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The Error of Her Ways

By: Pultoy



I, Bill Wilkerson, met Tamara O'Neal in Downtown Denver, just a few blocks from the 16th Street Mall after a Colorado Rockies game in 2007; we were both 26 years old then. It was a warm summer Saturday late afternoon and the Rockies had swept a three-game series against the Giants and Denver was rockin'. Tamara was rockin'. She is a looker, one of those girls that when she walks in, everybody forgets what they were saying and stares. Tight body, nice C cup round breasts whose nipples point up, small waist, flat belly and a perfect tight ass made for bouncing. She had mid back length light brown hair with light green eyes, and she is tall, 5'10", stunning. Every man who saw her fantasized about her. She is a solid 10 on the scale.

Tamara had been drinking all day. Guys were buying her beers at the game and then, afterwards in the bar across the street from Coors Field, she started with Bloody Marys then Jack and Coke. She was swacked by nightfall and more than one guy in that bar was making plans to force his affections on this partying dream girl.

Me? I was on the streets, preaching the Gospel. I was handing out pamphlets, talking to the homeless and the various revelers as they came and went outside the stadium. I'd been there most of the afternoon and it had been a good day, overall. I stood in front of this bar across from Coors Field about 10 pm and was about to wrap it up for the day. I was heading to my car in the parking lot and I saw 4 guys literally manhandling this girl just one row over from where I was parked. She was struggling, but obviously very drunk. But, it was also obvious to me that she was not a willing participant in this melee and was being overpowered by her male 'friends', who were making a valiant effort to rape her. Her jeans were unbuttoned and down about half way to her knees, her panties were being torn off her, as I watched, her shirt was shredded and her breasts were exposed. The guys were busy trying to hold on to her and get their cocks out and into her. Drunk as she was, and for as many of them as there were, she was all they could handle, but they were just too strong and there were too many of them. She was losing. One of the guys finally had enough of her struggling and slapped her really hard 3 or 4 times, telling her to settle down, that it would be easier on her if she quit fighting.

I guess the peaceful pacifist in me kind of lost touch at that moment. 

There was a 4 feet long piece of pipe in my trunk that I used to put signs on and carry as I walked up and down the streets, preaching. I opened my trunk and got it out, ran over to where this rape was taking place and swung this heavy pipe at one of the fellows, breaking his shoulder. I swung again before anyone even knew I was there, and that fellow died from a crushed skull. His hard cock sticking straight up in the air, his unbuttoned pants down around his ankles were strangely obvious as he lay on the ground dead. The third fellow put his hand in front of himself as I swung at him. His forearm and elbow shattered. Screaming in pain, he gave up the effort and loped off. The fourth guy grabbed Tamara and held her between us. He produced a knife and held it to her throat. She looked at me in terror, mostly naked and bleeding from the nose and mouth, her cheeks bruised and forehead had a knot on it from her assailants' antics. I looked right at her, with my steel pipe drawn back in a batter's swing. I told her to "drop". Then I swung and this attacker also died as my pipe bashed his face and the top of his head in. Tamara lie on the ground bleeding from her throat. She was cut in the throat, but not spurting, so I knew he missed any artery, and she was breathing and talking. She didn't know that she was going to be ok, however, and began to panic. I grabbed her by her shoulders firmly and told her she'd be ok. I guess the adrenalin coursing through my veins and that superhuman strength that it lends for a moment was enough to reassure her and she calmed.

Denver Police showed up about that time and disarmed me with due aplomb. They ground my face into the pavement, twisted my arms up behind me and about three of them sat on me keeping me from breathing and thereby resisting. When they were satisfied that the fight was out of me, they cuffed me and dragged me away. I did not see Tamara again for several days.

I was in interrogation for 20 hours. After all, two men were dead, two more seriously injured and a girl had been beaten and raped. They had some sorting out to do. It was good that I had not been drinking. It was good that my pants were zipped up and fastened and the other four men all were in various stages of nakedness below their waists. All the guys tested above legal limits and Tamara was 3 times above the legal limit for alcohol in her system. 

Finally, it came out that I was the good guy and she the victim, sort of. The other 4 were doing dastardly things. Channels 4, 7 and 9 were reporting the next night, things like, "A Knight in Shining Armor, a Street Preacher no less, Saves a local woman from a vicious attack, killing 2 and injuring 2 - Details at 10."

The District Attorney and the Police had a joint press conference and said it wasn't racially motivated, that all the men were Caucasian and the girl was also. They announced that no charges were being filed against me, but would be filed against the two surviving attackers for Assault and rape, and against Tamara for Public Intoxication, disturbing the peace and fighting. I guess the cops had to cover for themselves, because of those guys dying. I never fully understood the charges against Tamara, but then I never understood cops too well.

Then, after a few days, Channel 9 asked me to do a sit down interview with them and told me I could tell my story in my own words. They said the public wanted to know more about me. When I got to the station and into the studio, Tamara was seated there also. This was going to be a dual interview and Channel 9 got the scoop. Both, she who was attacked and he who rescued her were sitting there, in one interview. Their ratings would soar. My face was still pretty scarred up and swollen from the parking lot rash dealt to me by Denver's finest, and her eyes were swollen nearly shut, she had big blue and purple puffy bruises on her cheeks, forehead and bandages on her neck from the knife wound she had received. We must have looked like quite the sight on television.

For her part, Tamara admitted to having partied all day. She, being a huge Rockies fan, just let the partying get away from her and everyone was so elated that the Rockies had swept the three-game series from the Giants. Usually, she said she doesn't even drink, but that day it was just a celebration and it ended so tragically. She told of drinking all afternoon at the game, and then at the bar, everyone was buying her drinks. She, so obviously hot, just sitting there in the interview; everyone understood her not having to buy her own drinks. She related how the guys all grabbed her and kind of "walked" her out to the parking lot. Lots of groping and staggering was happening, she said. Then they started to get rough and put their hands on her private parts undoing and tearing at her clothing, and she started to resist and scream. It was going downhill for her pretty badly, she stated, and then the next thing she knew I was looking at her with a wild expression on my face and a raised pipe in my hands, and one of her attackers had her around the waist and a knife to her throat. She told the interviewer that I had told her to "drop" and she did as I swung the pipe. She said she was cut by the knife, but not too seriously because as she dropped, she pushed his arm away. She said she felt very lucky for that. She appreciated that I had risked my own safety to help her.

Then the interviewer asked me to relate what happened from my point of view. Before I could answer, she asked if I was drinking and what was I doing there at that hour. I said, "I was preaching the Gospel, witnessing to the lost." 

The interviewer snickered at that and rushed me through the interview kind of rudely interrupting me and not really wanting to know too much of what I was about, after that. I noticed that Tamara was quietly crying while I was talking.

Interview over, I headed for the door of the TV station, looking to put some time and distance between me and this horrible event and its' players. Tamara caught me in the parking lot, though, and insisted that I talk to her, that I accept her thanks and that I not disappear without her getting to talk to me some more.

Being an itinerant preacher, I always look for an opportunity talk to people. So, I relented and agreed to have a meal with this lovely, no, this beautiful, creature.

