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A Long Time Ago Ch. 02

By: LynnGKS



Note to reader: The plot of this story was not original to me. Several other authors have written stories with similar plots, e.g. the late discovery of infidelity. But as I read and re-read my Chapter 1 and tried unsuccessfully to improve the ending I realized that I faced a dilemma: What this wife had done was indeed unforgivable. But WHY was it unforgivable. A brief affair IS sometimes forgivable − even one lasting three years. But this one was not! Why? This story is the dénouement that I hope will answer that question. 

*

I looked at my calendar and saw my regular appointment in this time slot marked "canceled" and the name of David Newton penciled in. I had last seen the Newtons three weeks ago and was scheduled to see them again next week. What was this I wondered?

This was a very interesting case. Mr. Newton had accidently discovered some hidden letters and photographs describing an affair his wife had had twenty years previously. He described the pain he felt as he read the letters, which gave explicit details of his wife's sexual relations with her lover. He became physically ill and it was clear to me that he was being destroyed by his natural jealousy and the sick knowledge that for over twenty years his wife had lived a lie. 

The affair had ended, not because the wife or her lover wanted it to, but because the lover had been killed in a tragic accident. Hubby had read every detail of their affair over many days while his wife was on vacation with friends. He had not confronted her until over a week after his discovery.

I remembered their first visit a year ago when I asked about how she felt about her lover. She looked at me angrily. "I loved him. I grieved when he died. I remember him with love. Yes I'm still in love with him."

Her husband had heard her say that but he already knew it was true from reading those letters. She seemed to think that being in love made their relationship, somehow, okay. Chaste. Not adulterous.

My goal was to get her to understand that after seven years of marriage working part time and raising a three-year old and keeping house, she was just a bored housewife trying to recapture the excitement of her youth. After many months of counseling we were making progress. I had wanted them to think about their situation and talk to each other before our next visit. But David was here alone. Why?

My receptionist showed him in when I buzzed and I stood up and greeted him. He seemed relaxed and under control as if he had made a difficult decision. He sat in a chair next to mine.

"We have an appointment next week for you and Mary together," I said. "Is there a special reason you want to meet with me alone?"

"Yes there is," he said. "After a lot of thought I have finally made a decision to get a divorce and try to find a new life for myself."

This was very surprising to me. I had thought that we were making progress toward a reconciliation.

"Could you tell me how you reached this decision?"

He began a calm and carefully worded explanation.

"Two weeks ago a close friend, trying to be helpful, reminded me of the many happy times that Mary and I had had over the past twenty wonderful years. As I thought about those years a terrible question suddenly captured my mind. I remembered those happy vacations, just the two of us, when we had really great sex. I asked myself, who was Mary making love to? Was it me or was it the other man she still loved? Remember she kept saying she loved us both."

I nodded and realized he was right. I knew from my talks with Mary alone that she had indeed on occasion fantasized about her lover during sex with her husband. 

"Go on," I said.

"There were other times when she seemed to bubble over with joy and laughter and love for me when I got home from work. Now I'm wondering whether she had just finished one of her trips back in time re-reading her letters and viewing her photographs. Was our marriage giving her this happiness or was it the memories of an affair with her lover?"

I nodded again. Mary had told me that when she felt tired and overworked she sometimes got out those old letters and re-read them. She felt very happy after doing this.

Well, I thought, Dave had accurately described what was actually happening during those twenty "wonderful" years she had given him. It was funny that a friend who wanted to help him had triggered this new understanding.

"Go on," I said.

"I feel that more than twenty beautiful years of my life have been stolen from me by a man who has been dead for twenty years. None of my happy memories are mine anymore. Oh I know that some are mine because she loved me too, but I'm afraid to remember any of those beautiful times because it might have been her lover who gave them to her, not me."

"Do you remember our last visit?" I asked. "Mary said something to the effect that maybe it was not love at all − only a frantic search for an exciting youth that was passing away with the boring years of household chores. You remember that?"

"Yes I remember that," he said. "But that changes nothing. She believed she was in love with him for twenty years. How can I remember those years with love, when − excuse me Doctor for my language − when sometimes my wife was pumping her ass, fuckin another man as I made love to her?"

If a councilor's job is to make a client face reality, I thought, then I've done my job superbly, but Mr. Newton had reached a very painful reality. I knew for a fact that Mary had often thought of her lover as she made love to her husband. Of course I could never tell him he was right.

He thanked me for my help as he left. It was to be a year before I saw him again. I saw Mary the following week and she was distraught and her eyes red from crying. He had given me permission to tell her what he had said and I explained to her why he felt he could no longer trust his beautiful memories over the last twenty years.

Mary asked me over and over if I had told him about how she sometimes had thoughts about her lover during lovemaking with her husband. I assured her he had reached that conclusion alone.

I continued to see her every week as the divorce proceedings took place. She kept the house and continued to work full time. I was trying to get her to forgive herself for the actions that caused the loss of her husband. I was trying to persuade her to forget her grief and seek a new life and I was not making much progress.

