's round ass. Jazmine spread her friend's lovely big brown ass apart to assist me in creating a clear path for me to align my powerful erection with the snug opening of her flooded gateway. The nameless beauty exchanged bodily fluids with Jazmine as their kisses carried the juices of all three of our sex drives. Her fingers invaded Jazmine's tight world to trigger the G-spot as my downward pushes into her unfamiliar canal also stimulated her G-spot. Her body was foreign to me, but the pleasures it resonated into my being was nothing new to my experience. I had been in unfamiliar women many times before. Each time I was capable of inspiring them to plea for more until they reached many orgasms beyond the one where they said they could no longer handle the overwhelming pleasure. So it wasn't anything new when the seductively strange voice shouted the arrival of her watery explosion. As I rapidly caused my pelvic regions to slap against her wobbly ass, Jazmine pushed her friend away from their shared kiss. 

Jealousy manifested fully to reveal that Jazmine was not fond of sharing me at any degree. The aftermath of orgasmic shivers and shakes coursed through her confused best friend as we all sat in silence because of the surprising occurrence. Jazmine fled the bedroom and retreated to the bathroom to cry out her confusions and jealousy. In blind horniness, I continued my stroke's path into the fluffy rear of the stranger in my soaked bed. She struggled with her morals and her pleasures long enough for another Earth rattling orgasm to emerge from her gushy center. Then, she told me the words that would end the taboo affairs of that night.

"As bad as I want you to keep fucking me... I think we should stop sexy. My best friend is upset at us and I have to go make sure she's okay."

After she teasingly performed a tremendously tight kegal squeeze that pleasantly crushed against my width, she slowly crawled away from me. As I sat disappointed in a cold wet spot where to two women once laid, I watched the stranger's ass wobble majestically with each naked step she took towards my room's exit. I sat in silence calmly stroking my own stiffness with intense desires to manifest my own creamy climax. I could hear indistinguishable conversation in the bathroom as I rubbed my tip in circular motions while mentally reliving the brief erotic moment. 

After they talked for about five minutes, they sparked my excitement when they both returned naked to my bedroom. Dissatisfaction filled me when I realized that they only came back to retrieve their clothes and to get dressed. Jazmine didn't even look at me nor speak. She was hurt after the surreal events that broke her heterosexual streak and demonstrated that she was not willing to share what I happily used to give her often. Mere minutes later, they left without saying a single word to me. The seductive stranger gave secret glances that reached towards me through the faint moonlight. Her eyes confessed her wishes to be able to sneak her phone number to me. She even attempted to allow Jazmine to leave the room first to stealthily exchange contact information. Jazmine noticed and pulled her out of my room before they vanished into the night. 

Jazmine eventually called me the next morning to express her jealousy of witnessing me giving myself to a friend that she held so dear; but that night, I was on the verge of creaming all over myself from the lack of releasing my cum between their shared kiss. I was brimming with powerful lustful spirits after the abrupt stop of our fun. I also had an extreme marijuana high still lingering in my system which greatly influenced my sex drive. So with horniness being a persistence opposition to me, I was left with three options. Go to sleep, go on a porn site to masturbate, or call someone else over... 

I was a wild one back in those days and had a lot of energy to give, so you can probably guess what I did...

-Naviel Skyy



Jealousy-The Best Aphrodisiac



He was acting strange all day. For some reason he kept looking at me I had the sensation that he was feeling guilty about something. I didn't want to think about it and yet I couldn't shake it off. 

We were having a party that night. A few friends were coming over for dinner and drinks. The usual gang, not a big deal at all. It was a warm summer night so we decided a barbeque would be a good idea. He loaded up the bbq chimney with mesquite as he whistled a happy tune. He was wearing that pale blue t-shirt that shows off his slim manly physique. His arms were slightly tanned and the sun shown through the golden hair on his arms. As I stood inside and looked out the window at him, he looked happy and chipper. He must've felt that my eyes were on him, he turned and gave me that naughty smile and winked at me. His smile always gets me hot especially when he gives me that naughty grin of his. I let out a sigh knowing that our guests would be over too soon for us to make a trip upstairs for a few moments of hot burning passion.

I continued to prepare the appetizers-cheese and crackers, hummus, olives, etc. As I prepared for guests' arrival, it suddenly dawned me that maybe he was happy because a certain female was coming over tonight. 

Ah my friend Helena-always so beautiful, blemish free and sparkly white teeth. She always looks good and she doesn't have to work at it. She is Asian and in her mid 30's. Her skin is milk chocolate brown, her hair silky black and her body is something to envy. Not only is she gorgeous, but she is also sharp as a tack and extremely successful. There is something very strong about her, almost distant and cold. She is certainly not a shrinking violet and has a Type A personality. Yet, she has got to be one of the nicest human beings.

When I first met her, I never really thought too much about her. She called me and invited me to the movies, on hikes, and to various social occasions but I was always too busy to get together. I ran into her quite often so eventually, we began our friendship. 

I introduced her to my friends and invited her to my social gatherings. Apparently my male friends looked at her quite differently than I. They followed her around the party trying to make conversation with her. Although their wives were there too, they couldn't seem to break away from her. Noticing their over zealous attention, she expressed a level of discomfort about it to me. She obviously didn't want to piss anyone off especially my girlfriends, the wives of my panting male friends.

"I am sure, there's no problem. I trust that you would never go for any of them. I think it's kind of funny! My girlfriends don't have a problem with you talking to their husbands." 

So it goes, Helena, eventually moved into the unit across the way from me after her divorce. I had divorced Evan a year or two before Helena's divorce. By the time she moved in across the way from me, David and I had been dating for at least a year. 

We have been together for a few years now and our relationship has been amazing. For the most part, I thank my lucky stars we are together. He is sweet, patient, loving, sexy and the best lover I have ever had. I have to admit, I am addicted to him. He turns me on every time we make love. When I look at his hands, I can't help but think about the way he touches me. We share most everything. We've invited other women to join us for sensuality and erotic play. Watching him touch and make love to another woman turns me on. Making love to a woman while he watches drive him wild.  Helena flirts with David. On many occasions she has flirted with the both of us as we did her. 

One day I, after running into Helena, I asked David if he had fantasies about her. He hesitated for a moment and replied, "no."

The hesitation in itself let me know he was not being honest. "David, why are you lying to me? I asked. He blushed and reluctantly said, "Okay, I lied, of course I have had fantasies about Helena but they always involve the three of us."

"Oh really? Tell me more."

David didn't go into to great detail but he confessed that he had been having fantasies about the Helena, him and me. 

I, in turn, confessed my fantasies as well. You see, I had been having fantasies about him touching her. As I lay awake and alone in bed, I'd fantasize about his hands touching her brown skin whereupon; I'd get myself off while thinking about them together.

The day he confessed his fantasies, we made wild passionate love. As he touched me, I begged him to tell me what he wanted to do with her, what he wanted me to do with her. As he touched my body, I imagined he was touching her. The more he talked the hotter and wetter I got. I was so wet that when he touched my clit, my body jerked uncontrollably. We fucked for hours, panting and spewing our fantasies out loud.

After that day, Helena became an obsession of ours. I began to grow jealous of David's fantasies. For weeks on end, when we made love, he'd tell me all the different things he wanted to do with her. He wanted to tie her up, spank her, take her from behind. He wanted her to beg for him, to suck his cock. He wanted to dominate her. He wanted to lick her pussy, he wanted to make her scream in ecstasy. I wanted him to share his thoughts with me so I didn't say much and I have to admit, the jealousy drove my passions to new heights. Yet, being my neighbor, the thought of the three of us together was just too close to home. Our lovers were not regulars and they didn't live across the way from either of us.

