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The Luckiest Man in the World

By: Tx Tall Tales



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The lengths a man will go to for love.

A short (at least for me) tale of love and loss. 

I agonized over what category to submit this story under. I chose Loving Wives. I hope by the end you understand why. I'll understand if you castigate me.

This is an entry in the 2013 Valentine's Day contest.

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Alan sat in the near-dark, alone in the large empty house. Sorry excuse for a fire struggling in the fireplace, providing the lone illumination. Half a bottle of Gentleman Jack in his right hand, the damning piece of paper in his left. 

He wished he could burn it. Turn back time. Take a mulligan. 

Life doesn't work like that.

He took a swig of the bourbon, brusquely rubbing his hand across his eyes. 

Fifty years old. Married exactly half his life. Maybe that's the way these things were supposed to work. Twenty-five years of maturing, twenty-five years of wedded bliss, then whatever's left, a living hell.

Something had to balance the scales. He had been the luckiest man in the world. No way a man who'd had the life he'd had wouldn't roll snake eyes one day.

Twenty five years, silver anniversary. They'd worked for their future, planned carefully, never living beyond their means, raising the kids - thank God they were grown and out of the house before this - building for their retirement.

As if he had any kind of future now.

Alan looked at the clock and braced himself. He stood shakily and put away the booze. He took the piece of paper in his hand, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the fireplace.

Tuesdays and Thursdays. She'd be back soon. Worn out and trying to hide it. Disheveled, sweaty, exhausted, she'd greet him, hiding behind her mask. He'd have to wear his own. A little longer, until he'd decided what he was going to do.

* * *

Becca tried to maintain the pretense. She smiled as his arms wrapped around her clutching her. He stunk, stale sweat, cigarette smoke, garlic breath. Writhing sensually, as if she enjoyed his body pressed against hers. 

It had been fun at first, a diversion, a way to kick up her heels after 25 years of being a Mom. Alan didn't know. Couldn't know. Her little secret.

She felt guilt. She had it all. The stay-at-home Mom, raising their three, beautiful, brilliant children. He worked hard to give them what they needed, while she provided the secure home environment, mother, housekeeper, chauffeur, lover. She understood some women chafed under the roles, but she thrived. 

First David's graduation, then Carrie's, finally her baby Josh moving out almost 7 months ago. She found herself lonely, at loose ends, while her husband, her soul-mate buried himself in work. She understood, he was working for them. Their future. Still, she'd felt the first cracks in her perfect world in nearly twenty-five years. What do they say about 'idle hands'?

She looked up and smiled as Randy drew her close, hands, familiar with her body, sliding down her back. She reacted, her first genuine smile. 

"God, Becca, if you weren't married..." he started, as he so often did.

"But I am, and I love my husband."

"But we're perfect together," he reminded her, taking control.

She sighed, allowing him, following his movement, for a brief moment enjoying what she was doing. His rigid hardness pressing into her, pressing back against it, feeling his desire for her. 

He was right, for those few minutes they were perfect. But that was all. She had no desire for anything more from the handsome man. It was exciting to know he felt otherwise, but this was all he'd ever get.

She drove those thoughts from her mind, living in the moment. 

* * *

He was himself again, when she got home. He asked her how Bridge night was. She smiled.

"The usual, gossip, husband trashing, too much wine."

He nodded. He returned his attention to his book, thinking about what he was going to do. He had the beginnings of a plan. A desperate plan, but these were desperate times. 

She walked up the stairs, taking a second glance at him. Something wasn't right. She paused, her gaze lingering. He was in his usual chair, the book open in front of him, but she realized now he wasn't reading. He was staring at the page, eyes unmoving, attention elsewhere. 

She continued to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes, climbing into the shower to wash the stink off.

Alan heard the water running. Thursday night. When it started she'd be excited after 'Bridge' night. They'd make love, and it was like it had been years before. She was still a striking woman, not classically beautiful, but with that tall slender body that aged so well, legs that could still make his heart beat fast. To Alan, she was beauty personified.

For the last couple of months, she'd clean up and retreat to the bed, exhausted, fending off any attempts to be amorous. 

He sat in his chair, hardening his heart to what he had to do. 

* * *

Becca wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. Not when he was near. She laid there, wondering how it had gotten to this point. Nearly a month since he'd taken her in his arms and made sweet love to her. Loved her like only he could.

Their love life had always been one of the strengths of their relationship. They seemed in perfect tune with each other. After their last child had left the nest, for several weeks they'd been like teenagers in love, desperate for each other, taking advantage of their freedom.

She could admit to herself she was partially to blame. For the first time in their marriage, he'd wanted more than her. She'd begged off a few times, especially after her nights out. A few times she'd gone along, but they both realized she was doing it for him, without the desire.

He'd started making excuses of his own. Upset stomach one night. A series of headaches. She'd spent more time away from the house, late afternoons and evenings, with the other empty-nesters. He'd worked late, putting in extra hours, travelling more.

She'd been hurt, devastated to learn that one of his 'business' trips was anything but. How did he really think he could hide it? Wives talked, and she was friends with many of his peers. There had been no 'business'. He had take personal time, and gone away for three days. He'd called daily, telling he what he was up to, the meetings he was attending. He told her how me missed her each night, and how much he loved her. 

Lies. All lies.

He'd been upset when he returned, guilty no doubt. She didn't demand an explanation, call him on it. She let the doubt gnaw away, but she couldn't imagine a life without him. She knew he loved her, and she loved him. The hurt was devastating. When he turned to take her in his arms, in the bed, she turned away. How could he cheat on her? How could he?

* * *

Alan sat in his office staring at the phone. He couldn't put it off any longer. He'd made up his mind, as painful as the decision was. He knew it was the right thing to do. He'd gone over his options several times. He hated the solution, but he had no choice.

His life was over. Their life was over. Twenty-five years. His heart swelled as he thought back over those years. He'd lived a charmed life. He realized he'd had more joy than any man deserved.

He closed his eyes, remembering their honeymoon. Neither of them were virgins, but the amount of their experience was laughable. That week was the best of his life, with his new wife. They were open with each other about their fears and concerns. They took things slow to start, and learned together, from each other. By the end of the week, they almost never left their room except to eat. Alan couldn't get enough of her incredible body. To this day, he could remember the sound of her passion. He could get hard, just thinking about it.

He picked up the phone and called her. Dinner at the Hilton, and a room for afterward. His heart was pounding and his hands sweating as he hung up. 

There. No turning back.

He wasn't a perfect man. He'd done things that he was ashamed of in the past, took liberties he shouldn't have. Never with the intention to hurt, and rarely with the same woman twice. This was different. 

Alan knew she'd be out when he called home, avoiding talking to her directly. He left a message, telling her he'd be late, and had a dinner meeting with a client.

He told Sandra his assistant that he had a late meeting, and would be out of the office by 4:00 pm. She managed his calendar and knew there was nothing scheduled, but she accepted his word. Must be new business, or some old friend. Sandra had worked for him nearly nine years now. She knew him almost as well as his wife. 

He waited in the lobby and saw her walk through the door. Stunning, much younger than himself, catching the eye of ever man as she walked through the doors. Her eyes were scanning the large open space, and stopped on him. A beautiful smile beamed at him, and she walked his way, hands outstretched.

"You're beautiful," he said softly.

"You're sweet. Dinner?"

"And drinks. Dancing if you'd like."

"You know we don't have to do this. I'd be just as happy going upstairs with you right now."

He slid his arm around her waist, heedless of any prying eyes. "No rush tonight. Dinner first."

"I'd love to."

In the hotel room, a couple of hours later, Alan was nervous. She was standing before him, making a show of disrobing. Her body was a thing of wonder. Large breasts he could see himself getting lost in. He never would say a word to his wife, he loved her small age-defying breasts, but he sometimes wished for more. Amber's tits were dreamlike. Large, full, natural, begging for his touch. 

They didn't talk much, didn't need to. They both knew what this was about. He felt guilty about what he was doing, then buried those feelings. He was going to do this, and damned if he wasn't going to at least try to enjoy it.

Amber made sure he did. She made it as good for him as she could. Doing anything he desired, willingly, happily. She saw his hesitation and nervousness evaporate, and let herself go as he took her for the third time, powerfully, in control for the first time that evening. 

He escorted her to the door when they were done. She gave him a kiss and told him to call her soon. He promised he would.

He closed the door and laid on the bed, mourning the end of his marriage.

She was nervous, but no more so than I. The lights were turned down low, and she was under the covers, the open side of the bed had the bedding turned down neatly. 

My heart was beating so fast I could hear the sound of my pulse in my ears. She smiled at me, and patted the bed beside her. The new diamond glittered on her hand.

I slid my boxers down, hoping I wasn't embarrassing myself. I was hard as could be, and aching with need. I saw her eyes look down below my waist, and I could swear I saw desire there.

I climbed in the bed, and turned toward her. The prettiest girl I knew, tall slender, shiny long dark brown hair. I yearned to see her body, but I knew she was shy about that. Never dressed to tease, she showed very little of her curves in public.

"Say it again, Alan," she whispered, slipping into my arms, her lips grazing my collar bone.

"Mrs. Alan Hammonds."

"Are you sure? It seems so fast..."

"I was sure after our first date. I've never felt anything close to what I feel for you. I took this long to save enough for the ring. I love you, Becca."

Her body pressed against mine, and my fingers fluttered across the smooth expanse of her back. 

"I love you too, Alan. More than I can believe. I'm gonna be the best wife in the world." She rolled onto her back, pulling me on top of her. "Make love to me, Alan. Tonight, and forever."

I was trembling with need. I moved between her legs, my knees between hers. Under the covers I tried to find her opening, rubbing against her.

I recalled my limited experience. Three girls before Becca. Relationships of 14 months, 5 months, and two weeks. I held myself up with one arm, my turgid shaft in my opposite hand, pressing against her.

"Lower," she said softly.

I tried again, and felt her hand come down to join mine, her soft fingers finding the crown and moving it slightly.

I groaned, and exploded tremendously all over her, unable to stop cumming for several seconds. I was devastated, humiliated.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, so sorry Becca. I couldn't help it..."

She giggled, pulling me down and kissing my lips firmly. "I think it's great that you can get that excited over me. I'm a stick, I know it, but you don't mind, do you?"

"Mind? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"You really do believe that..."

"With all my heart and soul. Raving beauty, inside and out. I'm the luckiest man in the world to be here with you."

She kissed me again, her lips soft, tender, gentle tongue swiping across my lips. I opened my mouth tracing the edge of her teeth, rubbing against her tongue. 

She pushed me off gently, and pushed the covers back. "Alright, Mr. Lucky, let me clean up, and we're gonna try this again. We'll keep trying until we get it right. I'm not going anywhere, are you?"

I shook my head, and caught my breath as I saw her naked for the first time. Firm small breasts protruding from her chest, small hard nipples begging to be tasted. Narrow waist, the line of her rib cage curving sensually around her abdomen. The swell of her hips, daring to be held. The small triangle of dark brown hair, a promise of pleasures beyond belief. Those long slender legs, which seemed to go on forever. I moaned softly, feeling my cock hardening.