It turns out that Tamara's father is one of the 'super rich'. There is lots of technology and innovation going on in Colorado and he is one of the movers and shakers. They have a house in Greenwood Village, box seats at the Broncos, Nuggets, Av's, and the Rockies. They're big sports fans, the whole family, Tamara most of all.

I really had nothing much in the way of material things. What I did have, I invested in my street ministry. I had been in the service, deployed to Iraq 2 tours and 1 in Afghanistan. I'd seen enough to know that I didn't want to live the military life; I wanted to be a force for peace and greater understanding among people, if I could. I'd seen killing and done some. I did not like the look on the face of the dead. I was trying to put it behind me, perhaps atone for some of my transgressions. At least, I wanted to encourage people to find a more excellent way from what we all seem to be slipping into. 

That night, the night of Tamara's rape and beating, I dropped the ball on my own standards. "Oh, wretched man that I am, that which I would rather not do, I do it; that which I want to do, I don't do it". Violence is the first resort of the coward, the last resort of the brave.

Still, to protect someone from abuse was my duty, it is the only way I could see it. There were four of them and that meant the odds were stacked against me, so deadly force was in my training and makeup as justifiable.

I am 6'4" and I weigh 220 pounds. I am kind of an imposing figure, I've been told, and I have sandy hair and hazel eyes, broad shoulders and small hips with a flat stomach. My complexion is clear and I have a ready smile. I have been told by lots of folks that I am quite good looking. Just saying.

So, Tamara told me that her dad wanted to meet me and asked me if she could take me over to their house. I said, "I'll just follow you, how's that?" We were still in the parking lot of the television station.

I got there, to her house and it is quite the mansion. It has a big circular drive lots of bedrooms, library, dining room sitting room and who knows what all. This is a big house.

Her dad and mom were in the Kitchen. They were working together to make lunch. Tamara had apparently called ahead to tell them we were on our way. I was kind of shocked to see people with this kind of wealth, preparing their own food, and doing it together.

They welcomed me, after Tamara introduced me as "Bill Wilkerson, the man who saved my life and virtue", with gracious good words and invited me to sit down and enjoy lunch with them. They had prepared tuna salad with sliced fresh veggies; radishes, green onions, tomatoes, celery, baby carrots, and 12 grain bread. They served it with ice cold milk. I had 4 sandwiches, it was so good. They watched and smiled as I ate and ate. 

There were lots of signals going between Tamara and her dad throughout lunch. Their eye contact and facial expressions were remarkable and something to watch. So much being said without words was taking place. I wondered what in the world I was in the middle of.

Tamara finally excused herself to use the bathroom. In a few minutes her dad also excused himself pleading the need to relieve himself. Obviously they had several bathrooms. Tamara's mom and I were left there at the table and the silence was uneasy. We just made small talk for 20 minutes, until Tamara and her dad both reappeared at the same time, together, back in the kitchen.

I said, "Well, it sure was nice to meet you folks, I don't want to keep you any longer so I'll just be on my way now. Thanks for lunch and Tamara I wish the best for you in the future. Take care of yourself, I think those bruises on your face will heal and you will soon find that you are still as pretty as you ever were".

Her dad said, "Whoa, boy...I asked Tamara to bring you here so we could have a chance to visit. I'd like to chat with you for a bit, if you don't mind."

I replied, "Well, sure, sir. What do you want to say?"

He chuckled and said, "Let's go into my den and sit down for a spell, Bill, ok?"

I shrugged and nodded my head 'yes'.

He and I left the two women and went into his study and he motioned for me to sit in an expensive overstuffed leather armchair. He took a seat opposite me with a coffee table between us. "Son, what are you doing with your life?" he asked me.

"I'm a street preacher, Mr. O'Neal." I humbly replied. "That I defended your daughter was not because of her, so much as that I was there and it was happening. She could have been anyone and I'd have done the same. It was just being there when I was and that it was happening when I was there, no more."

"I realize that Bill, my boy, but the fact is that it WAS my daughter that you saved. It was NOT some other woman. So, it is my desire to find some way to reward your act of bravery and honor towards my daughter. Besides, she thinks you are too cute to let get away and wants me to find a way to hire you, keep you around for a while." He chuckled.

"Mr. O'Neal, I have a job and an avocation. Thank you, but I need to be going now. Honestly sir, you owe me nothing. Your daughter doesn't interest me, even though she is quite striking and beautiful, every man she meets is after her and she is a bit wild. I don't need or want that kind of complication in my life, sir." I stated honestly.

"She isn't wild Bill. She acts the part, because the men that are after her are all expecting her to be wild. Truthfully, she is quite docile and enjoys just being at home as much as going out. She likes sports, because she was an athlete in High School and College. The jocks that hang around those events all think she is a groupie, but she isn't. She does not go out that often, just follows the various local teams avidly is all. That night, it just got out of hand, she let her guard down and the wolves were there to devour her, as you saw" he said. "Have you never slipped up? Have you never regretted your actions when things came at you too fast and you did things differently than your own sense of values determine?"

"So, you are telling me, what? She wants to date me? What? "I asked.

"Well, I think she would like an opportunity to spend a little time with you and get to know you, have you get to know her. Is that possible?" Mr. O'Neal replied. "You saved her life, son. You are the single only man ever in her life, other than me of course, who did not try and get in her pants. She is intrigued and infatuated, at least, with you. She respects you and can't bear the thought of you getting away before she gets a good look at you".

Tamara and I dated for a while. I did not give up my street preaching, though she really wasn't into it for herself and didn't necessarily agree with what I preached. But, she thought I was hot and that I had principles that she hadn't come across, honor, so she wanted to latch on to me while she could.

We got married 6 months later. I was beginning to fall in love, and, for a while, things were good. She wasn't a drinker too much and she was docile, like her dad had said. She liked to hang around the house with me and garden, cook, attempt to make love, do things together. She always attended the home games of our local professional franchises and sat in her box seats. I did not attend those games with her, because I was on the streets, looking after God's sheep. We really didn't have too much in common.

I would go out on the streets and preach almost every evening, but she wouldn't come with me. She did not feel comfortable doing that so she stayed behind. It was sort of my "job". People were supporting me through donations, so I had some income, but mostly our money came from her folks. I had made it clear from the beginning, I wasn't able to support a wife, I was but a preacher, sent to the poor. If I had a wife, she'd have to adapt, we would live like we preached. She seemed glad to do that, though I know it was a sacrifice. But, my life was a sacrifice, so she was well apprised of what I was all about long before she considered me as a mate. She knew up front that material things just held no sway over me. She told me that she was happy to have me as her husband and honored to be a part of a divine work, so I was content to go on with my ministry. Her folks were more than happy to supply her with cash as she needed it. It kept her close and at their bid and call. I loved her as much as I could. She got all of me that I had left after my commitment to the ministry. She loved her sports and I got all of her that she had left after her commitment to the sport of the season. It was just the way it was.