A part of me wanted to show her just what a great lover he is. I wanted to share him with her but could I be sure he wouldn't leave me for her? I had often wondered if I would become jealous.

One day, I popped in on Helena; she invited me in for a cup of tea. As we drank tea, I admired her beauty. She had just come back from a run, her skin shone with a thin layer of sweat. I couldn't help but stare at her cleavage. 

Suddenly, I found myself blurting out, "Hey Helena, would you ever consider joining David and me for a little erotic fun? He is a fantastic lover and if you did join us I know it would fulfill one of his fantasies." As I said this, I let out a nervous giggle to help ease my discomfort.

She laughed, "Oh god, don't you think that is a little close to home? Besides right now, I am trying to figure out whether or not my relationship with Chris is going anywhere but if it doesn't work out, I may consider it."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Oh yeah, Chris. How are you two doing anyway?

Helena went on to tell me about Chris and her confusion about their relationship. We never really spoke again about the possibility of a threesome. I didn't want to push it with her. Also, I wasn't sure if I could handle David's lust for her.

Eventually, Mine and David's mutual fantasies and verbose lovemaking subsided. 

As I listened to David's whistling I stared out the window at him, it dawned on me that somehow this good mood of his had to do with Helena's impending appearance at my party. I restrained myself from asking him. After all, everyone is entitled to wishful thinking.

Knock knock knock. "Helloooooo."

Helena!

"Hey Girlie, what's happening?" I yelled out. 

Helena is always the first to arrive. She has got to be the most prompt person I know. I suppose that probably is part of the reason for her success.

I quickly looked out to the deck, David was smiling to himself, he looked up slightly but tried to pretend he didn't know she walked in.

I peeked around the corner as she walked in through the entry. "I am here, in the kitchen."

With a her pearly white smile, she gave me a huge hug. "How are you? Where's David?"

"He's out back, go say hi."

She turned and headed out to the deck. God she was hot. Helena is about 5'6" and has these incredibly sexy legs.  She was wearing a short black skirt, a low cut top that showed off her cleavage. She had the best shoes. As she walked away I thought to myself, "Yummy."

I watched their interaction. He was smiling as she approached him. He reached out, hugged her and gave her a light kiss on the lips. I couldn't hear what they were saying but obviously he was quick to find something to talk about. 

As he stoked the fire on the barbeque, Helena, sat down in one of my new patio chairs, he sat down across from her. She was laughing and swinging her hair to one side. I could see the lust on his face and actually I could see it on hers. I thought about going outside and joining them but watching them was making me jealous and hot at the same time. Jealousy functions as an aphrodisiac for me so I decided to let their interaction go without interruption.

As they sat and talked, I could see she was crossing and uncrossing her legs and every time she did so, David would turn his head, like a schoolboy hoping to get a glimpse up her skirt. I could see that her skirt was hiked up around her thighs and getting a sneak view wouldn't be that difficult. There they sat, laughing to themselves, every once in awhile touching one another on the knee. 

Knock knock knock. Another guest had arrived.

As I greeted my friends, David and Helena walked in from the deck. They greeted the new arrivals then unexpectedly, David leaned towards me and whispered in my ear, "Helena wants to show me her new hot tub, we'll be right back." Before I could respond, they walked out the door as more people arrived. I wanted to call out to him but they were busy laughing and talking as they left.

I continued to greet and socialize with my guests. We sat around the kitchen noshing and sipping red wine. People asked, "Where's David?" I casually replied, "oh, he's checking out Helena's new hot tub." Although my tone was casual, my jealousy was growing by leaps and bounds and I grew damp between my thighs.

I walked out to deck to check on the barbeque and as I did so I tried to get a peek across the way at Helena's place. There seemed to be no sign of Helena and David. Her front door was closed!

While they were gone, I hung out with my friends. While they spoke to me, I couldn't really hear what they were saying. My mind was busy conjuring up visions of what David and Helena were doing. 

Quickly, I excused myself, and ran across the way to Helena's. As I walked in the front door I could hear her moaning. Her place was just like mine. From the front door, I could see straight through to her back yard. There they were, she was sitting on the cover of the hot tub with her skirt hiked up to her waist. David was bending down licking her pussy. I stood there shocked, full of rage and jealousy but I stood quiet, frozen in the moment. 

Her feet strategically placed on his shoulders as she rested on her elbows with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her dark brown nipples stood erect. I wanted to get a closer look so I stepped closer to the window. I could see he was in heaven. As he licked her clit over and over, he slid his finger in and out of her. She began to pinch and pull on her nipples. She jutted her hips towards him as he moved his finger faster and harder. I could see him looking at his finger slide in and out of her. Her pussy was waxed bare. Her beautiful shiny wet pussy lips were puffy, engorged with desire. Over and over he slid is finger in and out of her and over her clit. He pushed his face into her pussy, licking and sucking her as she moaned louder.

"David, Fuck me, please fuck me.". 

He aggressively grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her belly and frantically unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out.

"Oh David, give me your cock." 

I was torn as to whether I should stay or return to my guests. I needed to see him slide his cock in her. I wanted to see him get off. 

He closed his eyes and thrust his hard cock into her as he pulled her hips into his. He let out a deep moan as he entered her. I stood watching as my clit began to throb. His face was flush as he fucked her hard.

"Oh god Helena, You want my cock don't you? Fuck my hard cock, give me your pussy."

As he slammed his cock into her, her raised his hand and slapped her ass hard. For a moment, she seemed stunned and the then she bucked wildly begging David to make her cum.

Yes, David, I have wanted you to fuck me, Oh baby, give it to me deep and hard"  fuck me like you fuck Brianna. 

I was surprised to hear her say that. Imagine that! She wanted to know how he made love to me. How strange!

I had to get back to my party. I wanted to stay but if I did I'd never get back to my guests, so I left them, knowing that he was realizing one of his fantasies without me. When I returned to my house, I immediately began barbequing. 

"Where's David?"

Oh, he's helping Helena do something with her new hot tub. They'll be back in a minute."

I can't believe I covered his ass. That fucker!

As I stood over the hot sizzling barbeque, sweating from thoughts of David and Helena, I heard her front door open. As they walked out of her place and headed over to mine, she straightened out her skirt. 

As they came through my door, David called out to me, "Hey babe, we're back. Need any help?"

I called out, "Yes, could you finish barbequing for me."

He walked out onto the deck a little sheepishly and leaned over and gave me a kiss. I kissed him lovingly and tasted her pussy on his lips. "Mmmm baby, you taste good," I said.

I walked away and headed for the kitchen. Helena was filling her wine glass as I strolled up behind her and pressed my body against her back. As I did so, I discretely slid my finger up her inner thighs and found her wet bare pussy. I ran my finger through her dampness, through his cum and whispered in her ear, "was it good?"

She turned and kissed me on the lips and said, "You're one lucky girl, Thanks."



Jealousy: The Biter Bit



A story arising very loosely from my marriage counselling days long ago. Though names, events and even nationalities have been changed, the essence of the story remains, though I have taken liberties to ensure confidentiality (and for the fun of it). Thirty years later I still see the couple around the place, their children are grown and have children of their own.