She looked back at me, smiling. "Like what you see?"

"Love it. Love you. God, Becca I love you so much."

* * *

Becca was irritated. If he was going to work late, he could at least do it on the nights she was going to be out. She felt a little guilt at the thought. She left him alone two nights out of the week, yet when he did it, she felt bitter.

When he walked in, she knew something was wrong. He couldn't look at her. He apologized for being late. She got up to greet him, and he looked like he was going to avoid her. 

"Alan," she said softly. "It's after 10:00."

"I'm sorry. The meeting ran over," was all he said.

She moved toward him, hugging him. "I hate those late meetings."

He responded stiffly, his arms lightly wrapped around her.

Becca felt the wrongness, and it hit her like a ton of bricks. He smelled of a woman. Perfume and...sex? Had he gone to a strip joint? It wouldn't have been the first time, but he'd always told her about it in the past.

"I'm really tired, dear. I just want to take a shower and hit the bed."

She pulled away slowly, her heart thumping like a sledgehammer. "Of course. I missed you, that's all."

He nodded. "I miss you sometimes too, you know."

She felt the dig for what it was. He never gave her a hard time for her late nights. Not until now. She made a decision. Tomorrow night would be her last. She hoped it wasn't too late.

* * *

It wasn't his last. The following week, he was out late with clients twice. Becca knew it was a lie. He didn't meet with clients after work more than a few times a year.

He didn't comment when she told him her Bridge club split up, but he was attentive when she stayed home, instead of going out. He took her to bed that night, loving her with an intensity that filled her with fear. She fell asleep in his arms, and almost died when she woke and felt his sobs, as he cried, holding onto her tightly.

She hadn't seen him cry in years. Not since his father died. Tears rolled down her own cheeks. She didn't respond. Didn't turn to hold him. He had too much pride for that. She pretended that nothing was happening, that she was asleep, praying that whatever he was going through was temporary. That their marriage wasn't in the trouble she feared it was. Had her little harmless deception driven them to this?

By the third week, Alan escalated things. He saw Amber three times, and stayed overnight, on a Thursday, not even coming home. He went straight to work from the hotel, wearing the same clothing as the day before.

Becca called Sandra after the latest 'meeting' call home. 

"Who's this client he's going out with?" she asked.

"I...I don't know," Sandra admitted. She didn't want to get in the middle of things. She knew something was going on with her boss, and hated what she feared he was doing. It didn't make sense. He and Becca were the perfect couple. The ideal. Obviously in love, raising a beautiful family, never a hint or rumor of trouble in their marriage.

"Three times this week? What kind of client requires evening meetings three times in one week?" Becca snapped.

"He doesn't tell me anything, Becca," Sandra explained. "I swear I don't know anything. He leaves early, and tells me he's going to be at a meeting. That's all."

"Anyone else at these meetings? Any office floozies making lots of late night outcalls?"

"No. It's nobody from here. No way."

"I'm not going to put up with this. This has to stop," Becca practically screamed.

Sandra was almost in tears herself. "I don't know what to tell you, Becca. I hate it too. He's changed. He looks like he's miserable. In pain. I don't know what he's doing, but I could swear the guilt is eating him alive. He never smiles anymore, no jokes around the office. He's been a complete bear."

* * *

Alan was anguished. He'd expected a confrontation. Something. He couldn't afford for it go on much longer the way it was. He'd have to take things up a notch.

Becca took my hand, a mischievous grin on her face. She pulled me over to the chair, and gave a push against my chest. I sat back heavily, naked, fresh from the shower. She was wearing her hotel robe, and she undid the waist tie, and opened it up. 

"I've got a surprise for you, husband mine," she teased.

"I love surprises, Mrs. Hammonds," I laughed.

"I'm sure you'll love this one." She leaned forward, pressed her soft lips against mine. She moved lower, kissed the middle of my chest and dropped to her knees in front of me.

The honeymoon so far had been crazy, passionate, wild. I had finally had a chance to adore that amazing body of hers. We had only been awake for an hour or so, and I still couldn't believe she was mine.

Her face moved down, and looking up at me, she held my soft cock in her hand, and took it in her mouth. All of it. I felt her gentle suction, and caught my breath.

She pulled away, stretching me out, then sucked me down again. By the fourth or fifth time, I was stiffening.

My new wife peered up at me shyly. "I...I've never done this. Tell me what to do."

I caressed her soft cheek. "You're doing wonderful. Do what you want. Seeing you doing that is the most exciting thing I could imagine."

She giggled, pursing her lips and kissing the crown of my cock. "You like this?"

"God, yes."

She sucked me again, bobbing her head up and down. I had already come for her once that morning, a lazy loving when we first woke. I couldn't believe how excited I was for her already.

Becca's hand joined her mouth, stroking my shaft, while her tongue teased the head of my cock. I groaned in orgiastic agony, my legs trembling.

She pulled away, smiling. "Damn. You really do like this, don't you?"

"Don't stop," I gasped. "Please!"

She laughed, and took me back in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down rapidly. I groaned, feeling the tension in my balls. "I...I'm gonna..."

She looked up at me, her head slowing, my cock still in her mouth, her hand moving faster.

"Becca," I gasped, and gave up trying to resist. I saw her eyes open in surprise, nose flaring, as I erupted in her mouth. She looked down, her hand moving slowly, milking me dry. I felt the suction of her swallowing, then again. She pulled off me slowly, wiping her mouth.


The Luckiest Man in the World



Most brothers envy me. They think I have the perfect set up. You see I have a girlfriend who is bisexual and lets me be with other women. I think it's the ideal relationship because I don't think monogamy is natural. Men are biologically driven to be with as many women as possible. We want to spread our seed with as many females as we can to ensure the survival of our line. I majored in anthropology, so I have studied this. The caveman didn't just have sex with one mate, he mated with several women in case his primary mate and offspring died. Monogamy is a social construct cooked up by the church to try to bottle up human sexuality and clarify paternal lines. The church realized that having men screwing a bunch of women would create a lot of unwanted children with no fathers, so they enforced monogamy.

Of course human society has always got around this. The patriarchs and the kings in the bible were polygamists and also had concubines. The clergy have generally looked the other ways while royalty kept harems. Most royal marriages were political unions, not for love, so it was accepted that both parties could have lovers. Even queens could get away with it, as long as they were discreet. And regular people also had their way around monogamy. Prostitution was accepted in ancient cultures as a way of controlling the male sex drive. 

Monogamy was not the rule of law in precolonial Africa. Much of Africa and the Middle East still practices polygamy. Monogamy was just more bullshit heaped on Africa by Western imperialism. Monogamy has also never practiced being well practiced in the United States. White men pretended to be good church going folk, but got to have their way with female slaves and housemaids. Black slave families were broken up because the men were often loaned out to different plantations and forced to mate with other female slaves. 

In modern times, monogamy has proven to be a dismal failure. People like to point the finger at black men having babies all over the place, but its not just brothers. White men are also screwing around and having kids out of wedlock. Can you say John Edwards or Strom Thurmond? White men just have the money to cover it up. The women are either paid off to keep the kids under wraps or have abortions. In some cases, men wed their mistresses and become serial monogamists like Kelsey Grammer. Either way, it's not one man one wife. And it's not just the men. Just watch Maury Povich's god-awful talk show and you'll realize that a lot of women lie about fidelity. Studies of DNA testing labs show about one in three men is raising a child that is biologically not his. 

That's why I have decided to be open about it. I am a boho, a black bohemian, anyway. I wear natural dreads, have tattoos and smoke pot. I decided long ago that monogamy was not for me. The few times I tried it was a disaster. I usually ended up cheating on the sisters, which lead to screaming matches, thrown plates and a keyed car. It was compounded by the fact that sisters seem to be able to sniff out when you were taken. The minute you settled down with one, the others would come out of the woodwork and start throwing pussy at you. Eventually I would get bored with and take them up on their offer. 

When I got married, I was determined to be faithful, but I felt like a caged lion. My sexuality felt like it was on lockdown and I was glad when we eventually divorced after a year of misery. 

I prefer sisters, I just love their strength, those thick thighs and juicy booties, there ain't nothing like it. After months of being single I had tried online dating and things went well until I mentioned that I didn't believe in monogamy and then sisters would disappear faster than an unlocked car in a bad neighborhood. I figured that consensual non monogamy was the way to go and I decided to explore polyamorous relationships. Fortunately, there are all kinds of resources on the Internet to find like-minded people. I was in a Facebook group called Grown and Sexy Black Folks, which was full of freaky sisters. Brothers often complain that sisters are not open minded, but there were lots of sexual adventurous sisters in that group who talked about threesomes, anal sex and experiences with other women. I discovered Keisha, an artist who lived close to me. I sent her a private message and we started chatting. 

Keisha turned out to be a boho like me. She displayed her work in a gallery in Santa Monica and told me she had done some nude modeling in the past. She had also backpacked across Europe and been on a trip to the motherland. She was kind enough to send me some tasteful nudes of her. She was a caramel-colored sister with a curvaceous figure. She had thick thighs, heavy breasts and a large booty, just like I liked them. With her big Afro, she looked like an African Earth mother. Keisha said that she also didn't like labels. She described herself as sexually fluid and had relationships with both men and women. She went with the flow. 

We decided to meet at a local club for drinks after work. I arrived first and got a place at the bar. Keisha showed up looking like a vision in an African print dress, sandals and a head tie. Having talked online and cam for several weeks, we were as thick as thieves. It was supposed to be an initial meet and greet, but we were both drawn to each other. The air was thick with sexual tension. 

Keisha leaned close to me and whispered, "Who are fooling, let's get out here."

I followed Keisha's VW Beetle back to her apartment complex. She led me into her place which was tastefully decorated with African art and smelled of incense. Once inside we fell on each other. Our hands roamed over each other curious at what lay underneath those clothes. She cupped my bulge, and I felt her heavy breasts. She shrugged off her dress and revealed she was wearing a black bra and thong panties. Her bra seemed to be working overtime restraining her ample bosom and she quickly unhooked it to let her girls run free. I gasped as she stood there just wearing a thong. Her boobs looked spectacular in their natural element. She slipped off the thong and revealed a neatly-trimmed patch of pubic hair.

"I don't like the bald look," she said as I admired her naked body. "I think grown women should have some hair down there."

I quickly pulled off my shirt, dropped my pants and was naked. I don't wear underwear, so Keisha was free to admire my 8 inch erection, 

Her eyes opened wide and said, "Oh, I am going to enjoy that."

She stepped closer to me and stroked my cock. My hands went straight for her boobs and started massaging them and playing with her nipples. 

"Ooh, my nipples are really sensitive," she said. "You're making me wet."

She led me to her bed and had me sit down on the edge. She knelt between my legs, grasped my cock and slowly inched her mouth over it. I gasped as I felt her wet mouth envelop me. She covered my groin with light kisses and even dipped her tongue into my navel. She finally returned to my cock and began bobbing her head up and down at the same time making a twisting motion with her hand. I didn't take long before I started to feel that burning pressure in my groin and I felt cum spurting uncontrollably out of my dick. Keisha eased her head back and watched as the cum coated her hands and spattered her breasts. 