Almost a year later her husband dropped in to see me unexpectedly as I was about to go to lunch. I ordered something sent up for the both of us. I was eager to hear what had happened to him. He was the picture of a happy man in control of his life.

"I bought a condo on the Florida panhandle at a place called Watercolor," he said. "There are a lot of retired folks there and a lot of second homes used in the winter by people from up North. There's a beach and fishing and I'm making friends."

"And a fairly large number of divorced women and widows," he added with a broad smile.

"So I'm making friends AND girlfriends," he said. "And I have fallen out of love with Mary, which took the better part of the past year. I rarely think of her now."

"Fallen OUT of love?" I asked. "That's different from falling IN love isn't it?"

"Yes it is and it's much more difficult," he said.

"How did you manage to do that?" I asked. Patients usually talked about hating a former spouse but I had never heard one say he "fell out of love" with her.

"It was very difficult because when I went down there she was in my thoughts almost constantly. But it hurt so much to think about her that I knew I had to get it under control or I'd go crazy. Do you remember those naked Polaroid pictures I told you about?"

I remembered them. Mary had used them for sexual arousal on occasion when she was re-reading those letters. I nodded and he continued.

"Those were the ugliest part of the entire collection of stuff she saved. Much worse than the words. I could see them in my mind and they disgusted me. Well, I practiced calling up those pictures in my head immediately when any thought related to Mary popped into my head. So she came into my mind followed immediately by a naked picture of her or him."

My God! I thought. Negative reinforcement! A psychological technique that many counselors might have recommended. I wouldn't have used it, of course, if I were trying for a reconciliation.

Then he chuckled and said, "I punished myself for thinking about her and it worked. Gradually I thought of her less and less. And more than that, when I DID think of her even without the dirty pictures the anger and jealousy seemed to diminish and then go away altogether.

And, most important of all, the love went away. I can go for weeks now without a single thought of her. And I can think of her when I want to without any anger or jealousy or love."

"I had to come up here to do some important personal business but I wanted to see you while I was here. I wanted to ask about Mary. I know she's in counseling and I know you can't tell me personal things but I'm worried that she may not be handling this divorce as well as I am. And I suspect she's punishing herself for having destroyed our marriage. Is there some way I can help?"

If ever a man had reason to be angry and bitter at a woman it was David Newton. He had been betrayed and then lied to for years. Yet here he was concerned about a wife he no longer loved. Was it wise for them to meet, I asked myself? Would it help her or harm her to see that he had found happiness without her? Would a joint session with me be helpful?

"Let me think about that," I said. "How long are you going to be in town?"

"If I can help her," he responded, "then as long as it takes. I don't want her to suffer like I did."

I got his cell phone number and promised to call him tomorrow afternoon after my regular weekly session with Mary. How do I tell her about this, I asked myself. After all SHE was my patient now that her husband no longer needed counseling. I had to think of her welfare first. I thought about the question for hours that night sipping single malt before I reached a decision.

When I broke the news to Mary the next day she was not surprised. Her son had told her he was in town. When I told her I had talked with him her reaction was almost pathetic.

"What did he say about me?" She asked anxiously, leaning forward in her chair.

"He said all his anger and jealously are gone. But so is his love for you."

It was like I had kicked her in the stomach. She dropped her head and tears came into her eyes.

"Mary we have talked about this," I said almost harshly. "I told you that you needed to prepare yourself to live without him. That's what we've been working on since he left. You keep resisting that idea."

"Does he ... does he see other women?" She asked pathetically.

"Yes he does," I answered. "Get yourself under control Mary. He doesn't love you any more. You have to face that. He wants to help you. He asked me how he might help. Would you like to meet with him? Just the three of us?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes! Yes I would," she said.

Maybe I did the wrong thing I said to myself as I did it, but I set up an appointment for the two of them the next afternoon. I realized that she still clung to her love for him and her dream of somehow getting him back. I had tried to get her to work on adjusting her life to his absence but with only modest success. Perhaps when she saw he didn't love her any more she would try harder to change her life.

The next day when she came into the office I saw that she had taken every effort to look her best. She'd had her hair done and she was wearing one of her best dresses. Her makeup was perfect. Damn I thought. Maybe this is not such a good idea after all. I realized that for her this would be an attempt to get him interested in her again.

"Now Mary," I began after she was seated, "I want to keep this very low key. I want you to hear from his own voice how he has adjusted after the divorce. And I want you to think about how you might try to do the same thing."

She nodded. "I understand," she said.

When my receptionist ushered him into the room she stood up smiling and extended her hand. He shook it graciously.

"It's so good to see you again Dave," she said sweetly. "I hope you're doing well in your new home in Florida."

Dave sat down and began an exchange of pleasantries that were mostly meaningless and were really an attempt to avoid the troublesome areas in their history. Dave told her about his new home and it was clear to me that she could see that he was happy there.