No actual sex in this story, but it gets pretty close!

***

If you had been sitting in the lounge bar of the Waggon and Horses pub that Saturday night, you would have seen them. A party of five; two couples and a single man. What would have caught your attention were their solemn expressions, which is unusual in a pub on Saturday night. All was not well.

The single man sitting at the head of the table was Gary Cronshaw. Gary was a good-looking man of twenty-eight years. He was tall, thin enough to appear almost lanky, though he was in fact very fit with toned muscles. His dark mop of hair was curly, his face handsome with dark brown eyes surrounded with long lashes. What you couldn't tell from his appearance was that nearly a year earlier he had married a pretty girl called Sonia. She was not present, having gone to visit her mother some forty miles away.  

This meeting in the pub was largely about her and the problem that she and Gary had. 

Gary's older brother Clive could have been Gary's identical twin; same build, same hair, though he did not look after himself so well and was somewhat overweight as a result. 

Barbara his wife was a pretty blonde woman. She was shorter than her husband, the top of her head coming only to his shoulder. She was curvy, with prominent breasts, impossibly slim waist and a well-rounded rear. She brought Dolly Parton to mind. Unlike her husband she kept herself fit. 

The two of them could see the marriage of his younger brother falling apart and felt something would have to be done before it was too late. It was Barbara who had the idea of enlisting her colleague from work, Sven, and his wife Ingrid. 

Sven and Ingrid were almost a caricature of a handsome Swedish couple. Sven was taller even than Gary, standing at six feet four inches, and, as Barbara had told Clive on a number of occasions, devastatingly good looking much to Clive's annoyance. Sven obviously looked after himself. He was solidly well built with a ruggedly handsome face and ash blond hair. Ingrid was dark haired and very pretty. She too was tall and slim with long, long legs. Her eyes were an arresting blue, her cheekbones high, her eyes wide set and her full lips smiled often under a small straight nose. 

"Are you sure you want to hear all this?" asked Gary. "I don't want to bore you."

"Tell them the whole thing, Gary," said Clive. "I think they may be able to help you."

"I don't see how; I think it's all gone too far." Gary's dejection was obvious to all.

"Tell them anyway."

"OK. Your funeral," said Gary, his resignation showing.

Sven and Ingrid leant forward. Gary appreciated their attention; it was a comfort from strangers.

"Sonia was always a party girl. She loves dancing and the atmosphere in clubs and at parties. She used to go clubbing every weekend before we met. From what people tell me, she was quite wild.

"We met when she came to work at my offices, and for some reason I can't fathom she took a shine to me."

"Don't do yourself down," interrupted Ingrid with her enchanting sing-song accent, "You are a handsome man -- very fit and attractive."

Gary loved her accent, but he loved her comment even more.

"Anyway," he continued with a shy smile at her, "we started going out together and the long and the short of it is that we got married."

"You went clubbing with her?" asked Sven.

"Before we married, I went once or twice, but usually she would go on her own. I dance like a dork, or your dad, very embarrassing. I just can't do it, but she'd dance with her girlfriends for the fast ones and get me on the floor for the smooches.

"We did other things -- you know -- theatre, concerts, pubs; we visited friends and went to their parties and threw our own, so we had lots in common."

Gary took a long drink before continuing.

"After we got married she stopped clubbing, though we still went to parties. I knew she liked to dance, and I asked why she didn't want to any more, but she shrugged and said I was enough entertainment for her."

"Very flattering," said Clive to Sven. "But he's right; in those early days she adored him -- sickening really!"

Barbara punched her husband on the arm. "No it wasn't, it was lovely!" 

Ingrid nodded her agreement.

"Carry on!" said Clive, ignoring his wife but rubbing his arm.

Gary took a deep breath and continued.

"Looking back I think she knew I didn't like clubbing and she was trying to give it up out of love for me. Anyway, after about six months she was getting restless on Friday nights. I asked her what was up. She hugged me and said it was nothing, but it was obviously something. The next week I asked her again and she seemed quite embarrassed. She sort of looked at her feet and then she asked if we could go to a club.

"What could I do? I agreed. She was ecstatic! She got a friend from work, Ann, to go with us -- nice girl. They danced the fast ones and I got the slow ones, her girlfriend usually hooked up with some bloke for those. We had a good time and, well, I got my reward when we got home, if you see what I mean." 

He coloured up and everyone laughed. Sven got up and bought another round and Gary waited until he returned before continuing.

"We went about once a month, and the next two went like the first. It was the fourth time, about two months ago, when things started to go wrong. 

"Ann had left the company and had taken up with some bloke, so the next time it was just the two of us. We sat out the first fast dance, and then a guy came up and asked her to dance. She looked at me and I nodded. No problem. They danced together -- you know, facing each other but at a distance -- and he didn't touch her. I know he appreciated her; she is quite wild when she dances, and with a loose top and very short skirt she's quite a sight to see: there's plenty on view in flashes.

"The next dance was a slow one and he wanted to carry on, but she said something to him and he glanced at me and left. We danced that one. That's how it went. She'd dance fast ones with whoever asked. If they got too close she'd let them know it, and all the slow ones were with me."

"So what is the problem?" asked Sven. "You both had a good time."

"Problem?" said Gary. "Drink. The time when the trouble started, we'd both had a few more than usual: dancing is thirsty work. Sonia tends to get a bit frisky after a few. She danced with a group of guys and got really out of it; she was flipping up her skirt to show her little knickers at them, and one of them got behind her and started grinding himself against her bum, hands of her hips, pulling her against him, you know the drill, happens all the time."

"But not to someone else's wife?" said Ingrid.

"What do you think?" Garry replied with some heat.

"Go on," prompted Clive.

"I stood up and grabbed her bag. I don't think she saw me until that moment, she was lost in the sensation -- she was enjoying it. I think she looked a bit guilty, and pushed him away, but carried on dancing. They carried on trying to feel her up, but she was looking over at me more often and when I took a step towards her, she left them and swayed over to me, a big grin on her face -- until she saw clearly the look on mine.

"I told her we were going. She said it was too early. I just got her by the arm and started to walk her to the door. One of the guys took it upon himself to try to stop me. I told him to get his hands off; that she was my wife. He gave me a pitying look, but I think he saw I was about to deck him and he let go. He shouted to Sonia to come back without me soon.

"Well, we had a row in the car park, in the car and finally in the house. We were both shouting. I told her she couldn't behave like that, and that was when she yelled I was being childish and jealous, 'cause I was a crap dancer. Well, it went on for a while and eventually she flounced off and shut the bedroom door in my face. I slept in the other bedroom.

"The next morning I got the silent treatment, but I was fuming so it was no effort to keep quiet. I think it was lunchtime when she said quietly that I would really have to curb my stupid jealous behaviour. I said nothing. She wasn't going to listen, so there was no point.

"Things gradually thawed out over the week and by the weekend you'd think it had all been forgotten, but on the Thursday she said she was going clubbing on Friday night. She had to nerve to say I could come if I behaved myself -- me! Otherwise she would go alone. Well, no way was I letting her out of my sight.

"I told her I was going and there was no way I would allow her to behave as she had the last time. She smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. She said she would have to teach me not to be so jealous. It was only a bit of fun. Everyone did it. I had to learn that this was the late twentieth century, not the fifties.