Keisha looked pleased with herself, "I love watching a man cum and lose control like that,' she said. "It makes me feel so powerful."

She got up from her knees and sat on the bed, spreading her legs. 

"Now eat me," she said. 

After the orgasm she had just given me, I felt obliged to return the favor. I got between her legs and inhaled her musky womanly smell. I licked around the edge of her pussy which was already moist. I spread her lips apart and got a look at her pink inner cunt, which contrasted against her dark skin. I noticed the hood of her pussy was pierced. This girl was very adventurous. 

I lapped her soaking cunt and drank in her juices. Then I concentrated my efforts on her clit gently stabbing it with my tongue. 

"Oh yes," she whispered. "Right there, don't stop." 

I kept tonguing her clit, eventually took the whole thing in my mouth and sucked it hard. That did it for her. She reared forward, jammed my face into her crotch and yelped as she came. 

She lay back on the bed, panting for breath. I lay next to her my face wet from saliva, sweat and pussy juice.

Keisha rolled over and looked at me. "Well, I am glad that's over and done with," she said. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Didn't you enjoy it?"

"I sure did, but you never know if a brother is going to be packing or know how to use the equipment," she said. "I hate all that dishonesty and lying that goes on in the early stages. I'd rather get to know early on if we are sexually compatible."

"So how did I do?" I asked.

"You passed the test with flying colors," she said with a grin. She reached for my cock and quickly brought it to life. Keisha laid back on the bed and stretched her legs wide open. '

"Now I want you to fuck me," she said seductively. 

I quickly got between her legs and sank my shaft into her still wet pussy. Her velvet folds gripped my cock and gave me a welcoming hug. I thrust deep into her snatch and watched her head roll back and mouth open wide.

"Oh shit, you're in so deep," she said. 

Her legs clasped around my hips in a vice-like lock. I slammed away at her pussy, each thrust bringing her closer to that moment. I watched her face screw up and try to hold back, but she eventually let go as the warmth of an orgasm spread through her body. 

She clawed my back and shrieked "I am coming," as she thrust her hips towards me. Then she tensed up and relaxed. She lay her head against my chest and listened to my heart racing. After a short rest we continued to fuck like crazy throughout the night. I ended up spending the whole weekend at her place and we barely left the apartment. Keisha briefly stepped out to buy me a toothbrush and get us In and Out Burger and then it was back to sex. We did it doggy style, reverse cowgirl and up against the wall. When I was tired and needed a break, she whipped out a vibrator and pleasured herself. She also asked me to jerk off for her because thought the idea of men stroking their cocks to orgasm was sexy. 

We continued seeing each other about once a week enjoying each other's bodies. And when weren't naked we went to poetry readings, smoked pot and watched independent movies and documentaries. Keisha opened up to me about her history with bisexuality. She said she had experimented with both boys and girls in college. 

"I tried dating and sleeping with guys at first, but didn't care for it. I found most men to be selfish lovers," she said. "I tried women and enjoyed them. But then realized that I missed men. I miss their strength and sometimes I just want a big, warm dick inside me. Using a dildo or a strap on just isn't the same."

She also said that she often got bored with the same partner and liked variety. I admitted I had the same problem and that was why I wanted to try an open relationship. After a month of hot sex, Keisha began to hunger for a woman's touch and asked me if it was okay to look for a female partner. I said I was fine with it, as long she included me. 

Now here is my advice to brothers trying to set up a threesome. Let the woman do all the work. They run the game in a menage a trois. Most single, bisexual women will respond better to the overtures of a female, than a creepy dude trying to pressure his woman into a threesome. 

Keisha got online and started sending out messages on Adult Friend Finder, FetLife and adult Facebook pages. It's harder than you think. The single bisexual female seems to be a rarity in the lifestyle. They call them unicorns for a reason. I guess the few single ones that do exist get snapped up quickly or have their pick of men and couples.

Finally, after weeks of sending out feelers Keisha got an email from Ladonna, a teacher and single mother who lived in Ontario. We looked at her profile. She was a short-light skinned sister with long braids. She had a pear-shaped figure will small breasts and a wide, firm ass. Keisha sent her an email in return and we soon moved over to chatting on Skype.

Ladonna told us that she had just gotten divorced and was not looking for anything serious. She had been married to a man for several years, but now wanted to explore her bisexuality. 

"My husband was a church man and he wasn't about to share me with anyone, man or woman," she explained.

Apparently she had been with women when she was in college and was eager to try that again. Keisha and Ladonna were apparently quite smitten with each other and the Skype sessions soon got heated. First they started with compliments about each other's clothes and hair and it escalated from there. Soon they were stripping on cam. And eventually they started to jerk off in front of each other. Meanwhile, I just stayed in the background content to watch Keisha's beautiful naked body writhing in passion as she masturbated. 

After weeks of online sex, Ladonna said her ex was getting the kids for the weekend and she could come down and see us. That night Keisha made spaghetti and meatballs in honor of our guest while I went out and bought a bouquet of flowers. When Ladonna arrived, she was surprised at the meal prepared in her honor and taken back by the roses. 

"This is all for me?" she said surprised. "I am so used to catering to my kids, that it's nice to have someone take care of me for a change."

"We wanted to make you feel special," I said. "You are our guest for the weekend."

After dinner, I put on some jazz music and we sat around and shared a joint. I had noticed that the women had begun to eye each other lustily and the started kissing each other sensually. They stood in the middle of the living room and caressed each others bodies as jazz wafted in the background. Keisha started to tug at Ladonna's blouse and soon and had it over her head. She unhooked Ladonna's bra and freed her small breasts. Keisha began to nuzzle and suck on Ladonna's boobs until his nipples stood up. Then Keisha unbuckled Ladonna's jeans and peeled them off. Ladonna was wearing red boys shorts that showed off her plump butt and thick thighs. Keisha knelt in front of Ladonna and pulled off the boy shorts, revealing a strip of black pubic hair. Keisha reverently kissed Ladonna's pussy and lapped the edges. Ladonna cradled Keisha headed as she ate her pussy.

"That's it baby, eat my pussy good," Ladonna whispered. 

Keisha had blown me numerous times and I knew she had a skilled tongue. Ladonna started to feel the effects of Keisha's expert licking. Her eyes were closed tightly shut as she threw her head back and opened her mouth to let out a silent scream.

"Oh god," she uttered, and gripped Keisha's Afro. "I am cumming." 

Her legs began to shake and she grabbed her breast as an orgasm ripped through her body. 

Keisha stood up shrugged off her clothes and sat naked on the couch. She pulled Ladonna to her and said, "Now you do me."

"It's been a while since I did this, but I think I remember my way around a pussy," Ladonna said nervously. She knelt between Keisha's legs and kissed her muff. She planted her mouth on Keisha's slit and stuck her tongue deep into her pussy. 

"Mmm," Keisa said as Ladonna's tongue explored her vag. "That feels so good."

Ladonna had remembered her old skills because she spread Keisha's lips and attacked her clit. She took Keisha's clit in her mouth and sucked it like it was an orange. The apartment was filled with the sounds of smooth jazz music, wet slurping noises and Keisha's high-pitched yelps. The yelps turned into deep growls as Keisha got closer to her climax. She let out a loud moan, grabbed Ladonna's braids and gushed all over her face. 

"Wow," she said, gasping for breath. "Now I remember why I like having women eat my pussy."

The naked women suddenly looked up at me. I had been smoking a joint and patiently watching the show. 

"Did you like that, babe?" she said. "I know that's what you men all dream about."

I didn't say anything because she already knew the answer. My rock hard dick was the testimony. 

"I think he needs some attention," she said, giggling at Ladonna. 

The two beautiful women walked over to me and smothered my face with their breasts. I opened my mouth and tried to capture their nipples. Keisha got between my knees and unzipped my pants. Ladonna knelt beside me and fed me a boob. I couldn't see what was going on but I felt that Keisha had freed my cock and slipped me into her mouth.

"Ladonna, you need to get down here," Keisha said. "Kevin has a beautiful cock."

Ladonna pulled her boob out of my mouth and joined Keisha at my groin. She stroked my cock. 

"You are right girl, that is a wonderful piece of man meat," Ladonna said. 

The sisters each settled on a side of my dick and began to lick the edge. They switched positions and Keisha slid her mouth up and down my dick, while Ladonna sucked gently on my balls. The sight and sensation of two naked women pleasuring me was an incredible turn on. I believe in the equality of the sexes, but I can't deny that the idea of two women sharing oral duties on my dick was a huge boost to my ego.

My body started to react to all that female attention and I started to feel a growing pressure building up in my groin. I tried mightily to hold back the orgasm as long as I could, but I couldn't stop it and I exploded over the women. Cum spurted out of my dick coating their faces and breasts with warm jizz. The ladies let me take a breather while they cleaned up. When they returned, they each had mischievous looks on their faces.

"Come on brother, your work isn't done yet," said Keisha. 

She pulled me up and led me to the bedroom. I laid down on the bed and Keisha mounted me. Ladonna sat on my face with her body pointed towards Keisha so they could kiss as they both rode me. I was smothered by two beautiful sisters who were using me as their personal sex toy. Since Ladonna ass was covering my face, I couldn't see what was going on. I just felt Keisha thrusting her wet pussy against me, while my tongue licked away inside Ladonna's kitty. My muffled groans were drowned out by the women's panting and purring. Their breath began to get quicker as they got closer to their peaks. 

Keisha came first. She started whimpering and thrusting harder against my cock. I heard her yell loudly as she released a gushing orgasm on my dick. Ladonna was close behind her and she covered my face with a burst of lady cum. Covered in feminine juice, I also pumped a load of hot cum into Keisha's sopping pussy. The women climbed off me and we all lay there covered in sticky bodily fluids, but too tired to move. Keisha slipped into the bathroom and came back with wet towels to clean us up. 

During all that frenzied love making, we hadn't realized it had gotten dark aside. We all got beneath the covers and snuggled together tired from our efforts. The next day I woke up with a raging erection, despite the last night's events. Keisha and I often liked to kick off the morning with a wake up fuck, so I roused her and got her on all fours. Ladonna woke up groggily, saw what we were doing and decided to join in. She positioned herself in front of Keisha so she could have her cunt lapped. I pounded away on Keisha's thick ass and watched her pleasuring Ladonna until she came. It was a great way to start the morning. 

Afterwards, I made the ladies scrambled eggs and hash browns as they showered and got ready for the day. We could have easily spent the day in bed screwing, but we decided to go down to Santa Monica and wander along the beach. I spent the day holding hands with my two Nubian queens enjoying the California sunshine. I felt like one of my African ancestors with two wives, except in my harem the women got to play with each other.




The Luckiest Man in the World



The weekend went by too quickly as we enjoyed each other's bodies and treasured our closeness. We were both disappointed when Ladonna said she had to return home and pick up her kids. But we continue to see her occasionally. That gives Keisha and I time to enjoy each other, and when we want to switch things up we invite Ladonna over. It's the perfect set up. I am a happy man and not going anywhere.