Tamara, for being as really good looking as she was really wasn't very good in the bedroom, in my opinion. I don't think I ever was able to bring her to climax, try as I did. She lay there limp and hardly breathing hard. She, a walking erection for every man that ever saw her, yet she was so cold that when she took her clothes off, the furnace would kick in. It just was her way. She wasn't sexually motivated, at all with me. She did think I was very attractive, she loved playing with my body, tickling my stomach and legs and playing with my cock and balls, but she had little interest in me reciprocating. It was quite frustrating for me. I was always allowed my husbandly privileges, but never encouraged or never successful in really connecting with her sexually.

So, she had her sports teams, and, me my street ministry. 

After 2 years of wedded life, I was preaching most every night of the week, from about 6pm to midnight on the streets. I was enjoying a certain amount of success, measured in acceptance, not dollars. 

Lately the Broncos were playing and they had a Monday night game that week. The crowds were huge, and the fans went to different downtown bars after the games than the Rockie's faithful. Many of these, Broncos bars are on the western end of downtown, and right on the 16th street mall.

I decided to move my witnessing over to the 16th street mall area, kind of walk up and down the mall and see who I could find to witness to. It was normal for me to do this, I move to the Pepsi Center area when the Nuggets or Av's played, to Coors Field area when the Rockies played and to the Western part of Downtown when the Broncos played. 

Again this night our team had won in front of a national audience and the fans were rockin'. It was party time. The bars were full and the streets were abuzz with people having a good time. After the game was over for about an hour or more, I spotted a group of the Denver Broncos in one of the Bars. I moseyed over, knowing they'd attract a crowd and maybe an opportunity for me to strike up a conversation with someone. I hung around the edge of the crowd, listening to the partying, the laughing and seeing all the drinking. 

The men in the crowd inside the bar were egging someone on. They must have had a cheerleader or some groupie chic in there and she was entertaining them. They were whistling, yelling and encouraging her to "take it off baby". There was lots of lewd happy stuff going on. I couldn't see into the bar at all, but had an idea what kind of partying was going on. After a half hour of this wild revelry, I could tell the girl was moving and it sounded like she was moving outside onto the sidewalk. I decided to get a little closer and see what was going on.


The Error of Her Ways Ch. 02



CHAPTER 2

Why hurt yourself with anger when someone else makes a mistake? 

After over 2 years without having any contact with the O'Neal family at all, I was in my room at the Denver Rescue Mission. I had been given free room and board there. They said that they recognized my work on the streets of Denver and knew that I was integral in their own reach out to the homeless and helpless of Denver. 

For the past 22 months, somebody had been depositing $5,000 on the 4th day of the month, into my personal account at Wells Fargo Bank. 

As a minister and especially as a street preacher, I come in contact with hundreds and hundreds of people. I strike up conversations with so many, from the down and out, who are just waiting to die, to the idle rich, who are looking for some action, or people just travelling through my little patch of earth, on a sidewalk outside of some venue or other. I've rejoiced with those who rejoice, wept with those who mourn, and I've prayed with those who asked. It is my life's work, it is what I do. 

So, I figured that somebody who I'd ministered to along the way had hit it big or someone who is wealthy had encountered me and remembered the ministry. It's not uncommon for someone who has been touched to want to anonymously support a work like mine. What I couldn't figure out was how they'd get my account number and bank name. I asked around the Denver Rescue Mission and nobody knew anything about it. 

I asked at the bank, "who is making the deposits?" but they either couldn't or wouldn't answer me. 

They explained that an electronic transfer took place every month and there was no personal interaction from them to any person making this deposit. All they had was a routing number from another bank and no name, into my account. 

The sending bank, Chase Bank of Colorado, refused any information when I inquired. Citing privacy laws, they wouldn't even acknowledge who their customers are, when I suggested some names. 

I just took the money as Providence of God, gave thanks and spread most of it around every month to those who I knew had need, and used a small amount for my own personal needs. It did not change my life at all. I had always eaten when I was hungry and slept when I was tired. Nothing was different, except for the mystery.

It was a Thursday afternoon. A knock came on my door and I opened it to a man in a brown suit, holding a light brown manila envelope. 

"Mr. William Jefferson Wilkerson?" he queried.

"Yes." 

"I represent the law firm of McCrery and Peters. Our clients, Mr. Hugh Downs O'Neal and his wife Kathryn Tatum O'Neal were tragically killed in that horrible riot and attack on American citizens in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia last week." He said.

"Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. I loved the O'Neal's so much." I said. "They were mys".

"Yes, sir, Mr. Wilkerson. I need to inform you that enclosed in this envelope are instructions to the executor of their estate, in the event of their death, their Joint Last Will and Testament, and information as to the access to and power of record for all their accounts, other possible heirs and whatever instructions they wished to be followed in the untimely event of their deaths. They were in Saudi Arabia opening up the Arabian Headquarters of the corporation which Mr. O'Neal was President and CEO, and Mrs. O'Neal a Vice President and director. Mr. Wilkerson, you are the executor of the O'Neal estate, as appointed by both Mr. and Mrs. O'Neal 2 ½ years ago when they rewrote their will." The gentleman advised.

"That would mean they wrote this document when Tammy and I were still together. Their daughter and I are not together, sir. Perhaps they wouldn't want me as their executor any longer?" I offered.

"This is the Last Will and Testament, sir. It is in effect as of the moment of their deaths." The lawyer answered me. "You are still legally married to Mrs. Wilkerson, sir. There never has been a decree of divorce".

"Well, but, I know nothing about running a conglomerate. I have no idea on earth what an executor is supposed to do." In exasperation I replied.

"I encourage you to read the documents, Mr. Wilkerson. Will you please come into our offices tomorrow morning at 8:30? Our team will meet with you. We have been appointed counsel but can only continue to serve as such with your consent and approval. There is much that needs attended to and we will assist you with all the details, if you are willing for us to serve you and advise you in the attention to those details, that you will address in the following months." He offered.

"I, I guess I can come in. Where is your office located Mr., what was your name?" I replied.

"My name is Peters, Mr. Wilkerson. Quinton Peters. No need to drive, sir. We will send a car for you at 8:10. You will have a car and driver at your disposal beginning this afternoon, sir." Peters said.

I never went out on the street that night. I spent the entire night reading, and, praying. I read the cover letter from Mr. O'Neal; my appointment as executor, the Joint Last Will and Testament, and several pages of corporate papers, information of accounts, employees, executives, quite a bit of information to take in. Much of what was in the will I did not understand. It was all legal mumbo jumbo to me. It was all just a precursor to information that would soon follow. I did see that it was Hugh O'Neal who was my monthly benefactor, depositing the $5,000 into my account. He must have been able to get the number after Tamara and I were married. I probably had written a check or left the checkbook lying around when he was around and he had obtained my information from that.

I walked out of the Denver Rescue Mission, at 22nd and Lawrence, at 8:05 the next morning, Friday, and a large black stretch limousine was illegally parked right outside the front doors, the chauffer was standing by an open door to the car and motioned for me to enter. I was embarrassed to have the hundreds of homeless folks I had been serving for all these years see me enter that car.