"Well, it all happened again, but worse. She wouldn't dance with me at all, and went through the same grinding with some bloke. They broke after the dance and I saw the same guy who had been grinding her the last time. He picked Sonia up and they got into the same routine, except that he was feeling her tits and rubbing her stomach down between her legs. I got up and was going to break it up when a slow one came on. I went to her and asked her to dance and she told me to get lost this was for Kyle.

"He laughed in my face and they started dancing. Right next to me. I could see his cock under his jeans as he pushed it against her, and she plastered herself against him, rubbing her tits against his chest.

"The music was quieter for the slow dance, so I was able to tell her that unless she came home with me immediately, she needn't come home at all -- ever. She saw I meant it. She left him and we went to the door. Outside I found that Kyle had followed us. He pulled on my shoulder and told me to leave the woman alone, she wanted to be with him.

"Sonia looked frightened. I turned with the pull on my shoulder and my fist met his stomach. As he bent forward winded, I caught him a good one on his nose. He straightened and I kneed him in the nuts. He was on the floor retching when I told him what would happen if he came near my wife again."

Gary took a drink, and the tension in the group dissipated. He smiled.

"There was silence in the car all the way home. I think she was scared I might hurt her. Once in the house, she spoke quietly, but she was very angry. She began a quiet tirade. Was I pleased with myself? My violence showed my infantile jealousy -- I think that was how she put it. She would not forgive my actions easily. I had showed her up in the club. Did I think that hurting Kyle would stop her? She would not put up with such childish behaviour again. She turned before I could speak and went to the bedroom and shut the door.

"So there we were again. Silence for the whole weekend. Sunday night I told her to sit down in the dining room. She was about to react, but saw my face and sat down. I told her very simply that if she did anything like that again, it was the end of us as a couple. If she couldn't see her actions were way out of line for a married woman, there was no future for us. I asked her what it was to be.

"She started in on me again, saying how unreasonable I was, I couldn't dance and was jealous of those who could. That was the way people danced nowadays, it was sexy but safe; everyone but me enjoyed it. 

"I told her that I didn't care what other people did, she would not be doing it again if she wanted to stay married. I gave her the option of getting a divorce; then she could dance any way she wanted.

"She laughed in my face. I wouldn't have the nerve to divorce her. I told her that the way she was acting was in any court's book unreasonable behaviour. Well, I am in the law department at the company, and I think she realised I knew what I was talking about.

"She pouted, I think that's what she did, and got up and left for bed. We remained in separate rooms for the whole week, and then it was Uncle Fred and Aunt Daisy's Golden Wedding on Saturday. It was at the Royal Hotel, you know the place? Well Clive, Barbara, you saw."

Gary sat back. Barbara took it up.

"She was obviously pissed at you Gary. I've never seen her like that. She downed drinks like there was no tomorrow during the meal and afterwards. Then plastered herself all over that George Gunley. He didn't mind at all. Their dancing bordered on the obscene; there were a few remarks passed among the party. Gary here sat though it all stoically. He told us she was trying to provoke him so she would accuse him of jealously. 

"It came to a head when they kissed near the bar, he whispered in her ear and she giggled and the two of them made for the door to go outside arm in arm her head on his shoulder. She was glancing at Gary all the time. He stood up, asked Clive to bring her home, and brushed past them and into the car park.

"It was fascinating what happened next. She dropped George and ran after Gary, but he was already driving out of the car park. So she came back to our table. She was angry. She called him a few choice names and told us she was sick of his jealousy. I told her if that was the way she treated him, I was surprised they were still married. I think my words were 'You're behaving as if Gary's just a casual boyfriend, Sonia. He's not. He's your husband.' She looked daggers at me.

"Anyway, she took no further part in the evening and we took her home."

Gary laughed, "She got a shock when she got in. I had the bedroom and had the door locked. She banged on the door for a while and then went off to sleep in what had become my bed.

"So there you are. We're still not talking, beyond necessary information. She's sullen. I'm sure she thinks all the fault is mine.

"So I stand convicted of childish insane jealousy." 

He took another pull at his pint of best bitter and looked round at the others gathered round the pub table.

His older brother Clive nodded sympathetically. 

"So you see folks," said Clive, "something has to be done. That's why I invited you all here. It's supposed to be Gary and Sonia's first anniversary party at Liam and Colleen's place next Saturday. It's Liam and Colleen's fifth and they offered to share. Their house is bigger, way bigger." 

"We've got to think about something for that party," said Barbara.

"I can't go on with Sonia much longer," said Gary disconsolately. "She just doesn't see it. It's breaking me up."

Clive got up and bought another round. They drank in silence, thinking.

"OK," said Barbara at length. "Here's an idea. Kick it around and see if it'll work."

So they kicked it around at length. Later, much later, they left in their respective directions to wend their way home. They knew what to do.

------ 

It had not been a comfortable week for Gary, or for Sonia for that matter. The silences remained, the only conversation being for essential exchanges of information, which were given minimally and in a clipped fashion. 

Now they were walking to Colleen and Liam's. They were not holding hands; she had not taken his arm. Gary knew it was time to start the plan.

"Sonia," he began, his heart in his mouth. "This is our wedding anniversary party as well as Colleen's. I would like you to stay with me tonight -- no going off with other guys. You dance with me."

There was a sullen silence.

"You understand?" Gary continued. "We stay together. All night."

"No I don't understand," Sonia snapped back, "and again your stupid jealousy is talking. You've got to learn that I'm an independent woman; I can do what I like, talk to whom I like, dance with whom I like, how I like. I couldn't care a damn what you think, or what you lay down as rules for me. Forget it. You'll learn eventually. I'll see to it."

"Sonia," Gary put on his begging voice; he knew it exasperated her. "Please don't do this; it's destroying me. I'm begging you, stay with me tonight."

"No way," she asserted. "If you don't like it why don't you go home now. Save you a lot of heartache, 'cos I'm going to really enjoy myself tonight."

"Please?" whined Gary.

"No!" she shouted. 

The rest of the journey was completed in silence. Gary felt he had done his part in the plan. She was mad, and that was what was needed. 

Liam and Colleen lived in a mansion. There was no other word for it. It was huge but recently built. It had eight bedrooms, four of which were en suite. Liam was 'something in the City' and it showed, but they were good friends; generous and gregarious. 

Downstairs they had cleared the huge living room they called the ballroom. The kitchen was off this room but also accessible from the large square entrance foyer via a corridor. A bar had been set up in the kitchen near the door to the living room, and they had hired a number of tables to put round the edge of the living room surrounded with chairs. The DJ was at the opposite side of the living room to the kitchen.

Liam and Colleen greeted them enthusiastically with hugs and kisses. A woman took their photos, the flash surprising them.

"She's from some magazine," said Colleen laughing, "so be careful what you get up to! You want to be famous for the right reasons!"

"It's so good of you to include us in your celebration," said Gary, as they removed their coats. Sonia was already off towards the kitchen, leaving Gary talking to their hosts. Then some more guests arrived and Gary went to the ballroom and joined Bill and Barbara and four other friends. Bill got him a drink.

"Sonia off already?" he enquired when he returned. "Done your bit?"

Gary nodded.

"It's going well," Bill continued. "She's already met Sven and looks to have fallen under his spell. Hold on, Gary!"

"No problem," answered Gary. "This is fine, it's controlled, we're in charge here, not her."

"Colleen and Liam know all about it," said Barbara, "as do most of the other guests we know. They're all going to play along. The others are in the dark."