The Luckiest Man in the World



"God, baby, that was..." I was lost for the right superlative.

She kissed my cock, giving me a smile. She rose up and offered me her lips. I could still see a drop of my essence on the corner of her mouth. I hesitated only a second, then took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. I couldn't taste much difference, and didn't care. If she could do that for me, I was sure as hell willing to kiss her afterward.

Becca back away, smiling. "That's going to take some getting used to," she said. "Not what I was expecting."

I looked at her nervously. "You don't have to..."

"I want to, Alan. We're going to have to practice that. A lot. As much as you want. I'm yours, husband dearest. body and soul. Yours forever. If I can bring you pleasure, I want to. I need to. I'll never deny you. Never."

I pulled her up into my lap, hugging her. "I'm the luckiest..."

She laughed. "I know. The luckiest man in the world. Not half as lucky as me, handsome."

* * *

Sandra took the call.

"I'd like to talk to Alan. Can you tell him it's Amber?"

"He's stepped out of the office for a minute. Can I take a message?"

"Can you? Thanks so much! I have to delay our meeting tonight. I'll be at the restaurant at 6:00."

"I'll make sure he gets the message. He knows which restaurant?"

The voice on the other end of the phone giggled. "The usual."

Sandra took a note and left it on his desk. "Your client called and will be delayed until 6:00 pm."

She sat at her desk, and made a painful decision. She called Becca.

"Becca? Sandra. Her name is Amber, and she's meeting him tonight at some restaurant at 6:00. That's all I know."

Becca felt chills as her worst fears were confirmed. "Thank you. I...I'm sorry to get you in the middle of all this."

"I'm sorry too. I don't understand it. It doesn't make sense."

Becca sighed. "Me either. I guess I can see how we've been drifting apart a bit. We have some small issues. I never expected this. I'm lost. I don't know what to do."

"Don't do anything rash, Ok? Make sure you know what's going on before you say or do anything. There must be a logical explanation. This is Alan we're talking about."

Becca hung up the phone, and gave Margie, her best friend a call. Margie was the only one she'd shared her concerns with. They agreed that Becca should try to find out more. That's how she ended up in the parking lot by his office in Margie's car, a wig on her head, and large sunglasses on. 

She waited over an hour, getting nervous, before he finally appeared. He seemed very casual about it, driving straight to the Hilton, and getting valet car service. They were there by 5:45. Becca parked nearby, checked her appearance in the mirror, and confident she was unrecognizable, slipped into the lobby.

There was no way that Alan wouldn't recognize his wife of 25 years, even with a ridiculous red wig, and oversized 70's sunglasses. He even recognized the sunglasses, from their last vacation. His heart was pounding as he turned away from her, avoiding any chance of her catching him looking at her.

When Amber arrived a few minutes later, he felt a moment of guilty pleasure as all eyes turned her way. She marched straight toward him and he gave her a hug and kiss. She was a little surprised, the kiss was more intimate than he'd ever done openly before. She felt his hand on her ass. That wasn't new. Even in public.

Alan took her by the hand. "Room first, then dinner?"

She smiled. "It's your dime, lover."

He checked in at the desk, and walked straight to the elevators.

It had been a hard day for him. He was feeling ill, and a little weak. Nonetheless, he was determined to put on a good show. As soon as he got in the elevator, he was pulling Amber into his arms, and Becca was already up and moving toward the bank of elevators, moving without thinking. She saw them come together in the elevator embracing. She watched, her heart sinking, as the elevator rose to the 12th floor.

She was shaking, unable to think. Becca walked slowly away, then turned back to the desk. There were three people working there, and she avoided the young man on the far left who'd checked her husband in. She walked up to the counter.

"Becca Hammonds," she said confidently. "I left my key upstairs, 12th floor." She pulled out the driver's license, handing it to the woman.

"Of course Mrs. Hammonds," she said politely, looking up the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Hammonds, room 1216." She took a blank card, and ran it through the machine. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No thank you."

She was nervous as she walked up to the door of the room. She braced herself, pulling out her phone and getting ready to take a picture. She ran the card through the lock and opened the door. 

She was in a hallway with the dresser and TV visible ahead. She closed the door quietly. She moved forward slowly, camera in hand. Her husband was lying between the slut's legs. He was naked, she was wearing nothing but garter and stockings. He was pounding into her. Fucking her. Becca lifted the camera and started recording. 

Alan knew she was there when he heard the door open. He lifted Amber's long, silky legs and pressed them back. He leaned over her and started hammering at her, as forcefully as he could. He saw the small smile appear on the beauty's face.

"God, I love fucking you, baby," he said. "So damn good. I love everything about you. You're incredible."

Amber looked up at him, smiling. "You're pretty incredible yourself. Before and after dinner? You're going to wear me out."

"Forever and ever. I can't get enough of you."

She sighed, thrusting against him. "You never have to. You know I'm always only a phone call away."

He let go of her legs, and leaned down, kissing her. "I love you, Amber. Love you so much. Where have you been all my life?"

Before she could answer, his lips were back on hers, stealing her breath away, stopping any response. He thrust to his finish inside of her, screaming out as he came.

He tried to act surprised when he heard the clapping from behind him.

"Quite the show, Alan. Don't come home. Don't call. You disgust me," Becca said.

He thought there might be some violence, but she simply turned away and walked out the door. He pulled out of Amber, removed the rubber and tied it in a knot, dropping it in the trash.

"What was that all about?" Amber asked.

He reached for her, caressing her side, trying to stall the tears. "You've been wonderful," he said to her. "Really. I won't need your services any longer."

He got up and pulled the money out of his wallet. "For tonight."

She got up, casually slipping her dress back on.

"Are you going to explain, at least?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. It was something I had to do. That's all."

It hit him hard, and he staggered back to the bed. He curled up in pain, and she went to him, the poor broken man. She held him until the worst was past, stroking his hair. He was so stoic, hiding his pain, his emotions. So typical.

She felt the heat of his head, the sweat. She pulled him back into the bed, drawing the cover over him. He moaned softly, and she took her dress back off, climbing in with him. 

He had paid for the full girlfriend experience. No girlfriend would leave her man, in that kind of pain.

* * *

Margie was sitting with her, when Alan arrived home a few hours later. The keys still worked, and he let himself in the house.

"I told you not to come home," his wife snapped at him.

"It's my home. I paid for it. I have every right to be here," he said wearily, trying to keep up a strong façade.

Margie had her arm around his wife, comforting her. "You bastard! Couldn't you just stay in your little love nest and give her one night to deal with your betrayal."

He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Unscrewing the top, he took a long draw.

"Why, Alan? Why would you do this to us?" Becca cried.

"I'm not going to discuss it with that bitch here."

Margie looked shocked. "You asshole! She needs someone with her now."

"Whatever. How's Bridge night, Margie? That was your idea wasn't it?"

Margie blanched, and his wife moaned softly. "Yes, and it's over. You know that. Once Becca and Jean left, we didn't have enough to play."

"Whatever. Stick with your lies, you evil cunt. You're her guest, so I'm not going to kick your diseased ass out the door, but don't speak to me again, or I might forget I'm a gentleman."

"Gentleman..." she shrieked, abruptly stopping when she saw the anger in his eyes as he stepped toward her.

"One more word to me, and I swear I'll slap that fucking leer off your face, understood?"

She nodded fearfully. He was a large, scary man. Over 6 foot tall, solid. Wide bodied. Bigger than her ex-husband, much bigger, and that son-of-a-bitch put her in the hospital twice. Still, she'd never expected that kind of response, from cool, controlled Alan.

He turned away. "I'm going to bed. You can use the guest bedroom, Becca. You're welcome to join me in bed, either of you. Hell both, if you want. If you do, come naked. I'm still horny."

Alan laid there, in agony, fearing his wife might for some God-forsaken reason come to their room. He sighed in relief, when he heard the door to the guest room close loudly, and a few minutes later a car pulled out of his driveway.

He relaxed, as much as he could, and pressed his face into the pillow, struggling with the tears. So much harder than he'd imagined. He fought to harden his heart, reminding himself why he was doing it. Twenty-five years.

There was something wrong. She'd been acting nervous the last couple of days. Two days in a row we hadn't made love. It was a record for us, only two months after our wedding.

I knew changes were going on at her work. She'd been on the phone a lot. She even lowered her voice, almost whispering into the device when I walked by.

I took off a couple of hours early and prepared.

She walked through the door into the bedroom, following the trail of rose petals. I watched her eyes as she took in the scene, dozens of red roses in vases around the room, lights doused, three dozen candles illuminating our haven.

She stood in surprise, and I saw tears in her eyes. I went to her, slowly undressing that body which enthralled me. "Hush, now. I can tell you're under stress now, let me take care of you."

"Alan," she said softly.

"Please. Let me do this for you. We can talk afterward if you like."

She nodded, the corners of her sexy mouth turning up at the edges. I had her naked, clucking over the plain panties. "This ass deserves better. I'm taking you shopping this weekend."

She giggled. "That's a good idea."

I kissed her hip, and took her into the bathroom, helping her step into the bubble bath. "Relax." I whispered, and handed her a glass of her favorite chardonnay. I pressed play on the CD player, and let the sounds of the symphony fill the room.

She looked up at me, and I could see the love in her eyes. It was worth everything.

I put her clothing away, and brought out what I needed for the next phase, forcing myself to be patient. 

After twenty minutes, I went into the bathroom. She was half asleep. I leaned down and let my lips graze hers. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. "I don't deserve you," she said.

"You deserve so much more, but you're stuck with me," I teased.

"Forever," she whispered, reaching up and putting her arms around me neck, pulling me close for another kiss.

I emptied the tub, and helped her up. I had a big, new ultra-soft bath sheet, which I used to dry her. When I was done, I tossed it to the side, and guided her, nude, back into the bedroom. She allowed me to lead her onto the bed, on her stomach. I started the soft music, and warmed the massage oil in my hand. 

I took my time, slowly worshiping her body, my hands rubbing and kneading every square inch. She sighed often, moving subtly under my ministrations. 

I turned her over and did it all over again to her front side. I kept the sexual play to a minimum, massaging her breasts, but not teasing too much. I rubbed the sides of her magical pussy, but no more than that. When I finished it felt like she didn't have a single bone in her body.

I laid down next to her, caressing her face. "I know something's bothering you, beautiful. Talk to me. You can always confide in me. Please, whatever is going on, I want to be there for you. I know I'm not the most demonstrative man in the world, but you have to know you're the world to me."

Her hand brushed my cheek. "You're going to be a Daddy. Please tell me your not mad."

"Mad!" I said, sitting up, my mind a whirling maelstrom. "Daddy? Are you sure?"

"The doctor confirmed it today. I know we said we'd wait..."

I took her in my arms, laughing, tears creeping into my eyes. She looked at me in surprise, her hand reaching out and brushing away my tear. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll be the best father I can. I swear. I'll...I'll do anything I can for you."

She looked nervously. "You're not angry?"

I kissed her hard. "Angry? I'm the luckiest man in the world. I could never be angry at you. Not for giving me the most wonderful gift imaginable." I looked at her nervousness, my stomach suddenly knotting. "You...you want it, don't you?"