I asked Dave a few key questions designed to allow him to explain that he had gotten over the sadness of their divorce. He performed as I had hoped he would and I took note of several things that I wanted to remind her of at her next visit − things he had done that she should copy. I congratulated myself for making a wise decision.

But then it happened very suddenly before I could head it off. Without departing from the tone of the conversation she suddenly departed from the subject matter.

"I'm so very sorry that I hurt you so badly, David," she said, using a brief moment of silence to squeeze in the apology I had warned her not to say at our visit yesterday.

Dave took it well, even though I had warned him not to get into this kind of conversation.

"I'm sorry too Mary, but I'm over the pain now," he responded softly. "I've turned my life around and you should work to do the same."

God bless his heart I said to myself. He said it in an easy and supportive way and it was the perfect reply. I was trying to decide exactly what to say next when Mary spoke first.

"It was the lies I told you that were the worst things," she said. "It started with a few and then a few more and before I knew it I was living a lie. Can you forgive me?"

I broke in quickly. "Tell us more about Watercolor," I said.

Dave began an elaborate description of his new home and described the small size of his condo and how easy it was to make friends there.

When he ran out of things to say and before I could start to talk, Mary did it again.

"People have to be honest with each other, even sometimes when it hurts," she said.

I tried again to direct her to a different topic but she persisted. This was not at all what I had wanted this meeting to be about. Then suddenly Mary said it directly to him speaking forcefully.

"I'll never lie to you again David. Test me and I'll show you! Ask me anything! I won't lie."

I'm not gonna be able to stop this, I thought. I hope Dave has recovered enough to handle this situation. I remembered how unstable he had been when this thing started almost two years ago.

Dave thought a moment in silence. He seemed to be under complete control. I was convinced that Mary would tell him the truth about anything he asked. She still felt she might have a chance to get him back. She wouldn't dare risk a lie. But what would he ask?

Both Mary and I watched him closely as he sat there. After a full minute of careful thought he finally spoke softly and lovingly.

"Do you remember our fifteenth anniversary when we went to Chicago for that long weekend?"

"Oh yes I remember it," she said. "It was a fabulous vacation and a beautiful celebration. We had the most wonderful time. It is one of the most lovely memories of my life and I have remembered it always with love."

"Do you remember what we did all day Saturday after we got to the hotel Friday night?"

Mary giggled and I was surprised to see her blush like a little girl. Then she nodded eagerly and with happiness in her voice she made a smiling and giggling response. This fifty year-old woman was acting like a teenager.

"That was the first time we had been alone together in weeks. We made love all day long. They didn't even get to clean up our room till we went to dinner that night."

Then she giggled again.

"Do remember when we decided not to get dressed and to make love all afternoon and I called down and asked for late room clean up?" David asked.

She giggled again and nodded her head vigorously.

"What did you do then Mary?"

"I remember it like it was yesterday," she giggled. "I climbed on and did you cowboy!"

"That's right Mary," Dave said softly. "That's exactly what you did. Now, you're never gonna lie to me again. Right?"

"NEVER," she said emphatically. "Never again!"

"All right Mary," he said very softly. "Who did you climb on and do cowboy? Your husband or your dead lover?"

A look of absolute shock and terror captured her face. She closed her eyes and clinched them tight as if to shut out a cruel world. She began shaking her head from side to side as though saying no to some question. I didn't know what.

"Remember, Mary, tell the truth," he said lovingly.

As I watched her I knew she was trying very hard to tell the absolute truth.

She stopped shaking her head and took a deep breath. She looked Dave in the eye and broke into tears. Then she sobbed, "I DON'T REMEMBER."

Dave nodded and looked at me. It was clear to me that she had spoken the absolute truth. She remembered the details of fucking him but not WHO she thought she was fucking. That memory was beautiful for her but was painful for him because for all he could know she may have been fucking her lover, not her husband.

Then Dave spoke again in a voice that was soft and loving.

"You don't remember Mary because it didn't matter to you whether it was me or him. You loved us both. But it mattered to me − until I stopped loving you it mattered very much to me."

Mary was lost in sobbing and gasping for breath. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Dave got up to leave my office. When he got to the door he turned and spoke to me.

"I guess I wasn't very much help," he said sadly.

"On the contrary," I said. "You were a great help. You made her understand in a few moments what I have been trying to tell her for a year. Now Mary knows why you can never love her again and she knows exactly what she has to do. Stop loving you."

To be continued. 

A Long Time Ago Ch. 03



My name is David Newton and I'm at a beach party where people are celebrating Halloween and I'm celebrating the anniversary of my divorce. My wife's love for her lover wiped out twenty years of happy memories and I left her.

I've got some modest retirement pay and some investment income and I can live like a beach bum in this beach community on the Florida panhandle. Any ambition I once had was long gone. I just wanted to live comfortably and fuck and never fall in love again.