------ 

Sonia had indeed found Sven, or rather he made it his business to find her. They had met in the kitchen/bar.

"May I offer you a drink," he asked in his sing-song Swedish accent, and she smiled gratefully.

"Gin and Bitter Lemon please."

The conversation went from there, as did her alcohol consumption. She lost no time in telling him at length about the bad time she was having with her husband, and enlisted his help in discomfiting Gary. He was only too pleased to help 'such a beautiful woman', and she felt flattered and attracted to this tall, extremely handsome man. They talked on for a good while, and then the DJ fired up his stuff and the dancing began.

"Come on!" said Sonia, full of excitement. "Let's dance."

They entered the ballroom. She saw Gary with Bill and Barbara and their other friends, and an extremely beautiful dark haired woman she did not know. She waved gaily at them before launching herself into the dance, Sven following her. He was a good dancer, she could see. There were four fast numbers and gradually Sven became more intimate with her. They went for another drink as a slow number came on, her arm linked in his.

In the next few dances they made much more bodily contact, and the next slow dance they danced closely, and the one after that his hands were all over her and she was stroking his bottom and pulling him to her. He was not erect but she could feel there was plenty there.

All the time she kept glancing over to where Gary sat. At first he was talking with the others and didn't seem interested, but during the slow dances she saw him looking more and more grim, and she smiled to herself.




Jealousy: The Biter Bit



This went on for another half hour and she felt more and more erotically charged. Then Sven confused her completely.

"Sonia, darling," he whispered in her ear as they moved as one round the floor. "Let's go somewhere quiet. Let him see. You want to teach him; that will make him mad, but I am too big for him; he will not interrupt."

Suddenly she was worried. Had she gone too far? Gary looked stricken by turns and then angry, but Sven was gorgeous; she could really sort Gary out and have some time alone with this hunk. She, or the drink, or the dancing, overcame the worry and she decided to go.

"OK," she said, "but only for a short time, long enough to really worry him."

"Of course," he smiled and her insides melted. She linked his arm and she looked pointedly at Gary as they left the room and made for the stairs. His stare at her seemed wooden and vacant. She felt a flash of disappointment that he didn't intervene but it did not last. It was too late now. Her excitement began to grow; she hadn't felt this way since before she got married. It felt as it used to when she had scored with a new lover.

He led her to a bedroom; he seemed to know which one. Then they were inside and he closed the door behind them. Before she could react, she was in his arms and his lips were caressing hers. Shivers ran up and down her spine. This man could kiss and she abandoned herself to the sensation -- to that sensation and to the other one, the one of his hands caressing her back and then the sides of her breasts, then her hair, and all the while she drifted deeper and deeper into that kiss, at times delicate then aggressive, at once with his tongue deep in her mouth, and then his mouth on her neck. She shivered, and was lost.

Vaguely there was a misgiving -- this should not be happening, but she had lost all will to resist.

She felt the zipper on her little black dress go down. It was happening to someone else. She let the dress slip to her feet. She was a teenager again. She pushed up his shirt and he helped her to remove it. The sight of his bare chest, his six pack and muscular arms made her weak at the knees, but she held herself up with her arms around his neck as she kissed his chest, and felt her lacy French knickers being lowered. She began to tingle down there between her legs and she was rapt in desire. She wanted him. 

Then came the flash. They both looked round and the flash came again, catching their faces full on.

"Ta!" shouted the photographer and was gone.

So was the mood. She realised she had been photographed in bra, suspender belt and stockings and nothing else, in the arms of a man stripped to the waist. She pulled away.

"Oh God!" she swore. She hastened to dress and was decent when Colleen burst in.

"Hey, Sonia!" she shouted eagerly. "You should see your husband on the dance floor! I thought you said he couldn't dance. You've got to see this!"

The two women hurried downstairs; Sven, totally forgotten, bringing up the rear. 

They stopped at the door to the ballroom. Sonia couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a fast number and her Gary was dancing with that beautiful woman. He moved with grace and rhythm; he approached and receded from his partner; he circled her, he held her, he twirled her, he ground against her, and she sinuously rubbed herself against him and he was returning her sensuous movements with his own. It was almost sex on the dance floor.

"But he can't..." she stuttered.

"I think he can," came a voice from behind her. It was Sven. "He moves better than most. You can almost see the music. How could you not know? His balance, movements, you must have noticed he is a graceful man?"

She thought. Sven was right. How could she not have seen it? She remembered how he moved at home, fluid, balanced. 

Now there was an emotion rising in her. It rose further when the next slow number came on. The couple on the floor plastered themselves onto each other and moved together. It was practically obscene. His hands were moving over her, everywhere, and hers over him. 

If Sonia had realised it, they were mimicking those same movements of hand and body that she had used with her own dance partners when Gary was watching, but she didn't realise it. She thought he was lost to her. He should be doing that with her, not with that woman. At last she could stand it no longer and ran from the room. 

Sven followed her. He found her in the dining room, sitting in one of the chairs, her head on the table, sobbing. He took the chair next to her and held her to him. He made soothing noises.

Eventually she sat up. 

"He's no right to be doing that. He's married to me! How could he? It's wrong!"

"It's what people do," said Sven quietly. "It is the twentieth century, you know. You have to be adult about it; no room for childish jealousy. The woman he dances with is my wife."

The words seemed familiar, but she couldn't place who had said them before. In any case the last comment he made floored her.

"How can you let her--"

"She's a grown woman. She does what she wants, with whoever she wants, how she wants."

Now this part of the speech was not planned. His previous statement had been taken from her own words to Gary, but this was from him. It just happened to echo what she'd said to Gary on the way to the party.

"But--"

"It's only dancing Sonia. Now divorce: that's something we know how to do in the twentieth century. It's an option always."

Gary's words about divorce came tumbling in on her. 

"We have to get back to the dance," she said, and she was away, leaving him sitting there.

Gary was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Sven's wife. She ran to the kitchen. Colleen was there.

"Have you seen Gary?" she asked breathlessly.

"Now you're worried about Gary? Didn't notice much interest in him until now," Colleen scowled at her.

"He's with that woman. I need to find him."

"Oh, yeah?" Colleen shot back. "You were with her husband. I don't remember you being all that worried then. You want it all ways, Sonia. You're jealous. You need to get over this infantile jealousy of yours. Join the twentieth century, Sonia. It's what people do."

She knew then. All these people knew what she'd been doing to Gary. They were helping him with some sort of revenge. She began to crumple. She felt fear: it was the first time her man seemed to be putting a distance between them. He had turned away from her. The prospect of him really leaving her, or at least finding someone else, had suddenly become real.

"Please, Colleen. I love him. I've been stupid. I need to find him."

Colleen waited a long moment, staring at her. "Upstairs. Turn left. Fourth door on the left. You'd better knock, less painful -- for you."

"Thanks." 

What did Colleen say? You were with her husband. Sven had certainly a way with him; she knew she would have given in to him if that photographer hadn't burst in. Perhaps his wife was just as irresistible; she was certainly pretty enough. A pang of jealousy surged through her. Colleen seemed to know the woman's power over men.

She didn't run as she had before. She walked. She climbed the stairs. She walked the corridor. She stopped at the door. Listened. No sound. She waited a long few minutes.

She moved her hand to the doorknob. She hesitated, her hand hovering over it. She summoned up all her courage and grasped it, turned it and threw open the door and stepped in. 

"You basta..." She stopped, puzzled.