I crawled into the car and a lovely young woman, Gloria Sinese, was sitting in the seat opposite me. She introduced herself, offered me coffee and said she was my personal assistant, unless I desired someone else, and I could pick from several when we got to the offices of McCrery and Peters. Gloria has grey eyes, dark hair to mid back, small, firm breasts and was about 32 years old. She was as beautiful as women get, as far as I was concerned, 5'6" and a petite 110 lbs. She had perfect teeth, a pristine, kissable mouth and medium lips with a hint of pale lipstick. Her professional business attire was a two piece women's suit, and her skirt, while she was sitting, rose an easy six inches above her knees. Her legs were toned and she wore white silk sheer stockings. As pretty as she was, she was all business at this first meeting. And, her business, I gathered soon was to see to my creature comforts; Coffee, jelly donuts, temperature in the car, answering the phone, speaking to me about whatever her women's intuition revealed to her about my interests or wants or needs. 

In almost no time we pulled in front of a large building off Colorado Boulevard and Mexico Street in Southeast Denver. The door opened and Mr. Peters greeted me, shaking my hand and welcoming me to McCrery and Peters. 

When I walked into the conference room, there were 8 men and 8 secretaries, one behind each man around the table, and Tamara Wilkerson, my estranged wife. Gloria was to sit behind me. 

Tammy, the willow fox that she is, walked over to me, with teary eyes and then wept as we hugged. No words were exchanged for the moment. Her parents were dead, our marriage was in shambles (no divorce had ever been filed), she was embarrassed beyond belief and, it would seem, her future was in my hands.

After a few moments, Mr. Peters suggested we begin the meeting. Tamara went to her chair, at the other end of the long table. I was seated at the head. 

Mr. Peters began the meeting. He introduced me as the executor of the estate, read the proclamation, or whatever it was called, and then read the will in painful detail; every last page of it. It took quite a while. 

The people in the room were the lead corporate officers and directors of the O'Neal Corporation and their secretaries. Tamara was there as the only child and apparent sole heir. But, a twist in the will left her nothing without the executor's, my, express declaration. 

After the reading of the will, Mr. Peters presented me with a sealed envelope, that simply read, "To Bill Wilkerson" "To be opened only on the occasion of the death of Hugh Downs O'Neal and wife Kathryn Tatum O'Neal." And, it was dated 2 ½ years earlier.

It was not a legal document, and Mr. Peters said that whatever was in the letter was personal, and would have to wait for later, since there was pressing business. I handed it to Gloria.

First, I had to sign a document agreeing to be executor, then a series of documents authorizing me to, in the interim, head the corporation, appoint a general counsel, handle accounts and make general decisions as to the future of things associated with O'Neal's finances. I had to sign a document putting me in agreement that the fee for my services as executor and temporary President and CEO of the Corporation would be 25% of whatever the final liquidation figure of the estate became. That figured to be about Eight Hundred Million dollars plus change. The O'Neal's were 80% owners of the corporation and with various properties, corporate stock and cash on hand were worth $3,226,792,000 (three billion, two hundred twenty six million, seven hundred ninety two thousand dollars) as of the date of their deaths. 

Here's the kicker: Tammy didn't get anything without my say-so. I don't exactly know how that worked but the lawyers were adamant that it was sound and irrevocable. Tammy sat there and stared at me, mouth agape. I sat there and stared at her, mouth agape. Who'd-a thunk it?

We had a board of director's meeting right there and then. I stated that, "I am not a businessman, have no experience and no desire to become one. I direct that the corporation be put on the block and sold for fair market value." I asked for discussion, and then assigned each their duties; to contact customers, creditors, debtors, stockholders and competitors as to the salability of the corporation. 

The lawyer, Mr. Peters sat there like a jackass looking through a gate after I finished my "board of director's meeting". I asked him if I could use his conference room for a while. He deferred and I asked Gloria to leave Tammy and me alone. 

"Bill, it is good to see you again" Tammy started, reaching for a hug and kiss.

"Tammy, if you are going to see a dime, you have to go into a six month intensive treatment for alcohol and drug abuse; and complete it. You will need to be sober for 1 year, or more if I feel unsure about you, after you complete your treatment before I authorize the release of any funds to you, other than basic maintenance." I stated solemnly.

"You can't, what are you talking about? I am no alcoholic. I am the sole heir, you cannot do this. It is mine and you cannot stand in the way." She growled.

"Let's open this letter from your parents, Tamara. I'd be interested to hear their thoughts at the time they wrote it. Sit down." I ordered.

The Letter:

"Dear Bill:

If you are reading this, it means both of us have passed. We do not feel Tamara is capable of making quality decisions of the magnitude that she would need to make if something serious happens to one or both of us.

Bill, it is no secret to you that Tamara is in trouble with alcohol, maybe drugs. She isn't a daily user, but binges. She goes for weeks, months without a drop and then when she falls, she falls all the way. 

After her assault, where you killed those two men while rescuing her, then endured the abuse, questioning and suspicion of authorities; when you only fought for her, did not try and take advantage of her both she and we realized we'd never met a man that hadn't tried to take some sort of advantage of her. We're sure you will agree that Tamara is a beautiful girl, woman, and she's had men at her beck and call all her life. 

You are the one and only man who never seems to cater to her every whim. We recognize your grounding and it served to ground her, mostly; except, for that last contact you two had after that Monday night Bronco's game. She was so humiliated and ashamed, as were we, when she told us all about it. She is seeing a counselor about that, and we believe she is helping, but we've come to understand that Tammy is in a life long struggle that she could lose at any point along the way. 

Her beauty will always serve to elevate her without any effort on her part. Her weaknesses will always be glossed over and her lack of innate good sense will always be a threat to her well-being. We feel that you are the one soul on God's earth that truly had Tamara's well-being at heart throughout your first meeting up until the time you left her after her terrible performance on that horrible Monday night.

We never contacted you after that, because we realized you are a man of principal and would never quarter her behavior. We think she never contacted you because of shame. We do not know what is happening or has happened at the time you are reading this letter, of course. We hope only for the best.

Bill, we rewrote our will a year ago and we have asked you to be our executor. We've offered to pay you handsomely, but we also know that is no motivation to you. Discerning right and wrong seem to be your life's journey, and to that course we commit our daughter's welfare. 

Help her, Bill. Help her as only you seem to be able to do. Get her helps, lend her your help, and make her get help; whatever you have to do. Remember your vow, "in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do you part."

Bill, if she just won't face her demons and you cannot win her over, our will is iron clad-we are told-and you can give her a lifetime maintenance, but use this money for the spreading the gospel. You have our blessing. This is not a legal document, but the will is a legal document and it empowers you. This is a letter spelling our heart's desire for the true welfare of our beloved daughter, Tamara. Please help her. Help her in the way she needs help. Whatever it takes, help her.

You have our love and trust." 

The letter was signed individually;

Hugh O'Neal and Kathryn O'Neal

I put the letter down on the table and Tammy cried; so did I. At that moment, the task ahead of me seemed insurmountable. I wondered what it seemed like to Tamara. I know now.

She looked at me and began to speak, "Bill, I don't know where, or what to do. How do I be or become what I should be?"

Without answering her, I rose from my chair and went to the door of the room, "Gloria, would you step back in here please".

"Yes, Mr. Wilkerson. Mrs. Wilkerson" Gloria nodded at Tamara, they made eye contact.