Falling out of love was too damn painful. So I dropped out of the group of people that produce more than they consume and joined the people that consume more than they produce.

It took a long time for me to recover but I knew my recovery was complete when I could fuck again and this place is full of widows and divorced ladies who really like to fuck. I'm 53 and some of them are a few years older but the pussy is young in spirit and that's what counts.

Everybody was in costume tonight. We had dug a fire pit in the sand just above the high tide line and built a fire with big logs. There's music and laughter and some fooling around between the single folks and the married couples are watching and enjoying a little vicarious sex. 

I'm drinkin a little more than usual but I can walk home as long as I'm able to walk. And I really feel good tonight. Maybe I'll get laid. I'm drunk but not too drunk to fuck. And I've spotted several gals here that I've done before. Shit! Margie Harris is one of my favorites and she is already taken.

I know most of the single gals even in their wild costumes but a few look like new meat. Shit! I shouldn't even THINK that word! I might say it out loud. "Meat" is very offensive to some of these ladies. It really pisses them off for a guy to say that word.

And, oh my God! Speaking of meat, just look at that minx over there dressed in a red devil's costume. She's blonde and I'll bet her cuffs don't match her collar but look at that figure. Maybe 115 pounds with a narrow waist and big tits and no rings on her left hand and I'll bet she fucks.

I eased over her direction and saw she was headed for the tub with cans of beer on ice. We were careful to never allow glass on this beach for obvious reasons − plastic and cans only. I stepped ahead of that she-devil and got a can of beer and flipped it open and handed it to her. She made a formal thank you bow and I returned it. I got a beer for myself and we held the cans up in a toast.

The next thing I knew she was off with another guy − a buddy of mine Barry Hunter. And he was a real hunter. He hunted pussy! And he seemed interested in this new blonde bitch that had caught my eye. I'd better quit my drinking if I wanna get laid. I went back and replaced my beer with a coke. Then I walked around and enjoyed the party for an hour checking out a couple of other potential gals but now there didn't seem to be any that weren't already spoken for tonight.

I looked across the fire at Barry with what I now thought of as "my" blonde and the bastard was feeling of her ass! And she was letting him do it. I couldn't see her face because of the mask but her body language registered a smile. I better get out of here I thought. I've had enough to drink and all the likely pussy is taken.

I started up the beach toward the sidewalk and as I got out of the firelight my foot hit something and I stumbled and would have fallen down if a hand hadn't grabbed my elbow and held me up. I turned to say thank you and found myself facing that blonde devil.

She held my arm and led me to the sidewalk and then helped me walk to my condo about a block away. I mumbled some words of gratitude but she just helped me in silence. The last thing I remember she's helping me get out of my costume and getting me in bed. I went out like a light.

I woke up fucking! The room was pitch black. Looking at the lighted clock across the room I had been asleep for about four hours, long enough for me to sober up a little. I was in the saddle banging what I assumed was that blond bitch. She was naked and her arms and legs were wrapped around my body holding me close. I was about to pump my load and in a few seconds I unloaded into a gal whose name I didn't even know.

I rolled off of her onto my back and in moments my soft dick was in her mouth and she was getting me up again. I looked down at her in the darkness and it looked like she still had on that devil's mask with the lower part lifted up so she could suck my cock.

I got another hard on and she mounted up and started doing me cowboy. Jesus! This was good pussy! I hadn't had pussy this good since ... shit! ... don't go there, I thought as an ugly Polaroid picture entered my brain.

It was great pussy! By the time I pumped my load I was exhausted. The bitch reached over to the bedside table and handed me a glass half full of single malt scotch. She must have found the bottle in the kitchen. I tasted it and discovered that just the right amount of water had been added to make it taste the way I liked. I downed it rapidly and turned over and went back to sleep.

When I woke up the sun was shining in through the window although the blinds were down and I was on my back getting fucked cowboy by a naked blonde wearing a devil's mask. The bitch seemed to know what I liked. I looked at those big tits bouncing every time she pumped her ass. Jesus she had a narrow waist. I hadn't seen tits like that and a waist that narrow since ... shit! ... why is this happening to me?

She dropped her head down on my shoulder and kept on fucking. As I approached my orgasm my mind went blank as usual and I lay there helpless under her naked body. I hadn't been fucked this good since ... there I go again!

"Thank you baby," I said, my flaccid cock still inside her. "Thank you very much. I never saw you at Watercolor. Who the hell are you."

"A whore," she said in a husky voice in my ear. "Just a cheating whore!"

Then she rose up and took off that devil mask and I saw her face clearly. It was my former wife Mary − thirty pounds lighter with blonde hair.

She pushed herself off of me and got out of bed. Quickly putting on a pair of shorts and a top she gathered up the devil's costume and walked out of the bedroom as I lay there in shock. I heard the front door close and I jumped out of bed and ran to the front window. She was gone.

