47 comments/ 20892 views/ 17 favorites For The Greater Good By: imhapless Beginning at an early age I heard the old adage that "life is strange." It wasn't until I was thirty two years old before I gave it any more thought than any other adage, such as "a bulldog can whip a skunk but it's not worth it," and "a clear conscience is the sign of a bad memory." Maybe I should have. A little background is necessary before I tie the old adage to my life. ************** I'm Kurt Bronson. I had a typical suburban America childhood, the oldest son of a fireman and a teacher. I had a younger brother, Tom, and an older sister, Jill. We had a strong family unit, we all got along, we did all of the things that normal families do, and we had better relationships with each other than most of my friends and acquaintances did with theirs. I was especially close to Tom and Jill – we always had each other's backs throughout school, and even afterward. Tom got married to his High School sweetheart Melinda when he was twenty and I was best man and Jill a bridesmaid. Unfortunately my father died a painful death from a rare form of cancer called HDGC before Jill got married so I gave her away when she married Bill, and Tom was a groomsman and his wife Melinda a bridesmaid. After Jill's wedding Mom regularly asked when I was going to meet the right woman. I wasn't any smarter than my siblings, but luckier (and the sport I was good in had more money), so I got more education. I got a football scholarship to one of the best universities in the Midwestern part of the U. S. I was a six feet three inch, 245 pound tight end. The college was more famous for its journalism, business (both undergraduate and graduate), biomedical engineering, and medical schools, than it was for football, so I started my freshman year. I still fantasize that I would have made it in the NFL were it not for the knee injury my sophomore year that ended my playing days. It ended up working out fine, for me, however, since I still had my scholarship and enough free time so that I did well enough in my business major to get admitted to the graduate business school. I probably had an average social life, with a couple of reasonably long romantic relationships once I was no longer playing football, but I didn't meet the "right" woman. That is until my last year of graduate school. Ashley Bronson – yeah, the same last name as mine when I met her, though no relation – maybe that should have clued me into "life is strange" – was getting her PhD in biomedical engineering. When I first ran into her – literally, sprawling her books and laptop but fortunately not harming either – I thought that she was the most intriguing looking woman I had ever seen in my life. When instead of getting pissed at me she made me buy her a coffee to apologize I was shocked to say the least. During perhaps the most bizarre first twenty minute conversation I had ever had with anyone in my life, while we sipped lattes, I was shocked even more that she didn't have a steady boyfriend. She had an exotic face, a smoking hot body, and a regal bearing, but was as witty as any woman I had ever met in my life. It was also clear that she was smarter than anyone else I had ever met before. Her vocabulary almost required her listener to have a dictionary at the ready, I didn't understand more than five words of the roughly thirty word description of her PhD thesis topic in biomedical engineering, and she knew more about Keynesian economics than I did even though I was a graduate business student. I asked her out on a date. She wrote from memory the next five four hour windows she would have available (none of them, like a Friday night, conventional) and asked me to pick one. I picked the one from 10:35 p. m. next Wednesday until 2:35 a. m. Thursday. She held out her hand for me to kiss, gave me her address, and smiled broadly as she sashayed away conspicuously wiggling her consummate ass. I spent the majority of my waking hours in the four days before our date researching Ashley, doing enough schoolwork just to keep my head above water. Some of the "milder" comments I got from guys – and gals – who her knew Ashley were: "she's hot as hell but flakier than strudel pastry;" "she's so smart that she's on planet Venus, not earth;" and my favorite, "some people are born weird, some achieve it, others have weirdness thrust upon them; Ashley embraces all three!" From a graduate assistant in the biomedical engineering department I confirmed that not only was Ashley legitimately a genius, but that she won an Intel Innovation Medal as a fifteen year old senior in High School, got full academic scholarships all through college, was the highest performing student every year at the universities that she got her B. S. and M. S. degrees from, and was now the star of the PhD program. She was already being recruited by every major biomedical engineering company and research facility in the country. Even though I thought that she was older than me because she was near completion of her PhD and was so worldly and elegant, because