Before her, in two armchairs, fully dressed, were Gary and the woman. There were two wine glasses and a bottle on the little table between them. They looked at her, and their look was cold. There was a long silence.

"But..." she began and stopped again. She felt as if she were cast adrift from reality. She had been so sure of herself when she arrived at the party. She was going to finally teach her stupid jealous husband a lesson, but nothing had gone her way. There was a surreal quality to everything people said to her, as if she remembered it being said before. Now here he was with this woman. They were drinking wine and chatting -- or at least she assumed they had been chatting all along. There was no 'just fucked' look about either of them, not even 'just kissed'. So far they had said nothing.

"But what, Sonia?" asked Gary. His tone was monotonous, devoid of love or affection. It annoyed her.

"I saw you dancing."

"Yes?"

"I didn't like it. You nearly had sex with her down there. How could you?"

"Come now, Sonia," said Ingrid. "It was only dancing. That's how people dance nowadays -- didn't you know?"

"No they don't! Not when they're married." Her eyes flashed at Ingrid's comment.

"Exactly," said Gary. He paused.

"What you felt wasn't jealousy, was it? No, it was anger, and you had a right to be angry. We were too intimate with each other for married people. I don't know if you noticed it, but everything we did down there, you had done with other men in front of me, and when I protested, you were angry with me, calling me childish and jealous, and then you cut me out of your life, but I wasn't just jealous then either, was I?"

Everything fell into place then. She now knew for certain she had been set up. There was a flash of resentment, but it was replaced immediately by remorse and regret, and worse, fear. She remembered what Gary had said about divorce.

"Oh Gary," she whispered, her head downcast. "I've been such a fool. Can we go home now? I don't want to face those people downstairs. I'm so ashamed."

"I don't think so," said Gary. "I don't think you'll be coming home with me."

Her head jerked up. "What?... Why?"

Gary reached down by his chair and placed two photographs on the table. They were glossy computer printouts, A4 size. There in front of Sonia was the evidence of her betrayal. There could be no doubt; they were clear and unambiguous. She stared at them for a long while, the evidence of her nakedness shouting her guilt. She desperately wondered what to say to escape from this nightmare. When she looked up, Gary was staring at her. There was no emotion in his eyes; they were dull and lifeless.

At length he spoke. "When we planned this evening, it was to bring home to you what you were doing to me. It was to show you how wrong you were to behave like that. Well, we succeeded. 

"But when you were dancing in front of me with that louse George Gumley and when you left the room with him, I began to suspect that what you really wanted was a bit of strange. I was not enough for you; you wanted another man, or men, to fuck. 

"Well, tonight you got him. I hope you're satisfied. Ingrid here is thinking of divorce. So am I. So why don't you go downstairs and find your lover. Perhaps he can console you again. Perhaps Ingrid and I will console each other."

"But--" Sonia began, her eyes tearing up.

"Just go Sonia!" Gary shouted.

She spun round and ran from the room.

Much later in the evening, after the food and the toast to Liam and Colleen (nothing was said about Gary and Sonia's anniversary), Sonia was sitting dejectedly with Clive and Barbara. 

There had been no sign of Sven, but that had been a relief to her. She did not want him, she wanted her husband. She had relayed a sanitised version of how she was caught with Sven, and her meeting with Gary and Ingrid. She had cried herself out with them. They had not reproved her or rejected her. Indeed Barbara was not as pessimistic as Sonia.

"He only said he was thinking about divorce," she told the weeping girl. "You may yet have a chance to talk with him."

She hoped so. "He said I was not to come home. Where shall I go?"

"You'll come home with us," said Clive, and she smiled at him gratefully. Theses of hers were so kind, and after she had ruined the life of Clive's brother. Somehow the evening seemed to be too long. She wanted to go home but she knew she couldn't. She wanted to sleep and to forget about the nightmare this had turned out to be. 

Clive and Barbara seemed to sense it and invited her to go home with them right away.

They were all practical when they arrived at the house, setting her up with nightwear and toiletries, and leaving her to get to bed. Once she lay down, the enormity of what she had done and Gary's reaction hit her hard and she cried and cried until exhausted, she fell asleep.

----- 

Gary and Ingrid looked at each other as Sonia fled the room.

"I'm sorry, Gary," she said. "Sven went too far with her. I don't think he would have had sex with her, but now I can't be sure. It was not in the plan to take off her panties."

"How do you feel about that?" Gary asked. He wondered how liberal this couple were and how open was their marriage.

"I cannot say that I am happy," she said reflectively. "Yes, I know what people think of us Swedish, but really we are not all free love and swinging. Sven and I are happy just with each other. I think he got as carried away as Sonia did. We will talk about it. It will be all right, but I don't think we'll be helping any other couples with their marriage problems!" she laughed gently then, and he could see she was at ease.

"Do you think Sonia really does want to get laid by another man?" Gary asked her.

"I will not lie to you Gary." She was serious. "I think to begin with she was just trying to get at you, then things got out of hand. I'm sure if Sven had carried on and the photographer had not interrupted, she would have tried to fuck him. it was just as well we'd paid the photographer to barge in!

"But I don't think Sonia planned it that way. From the look of her, what she said and how she said it, I think she was shocked at how easily she could be seduced. So no. I don't think she wants another man."

"I need to do some thinking," said Gary. "I don't know how I feel about her now, I'm not sure any more that she can be faithful. Before she arrived if you remember, I was saying that before we started going out together she used to be quite wild: she often had sex with men she had danced with -- one-night stands." 

He paused, then felt very tired. "I think it's time I went home."

He stood up. So did Ingrid. She came to him and pulled him to her, kissing him on the lips. 

"Gary," she whispered. "We wanted to wake Sonia up to what she was doing. We succeeded. I'm sorry if the cost is too great. No one wanted that. Talk to her Gary, and let her talk to you. Good luck!"

They kissed again briefly, smiled at each other, and disengaged. Gary picked up the photos and walked to the door.

"Gary?"

He stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"You're quite a dancer."

"Thanks to you. Those hours of practice you gave me over the week were good for me."

"No.You've always been a good dancer. You just didn't know it or believe it. You only needed a little push."

"I know I enjoyed it! Thanks Ingrid!"

"You're welcome," she smiled and nodded, and he smiled back and went home.

The house was dark and quiet. Empty. 

Automatically he went through the hall and into the living room, switching on the lights. He turned on the radio. It was playing soothing night music, though it had no soothing effect on him: it was only companionable noise. 

He went to the pantry and took a bottle of beer without checking the label. He sat down in the living room and drank the whole bottle. Then he went and got another and did the same. He knew this was not a good idea after an evening's drinking, but he did it anyway. Then a few more. It would help him to sleep. 

It did -- he never made it to bed -- but it certainly didn't help him to wake up.

------

Gary came to consciousness on Sunday morning wondering about the loud church bells he could hear in his head. Then he realised that they weren't in his head, and neither were they church bells. It was the doorbell and it was ringing and ringing: someone was leaning on the bell push.

His head ached, and he felt stiff. He was still on the sofa, and in last night's clothes. His mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage.

He struggled to his feet and went to the door. It was Clive.

Clive did not look very cheerful, but he looked a lot healthier than Gary felt. 

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Gary stood back and Clive passed him, went to the kitchen and put on the kettle to boil. He went to the medicine cupboard and took out tablets of painkillers, filled a glass with water, then set them before Gary who had resumed his position on the sofa. Gary took the tablets.