She gasped. "How can you even ask? I want it more than anything in the world. I want to bear your children, raise them together, watching them grow together with us. I love you, Alan."

I took her in my arms, and entered her, gazing into her eyes, lying on top of her, trying to convey just how deeply I loved her. I knew it was impossible, but I tried.

She couldn't keep her hands off of me, touching me all over, her hands gliding across my skin, lovingly, possessively. "Love me, Daddy. Love me forever."

I let my lips graze hers, sharing her breath, my hips driving into her. I felt her pleasure growing, her eyes losing their focus, her breath stronger, soft moans echoing in my mouth. 

"Forever. Forever and ever, Mommy," I whispered. 

I felt her hips drive against mine, tensing, as she surrendered, whimpering softly. I groaned, and moments later, filled her with my seed, redundant now that it had already done its job.

She hugged me tightly, desperately. "Forever, promise?"

"Forever."

* * *

He popped two of his pills and walked downstairs. She was sitting at the kitchen table when he got a cup down and poured himself some coffee.

"Why, Alan? Can you just explain why?" she asked softly.

He smirked. "C'mon Becca. Did you see her?"

"Is this because of Bridge night?" she asked.

"Listen, we had a good run. Twenty four great years. One so-so. Three wonderful children. You were a terrific wife and mother. We can abandon the charade now. We both want something different. No need to hide it anymore."

"It was just dancing, Alan. Dancing, that's all. I don't want something different. You're my husband. I love you. I want to grow old with you."

Alan laughed. "You have a funny way of showing it. Our love life is shit. You haven't been a decent lay in years, so it really hasn't bothered me that you don't want to put out anymore. All the lies. Months and months of lies. That's not love. I will say this, you've got the growing old part down pretty good." He was trying to hurt her, and from the look on her face he was succeeding.

"You never said anything," she whined.

"Fuck you. You're my wife. I shouldn't have to say anything. Worked out for the best, anyway, didn't it? You got what you wanted for the better part of a year, and I'm getting the best sex of my life, with a beautiful woman who cares for me. I guess I should be saying thanks. Gotta run now."

"Where are you going? It's Saturday, you don't need to go to work. We have to talk about this."

"I'm going to see a friend. She was upset last night. Since we don't have to hide anything anymore, I'm going to spend some quality time with her. Why don't you go see Margie? Thank her for all she's done for you. Sincerely. We could have been stuck in our rut for another twenty, thirty years, if she hadn't help you unfurl your true colors."

"You're the one cheating, you bastard!" Becca shrieked. "All I did was dance with some men. That's all! Nothing sexual ever. Not like you, fucking that, that kid!"

"I'm a man. I need to fuck something, and I'm not going to take sloppy seconds off of you. I might get some kind of lousy disease."

"I NEVER FUCKED ANYONE!" she screamed.

"Certainly not me, in the last few months," Alan smirked. "I'll be back Sunday evening. You might make your roast. Take it easy on the onions this time, Ok?"

Alan left, and checked himself into a motel. He spent the day going over his financials again, making sure he hadn't missed anything. He looked at the numbers, and reminded himself once again why he was doing it. It was for the best. She deserved it. Twenty-five years.

I had her to myself. She was stunning in her simple black dress. Tired but happy from an evening of dinner and dancing. Our one year anniversary. 

Her parents had taken David for the evening. We were alone. The first time having the entire night to ourselves since our son's birth three months earlier. Our honeymoon baby.

Arriving home, she closed the door, and kissed me. "Thank you, everything was perfect," she whispered, her hand lifting to run her fingers over the pearl necklace I'd given her.

She stepped back, smiling mischievously. "Now I have a gift for you. Give me ten minutes, and meet me in our bedroom."

It was almost impossible to wait that long, but I watched the minute hand on the mantle clock crawl across the face, until I had done as she asked.

She was waiting for me, dressed in the most amazing lacy babydoll, which covered her swollen breasts, but still showed them clearly through the mostly transparent material. The bottom of the outfit ended at crotch level. She wasn't wearing panties.

"You're...'

"Shhh," she whispered, pressing her finger against my lips. She undressed me slowly, moving around my body, taking her time until I was naked. She stepped away, and handed me a small wrapped box. I untied the ribbon, with a questioning glance. She smiled and nodded toward my hands.

I opened the top, and saw a small purple bottle. I read the title, Astroglide. I looked up at my wife, and she crawled onto the bed, on her hands and knees, her sweet round ass wiggling. 

"Your gift, husband mine. My last virgin opening. I...Do you want it?" she asked nervously.

I'd never broached the subject. I'd teased her back there a few times, but I was afraid to bring it up. I didn't want to scare her or make her think I was a pervert.

"You...you want me to?"

She blushed. "Only if you want to. You never said anything, but I get the feeling you'd like to. Am I wrong?"

I approached the bed, leaned down and kissed her soft white cheeks. "No, you're not wrong. I didn't want you to think I was, I don't know, a weirdo or anything."

She wiggled her hips, giggling. "I'm yours silly. Anything I can do for you. Talk to me about what you want, don't make me guess. I swear I'll never judge you. Let me in, share. Please."

"I will. I promise. I...I didn't want to mess up what we have. It's perfect. You're perfect."

She laughed. "Hardly. But I'm glad you think so. I only want to be perfect for you. Your perfect woman. Accept my gift. I want you to know that I'm excited to be able to do this for you. It's not something I ever really wanted, but now, I can barely contain myself. Fuck my virgin ass, Alan. Take me."

I looked down at her open cheeks, and saw the glistening around the little brown hole. I took my gift bottle, and poured a little at the top of her crease. I pressed my finger against her hole, and was surprised at how easily I entered her.




The Luckiest Man in the World



"I've been preparing myself," she moaned softly. "I'm ready for you, lover."

I applied a generous amount to my cock, stroking it. I was hard as a rock, my pulse running wild. I pressed the head of my cock against her opening, holding the shaft firmly as I pushed. I felt the pressure and moaned as I saw the crown enter her.

"Are you Ok?" I asked nervously.

"Wonderful," she answered softly. "You're in me. God, I'm trembling, Alan! I want this so badly. Take it slow, but take me."

I pressed forward, feeling the intense pressure. I started a slow rocking, staring in wonder as I entered her, little by little. With about half my length inside her I paused. "Still Ok?"

"Fuck me, Alan! Fuck my ass! Stop teasing me!"

I pushed forward harder, pulling back, and thrusting hard. She moaned softly and all but the last inch penetrated her. I watched in amazement as her flesh clung to me on the out-stroke. I was burning with need. I grabbed her hips tightly and thrust hard, my hips slapping against the flesh of her ass.

Looking down, I saw her hand was between her legs, touching where I was entering her, rubbing her sweet pussy.

"Fuck," I groaned, and started stroking the last few inches in and out of her, feeling her accept me. The strokes grew longer, faster, until I was long-stroking her.

"So...good," she moaned, pressing back against me. "So...big. Filling...me."

I lasted longer than I thought I would, after the evening of teasing, and the idea of what we were doing. It was my first time, but I knew that if I had any opportunity at all, it wouldn't be my last.

She was moaning as I sped up, pounding her.

"Fuck it," she groaned. "Fuck that dirty ass."

I groaned, her words doing as much as her tight tunnel did. "Too good," I groaned, pounding deep inside her. I slammed my cock home and erupted inside her, feeling like I was coming harder than I ever had in my life.

She squealed and her body started shaking, while I pumped my balls dry, deep inside of her.

I pulled out slowly, watching her tight little hole dilate, a small stream of white flowing out of her.

I collapsed next to her, gasping. "Wow!"

She cuddled up to me. "I guess you liked that. So what do you think, Mr. Lucky? Add that to our regular menu?"

"God, Becca! What did I ever do to deserve you."

"You loved me."

"Forever," I reminded her.

"Of course. That goes unsaid." She made a little face. "Pretty wild, but I bet I'm going to be sore as hell tomorrow."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

"The most wonderful hurt in the world. God, baby, you were sure worked up. I guess you really did want that. You liked your present?"

"Loved it. Love you. Thank you for marrying me. Thank you for everything."

She giggled. "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed 'everything'. Let's clean up. I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

Alan was feeling better Sunday evening. He headed home around 7:00, and found his keys didn't work. He'd expected that. 

He went around back, and checked the key there. No luck either. No problem. It only took a couple of good kicks beside the door-handle to get in. The damage to the door frame was minimal. Nothing he couldn't fix for a few bucks and a couple of hours time. 

"Lucy...I'm home," he called out chuckling.

She was sitting in the living room, Margie with her again. "Get out! I've already called the police," his loving wife said.

"Good. Maybe they'll take the bitch with them. The roast ready?"

"GET OUT!" Becca screamed.

Alan walked into the kitchen, and saw nothing had been prepared. He sighed, and checked the refrigerator. Sandwich fixings. He made himself a sandwich, and took a bite. Grabbed a glass of water to wash it down.

"Something's wrong with the locks," he said calmly, while the women huddled together. "My key didn't work."

The women glared at him, while he worked on his sandwich.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and he stood. "I'll get it. You two look comfortable." Alan answered the door with sandwich in hand, peering out through the peephole.

He opened the door. "Good evening, officers. Can I help with something?"

The man at the door peered around him. "We had a call about a break-in."

Alan opened the door. "I'm sure it was a simple mistake. Would you like to come in?"

The two uniformed officers entered the house, looking around. "I take it you didn't make the call," the taller one said.

"No, I believe that was my wife. She's in the living room."

The two men followed him in.

Becca was standing. "I don't want him in here. He kicked in the back door."

The officer looked at me. "Is that true?"

Alan nodded. "Yes, my key didn't work, and nobody answered the doorbell. I did the least damage I could."

The officers looked at each other, then Becca. "Is that true?"

"I told him not to come back, after sleeping with that bitch. I had the locks changed."

The officer sighed. "Ma'am, is this your house. Only yours?"

She looked angry. "I won't have him in here, threatening me."

"He threatened you?"

Margie spoke up. "He hit her. Twice. I saw it."

Becca looked surprised. More so than Alan, he'd expected something similar.

"Is that true?" the shorter officer, officer Roland from his name-tag, asked Becca.

"Yes," she said softly. "Twice."

Alan laughed. "Thank you Margie. I don't know how I could ever have done any of this without you. You too, Becca. Still with the lies. Any doubts I had, you've sure taken care of that."

Officer Roland pulled me aside, asking to talk to me outside and get my statement. The taller one, Officer McGregor stayed with the women.

Alan gave his story, denying striking anyone. "I understand how it goes," he said. "Fucked up legal system, isn't it?"

Officer Roland looked embarrassed. "You probably should get a lawyer."

"Got one. Not a problem. Can I get some stuff, or are you going to take me in?"

"With two witnesses, we're going to have to arrest you and take you in, if they file a complaint. They didn't say anything on the original call, so we'll have to see what comes of their statement."

"Got it. Can I at least change? I'm feeling kind of grubby."