of her meteoric rise through educational institutions she was actually a year younger than I was. Nothing I heard discouraged me from our date. When I showed up at her apartment at 10:31 she said "You're four minutes early; have a seat while I make a little more headway with the very difficult calculation that I'm into." I had never heard of someone being "into" a calculation before; but then again I'm not a biomedical engineer. I intently watched as her pencil flew on a page of an engineering notebook with a thick textbook open in front of her. At exactly 10:34 she threw her pencil down and said "No luck," but with a smile on her face. Then she ran into her bedroom and when she came out a minute later – almost exactly 10:35 – she had exchanged her jeans, tank top, and sandals for a slinky dress and four inch heels, and her hair went from a bun to loose – and almost styled – hanging down to her shoulders. "Let's go dancing," she chimed with an enormous grin. There was only one problem dancing with Ashley; all eyes were upon her. At least half a dozen guys tried to cut in, especially during the slow dances, but she shot them all down (I think that my penetrating stare precluded any arguments) and glommed onto me. She moved like a cat and looked like a work of art – a vision of Aphrodite to be exact. She was a cheap date – she drank only club soda, no booze. About one a. m. she asked "Do you have a roommate?" "No," I chuckled, "why?" She ran her forefinger over my chest and said "Don't you have any etchings that you want to show me?" While funny and playful on our way to my abode when we got inside she was all business. It was only minutes before I was naked on my back in my bed and she was waving her big beautiful honkers in my face while stroking my flagpole with her hand. When she mounted me it was with feverish purposefulness. Her snug pussy squeezed my cock as she bucked up and down and swore as I manipulated her soft boobs and hard and proud nipples. It was the best first fuck I ever had with any woman in my life. However, the first fuck paled by comparison to the second fuck, which was with me sitting on the edge of the mattress and she facing me with her sculptured thighs wrapped around my torso. At 2:20 she lifted her head off of my shoulder as I lay with the most contented feeling of my life and said "I need to be home in fifteen minutes. Escort me, stud!" I complied, got a big kiss when I delivered her to her apartment at 2:34, and she gave me her next three four hour openings to choose from. I chose Sunday morning, 7:20 – 11:20. When I awoke Thursday morning I immediately noticed two texts from Ashley. The first one, sent at 2:40 a. m. said "I had a great time stud – you may actually be relationship material." That made me smile because I was thinking the same thing myself. The next, sent at 3:51 a. m., said "You so cleared my mind that I finished the most difficult calculation of my life in less than an hour after you dropped me off. Thanks," followed by a winking and smiling emoji. The Sunday date could not have been more different than the Wednesday one. We ate breakfast at IHOP, bicycled through a park, skipped stones at a pond, joined an impromptu volleyball game, went to an art exhibit as soon as it opened, and seriously discussed that anatomical and psychological aspects of the correct blocking and tackling techniques in football. At 11:10 we sat on a bench near her apartment. She exhibited her characteristic candor in our short but very sweet conversation. "I'm starting to seriously write my thesis, Kurt. I have no time for dating or pretense, but I need intimate human companionship. Are you interested in a relationship that could go on for at least a year, maybe forever?" "Will it include sex like our first date culminated in?" was my toothy reply. With only a hint of a smile she responded "It should be much better than that – we were just getting used to each other." "Where do I sign up?" I retorted. "A verbal commitment is all that is necessary. I have to warn you, though; I keep unusual hours and sometimes have pressing needs, so you'll have to be flexible to accommodate me." "As long as you're flexible when I'm accommodating you," I laughed, "that won't be a problem." "I'm also weird, you know – can you take weird?" "Since you're witty, smart, sexy, vivacious, and beautiful, I can take weird," I chuckled. Ashley got a big smile on her face, gave me a kiss that touched my soul, then skipped away with the proclamation "I'll email you all the dates the next month when I'm available for recreation, meals, or fucking, although you'll have to expect some spur-of-the-moment visits too." And so my relationship with Ashley Bronson started in earnest. ************* The next year was a whirlwind. While there were, in fact, a large number of planned communications and activities with Ashley, the spontaneous ones seemed to define our relationship more than the prearranged ones. Typical would be a call at 10 o'clock on a weeknight. "I've got writer's block on the transition portion of my thesis between the