"Slept down here?" Clive asked.

Gary nodded.

"Drunk?"

Another nod.

"Feel like talking?"

"No."

Clive brewed some tea, made some toast and buttered it lightly while waiting for the tea to be ready, and set the spartan breakfast in front of his brother. They drank the tea in silence and Gary ate the toast gratefully and began to feel a little better. 

"So," said Gary. "What brings you to your little brother's house?"

"Thought you might like an update on your wife."

"Not sure I do, but go on."

"Last night, after you'd gone, she was quite broken up -- almost catatonic. We took her home and put her to bed. This morning at breakfast she didn't look much better, but that didn't stop Barbara. Wow! I'm glad I've never done anything against our marriage, Gary old son. 

"She didn't lecture Sonia, but she asked questions. What did Sonia think about what she'd been doing over the past few weeks? How did it feel when you did the same to her? What really happened with Sven? (Ingrid had phoned Barbara and told her). How was she going to put it right? Did she want to? Why didn't she get divorced if she didn't want to play her part in the marriage? Wouldn't she prefer to be free to fuck around again?

"Honestly, Gary it went on and on. She didn't shout at Sonia -- just calmly asked the questions, waited for answers, left long significant silences, and then more questions."

"So?"

"Little Brother," he offered, "We set out to teach her a lesson last night. It was our doing. Sven got carried away apparently, and didn't mean the undressing to go as far as it did: the girl photographer was a little late arriving at the room. So as a group we have our own responsibility in this. It got out of hand. Sonia really didn't have a chance. 

"Don't mean to patronise, but Barbara and I think you two have real potential as a couple. This event can finish you you as a couple or it can build up your relationship. 

"You know, forgiving is no soft option, and it doesn't mean just forgetting it and letting her do something like this again. She has to repent, be sorry and make a firm resolution never to treat you that way again, and then you have to watch her.

"I'd have thought you would want to make rules and expect her to listen if you thought she was falling away. She needs to know that if anything like that happened again, that would be the end: no reprieve. 

"From what I heard this morning, she's used to sex being a game, and it's difficult to give that up and adjust to using it for building a relationship. It means complete faithfulness, and sex never had anything to do with faithfulness for her until now.

"Sorry about the lecture. It's just the way I feel. Barbara had a few lovers before me, but she wasn't promiscuous. Sonia has a longer road to travel."

There was a pause.

"She would have had sex with Sven," said Gary. "She couldn't control herself. If she couldn't then, she'll likely fall again."

"We put her in that position, Gary," replied his brother patiently. "We made sure she'd had a few drinks -- rather more than a few; you said yourself she's wild when she's had a few. 

"Then we put her with an impossibly fit Swede, blond, muscular. We get him to take her to a room and partially undress her so we could get those photos. The undressing went too far, that was Sven's fault; he admitted he lost control. It wasn't a natural situation."




Jealousy: The Biter Bit



"OK," agreed Gary, "but it showed she'll get carried away if she gets into anything like that sort of situation again. You know, she could have stopped Sven, she's a grown woman, not a little girl. I don't know whether I can live with the uncertainty, never knowing if she's being unfaithful behind my back."

"None of us is certain of that, Gary. Forty percent of married women have at least one affair, and most of them go undetected, but it's sixty percent for men! She set out last night to try to teach you not to be jealous as she thought. She's never done anything behind your back, has she? She was always doing it to rile you."

"So, I should take her back? Give her another chance?"

"You have to decide that, brother, but bear in mind we engineered that situation. I'm sure she's learned her lesson about what married people can and can't do. She's wracked with guilt and embarrassment at what she did over the past weeks, and she now knows you were totally justified. 

"She actually got to feel what you had been feeling, and that was what you wanted. The plan worked, Gary. She's desperate for you. I know things have been strained but she wants you and you alone."

"Were you sent to convince me?"

"No. They don't know I've come, I'm supposed to be shopping for breakfast. In fact I'd better go."

"OK, Clive, We're going to have to talk sooner or later. She can ring me after breakfast."

An hour later he was sitting at the dining room table when he heard the key in the lock of the front door. Sonia went to the living room, then to the kitchen trying to find him.

"In here," he shouted and she came round the corner. She was still in her little black dress from the party. Her face looked careworn, though she did not seem agitated.

"Hi, Gary," she said quietly. "If you don't mind, I'll go and change." 

She turned and he could hear her going upstairs. In five minutes she was back. She was in her trademark V-necked jumper and tight jeans. She looked more comfortable, and extremely attractive. She sat opposite him at the table.

They sat looking at each other. Gary saw a really beautiful woman; tired and sad, but beautiful. Her big brown eyes were searching his face. He could see her eyelashes -- they were always long and gave her an air of sensuality. Her lips, usually adorned with lipstick and lip gloss, were uncoloured but still full. Her hair was down and straight, and flowed round her shoulders. She seemed peaceful as if defeated, but not worried or agitated as he expected.

She saw her man. He looked tired, unkept and weary, almost grey. She wondered if he had been drinking the night before. She could not read what he was feeling because he also looked defeated. Her heart went out to him, but she knew to sit still and wait to see where he would take this talk.

Gary reached down and placed the two photographs on the table. Sonia paled.

"You were caught," said Gary. "If you hadn't been caught, would you have had sex with him?"

"Yes."

He was taken aback. No qualification. He had asked; she had given a straight answer.

"When you went upstairs with him, did you intend to have sex?"

"No."

Again a monosyllabic answer.

"What have you learned?"

"I am more vulnerable to sexual advances than I thought. I cannot afford to get in such a situation again. I must control my drinking."

She was distant, mechanical. That was it: it was as if she were talking about other people, not their relationship. Was that his fault? The wrong questions?

"In view of those answers, can I trust you not to do that again?"

"I can't trust myself, Gary. I've learned that. So I'll say no, you can't trust me. Not at the moment. I would have to prove it to you over time. 

"You can trust me to be more watchful, and to avoid situations like that. It hurts me to say it, but I will never dance again as long as I live."

At this a solitary tear ran down her cheek. Gary's heart broke. What a mess they were in! 

"Can you tell me why you treated me as you did?" he asked. 

She noticed a catch in his voice and did not answer at once. 

"What's changed?" he went on. "Do you want this marriage to continue?"

Once again he was struck by her calmness. There were no histrionics, no begging to come back or to continue the marriage and no promises beyond the one to give up dancing for ever.

"Last question first," she said. "Yes. More than anything, I want to be with you and be married to you. If that is to happen, I realise there will have to be changes.

"I treated you with scorn and contempt because in my selfishness I could not understand how my behaviour was affecting you. Drink and dancing have an effect on me and I get out of control. It is addictive and I am an addict. The high I get from dancing and the sensuousness of it is almost as good as a sexual orgasm. 

"That clouded my vision, and I refused to see through to your feelings and your sense of betrayal. I was your wife and I gave my body to other men in those dances. It was as bad as adultery -- worse, because you had to watch it and then hear me ranting at you that it was your fault, that you were just jealous. 

"When we married I knew I had to give up the dancing. I knew where it led. I managed for a few months, but like any addict I craved the high again. You thought you were being kind, allowing me to come dancing with you, but it was like giving an alcoholic a drink. I think I hated the way you spoiled my fun. I really did think you were just jealous and needed to be taught to be more tolerant. 