"Gloria, I'd like a list of the 4 or 5 best substance abuse centers in the world. I hear there is a cutting edge hospital in Tel Aviv; I want to know all about that one and use your resources to find the best newest and most advanced techniques available."

Tamara's eyes were as big as saucers. Her makeup had run from all the tears and she looked a bit of a fright. She'd never seen me as proactive except for the one time I'd fought those thugs in the parking lot, killing those two she'd never seen me as anything but docile. She'd forgotten the wild look in my eyes that night, when I instructed her "duck" and then swung. Today, she was taken off guard.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Wilkerson", said Gloria. I thought I detected a waft of arousal.

"Have the car come around and pick me up. If you need to contact me call me at the Mission. I hardly slept all night, praying about all this, so I'm going back to my room and taking a nap." I said finally. "I need to be back on the streets tonight".

I was tired, I knew there were wolves about and that I was but a sheep. I think the wolves were trying to figure out a strategy for me and weren't ready for any attack at this point, anyhow. It wasn't that often that the sheep attacked the wolf and that is how they saw today's events, I'm sure. "That which was meant for your harm, I will turn into good".

I looked at my wife and nodded a good bye. "I'll be in touch" was all I said. Then I left the room. Gloria followed after me.

"Mr. Wilkerson, will you need me to accompany you, sir?" Gloria asked.

"No, just get me the information I asked for, Gloria. I do not want the car after today. I'll use my own car or catch a bus. I'll see you on Monday or Tuesday afternoon back here at these offices. Where is your personal office so I can find you?"

She told me she was part of a secretarial pool and did not have an office. I asked her if I had one, "Yes you do Mr. Wilkerson; it is right here off the conference room."

"Ok, that is now your office too, Gloria." I said. Get me Mr. Peters please."

Within one minute into my office stepped a very wan Quentin Peters. I asked if he was ok, he just said his lunch didn't settle too well. 

"From now until I complete this task, Gloria will use my office as her own. If I need anything, I'll go through her and if you need to talk to me, talk to her, she will know how to reach me. By the way, how much does she make?" I asked.

"Oh, I really don't know, Mr. Wilkerson. I imagine $23 or 24 K per year, what most of the secretaries without experience make." He answered, eyeing her warily.

"From today, she makes $10, 000 per month plus full bennies". I said. Her eyes opened wide and I think I heard her fart, wasn't sure.

"Of course" he shakily replied. It may have been he who farted. I detected an aroma.

Peters left the room, and it was just Gloria and I alone. "Gloria, I just ask you to be loyal and available. Get us each a private cell phone. Only you and I will have each other's number. I can reach you and you can reach me at any time. I need your promise to answer this phone if I call, will you?" I asked.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Wilkerson. Thank you so much for that confidence. And, that raise" "I only..."

"It's ok, I trust you Gloria. Just get on those treatment centers. Anything else?"

"No sir. Thank you." She replied.

I went back to the Mission and to bed for a good nap. Then, out onto the streets where my heart was free and my soul was joined to those who needed to hear from the Good Shepherd.

I noticed that I was being watched while I was out. Every night, I had a tail. One night, I was passing out sandwiches and thermos' of hot soup and one of the more derelict of the derelicts took a swing at me with a 2X4 and was in the act of robbing me of the rest of the sandwiches and thermos' of soup. I was on the ground from the blow I'd received and the next thing I saw was this guy in a suit. He'd dispatched the derelict and was tending to my bleeding head wound. As I came around, I asked him who he was, and he just chuckled, "Your guardian angel Mr. Wilkerson, just your guardian angel". Then, he walked off when the ambulance showed up to take me to Denver General Hospital. I found out years later that Gloria had paid him, out of her own salary, to watch out for me when I was on the streets.

My private phone was ringing. It was 7:40 AM. I'd been out until 2 AM with God's little lambs. It was Gloria. "Mr. Wilkerson, it's Gloria. Sorry to bother you, but Tamara is demanding to talk to you, sir. She insists that she needs some money. I think she sounded a little drunk, sir. Could you call her, or talk to her sir?" Gloria asked in one breath.

"Tell me what all she said, Gloria" I yawned.




The Error of Her Ways Ch. 02



"She was obviously drinking, sir. She slurred her words and was telling me that you are unfair, and not in a rightful place to withhold her fortune from her. She said she wouldn't go into any damned treatment and you couldn't make her. She threatened me and said if I knew what is good for me, I'd better convince you to relent and turn loose of her funds or else" Gloria cried. "I don't know 'or else', what, sir."

"Where is she now, Gloria?" I asked.

"She says she is at home, in Littleton."

"Okay, I'll handle it, Gloria. Write out a check for $2,000. I'll be by in an hour or so and pick it up." I Instructed.

I hung up and went to the community shower to clean up. My day was starting early. I had to wait a while, because there were about 30 men ahead of me in line to use the facilities.

When I picked the check up at McCrery and Peters, Quentin stopped me and asked me to sign some documents relating to the corporation. I told him to have Gloria lay them on my desk and I'd get to them later, that I had something to do right then.

He balked at me and said he needed my signature right away. 

"Stand down, Mr. Peters. I said I'll get to them later today." I barked. It was obviously a reaction he did not expect. I could see seething in his eyes.

"Call the board together for 3pm today, Peters." I commanded. 

"You can't just call a meeting without an agenda, Mr. Wilkerson. You need to give notice and we need to establish a central theme for the meeting." He said.

"The agenda is discussing council's replacement" Mr. Peters.

I got in my car and drove off, leaving him curbside standing there in astonishment.

When I got to Tamara's house, our house, she didn't answer. Her car was in the garage, other cars were parked around the house, but she did not respond to my repeated knocks and door bell ringing. I went around to the back and the sliding door into the kitchen was unlocked, so I stepped in. The place smelled like stale sex, booze and cigarettes. There were unwashed glasses with all sorts of undrunk drinks. Beer and wine bottles were lying on the counters and around the living room. It must have been some party. 

On the way through the living room, I saw a cheerleader type girl and an athlete type guy naked, and passed out on the davenport wrapped together. They were making like the double backed beast. Crusted semen and was on their bodies and on the furniture on which they lay. They were out like a light; no doorbell was going to ruin their drunken slumber.

I looked in the spare bedroom and two couples were soundly snoring away, all were naked and covered in various body emissions, lying on and around each other. Quite the sight, indeed, I thought. 

When I got to the master bedroom, there lay the nude, beautiful, truly beautiful, Tamara. Her breasts were still so round and full, her nipples pointed upwards. Her belly still flat and toned, her long legs looked like she just stepped out of a tanning bed, with well-defined calves and supple thighs. I saw that she had let her pubic hair grow back in, since the last time I saw her naked at the Bronco's party. I couldn't resist. I dropped my pants and crawled on the bed with her. She did not stir when I jostled the bed while crawling on. I grabbed her by the knees and spread them wide, knee-walking between her legs with my cock as hard as I ever remember it. I never touched her pussy with anything but my cock and I just rammed it into her in one jab. She moaned and, from a drunken slumber, started to waken. Her eyes slit open just a bit, "Bill-what are you....." she slurred.