I stood under the shower till I ran out of hot water trying to get my head together. Why was she here? Why had she lost all that weight? She was the same size as when I married her. Why had she changed her hair to blonde? What was she trying to do? Why did she fuck me and then leave?

I got dressed and went over to Barry Hunters place. He was awake with a hangover. He offered me a hair of the dog and I took him up on it. Then I asked about Mary.

"Who was that blonde bitch you were with last night?"

"I was with her for a while," Barry said, "and then she disappeared. I've seen her around here recently. I think she's got a place west of here on 30A. But I don't know her name or anything about her."

I finished my drink and then talked to a few other people I knew but learned nothing. Things went on as usual for the next week and then at Happy Hour at our local pub I saw Mary across the room looking at me.

I walked over to where she was standing and she smiled at me.

"Wanna fuck some more?" She asked. "Take me to your place."

"Mary what has happened to you? Why are you ... "

She put a finger on my lips to shut me up.

"No talking," she said. "Just fucking. I'm a whore. I fuck. I don't talk. Take me to your place if you want me or if you don't I'll drive back to my place."

I took her elbow and escorted her out of the bar. We walked the two blocks back to my place without talking. As we entered my living room she began to undress. Her shorts and top came off fast. Then she posed momentarily in panties and bra and then threw both on the floor and stood naked before me. I just stared at her.

She saw my eyes rove over her body. This was the best fifty-three year-old body I had ever seen − it would have been great for a thirty-five year old. Her tits were big but sagged only a little. Her belly was flat and her waist was small and that beautiful beaver was as thick and lush as ever.

"I'm glad you like me," she said. "I'd look better in spikes."

"My God Mary you look good," I said. "You haven't had a figure like that since ... "

She interrupted me, "DON'T GO THERE! I'm a whore now. Don't think about it just use me like a whore. Now get naked and let's fuck."

That's exactly what we did and I was sober and it was even better than before. I let my mind think it. It was like when we were first married. She spent the night and we fucked the next morning and then when I was fixing some eggs I heard the front door close and when I looked out the window she was gone.

I didn't see her for a week. It was Saturday night and I was sitting in the bar having my first drink of the evening when Mary climbed on to the bar stool next to me and ordered a drink.

"Where do you disappear to?" I asked.

"I got a place west of here on 30A," she said.

"Did you finish your counseling?"

She nodded and smiled and said, "I started losing weight right after I saw you in her office. Then I persuaded the good Doctor that I no longer loved you and I got my shit together, sold the house, and headed down here."

"Why here?" I asked. "You and I have no future together."

"I'm a whore. You fucked me two nights already. Maybe you'll want to fuck me some more ... if I'm good enough."

"That's all you want?" I asked.

"That's all I deserve! You want me tonight? I'm yours. You don't, I'll give you my phone number and I'll fuck when you want me. You're a good lookin guy and I'm sure you get lots of pussy down here. Good pussy! I'm gonna try to be better. That's all."

"Can I ask you some questions?"

"No. No talk. Just fuckin. I'm a whore. Fuck me and then kick my ass out and tell me when you want me again."

And that's what happened. Mary was better pussy than any other gal I had been fucking. I called her two or three times a week at first. Then four or five times a week. Then finally one night in the living room I asked her to move in with me.

"I will," she said, "but there are conditions. First, I'm ready to move back to a rental apartment if you try to talk about the past. Second, you can throw my ass out anytime if you're not happy with the pussy. And third, use this on my ass if you need to."

She pulled a thick leather belt out of her purse and hung it on the wall on a picture hook.

"I'm a whore and I'll do my job in bed and I'll cook and clean and talk to you about Watercolor but if you try to talk about the past I'll walk right out. If I piss you off use that strap on me. Do you understand that?"

I nodded my head and she moved in. This was the best pussy I had had since the first years of our marriage before her three-year affair. And she was the same size as when we were married. I really wanted to ask her about herself but I was afraid to.

She hadn't been with me for even a week till Barry Hunter drops by one afternoon to say hello. It was obvious he had noticed her and was curious. I invited him in and fixed him a drink of his favorite bourbon. Mary mixed two glasses of single malt for us with no ice and just the right amount of water.

"So," he said, as we stood in the kitchen taking our first sips. "Tell me about your new house guest."

"I'm a whore he used to know," Mary said before I could answer him. "I used to be a fat whore but I lost weight so he's letting me stay here for a while. I pay my rent in bed."

Remembering his hand on her ass at the beach party I knew he was interested in her. He reached his hand over slowly to repeat what he had done that night. This bastard really had balls!

"Uh uh," Mary said. "That belongs to David. Get his permission first."

Barry looked at me. "May I pat this beautiful ass?" He said.

"I don't think a few pats would do any damage," I said. "You tried it out the other night."

He reached over and patted and then caressed her shapely ass and Mary stood there submissively and did absolutely nothing about it.

"Let's go out to the patio and look at the ocean," I said.