"At the birthday party, Barbara was quite forceful about my behaviour, but I just wasn't listening, I'd already piled all the guilt onto you, and you had to suffer if you were to learn. Gunley was revolting but you had to be taught. I certainly wouldn't have gone very far out of that room with him, let alone have had sex!

"When the plan you all made hit me, it was already too late. I'd allowed myself to be seduced by Sven. Even though we didn't have sex, I knew that, like it was before we met, I would have gone with him. Then the tables were turned. 

"First I watched you dancing with Ingrid. I couldn't believe it! I knew you couldn't dance."

"Ingrid gave me lessons," Gary said, embarrassed.

"I should have done that, and I know why I didn't even try. I wanted the buzz of my single life, being desired by other blokes again, the sexual thrill of different men. Then when I saw you dancing, I realised I could have had all that thrill with you and guilt-free sex afterwards, and I'd blown it! You were dancing sensually with another woman, and so well! I was losing you.

"Barbara pointed out this morning that all the moves you did on Ingrid, I'd allowed and done with other men while you watched. What she said didn't hit me right away, but when it did I knew what you had gone through, what you'd been feeling. 

"Jealous? Yes, but it was justified jealousy. I belonged to you; I'd given myself to you for better or worse, body and soul. God! You'd even given me permission to dance with those men! I was nothing but an ungrateful slut!

"Anyway, now the whole thing was reversed and I knew how it felt. Ingrid is much prettier than me -- don't deny it, I'm not blind! You belonged to me. You know what I even said to Sven? 'How dare he? He's married to me!' 

"Well, I went back to the dance to find you and apologise but you and Ingrid had gone. Claire was sarcastic and angry with me. She was right. She told me where to find you. I expected you to be in bed with her. I was wrong again.

"Have I learned my lesson? Oh yes. What I don't know is whether I get another chance with you."

"Are you giving up dancing as a lever to get back with me?"

"No. Even if you divorce me, I will live one day at a time like an alcoholic and I will never dance again. The drinking to excess will stop as well. I wish to God now that I'd not been such a slag before we met. I know the difference in quality between what we have, and what I used to do. I can't say I'm cured, perhaps I'll never be, but I'm going to try."

She sat back in her chair, fiddling with her hands, looking at the tabletop. The photos were still there. It had been a long speech and she was tired.

"Are you sorry for what you did?" Gary asked and she immediately looked up and glared at him.

"What a stupid question!" she suddenly came alive, her eyes flashing, "I'm sorry about my earlier life. Drink, dance and sex every weekend. One night stands, three way sex. Yes, I'm sorry I got addicted. 

"Am I sorry I hurt you during these past weeks? Of course I am! Am I sorry about last night? No!"

Gary was startled by her outburst, "What d'you mean?"

"You all set it up to wake me up, so what happened was your fault. True?"

"Hang on! You were going to sleep with Sven--"

"No, you hang on, Gary. Did you or did you not get Sven to seduce me? Yes or No?"

"Well, yes." 

"Fine. He did. You gave this alcoholic a drink. Now, did you or did you not take dancing lessons to show me what I could have had?"

"Yes."

"Did you or did you not dance sexually with another woman while being married?"

"Well, yes, but you did--"

"But nothing. What I had been doing was wrong. Yes?"

Gary nodded.

"So what was what you were doing?"

Gary had to admit it. 

"Yes, I suppose if you put it like that it was wrong as well, but only to get you to see what you did to me!"

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes. It was great! I'd never felt so alive and in control!"

"There! You learned something of what my addiction is like. Only in your case it was one night; you hadn't done it for years and followed it with stupid one-night-stand sex week after week. 

"Well, you succeeded in your mission Gary. I've seen the error of my ways, what I am really like. Why should I be sorry about that? I've told you what I'm sorry for."

"You seem detached from all this, Sonia. Don't you care what happens next?"

Sonia sighed deeply. 

"Gary I did the hysteria thing last night. I cried for five hours into the night. Thanks to Barbara and her relentless questioning, I now have a vivid picture of my problems. I am totally drained Gary.

"I also don't know if I'll be married in six months or not, and there's nothing I can do about that. I don't know if I can hold to my promise to give up too much drink and dancing. I don't know what you want to do with me; I haven't any choice. I've already told you I want to be married to you." 

She paused and then continued, "What you and the gang did to me last night succeeded -- I keep telling you that. I've grown up a lot in a few hours. Life is not the same for me any more. I'm not sure what that will lead to, and I'm so tired."

At that she put her head down on the table and was asleep in seconds.

Gary looked at her in disbelief. The woman looked the same as Sonia, but she had aged. She had lost some of her spark. He realised that it was overload. They had succeeded, isn't that what she said? Had they also succeeded in destroying her spirit? 

Almost mechanically, he got up from his chair, went round to her, put his arms under her shoulders and lifted her to a vertical position, whereupon she moaned.

"Sit up, darling," he said quietly and soothingly. 

He took her arms and lifted her out of the chair and picked her up, holding her under her arms and knees. She was always light as a feather to him, and he carried her up to the bedroom and placed her on the bed. He pulled her top over her head, and tugged down her jeans. She hardly stirred. He stood and gazed at her barely clothed body in all its glory, then shook himself, found a blanket and covered her. In her sleep she smiled beatifically, and her face shone with her beauty. He knew then he loved her and could not let her go.

He sat on the bed and watched her sleeping. Would she betray him again because of his forgiveness? It was worth the risk. No, she was worth the risk, and he would take that risk. After all, wasn't all life about looking forward and taking risks? If he spent his life loving her, would he not feel better and happier than if he divorced her with all those recriminations? 

What if she failed him again? In that case he would divorce her. Yes, he thought, even if that happened she would have been worth the risk. He would have done the right thing in his own eyes.

It was the right decision for him. 

---- 

Their relationship was strained at first, but they went to counselling and they felt that the sessions helped. They actually went back every six months or so for a number of years for a check-up.

They even went dancing again eventually, but she never ever again danced with anyone else. Gary thought it rather an extreme reaction but she didn't. In any case, she didn't need to -- that fateful evening had shown her that she could get all her dancing jollies from him. 

She resolutely gave up alcohol except at home. Did she sometimes feel that longing, that itch for another man? Oh, yes, but she never fell, because she looked at Gary and remembered. He meant too much to her, and she told him every time she felt that way. As he often joked with her, he had ways of scratching that itch, and she would smile and strip off her clothes for him, so that naked he could scratch it more easily.

Did he trust her totally? 

No, he didn't, but he never told her, or let it show. He thought it was better that way. 

Did he check on her? 

Sometimes, but not often. As the years went by it got easier, especially because she was totally honest with him. She showed her love for him intensely, sensuously and physically, and he loved her vigorously in his turn. 

No marriage is perfect, but for most marriages to last and succeed they just have to be good enough. Couples fulfill and satisfy each other in many different ways as the years go by. They did.

After a while other people, especially men, began to think of her as rather straight-laced and even frigid, and they pitied Gary. Neither Sonia nor Gary knew of these opinions, so it did not bother them. In any case, they proved it not to be true over and over in their bed and elsewhere. Their three lovely children also gave the lie to it. 

The couple knew the truth of things. After all, who else was in the bedroom when they were naked together? Few saw their touches, their embraces, their patting each other's bottoms, those special smiles and glances meant only for them, given every day. 

As they often said to each other, in answer to the question "We're doing OK, aren't we?" 

"So far, so good!" and they'd smile that certain smile.

END.