The officer seemed to consider it, then acquiesced. They walked through the entrance, and into the master bedroom. Alan spoke to the officer. "I understand if you don't want to leave me alone. I may be a dangerous risk, right? I'll change here, only take a moment."

He stripped down unselfconsciously, changing everything, and putting on jeans, a t-shirt, and a casual button up. He turned back to the officer. "Thanks for that. I appreciate it."

Officer Roland nodded. "No problem. You didn't hit her, did you?"

"Hell no. Twenty-five years. Check your records. Never a call, not even a threat. She doesn't want me here, this is her easiest way out. I'm sure her friend discussed this with her. Her ex was an abuser. Put her in the hospital twice. I'm sure she knows all about this stuff. One little lie, and the bitches get their way."

The officer walked Alan back outside, and he didn't even try to talk to the women. "You get a lot of this stuff?" Alan asked.

"It's the worst. Probably twenty percent of the calls we get are for some kind of domestic issue. If they stick to the complaint, we'll have to take you in. You won't get a hearing until Monday, nothing on Sunday."

Alan shrugged. "Not much I can do about it now, is there?"

Officer Roland sighed. "You're taking this pretty well."

"When I saw her there with Margie, I figured it might go down this way. I couldn't let her kick me out of my own house without trying to stand up for myself."

Officer McGregor came out the door. A few minutes later Alan was in handcuffs and read his rights. Thirty minutes later he was in jail. They took his pills away, and he explained his issues, and showed them his prescription. He was given his medications on a schedule, and all in all, had a decent night's rest. He thought things were moving ahead pretty smoothly. He hoped the arrest wouldn't stall things.

On Monday he was charged with third degree domestic assault. The testimonies were read, as well as the Officer's report, including no evidence of harm, and the situation as they encountered it.

Alan was brought into a tiny room just outside of the courtroom. He faced a woman, an attractive mid thirties brunette, who seemed frazzled. She told him he was being charged with a class C misdemeanor, the lowest form of assault.

She started asking questions after telling him his rights to have an attorney. He stopped her and asked her what his options were. Alan explained that he hadn't hit his wife, but wanted to know straight up what his choices were.

The woman heaved a sigh, and told him he could plead guilty, not-guilty or no-contest. If he was willing to plead no-contest, given the evidence and reports, and no previous issues, she would reduce the charges to harassment, he could be out with a $500 fine and court costs, but he would be limited in contact with his wife, and have to stay out of his home, under a protective order for 6 months. Violating the protective order was serious, a class A misdemeanor, with up to a year in jail and up to $4000 fine.

That was fine by Alan. He didn't want to communicate with her. He didn't want her communicating with him. He just wanted the damned divorce and needed her to initiate it.

He made his plea, signed the papers and made his way to the cashier to pay the fine. 

Alan had to get a police escort to return to his home, get his necessities, and recover his car. It took almost two hours to arrange things, and it was early afternoon when he was escorted to the front door of the house. Becca seemed surprised, and when she tried to talk to him, the officer in attendance advised her that he was under a protective order not to have any contact with her, and that she could wait outside or in the kitchen while he got his clothing and toiletries. Alan had to get her permission to remove his laptop.

Becca tried to call him several times afterward, but he never picked up the phone. He listened to her messages, including numerous apologies, which always ended in 'he should have just given her some time'. He had calls from all three kids, wondering how they'd already gotten word.

He called David, the oldest first, and found out that Carrie had gotten word from a neighbor friend that he'd been carted out in handcuffs. He was angry with his father, and Alan explained that all he did was enter his home, and his mother and her friend lied about his hitting her.

"Mom wouldn't do that," his son argued.

"You mean it's more likely that I hit your mother, than she lied about it because she was angry at me?" Alan asked.

"Why didn't you just leave?"

"It's my house. I paid for it, I have every right to live there."

"Mom said you cheated on her," he finally said. "Is it true?"

"Yes. She's been going out on dates for 6 months, telling me she was going to Margie's for Bridge. She stopped having sex with me. Our marriage is over. She should have asked for a divorce, but she decided to lie to me, and humiliate me instead. After her third Bridge night, I had one of the men from the office telling me he'd seen her out dancing. Hell of a way to find out, huh? If she didn't want me anymore, she should have just been honest about it, and gotten a divorce. I'll be speaking with my lawyer soon. I'm not going to support her and let her live in that house when I'm not allowed in it. If she won't do the right thing, I will."

"Can't you guys fix this? Is it that bad?" he asked.

"I can't contact her for the next six months. How are we supposed to fix anything? She sent me to jail, for God's sake! I didn't do anything. No, it's well beyond any repair now."

"It's only six months. Can't you at least wait that long? Cool off and see what can be done then?"

"Live in a motel, or cheap apartment, while I pay for her to live in my house and date other men? Do you really expect me to settle for that? If Diana sent you to jail, would you still plan on marrying her?"

"That's not the same. We're not married. You have 25 years together."

"No, Dave. If she wanted to talk things out, maybe something could have been done. I'm finished with her. Now I have to figure out how to make her pay, that's all."

The conversation didn't end well, with David telling his father he was stubborn and thick-headed. Alan called his eldest a Momma's boy, and told the young man to leave him alone if he was going to take her side after what she'd done.

The calls to his other two children didn't go as well as that first one. He had to make quiet an effort to antagonize Carrie enough to take her mother's side and scream at him, but it all worked out. He had effectively extended his no-contact rule to the kids. Mission accomplished.

It took a few hours of calls, but he finally found a short-term sublease of an apartment that was cheap enough. It was only for 5 months, but Alan figured that was probably as long as he was going to need.

He accepted a few more calls from friends, asking him what was going on. He made sure they all knew that she had him locked up by lying about his hitting her, and that he was going to divorce her and take her to the cleaners. She wouldn't get a penny if he could help it. He didn't win much sympathy from any of them.

Alan hit Wal-Mart and purchased a futon sofa bed for about 150 bucks, and had it loaded onto his truck. It was more work than it should have been to get it into the apartment, and was grateful for some help from a couple of young guys heading inside when he was. 

He went to bed, heartbroken over what he'd had to do, but satisfied that things where turning out the way he needed. He missed his wife, but that was inevitable. 

I had called her after lunch. Nine years had paid off. I had been called into the president's office at 10:00.

"How does it feel to be married to the new Director of Manufacturing Test?" I asked her.

"Really? You got the promotion?"

"Yep. Twelve percent raise. Bonus plan. Stock options. The whole works. See if your parents will take the kids, and put on something sexy. We're going to celebrate."

"I'm so proud of you, Alan! Nobody deserves it more than you."

"I couldn't do it without you. You're my rock. I have a meeting at 4:00 so I won't be able to come home early. I should be there by 6:00."

"I'll be waiting. Hurry home, lover."

I thought she'd be waiting by the door, but the house was quiet. I called out to her but heard no response. Her car was in the driveway, she should have been there. I called out again, then made my way back to the bedroom to change. I was just a little irritated.

Those feelings changed when I walked into our bedroom.

She was lying on the bed, naked, her legs spread, ankles tied to the corners of the bed. She had a gag in her mouth, and her hands were handcuffed together, to the middle of the headboard. Her eyes sparkled in amusement at my look.

I noticed there were a variety of objects laid out on the bed beside her. Feather duster, vibrator, dildo, can of whipping cream. Some other things I'd have to examine more closely.

A single blue bill was sitting on a post-it. The words 'eat me' were inscribed, with a little smiley face. I did.

Removing my clothing, I grinned. As I approached her, I saw a piece of folded paper beside her head. I opened it and read the words.

"Congratulations. You're the boss!"

I laughed, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Evil woman. I love you."

"Uu uuuf oooo," she mumbled through her gag.

"I hope you understand this gag isn't going to stop me from taking advantage of that hot little mouth of yours."

Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled around the gag.

I took full advantage of the opportunity. I teased her forever, tickling her, rubbing her, sucking on her nipples. I used the vibrator and dildo on her, the first time I'd ever done something like that. After the first half-hour she was going crazy. When I climbed between her legs, feasting on her, lapping away at her juices while I rubbed her clit with the vibrator, she exploded, screaming through the gag, coming harder than I'd ever seen her.

I eased the smaller vibrator in her back door, licking her sweet pussy, teasing her clit relentlessly. She was struggling against her restraints as I forced her to come for me repeatedly. I had been working on her for nearly two hours, and she was glistening in sweat, her body in sensory overload, while her orgasms came in waves.

Becca's chest was heaving, when I moved up the bed, looking into her startled eyes, and removed her gag.

"My God, Alan," she gasped. "I...I never..."

I knelt next to her head, and pressed my cock against her lips. "I'm not nearly done with you yet," I told her, sliding my cock into her mouth. "Get me ready, I need to fuck you."

She whimpered softly, sucking me fiercely.

When I was happy with her effort, I moved to the bottom of the bed, removing one of the ankle restraints, and loosening the other. I climbed between her legs, eased the vibrator back in her ass, then slammed my cock inside of her as hard as I could.

She cried out, and within seconds of pounding her, she was coming for me again, loudly. I felt great, powerful, so in control. She would never forget this night.

I knew I couldn't last long inside of her, this first time. I was too worked up. My hips went into overdrive, pounding her mercilessly, until I couldn't hang on a moment longer. I reached up and squeezed her tender nipples, setting her off. "Take it," I growled, slamming into her, filling her while her tight little pussy came in waves around my cock.

I pulled out and looked at her glistening opening. I grabbed the little bullet vibrator, and pressed it against her clit, while I lowered my mouth to her pussy.

"Alan!" she screamed, as my tongue touched her. 

I'd never done anything like that. Creampies weren't my thing, but seeing her like that, helpless, so well used, I couldn't help myself. Her body was shaking, "God, please, too much," she gasped.

I laughed, teasing her, torturing her, until I was hard again. I moved up and slid inside her again, twisting her lower body, straddling her restrained leg, and lifting her free one over my shoulder. I removed the vibrator from her ass, and fucked her hard, the earlier edge gone. I felt like I could fuck her forever. I was going to try. 

She calmed down after a bit of slow steady screwing. Her quiet moans and soft grunts grew in intensity, as I used her for my pleasure. I moved her leg around freely, finding whatever worked best for me. When I felt the change in her response, I used her harder, glorying in my ability to pleasure her. 

I had her coming, her leg shaking. I pushed her top leg back and down, opening her up. I pulled my cock out and pushed it into her ass, making her scream. She was coming hard on my cock, shaking wildly, while I fucked that tight forbidden hole. She turned her upper body, her free leg hanging off the side of the bed, while I pounded her ass, making her moan with ever stroke. 

The sweat was pouring off my body as I leaned over her, hands holding her down, spreading her cheeks. The view was amazing, and I groaned, filling her ass.

She had collapsed, unmoving. I was afraid she'd passed out. I untied her, and found the keys to the handcuffs, tied to them with a string. I freed her, caressing her abused body.

She moaned softly, looking up at me in wonder and exhaustion. I kissed her lips softly, got up and started her bath. I brought a warm facecloth to her, and cleaned her up, then lifted her helpless body in my arms and carried her to the bathroom. I placed her in the bath, and washed her.