We walked out to the patio and sat in beach chairs and enjoyed our drinks. Barry tried to pry information out of Mary with no success. She was not rude, just evasive. Our conversation turned to a party planned for the weekend and when we finished out drinks Barry got up and said his good bye and left. I noticed that Mary did not give him another chance to feel her ass.

As we watched him walk down the street I asked Mary, "Did you enjoy him playing with your ass?"

"No," she answered.

"Would you like him to do it again?"

"It's okay if you want to watch him do it," she said. "I'd even fuck him if you want to watch. I know some guys are like that."

"No I'm not like that. But I'm surprised you'd do that," I said.

"You're letting me stay here with you. You're not asking me to justify the unjustifiable. I destroyed twenty years of your memories. I can't ever justify that. Of course I'd fuck him if you told me to. I belong to you and I'll do anything you tell me to do if you let me stay. Anything, except try to justify the unjustifiable. There's no forgiveness for some things."

"How many men have you fucked?" I asked.

"Two in my entire lifetime and I loved 'em both."

For some reason that statement annoyed me. It sounded almost virtuous or sanctimonious. If I made her fuck Barry she wouldn't be able to say that ever again. The idea intrigued me. How would I react to that and how would she react to me fucking one of my girlfriends, I wondered.

"Barry is a good friend of mine and he likes your body," I said. "Would you like to fuck him?"

"No but I'll do it if you tell me to," she said.

"Fix us a snack," I said. "I'm gonna take a walk and make a couple of phone calls."

I walked down to the beach and dialed a dependable girlfriend who always enjoyed my company. Margie was delighted by my invitation to dinner. She assumed I'd spend the night. Then I called Barry and asked him if he'd like to fuck Mary tonight. He was equally delighted.

When I got back to the condo Mary had fixed a couple of sandwiches and lemonade and I spoke casually as we ate.

"I just called Margie Harris. I'm gonna take her to dinner and spend the night at her place," I said.

Mary didn't react at all. She sat as though frozen in place.

"You've met Margie," I said. "She's the brunet with the oversized tits."

"I've met her," she said dully.

"I didn't want you to be lonely," I said. "So I invited Barry Hunter over to keep you company."

"You didn't need to do that," she said. "I'll be okay."

"I told him he could fuck you."

Mary just sat there like a statue, silently staring out at the ocean.

"Is that okay?" I asked.

"It's okay," she mumbled softly.

"Are you gonna fuck him?" I asked forcefully.

She turned and looked at me and I could see pain in her eyes. For some reason I got a sudden thrill out of seeing her suffer.

She nodded her head yes.

"I wanna hear you SAY it Mary," I said.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly then looked down at the patio floor.

Then she looked up and made eye contact and said, "I'll fuck him! And I'll be a damn good fuck!"

"He'll be here at seven," I said. "I'm gonna go over to Margie's condo and get an early start on a big evening."

I got up and left. Margie was glad to see me and I got a quick piece of ass before we went out to dinner. We had dinner and a few drinks and then went back to her condo and fucked. It was the first pussy I'd had since I started fuckin Mary and it was good but not spectacular. Mary was always spectacular. I fucked her again the next morning and then headed back home walking. That's the great thing about Watercolor. You can walk everywhere.

Along the way I saw Barry Hunter returning to his place. I waved and joined him.

"How was the pussy?" I asked.

"She was great," he said. "Even better than I expected."

"Did Mary enjoy it?"

"I gave the bitch three orgasms," he said chuckling. "The third one about a half hour ago. And when she was about to cum she really pumped her ass."

"Good," I said. "See you at the party tonight."

When I got home Mary was in the bathtub. She almost never did that but now I realized she wanted her pussy clean. I poured a cup of coffee and asked her to join me on the patio. She came out wearing the standard Watercolor uniform: shorts and T-shirt.

She looked at me apprehensively as she sat down. She seemed uncertain about what she should say.

I waited for her to speak first. I was very interested in her response to this experience. She sat silently but finally she asked a question and looked at me as though she were afraid of the answer she might get.

"Did Margie do anything that I need to learn?"

"No," I replied. "As I walked back here I said to myself that Margie was good pussy but not spectacular. You, on the other hand, are always spectacular."

She brightened a bit at that.

"Did you enjoy fucking Barry?" I asked.

"No," she said simply.

"I saw him on my way back here. He said he gave you three orgasms − the third less than an hour ago. Is that true or did you fake them?"

She closed her eyes and dropped her head as if ashamed.

Very softly she said, "I didn't fake them, but I didn't like fucking him. I was just laying there and letting him pound me."

"Oh? Barry said you pumped your ass like a whore. Did you?"

She hesitated and finally said, "Well, I tried to just lay there but when he got me close I felt myself start to pump my ass. I couldn't help doing that. It just happened and I didn't like it."

"So with a man you didn't love you were pumping your ass like a whore?" I asked.

"Only when he got me real close," she said, still staring at the floor.