I thrust again and sunk all the way into her, bumping up against her cervix. She cried out in mixed pain and pleasure. I pistoned in and out of her about 20 times; my cock started to belch out so much sperm that I felt a little twinge in my balls. I squirted 5 or 6 different thrusts and pulled out. She moaned and groaned and actually started to come as I was finishing. I just pulled out when I was done and left her begging me to fuck her. 

In the years I had known and had sex with Tamara, never, not once had she ever moaned when I had sex with her. Not once had she ever displayed any sexual excitement, whatsoever. This morning, I literally claimed her and she was starting to come. "So much for the slow and gentle hand," I thought.

Nobody else stirred. I took the check made out to "Tamara Wilkinson" out of my jacket pocket and signed it. I lay the check on the bedside table and left my ink pen on it. Tamara had passed out again.

I was hungry, so I treated myself to Village Inn Pancakes and eggs with bacon and orange juice with hot coffee. Then, I headed back over to McCrery and Peters law offices.

Gloria had a stack of stuff for my perusal and signature. Quentin had meekly left his papers for me to sign. She laughed and asked me what I had said to him to make him so meek. I thought I detected the sweet aroma of female arousal.

I did not answer her. I just dove into the reading and signing where appropriate. I was pushing to get this empire sold off and liquidated. I did not want the responsibility and the distraction from what I deemed important.

At 3pm, the board and their secretaries were present in the conference room. Quentin knocked on my door and entered my office, informing me of their presence. His demeanor had changed quite considerably.

Tamara, of course, was not in attendance. Nobody could get ahold of her. 

I started the meeting off with a question to the various board members and corporate executives, about how their search for a buyer was going. It seemed very favorable; they reported that it seemed one competitor in particular was both very interested in acquiring the company and well able to financially swing the deal. I asked for particulars and gave the go ahead to a team of 3 to meet with them and report back to Gloria with the progress of negotiations. 

Gloria swooned when I told them that all communication to me went through her. She, a 32 year old woman, just a pool secretary a few weeks before and now an executive secretary with chief of staff responsibilities. What I knew was in everyone's mind was, "how had she managed to get to me so early, and how was I in bed, or how was she in bed." I smelled the odor of love, I was sure.

Then I brought up the matter of council. Quentin Peters began to fidget. I had a copy of the documents that assigned me the rights to be executor and Temporary CEO and President of the Company. I had the contract on the top of the stack that named McCrery and Peters Council for the Estate and Council for the Corporation. 

I asked the question "Is everyone happy with council?" Nobody expected that, except Quentin, nobody answered they just looked around to each other. 

"I am inclined to begin a search for new and differing council. Sometimes I sense a 'striving against my efforts' here and I want to put the board on notice that I do not intend to struggle long with adversaries. I would like to hear some thoughts about this. Even if it is a brand new subject to you, I welcome your opinion now, if you have one; because, later, I might consider any misdirection to be covert. Let's get our opinions out where we can examine them, in the light of day."

One of the directors, Robert Gibbs, who I respected and who seemed a worthy fellow stated, "well Mr. Wilkerson, McCrery and Peters was the O'Neal's chosen attorneys. What would Mr. O'Neal want?"

There seemed to be a consensus with that statement. I stated, "I am experiencing a push back against me from them. That they do not agree with my course of action is obvious. However, it rests with me to maximize the remaining assets of this corporation and the assets of the O'Neal's, so far as I see it. Their daughter, my wife, is incapable of managing this empire, and I am unqualified to run it as well. But it is mine to do, so I will do it, but it is going to be the way I feel is best or I'll replace those who stand in the way. Feedback?"

No eyes met mine after that. "Ok, let's get this thing sold and on to the rest of our lives." "McCrery and Peters you will remain the council for the time being. But, you are on notice. If I detect subterfuge from you I will terminate this agreement immediately, without notice. Gloria, I want a copy of the minutes of this meeting sent to each and every person sitting in this room, and a copy sent to my wife, Tamara Wilkerson, too."

"Yes, sir." Gloria replied.

"Other business?" I asked. 

Silence.

"Adjourned" I said.

Back in my office, Gloria told me that Tamara had been hounding her about how to get ahold of me. I advised Gloria that I did not think Tamara would bother her too much in the future, except when she needed money, "if Tamara wants to see me, she can come downtown any night. She knows where I preach, where I stand and where I minister." 

"One more thing, Gloria" I asked, "is there anything you need specifically? Are they treating you ok here? Are you suffering any abuse because of their dislike of me?"

"I don't suffer any abuse, but they don't have much to do with me. If they have something for you, they run it through me and then leave. They don't stick around. I take my breaks alone, because they are afraid of me a little, I think." She said.

"You ok with all that?" I asked.

"You bet, I can handle it." She said. I loved her smell.

"The invite stands for you to come downtown and join me sometime, if you like. No additional pay, but the rewards are endless. I'll be at 18th and Larimer tonight. It is a rough part of town, so call me and let me know if you are coming first, so I can meet you somewhere and we can go together". I said. "For now, I need to go back and get a power nap. Hope to see you downtown some time." 

"I'll think about it" She replied.

"Oh, Gloria, Dress down." I said.

"Dress down?" she asked.

"You are pretty, Gloria. Make yourself plain and don't stick out down there. You need bland colors and to hide your curves. No need to make yourself a target. Ok?"

"Oh, ok. Thanks. I mean thanks for the advice and thanks for the compliment, I think."

I laughed. She looked at me. I left.

Tammy found me praying with a homeless woman three nights later. I was just in an alleyway off 15th and Stout. She was a bag lady, she had sores on her feet and she was retaining fluids. Her heart was slowly giving out and she just couldn't pump away the water from her lungs and heart. It is a condition called congestive heart failure. It is common among street people, especially old ones. When I took Margaret's hand; I put a card with my name in it. I told her it would get her into the University Hospital Heart treatment center and that I'd be by and arrange for whatever financial help she needed based on their recommended course of treatment. I told her to get down there tonight and gave her $50 for cab fare. "Margaret, if you use this for drugs or alcohol, I won't be available any more, at all...ok?" This is for you to get into the Heart Center at UCH, go there now." 

Weeping, she left her shopping cart full of junk as I hailed a cab. I told the driver, "University of Colorado Hospital Emergency room." Silently I said a prayer to send her on her way. They would do a full appraisal of her health and treat what they could and make her comfortable.

There stood Tamara, hands in her pockets and tears streaming down her pretty face. She looked so pretty, tall well dressed. She looked like a dream, but in her face were legions of tormenting thoughts, doubt, and fear. Pretty on the outside, mush on the inside. "Bill, I saw the check, and that you were at the house the other day, I..." she trailed off.

I said, "Tammy, you need help. If you don't get it you are going to die. You could die from Alcohol poisoning; you had a .32 blood alcohol level three years ago when we met. How much worse is it now? You could die from aids or any number of diseases that people pass around now days." 

"Is there a chance for us, Bill? I mean, if I get help and clean up and straighten my act out?" She cried, begging with her eyes.