"My God, Alan. You almost killed me," she whispered, as I ran the facecloth over her body.




The Luckiest Man in the World



"You were amazing," I told her.

I used the facecloth to clean myself, then climbed in the tub behind her, holding her in my arms. "I love you, Mrs. Hammonds."

She giggled. "No shit."

"You never stop surprising me," I said, kissing her neck.

"Good. I'm not even going to ask if you liked that. Crap, I won't be able to move for two days."

"Don't tease me. Having you helpless like that could end up killing me. My hearts not strong enough."

I got out of the tub, dried off, then helped her out and did the same for her. She giggled as I lifted her in my arms, and took her back to our bed.

"I need to make love to you now, my perfect wife."

She leaned back, beckoning me. "I'll never say no to you. Never."

We laid together, kissing like teenagers, her hand working below my waist. When I was hard for her, I moved between her legs, and made slow easy love to her. Twice.

I laid back, holding her on my body, exhausted, a permanent grin etched across my face.

"Go ahead, baby. Say it. I know you want to, Mr. Lucky."

I kissed her. "The luckiest man in the world. I dare anyone to argue otherwise."

"And I'm the luckiest woman in the world. Match made in heaven."

* * *

In the office the next morning, Sandra walked into his office as soon as he got there. Alan learned she knew what had happened, after calling his house, and covered for him, sending messages to his boss and the people working for him that he was unavailable for the day, on personal time.

"You didn't really hit her, did you?" Sandra asked.

"What do you think?" he responded.

"Of course not. But why would she say you did?"

Alan gave her a wry smile. "Easiest way to get rid of me. It sucks to be a man, in the eyes of the law. Any complaint of violence, whatsoever, and the man goes to jail. Period. She got what she wanted, and now I can't have any contact with her. If she calls here, make sure you let her know that, and don't put her through. I don't want to go to jail, just so she can explain herself."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I've got a place to live. I've got my work. I'm going to divorce her ass, put her through the wringer if I can. Get every penny possible out of the divorce and make sure she doesn't get to live in the house. I'm not going to support a woman who puts me in jail for spite. I'll leave her in the poor house if I can." 

"Alan! That's not like you. You've never been spiteful or cruel. She's your wife, the mother of your children."

"Sit in jail for a couple of days, and see how you feel. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Don't bring her up, now or in the future."

Alan managed to get through the work day, and did some minimal shopping at a local thrift store for the minimum he could live on. Whatever he couldn't find at the thrift store, he picked up at Wal-Mart. Not a big fan of the place, but it was convenient and cheap. He ate at Waffle house, and called it a day.

The following day her father called. The two of them had always been on good terms. 

"She needs to talk to you," he finally said.

"No can do. Her little lying stunt has me under protective order not to contact her at all. You need to start preparing a room for her to stay. I'm going to have her out of that house as soon as I can. I'm not going to pay for a cheat and a liar to live in my house, when I can't."

"I hear you're the cheat, not her," her father said angrily.

"Six months of dating behind my back, lying to me twice a week. She cut me off totally. So yes, I had sex. It was good. Better than her to be honest. Much better," Alan said.

"She didn't cheat. She wasn't dating. She was going dancing with the girls," Becca's father tried to reply calmly.

"Would you put up with that? Lying about where she was going and who she was seeing for six months. Take her word that she wasn't cheating when she lied about everything else? She could have told me. Not cut me off. She's a liar, a cheat, and a piss-poor human being who put me in jail for no reason. I'm going to take her down, leave her penniless. You can take care of her if you want. I'll be damned if I will."

"We'll see who leaves who penniless!" the older man snapped. Just the answer that Alan was hoping for.

"So you're a cuckold too? You'd put up with your wife fucking around behind your back? Thanks for the info, maybe I'll give Ellen a call."

"YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! IF YOU EVER CALL THIS HOUSE AGAIN I'LL DESTROY YOU!" 

"Cluck-cluck-cluck. Give Ellen my love. I'll do it in person first chance I get." He listened to the dead air on the line with a good deal of satisfaction.

Alan got served at work on Friday. She was asking for almost everything. 80/20 division of cash, stock options, investments. Even 80% of his retirement 401K. She wanted the house, and for him to continue paying for it for ten years. It would be paid off before then. He marked out the 10 years, and wrote 8, the remaining time on the mortgage. Even though it wouldn't matter. He initialed the change. She was divorcing him on the basis of adultery. He left a note that irreconcilable differences could be settled in 60 days. If she would change that, he wouldn't fight it. 

She asked for alimony, 50% of his pay. Alan knew that there was no way the court would grant that, and changed it to 35% so it wouldn't look too suspicious. Not that it would matter much in the long run.

When he was done with his changes, he made copies and had the original document couriered to the law office on the letter head. He included a complete, updated copy of their financial records, and notarized limited power of attorney to contact his banks and investment companies for any information needed. Then he made the call.

The lawyer was surprised at his quick response, and assured Alan that he'd get a call back as soon as the documents arrived. She thanked him for being prompt in his reply.

The call came in just after 4:00, and the attorney insisted on going over all the details. Alan explained his rationale for the change in the time he'd be required to pay the mortgage, and explained that he'd accept either 50% of his pay, after the mortgage was paid, or 35%. Mrs. Davis said she thought she could work with what he'd offered, and would get back to him.

Alan smirked. Work with it? He'd given her a gift and she damn well knew it.

On Monday the lawyer called, and told him they'd accepted all the changes as he'd asked, and the papers had been filed.

On Tuesday, Alan disappeared.

* * *

Becca was worried. Bills were paid, and the bank accounts hadn't been touched. She had moved 80% of the funds out of the joint account, and took 80% of the CDs. Money was deposited into the joint account, and none removed. The day after the papers were signed, apparently he'd cashed out the CDs and whatever remained of their investments. 

She talked to Sandra, who told her that he'd resigned on Tuesday, effective immediately, taking his accrued vacation and sick leave, nearly six weeks' worth.

After the first month, she'd talked to the kids, and they hadn't heard from him. She even called his mother, taking a tongue lashing for the way Becca had treated her son. No, she didn't know where he was, hadn't heard from him since he'd told her about the divorce. Even if she had, she wouldn't tell her. Becca didn't argue when she was called an ungrateful, lying bitch.

Christmas came and went, as did the New Year. It was difficult. Sitting at the table with all three of her children who had shown up to support her, along with David's fiancée. The empty seat at the head of the table, which nobody seemed inclined to sit in was a sad statement. No card from her husband of twenty-five years. Nothing. She received a call from his mother, asking if Becca had heard from him. His mother had received a ten thousand dollar check, in an envelope with no return address. He said he loved her, and always would. That was the extent of his contact.

During the dinner prayer, Becca choked up when Carrie prayed that her father was well and happy. She had to leave the table for a moment to compose herself.

After 60 days, Becca received notice that the divorce was official. She was lonely in the house, devastated by the collapse of their marriage. She still didn't understand how it could go so bad, so quickly. Twenty five years. 

He had known about her going out dancing. He'd admitted as much, but never said a word about it, until that fateful afternoon. She'd made the horrible mistake of going along with Margie's accusation. She had made a criminal out of her husband, out of spite and anger. It had been the death of her friendship with Margie, and the last nail in the coffin of her marriage.

The mortgage was paid, and money was deposited in their joint account monthly. She still had insurance, which she used to see a doctor and get on anti-depressants, for all the good that did for her. 

She searched for him, asking everyone she knew, reviewing calling records, old credit card bills, anything she could find. She was considering hiring a private investigator to find him.

One lead panned out, a mysterious phone number on his cell-phone bill, and she found herself in the Hilton restaurant sitting across from Amber, the marriage wrecker. She was a little surprised that it had been that easy to get her to agree to the meeting.

"Are you still seeing my husband?" Becca asked.

"No. Not since the day you walked in on us," Amber said calmly.

That didn't make sense. He'd spent the entire weekend with her. That's what led to the big blow-up in the first place. She stated as much to her lunch companion.

"No. He never called me again. He told me he wouldn't after your little show. He was devastated. I stayed with him for a couple of hours until he could pull himself together. He paid me one last time, and left."

"He paid you?" Becca asked, surprised.

"Of course. I don't do it for free, honey. $250 an hour for the full girlfriend experience. Dinner, dating, dancing. He only took advantage of the other 'benefits' twice. The first time and the last time." The beautiful woman laughed. "In public he was always a gentleman, he seemed almost like he was putting on a show, displaying me on his arm, kissing me, hugging me. In the bedroom he wouldn't even let me get undressed. We'd just lay together and talk. He was in a lot of pain."

"I imagine. The guilt was probably eating at him."

"No, I think it was more of a physical pain. He'd get so tired after dancing, and need to lay down. He was taking some kind of pills. It wasn't all the time, but it was noticeable. You must have noticed, living with him."

Becca thought about it. Alan never showed pain. He didn't complain when he smashed his thumb, losing a nail when working on the car. He was as stoic a man as she'd ever met. She recalled his holding her, crying, after the last time they'd made love. None of it made any sense to her.

She apologized for taking up the woman's time, her intention to attack the slut for breaking up her marriage abandoned. "If you do hear from him, would you please give me a call? I'm very worried. He disappeared almost three months ago, and I haven't heard from him since."

Amber looked concerned. "He ran? Doesn't seem like him. He talked very lovingly of you and the kids. He said you'd been the perfect wife. Didn't jive too well with what he was doing, but I wasn't being paid to judge him."

"He...he disappeared. He's still paying the bills, and maintaining all the insurances. I need to know where he is. Please." Becca pleaded.

Amber took her number and assured her that if she heard from Alan again, she'd let her know.

It was February before she made the big break. She had a medical appointment and there was an issue with her insurance. Her policy number had changed. She had received her new card in the mail, figuring it was the annual update, but her co-pay had been reduced. After over an hour on the phone with the company she was thoroughly confused. Her insurance had been paid for the year, she was the only one on it. Her husband's Cobra had expired and he had purchased a new, better plan. 

She asked if she could get a copy of her old medical statements, and received it in the mail a few days later. An afternoon of phone calls and she knew. 

Damn him.

* * *

It was a huge party. Our family, friends, children all present. Becca was wearing the tennis bracelet I'd given her. 

We sat on the couch, watching a DVD the kids had made of our marriage. Pictures and clips from our wedding until today. Twenty five years together. Twenty five perfect years. She crawled into my lap, almost as slender at 50 years old as she had been when I first met her. Still the most beautiful woman I knew.

We laughed and joked with everyone else, as we took our ribbing. 

When it ended, we accepted hugs and kisses from everyone. Congratulations for being the model marriage. The perfect couple. It was hard to hold back the tears. 

We were both surprised when we were pushed to the front door. I was given a small overnight bag, and the door was opened. A stretch limo waited by the curb. 

David gave me a pat on the back. "Go on. Your chariot awaits. Thanks for being the best parents in the world."

I hugged my kids, and took my perfect wife, the love of my life, by the hand, and out to our ride. The chauffeur held the door for us.

We took advantage of the champagne. "Did you know about this?" Becca asked.