"I'd like to see that. Maybe I'll ask Barry to come over and I'll sit in that chair by the bed and watch him fuck you."

She looked at me in desperation and sobbed, "Please don't. I don't want you to see me that way."

"Why not," I asked with a chuckle, "You keep telling me you're a whore. It might be fun to sit there and watch you pump your ass as you turn into one."

She sat staring at the floor, as though ashamed of herself for having orgasms with a man she had no feeling for. Finally she spoke again, very softly.

"David, he's not like you. I love ... I mean fucking you is a very loving experience for me. No other man can give me what you give me."

That wasn't true I thought. There WAS another man who had felt her pump her ass. But he was dead now.

"I think I'll watch him fuck you next time. I'd like to watch you pump your ass. I've felt it but never seen it. That might be fun to watch."

I stood up and took her hand and led her into the bedroom. We undressed wordlessly and made love. She was trembling with love for me and I realized that she had been very jealous of Margie.

Afterwards as we lay there resting, I thought about my reaction and discovered that I had absolutely no jealously whatsoever about her fucking Barry. Well that meant that I was NOT falling in love with her again. Yeah, I can be sure of that. I just wanted to fuck her. What the hell was happening to me? I needed help.

"I've got some business to take care of back home," I said after we got dressed and sat on the patio. "I'll be gone several days."

She nodded. "Say hello to our son and find out how he is. But, please, don't tell anyone you saw me."

I called the good Doctor and made an appointment for a counseling session and then set up my travel home. I really did have some business to take care of and I wanted to see my son, but mainly I needed to talk with someone who could help me.




A Long Time Ago Ch. 03



I walked into the Doctor's office and she shook my hand.

"How are things at Watercolor?" She asked.

"Very interesting. That's what I want to talk to you about. But first, I understand that Mary has finished her therapy."

"I hope she has. She's still a mess but maybe she's ready to face life without you."

"I have a story to tell you," I said. "And I want you to help me decide what to do."

I told her the way I met Mary and exactly how I came to live with her. I talked about her weight loss. When I finished I asked the question.

"So what should I do?"

The good Doctor smiled and shook her head. "I have never seen a person like Mary in all my days of practice. You David were exactly like a dozen other cuckolded husbands. You finally dumped the whoring wife. Now all of a sudden you want her back in your bed."

"Mary obviously still loves you," she continued, "even though she convinced me she didn't. And she's using the only weapon she has to be with you. Sex! And you're buying into it! Just like a man! Answer some questions and let me think a bit."

"First question: Are you happy with this arrangement?"

"Bottom line is yes, but I'd like to know what's in her head," I answered.

"Forget that for the moment. Second question: Can you go on like this?"

"I think so. I am happier now than I have been in a long time," I said.

"Third question: Can you forget ... no cancel that. Can you go on without asking her any questions about your past together?"

"I hope so," I said. "I can get along for a while. I don't know how long."

"Fourth question: "Were you jealous when she slept with your buddy?"

"No I was not. But she was very jealous of my friend Margie. She asked me if Margie did anything that she needed to learn."

"Fifth question: Have you used the belt on her butt?"

"No. She hasn't given me any reason to and I'm not sure I could whip her if she did."

"Of course I can't give professional advice to use that on Mary. I have counseled several couples on breaking that habit."

"Habit?" I asked.

"Yes. It can become a habit because some couples derive sexual satisfaction from it. Hubby gets aroused spanking or whipping his wife and she already feels guilty about one thing or another so she feels she deserves it. Wife gets aroused and they have very pleasurable sex afterward."

"Sound's strange to me," I said.

"It is. And my job it to counsel them in ways that allow them to break the habit. I suspect that down deep Mary wants you to whip her. She probably thinks she deserves it and she hopes you'll feel better after you hurt her."

"Well Dave you've asked for my advice and here it is," she said.

"What's in her head is love for you and the only thing she's got going for her is sex. You can safely keep up this relationship as long as you don't find yourself falling back in love with her. If that starts to happen you get the hell away from her fast because all the old problems you had before will return. Let her enjoy being with you and giving you all the sex you need. But never talk about the old times."

I thanked her for her advice. The more I thought about it the more I felt it was the right approach. Could I use the belt on her ass, I asked myself? Maybe I'd try it once but if it brought back old thoughts of revenge I'd better not do it again.

When I got back she threw herself into my arms like I'd been gone for months, not just a few days. Her body trembled as I held her. It's good to have someone love you like that when you don't love them back. I cared for her, of course, but what I felt was not love. And I could always test myself to see if I got jealous using Barry Hunter.

It was a couple of days later that I found an excuse to use the strap. Late one afternoon she began to ask me about what Margie did for me when I fucked her. Her jealousy was obvious.

"That's enough about Margie!" I said harshly. "Get naked! Get the strap! On your belly in bed!"

Shit! Would I be able to do this?