"I don't know what went through your mind when we got married. You were sexually cold to me. You never let on like it was something you enjoyed. I was fooled. I found you drunk and in trouble. You straightened up for a while, then you fell and you were not only promiscuous, but you were orgasmic as anyone I've ever met. I watched you in that crowd after the Bronco game. You were in the midst of an unending orgasm. "

"I know, I know. I am sexual; extremely sexual. I saw you as pure and righteous. I thought being sexual with you would be like having sex with Jesus or God or something. I didn't know how to act; or what to do. I was afraid that my libido would anger you, so I repressed it. But I was only able to do so for so long, then I fell off the wagon, big time." She said.

"Tammy, let me find you a good treatment center. Let's get you in where you are safe and away from this environment. Let's let some professional people to talk with you, you talk with them. Please, let's give this a try." I pleaded.

"But, will you wait for me, Bill"? She asked.

"Tammy, you need to do this for Tammy. The prize at the end of successful treatment is successful living. Set your goal to be your own woman, make up your mind who you are, who you want to be and where you want to go." "Tammy, I cannot say that you and I will be together. If I had to make a choice tonight, I'd say, no-we won't." I am committed to your welfare, to your care. If you let up on your treatment, I am willing to help you for a while, but soon, I'll be gone and you will not have any of what you've had. Not financial, not emotional. It could be really tough. I suggest you think this through very seriously." 

"You'll have a maintenance account set up for your month to month expenses for the rest of your life. You'll have a home, a new car occasionally, food, your bills paid, your health insurance paid. You won't have leftover funds to play like you play when you play." I advised. "But, this is only if you choose to refuse help. If you can get help and be successful at it, you will be wealthy beyond your imagination". 

She spat at me, "How can you do this to me? How can you withhold from me what is rightfully mine? Who do you think you are, judging me?"

Immediately, she changed, "No, I understand what you are saying. I am in trouble, I need help. I know it is for my good."

"Go home and pack a bag, we'll be getting you into treatment in the next couple of days, as soon as we can make arrangements."

We hugged, right there on the street in Downtown Denver. She kissed me with a closed mouth, soft lips. Then, she opened her mouth and slipped the tip of her tongue between my lips and she licked the backs of my teeth, the roof of my mouth and dueled with my tongue. Sucking huge lungful's of air we broke our embrace and she turned and walked to her car. She never looked back. I never took my eyes off her; I watched her until she disappeared around a corner 2 blocks away.

The corporation sold above what the estimated market value was when the initial appraisal was performed. With interest and appreciation of the properties involved, the estate liquidated at $3, 684, 211, 000 (THREE BILLION SIX HUNDRED EIGHTY FOUR MILLION TWO HUNDRED ELEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS). That was $921 million to me. 

Tammy disappeared into thin air.

I hired Pinkerton Investigation agency and asked them to put their best people to the task of finding my wife; to spare no expense and leave no stone unturned, find her. After 18 months and 11 million dollars, there was not a trace, anywhere. Her social security card never showed, her credit cards never surfaced, no shoes, no shorts, no shirts, no cell phone signal, no nothing ever showed. She vanished. After 8 years I petitioned the courts to have her declared dead. While we were preparing to go before the court, the Gunnison County Sheriff's office in western Colorado began an investigation concerning the bones of a female, who had been found by hikers, in a ravine at the bottom of Castle Peak in the Elk Mountain Range. Her purse was found about 3 hundred feet from the body with Tamara's various ids and DNA tests confirmed it was the body of my wife Tamara Wilkerson, and that the body had been there for several years. Her burned car was 1,000 feet further up the mountain caught on some rocks, hidden from view by air by snow in the winter, vegetation and rocky ledges in summer. She had been thrown from the car as it tumbled down the mountain, ending in that ravine. The death was ruled an accident. Tammy had driven off a cliff, to her death after meeting me that night in downtown or within a couple of weeks afterwards. Tests for alcohol or drugs were inconclusive.

The 75% of the liquidated estate of her parents, increased with interest and appreciation over the 8 years was over 3 billion dollars. I was the sole heir to the O'Neal fortune.

Taxes were minimal, limited to the growth on the funds alone since the Republicans had swept into office and eliminated the death tax and most of the capital gains taxes just before all this happened.

There was just a whole lot of money on hand that was at my discretion. I continued staying at the Denver Rescue Mission for those eight years, but after Tamara was found, I decided to purchase a large block of buildings close to the other rescue missions. We built a men's shelter and a women's and children's shelter. Each housed their own apartments, cooking and common areas. The city of Denver and some of the surrounding suburbs wanted in on this, so they contributed tax dollars and soon the shelters were a model for other states and cities. We had visits from other government entities and were soon building in 20 other cities; Cincinnati, Louisville, Memphis, Nashville, Mobile, Baton Rouge, Houston, Dallas, Albuquerque, Seattle, Bangor, Atlanta, Tallahassee, St Louis, Kansas City Kansas, Colorado Springs, Oklahoma City, Raleigh/Durham, Anchorage, and Salt Lake City. All of those were based on our model, but each adapted some of their own ideas into their plans. We funded 50-75% of all those projects, depending on each city's situation. Then, after all the work was done, after all twenty cities had in place substantial shelters and feeding programs for homeless men and women and care for them, we forgave their debt, gifting our share of their financing to them. It was a windfall for the cities, and hopefully would guarantee the programs would continue to grow and prosper.

Gloria and I even met with President Romney and Vice President Condoleeza Rice in the oval office. It was a good exposure and highlighted the problems with homelessness in America.

Gloria stayed with me as my employee and pal; she never dated anyone and made sure I knew she was available day or night to me. When Tamara's body was found, I began dating Gloria. 

Gloria was everything to me that Tamara wasn't. First, Gloria was sexually hot for me. Through the years, and being together so often, in private and public, occasions happened when Gloria became aroused. I could smell her arousal. That ancient tool God gave to creatures of the same species for procreation; unseen and unheard ways to communicate the opportunity to mate, pheromones. She would always flush and avoid eye contact with me when arousal overcame her.

It was 8 years of torment for me. We were employer/employee and we were friends. She knew me well. She'd seen me naked, though I'd never seen her naked. 

I had been ministering on the street and got mugged, hit on the head again. With certain types of head injuries, an erection manifests itself. I was mugged several times through the years, but this one time I was hurt and ended up in the hospital. Gloria planted herself by my bedside and stayed for several days as I recovered from surgery and until my release.




The Error of Her Ways Ch. 02



After a day my nurse decided that I needed a bath, and she set about to do it. Gloria had stepped out to go to the cafeteria for some lunch and came back in just as the nurse had drawn the warm water in the basin and was beginning to get her washcloths and towels ready. When Gloria walked in, the nurse asked if I would like Mrs. Wilkerson to bathe me. 

I was dazed from my injuries and with all the pain meds and couldn't figure out who Mrs. Wilkerson was, "is Tamara back?" I remember thinking.

I was puzzling over the answer and nurse just handed Gloria the basin of water and the soap and washcloths and said to be careful around the area of the surgery, but to get me good and clean "all over." Then the nurse just left us alone.