"I'm as surprised as you."

We were taken to the hotel, where a woman in uniform met us. "Thank you for choosing us to celebrate this occasion." A porter took the bag from me, and we followed our host.

She took us to the top floor, and opened the door for us. The suite was amazing. Huge, beautiful. We walked in looking around. "Pound 50 on the phone if you need anything. Anything at all," the woman told us. She smiled, taking our hands into hers. "Somebody loves you a lot. You're the talk of the hotel you know. We're honored you're here."

I reached for my wallet and she stopped me. "No. Everything's been taken care of, very generously I might add. Please, don't hesitate to call."

They left us, and Becca and I stood looking at each other. "Can you believe this?" she asked.

"I can't believe any of it. Not from the day you first sat across from me in that bookstore."

"Twenty five years," she said softly. "I know I should feel old, but you make me feel like a teenager. I love you, Alan."

We took advantage of the amenities. We had more champagne and strawberries delivered. We spent half an hour in the hot tub. She excused herself in the bedroom, to prepare for me. She called me in and my heart almost stopped, gazing on her beauty. 

She was wearing a pink top with completely transparent material hanging below her hips. A tiny thong, with pink bows on the side covered her hips. She smiled. "Another gift, from your secretary of all people. Is there something I should know?"

I moved closer, holding her in my arms. "Yes. I love you more today than I ever have. I'll love you even more tomorrow. I adore you Mrs. Hammonds. I can hardly wait for the next 25 years."

"You want to call that pretty little girl up here? She looked like she really liked you. She did say 'anything' after all."

I laughed, and swatted her backside. "No way. We've talked about that. Seeing you kissing another man almost killed me the one time we thought about trying that."

"You? That bimbo had her tongue down your throat not five seconds after we switched places. I was going to scratch her eyes out. Soft swing my ass."

"There's nobody for me but you, Becca. Never. I'm a one woman man."

"Ditto, baby. I couldn't imagine being with anyone but you. Are you going to talk all night, or ravage me? You can pretend I'm your hotel girl. You like blonds, don't you?"

I pulled her on the bed, and over my knee, listening to her squeal. I smacked her adorable bottom. "Not even as a joke." I smacked her again, and she giggled.

"What?"

"Twenty five years before I learn you have a spanking fetish? You've been holding out on me."

I pulled her bottoms down, and swatted her bare ass. "Never. I hold nothing back. You know that. Not since our first anniversary."

"Mmm, I remember, butt boy. You love this little ass, don't you?" she wiggled her butt.

I leaned over and kissed her bare cheeks. "Of course. Every part of you."

She rolled over, looking up at me. "Love me, Alan."

I left her in the top, the material beautiful against her skin. I removed the bottoms, untying the sides and slipping them off. I moved her to the middle of the bed, and went down on her. It was easy, natural, almost automatic, the way I had her juicing up for me.

She returned the favor, using her mouth and her knowledge of me to get me hard. We came together with the ease that only years of intimate knowledge can bring. 

She moved on top of me, and used her experience to wring my finish from me, not before I was able to get her off first.

We rested, her weight on my, her head on my shoulder. "Thank you for a magical life," I told her.

"Thank you for making all my dreams come true." She giggled. "You think it would shock our party guests to know what we're up to?"

I laughed, hugging her, rocking her back and forth in my arms. "I doubt that."

"Does it ever surprise you?" she asked.

"Every day. How it can get better and better, when it's already the best. I'm..."

"The luckiest. Yes. Everyone knows. Both of us are." She kissed me. "Want to go for seconds?"

"Willing to help?"

She moved down between my legs, licking her lips salaciously. "Always."

Alan woke, and instinctively reached out for the button for more painkiller. A hand slipped into his, and he looked over.

"Happy Valentine's day," she said softly.

He was in shock for a few moments, trying to take in his surroundings. There was a large heart-shaped balloon tied to his headboard, and his wife was looking down at him with tears in her eyes.

"You weren't supposed to know," he said.

She leaned over and hugged him. "I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. Please forgive me. I should never have lied to you."

He reached up, moving the tube going into his arm out of the way, and hugged her. "No need. I know you didn't do anything. I'm sorry I had to throw that in your face. I'd been a little jealous, I admit, and watched you a couple of times. You were as loyal as ever. I know you never cheated."

"Then why?" she asked.

He felt a touch on his opposite arm, and looked over to see his three children there. "Happy Valentine's Day, Daddy," Carrie whispered, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

She echoed her mother's question. "Why, Daddy? Why did you abandon us?"

"Our insurance. It wasn't going to cover my expenses. It would drain our funds, take everything we'd worked so hard for. In the end you'd be stuck with nothing, on top of losing me."

"That was a decision we should have made together," Becca said firmly.

"No. I knew what you would choose, and I couldn't live with that. I made sure that you got everything I could legally give you. There are three gifts for the children with what was left after I cashed out the 401K. About $35,000 apiece. The mortgage is paid off. I hope you have enough to get by, and my life insurance should help. It's only about $750,000. I wish I'd taken out more when I could have."

"I don't understand. You gave away everything?"

"I had to. Medicare is covering everything now. If I had money, they'd take that until I didn't have any. I'd rather you have it than them. I'm sorry."

"Your affair. Why did you sleep with that woman?"

"I needed you to divorce me. You had to come after me, asking for as much as possible, so I could give you your freedom. You're a beautiful woman, Becca. The best wife in the world. Better than I deserved. I want you to be happy, find a loving man you can give yourself to. Live well, for me. Please."




The Luckiest Man in the World



"You tried to make me hate you," she said.

He was getting tired again. He tried to sleep as much as the pain would let him. "Because I love you," he explained.

She was crying inconsolably as he drifted off to sleep, the energy of talking too much. 

Alan woke a few hours later, and they were still waiting with him. The pain was almost intolerable. He reached for the button, then stopped. He needed to be clearheaded.

"He's awake," he heard Josh say, then they were standing around him again.

Alan reached for his wife's hand, and felt her soft skin against his once more. "I love you, Becca. I always have. I'm sorry I cheated on you. Please forgive me," he pleaded. The tears that the pain of his wracked body couldn't force out, came easily.

"Oh, Alan!" she cried. "Stop this. Let me take you home. We'll find better doctors. We can beat this."

It was too late for that, but he nodded. "I'd like that."

The kids gave him cards, which he had Becca read to him, and Carrie placed a stuffed animal pair in his arms. "You are the best Dad in the world," she told him, kissing his emaciated cheek, her tears spilling over onto his skin.

Another jolt of pain shattered his body, and he pressed the button that would allow more of the painkiller to enter his veins. He hated them to see him like this. Weak.

Alan reached out to the table beside him, and picked up the folded piece of paper. He handed it to Becca. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby," he said. He smiled for her and closed his eyes.

Becca looked at the handmade card. The front had a poorly drawn heart colored in red. His and her initials were in it, with the TLF underneath, True Love Forever, just like they'd carved into the tree in Battery Park after he'd proposed.

She opened it and read his awkward, shaky hand-writing.

"To Becca, my first, last and only true love. Thank you for 25 perfect years. I am the luckiest man in the world, to have had your love. I love you. Your husband, Alan."

She rubbed the tears from her eyes, and hugged him, crying, telling him she loved him and always would.

My heart was breaking. I'd cheated on her. I hated it. Hated what I had to do. Forcing her out of my life, trying to make her hate me. I knew it would be difficult, I had no way of knowing just how devastating.

The pains were becoming more frequent. Out of nowhere, the agony would paralyze me. The pills helped. Almost every day I had to suffer through a period of the blinding pain.

She had stopped. Stopped her one outlet, harmless dancing, a way of making her feel young again, naughty. I'd watched her twice, dancing with the different men, never more than a couple of times with each. Turning them away, not letting them sit with her, refusing any drinks. The girls worked together, most of them behaving similarly except that skank Margie. She was the only single one, so I guess I shouldn't hold it against her.

Lying in bed beside her, I gazed at that body. Mine and mine alone for 25 years. I knew every inch of it, better than I knew my own.

I couldn't help myself. I had promised myself that I would hold out, keep away. For the good of the plan. It was no use. I could smell her, feel the warmth emanating from her. She'd come to bed naked, for the first time in months.

I reached for her, my hand on her shoulder. She didn't move, didn't pull away, didn't turn toward me. I eased closer, my hand gliding down her side, my lips pressing against her shoulder. I kissed my way to her neck. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

"Me too." I nibbled her ear, and she turned toward me.

I was aching for her, and when I felt between her legs, her desire and need was obvious.

I eased her onto her back, climbing above her.

"What's going to happen to us?" she asked.

I hushed her, scared to death I was going to ruin everything. There was no way I could hide my love for her. I slid inside of her, and she whimpered softly.

I made love to her in silence, our bodies working in perfect harmony. I stared into her eyes, my love for her in danger of destroying my careful plan.

I needed her to know. One last time. My last time ever with the love of my life, the perfect wife, the mother of my children. I wish it were otherwise. It was unfair, but I had accepted it. I'd had the best 25 years anyone could ask for.

She was everything to me. I would be gone within 6 months. Terminal. Inoperable. I couldn't take her down with me. She deserved so much more. 

She had too much to offer. Too big a heart. She had to have a chance to move on, to be happy, never to have to worry about money. 

God, I loved her! Why me?

I shoved the pain down, sliding in and out of that magical warm, wet opening, she'd shared with me, only me, for over 25 years. 

And I had cheated on her. 

I prayed in time she could forgive me. 

Once again I wondered if I was doing the right thing. As painful as it was, it still seemed the best option. I'd take the blame. Let me be the bad guy. As long as she was taken care of.

I stared into her eyes, and saw the love there. Still. After all I'd done so far. It was going to be difficult to kill that light. I hated doing it. Hated myself.

She was responding, eyelids fluttering, mouth open, those sounds I knew so well escaping her lips. I adjusted my hips grinding at the end of each stroke. I had her, and I stretched it out, keeping her on edge, while I reached my own peak. 

I was close, and concentrated on her, pushing her to crest, gazing into that beautiful face, feeling her response. As she peaked, I drove inside of her for one last perfect time, matching her need, timing it perfectly, making her come for me, as I finished inside of her.

She came down slowly, gasping. She stared back into my eyes, and I saw the love fighting with the fear.

"Alan..."

"Shh. I know. Me too." I shouldn't have even said that much.

I laid beside her, holding her. One last time, for the rest of my life. That was the hardest part. Never being able to hold her again. 

I felt her breath slow, as she relaxed in my arms. So perfect. 

I couldn't stop it. The tears rolled down my cheeks, as I remembered all the times we'd had. 25 years. It seemed so short now. I had accepted it. Any one year with her was worth it all. I was being called home, but I couldn't complain. 

For twenty five years I'd had it all. The dream. The perfect life. I was the luckiest man in the world.

I prayed she had at least twenty five more. I would wait for her. Forever. I had promised.

The luckiest man in the world never woke again.

=============================

Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it, even if it's not the most typical love story. It's part of the Valentine's Day competition so I'd appreciate the vote if you can spare the time. Your comments are always more than welcome.