She stripped rapidly and I watched her tits bounce as she ran to get the thick leather belt from it's hanging place on the wall. She ran back and handed it to me and then lay on her belly in bed, her arms stretched out and clutching the bedspread tightly. 

I looked down at that beautiful ass that seemed to be almost quivering in anticipation. How hard do I hit her I asked myself? Hard! Hard enough to leave black and blue marks. I doubled the belt then I lifted my arm high in the air and aiming at that lovely butt I brought the belt down as hard as I could.

That leather made a loud sound as it struck naked flesh. Thwack!

She cried out involuntarily. 

"Bite the bed covers bitch," I yelled at her. "I don't want to here that sound again!"

She did as I commanded her and I hit her a second time right over the bright red slash across her butt. This time there was no scream but a gurgling sound, as the bed covers muffled her scream.

Her hands gripped the bed covers frantically and every muscle in her body was tightened. Her body began to tremble. A very strange feeling swept over me. Suddenly I realized it was sexual arousal. Reaching down with my free hand I felt a throbbing erection. Jesus!

I hit her several more times with powerful strokes until I could see a pattern of red stripes across her ass.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Suddenly without thinking, I threw the belt on the floor, stripped myself, rolled her over, crawled between her legs, and plunged my throbbing erection into an already dripping wet pussy.

As I slipped inside her my last thought before starting to pound that pussy was that I needed to ask the good Doctor what all of this meant. It was only later, when I started to think about my erection and her wet pussy, that I came to the conclusion that we had both been aroused by what I had done to her. Maybe the good Doctor was right. Maybe Mary wanted to be punished.

We lay in bed exhausted from lovemaking and she cuddled in my arms lovingly. 

"I won't mention Margie ever again," she whispered softly.

"Good," I whispered back. "She's a friend. I'll be fucking her from time to time. I want you to get to be her friend too."

I felt her body stiffen but she said not a word. Jealousy! What the hell, I thought. This bitch will fuck better if she's jealous and that's why she's here. She's here to fuck! Like the good Doctor said, sex was the only weapon she has to keep me. She was gonna try to be a good fuck. And I was gonna enjoy it.

The next day her ass was covered with black and blue stripes and it was sore as hell. I decided this was a good time to fuck her missionary. I told her I was gonna go over and fuck Margie that night and she took it like a trooper − as though it didn't bother her, although I knew how much it did. And I was glad. Actually Mary was much better pussy than Margie but tormenting her gave me pleasure.

A month or so layer after I had thought through my situation very carefully I decided it was time for a long serious talk with Mary. I took her to bed late in the afternoon and fucked her. Then as we lay together in the red light from the setting sun I began.

"I've given a lot of thought to you living here with me," I said.

I felt her stiffen as she lay in my arms as though she were expecting bad news.

"We need some ground rules in our relationship," I said. "Some things I expect you to do and one thing I'll never do."

"I'll do anything you tell me to do to stay with you except try to explain the past," she said, quietly.

"I understand that," I said. "I'll never talk about the past. I don't want any of our friends here to know we were once married. As far as they are concerned you are just a whore paying your rent with pussy. Okay?"

"Okay," she said softly.

"To remind myself that you are a whore, from time to time I want to watch you pump your ass to cum with Barry. You'll do that?"

We'd had this discussion before and she simply nodded her head. She'd hate it but she'd do it.

"Now about Margie," I said. "I been fucking her since I got here and I'm gonna keep doing it from time to time. She's my friend and she needs it. I want you to make friends with her. Invite her over here tomorrow night. I'll fuck her in this bed with you by my side. Then I'll fuck you. Okay?"

I could literally feel the jealousy oozing out of her as she said, "Okay."

"Now from time to time I might fuck another bitch or tell you to fuck a buddy of mine just as any whore would do. Is that okay?"

I felt her head against my chest nod yes.

"Now the good Doctor tells me that you are in love with me. Is that true?"

There was a long pause until she said very softly, "Yes that's true."

"Never say that in front of our friends," I said. "But if you want to tell me in private that's okay."

She exploded out of my arms crying and saying, "I love you" over and over. Then she began kissing me on the lips and all over my face.

"I'm gonna let you stay here Mary as long as you play by the rules. You know that I don't love you any more don't you?" I said.

She nodded. Her crying had stopped and she was obviously going to work with me. This was the best pussy I had ever had and she believed that the only way she could keep me was with sex. I was gonna have my fun, I thought. But that fun would never bring back twenty years of memories that had been the most precious things in my life.

On the other hand I have begun to enjoy her company these past months and I am no longer alone. I think it's fair to say that she's made me happy. I'm not sure exactly where this is going but I'm gonna keep her.

Who knows what might happen? I remembered, almost chuckling out loud, that night when a blond bitch in a red devil outfit helped a drunk home and then fucked his brains out. We might even start making some new memories to replace the ones that are gone forever. She's special and she has my deep affection but I'll never risk loving her again.

THE END ... OR MAYBE ... THE BEGINNING