Honestly, I was kind of unaware of what was happening, but Gloria decided to go ahead and do her assigned duty. She started with my face, ears and then neck then each arm and my chest then down to my belly. As she descended to my lower abdomen, I sported an erection that was pointing right at her and stuck its head out of the covers below my belly button. The back of her hand rubbed it and some pre cum stayed on her hand. When she noticed the erection, she put the washcloth in the basin and took some soap and scrubbed my cock and pubic area with her bare hands. Of course I came like a banshee Indian and she had to rewash my belly and chest. And then she had to re wash my cock and balls. She washed my legs and feet and when she had me bend my legs and put my feet flat on the bed and raise up a bit so she could wash my ass, I came again, and I think she may have as well. She took her time and cleaned me good back there.

From the fog in which I existed at that time, I still remember distinctly the smell of her arousal. I remembered it as 'delicious', and I told her so.

Being wanted by someone feels so good. That was my approach to dating Gloria. She had kept herself for me from the time we met, I found out. The way she figured it, Tamara would eventually dump me or be done with me and she could be there to pick up what was left.

Actually, there was plenty left, because I did not succumb to anger over Tamara's many infidelities. Why hurt myself when it was someone else's mistake? 

Gloria and I got married on the steps of the steps of the homeless shelter we had built in Denver. The ceremony was presided over by an old alcoholic minister who had ended up on the streets and then turned his life around again. Gloria's bridesmaids were all friends of hers. My groomsmen were all homeless and folks I had ministered to of both sexes through the years. We set up a huge table of food in "the triangle" area of downtown Denver at Park Avenue and Lawrence streets.

Gloria and I had our first sexual intercourse the night of our wedding. It lasted two days and nights with only a few naps and breaks for refueling, bathing and using the toilet. We were given a suite, no charge, at the top of the Sherman Plaza building at 9th and Sherman Street. It was there that we made our home after that weekend. I bought the Sherman Plaza.

When I opened the door, I picked Gloria up and carried her into this 4,000 square foot apartment which overlooked all of Denver to the West and Northwest, all the way to the Rocky Mountains. As we entered the room, I could smell her. She was in oestrus and I was ready. We removed her wedding gown and lay it across the chair. I unfastened her bra and her small b cup breast displayed their selves to me for the first time, with puffy nipples, which begged to be nuzzled. I did not touch her, choosing to tease her, but she did not want that at all. Her sheer silk panties were soaking.

She panted; she was so aroused that she was helpless. As she stood there leaking, she squirmed. I kissed her, she did not want to be kissed, and she wanted to be fucked. I roughly removed her panties and put them to my mouth and nose, licking and inhaling her scent. She jumped, from about 3 feet right into and onto me. Her legs wrapped around me and I was still clothed. I had to let her down so I could undress. She was no help, she was so flustered. She actually began to make little kibbling sounds. While I finished undressing, I told her lay on the bed. I started at the inside of her right knee and kissed to her labia. Then I used my tongue as a scoop and scooped out a tablespoon full of her vaginal secretions. She immediately began to orgasm. I kissed down her left leg to the inside of her knee and she was almost in convulsions. 

Quickly I lay my tongue flat on her clitoral hood and she gasped. I just gently moved it up and down and around and around, she went wild. She pulled me up on top of her and I impaled her. She frantically humped me, moaning, oohing, ahhing and talking gibberish. Her orgasm lasted minutes, she barely came down and the waves of sensations came on her again and she crested even higher. This went on and on. She feinted when she felt me squirt a huge blast of my seminal gift deep inside her. As she revived, her orgasm took over again and she shook and shivered. I wondered if she was having some sort of epileptic fit. She was just so ready for this for so long. Our love making was frantic for the first 12 hours. It changed its' tenor after that to exploring, caressing and cooing at one another, constantly touching and playing. She licked me everywhere. I kissed her everywhere and licked her most everywhere.

Gloria and I have sex nearly every single day. We can't get enough of each other. We still minister on the streets, preferring to position ourselves close to home sporting events, and we also manage a huge fortune and pray constantly for guidance as to where to contribute and how much. We look to enable people and we resist the organized religious.

We are 40 and don't plan on having children, but we do not use condoms or pills, so what happens, happens. 

-Pultoy



The Error of Her Ways



I got right by the door and, dancing in spiked high heels, breasts hanging out her bra, teeny G-string panties pulled to the side totally exposing the girl's pudenda and ass hole, bouncing and dancing as she went out of the bar, and drunk as a skunk came Tamara O'Neal/Wilkerson my wife of 2 years.

In her drunken haze she was kissing all the men, groping them and they her, sticking their fingers in her pussy and licking off her juices. She came face to face with me...four inches eyeball to eyeball and started to kiss me, then realized it was me and shrieked, losing her balance and falling backwards caught by some guy before she hit the sidewalk. I looked down and saw she had shaved her pussy, and saw her breasts dangling out of her bra, her hair mussed up, her makeup a wreck and she was so drunk. Her breasts were red from all the pawing, her upper chest and her cheeks flushed from her orgasms and her body was covered with sheen of sweat from all her undulating and dancing and whatever else she was doing. Her nipples were pointing straight into the air, harder than I'd ever seen them.

Quietly, I left. I turned and left. I did not speak, nobody but she and me knew who we each were to each other. I walked back to my car, drove to our little house in Littleton that her parents had bought us, and packed my three bags and suitcases.

I'd gotten the point.

This time I wasn't going to resort to violence. She wasn't worth it and I didn't see her struggling to stop it, I saw her being pleased by other men, and knew that I couldn't please her at all. I saw what I needed to see, it was very painful, indeed. Now, what I needed to do was to begin the process of healing. And, that starts with prayer and self-examination. My realization of what I needed to do was instantaneous.

I went to the mission, downtown, and got a cot. I continued my street ministry and immersed myself in it, forgetting that I even had a wife. I did not seek a divorce and did not care whether she did or not. I brought nothing into the marriage so I really had nothing to take from it. She wanted the marriage and got me to fall in love and go along, and now she wanted to soil it. It was hers to make and to despoil. I saw my job as keeping my heart pliable before the Father and not descending into hate for her.

Honestly, I do feel special about something. I feel that I could have been really hurt. But, I never felt that hurt. It seemed surreal to me, like some Spirit of God was shielding me from pain. I truly had committed my way to God and He is directing my path.

I never heard from Tamara, or her folks. Just as well, I have nothing to say. I am busy and don't have time for that kind of lifestyle. I am glad to be free from it; much as I am sure she is glad to be free from mine.

About 1 1/2 years later, I saw Tamara down by the Pepsi Center in Lower Downtown. She was partying and having a good time. She was still so pretty, and she had guys all over her. It was what she wanted, I had come to realize. A lot of attention and to be the center of everyone's fantasy was her drug of choice. To be with just one simple man wasn't her lifetime goal, she couldn't be satisfied with only one man, when there are so many. It's ok Tammy, I'll still pray for you.

This is my first "loving wives" category story. I do know there is great passion in this genre for many differing outcomes. I remind the reader that this is but a story, it did not happen, there are no real characters like this, which I know of, and I was just making a contribution to Lit. Because I've enjoyed the contributions of so many others in this category for years, I thought I'd try my hand.

-Pultoy