data and conclusions. Come clear my mind." I'd show up at her apartment twenty minutes later and fill her snug pussy with cum as I fucked her doggy style, or while I sucked and massaged her fabulous boobs. After an intense hour of intimate contact I'd go back to my place a truly happy and fulfilled man, and Ashley would go back to her laptop. In fact Ashley was right when she made her "relationship proposal;" when we got used to each other the sex went from "best ever" to "other-worldly." One odd thing, though, that I noticed but never focused upon. The only time that she wanted to (or would allow) doggy was when I got one of her "emergency" calls; otherwise she always wanted only face-to-face positions. "We're making love more than fucking, dude," was her only comment about it. Our relationship wasn't solely defined by sex, however. We had numerous intellectual discussions, went to cultural and sporting events, had just plain silly time together, and did everything together than a couple could aspire to. I was completely in love with her after the first month of our relationship and my feelings only deepened. Fortunately I had gotten my MBA before her thesis and dissertation were due so that I had significant free time to cater to her. I made a big hit when I read every word of her second draft of her thesis, corrected a half dozen grammatical errors, and actually – by pure luck – found an error in one of her equations. She had used the Greek letter lambda where a rho should have been. Her look of surprise turned into a sly grin. "I didn't know that you were an expert on boundary layer problems," she snickered. "Let's see what the boundary layer between my mouth and your cock feels like," see continued before pulling down my zipper and giving me the most powerful blowjob of my life. My major contributions to her PhD were two-fold, however. The first contribution was that I told her that she needed to patent a piece of equipment that she designed to take advantage of the conclusions that she came to. Since we didn't have any real disposable income at the time, I used the negotiating skills that would later serve me well in business to get a local patent attorney to handle the case pro bono with the promise of the future business of Ashley, the genius biomedical engineer. The patent was obtained easily, and eventually led to a significant royalty stream. The second contribution was to fuck the shit out of her doggy style before her final completion of her thesis and just before her oral presentation to defend her thesis. The oral presentation was supposed to take two hours. It took three and one-half, and the faculty universally regarded it as the best dissertation defense that any of them had ever experienced or heard of. The night after her oral presentation she got me up twice as many times in an eight hour period than I had ever experienced before, and the next morning suggested that we move in together. Ashley and I were married three months after she got her PhD. It was a simple civil ceremony with only our immediate families attending. Since we already had the same last name there was no reason to have what could have been an unpleasant discussion about any name-change as a result of the marriage. My family loved Ashley, especially my sister Jill who treated her like a sister, and Ashley was equally fond of both my blood relatives and Jill' and Tom's spouses. Ashley took one of the dozens of jobs she was offered in the same city where I got my best job offer, and it wasn't long before we were pulling in some significant cash – especially from royalties for her seemingly continuous stream of patented inventions. It seemed like every time that we had a marathon fuck session she came up with a new one. ********** A significant dark cloud appeared in our happy existence when Tom was diagnosed with HDGC, the same cancer that my father died from. Ashley immediately found out everything possible about HDGC, researching it for twenty hours straight. She insisted that Jill and I be promptly tested to see if we had genetic markers that might indicate pre-disposition to HDGC since there was a hereditary component to it. Jill and I immediately did get tested, and fortunately neither of us had those markers. Ashley was far from done, however. In less than a week she had identified an existing organization [acronym "RCA"] that was doing research for a related cancer, had arranged funding for that organization to switch gears to research a cure or treatment for HDGC, and had taken a leave of absence from her job to join that organization to lend her expertise, intelligence, and passion. My whole family was amazed at Ashley's take charge attitude, and the fact that part of the funding RCA received was from her patent royalties. RCA had a staff that – with the addition of Ashley – seemed capable of success. Since HDGC is more or less an "orphan" disease there had never been a truly top notch effort aimed at curing it before, but now with Ashley's lead they had a chance. The other employees of RCA were the director, Dr. John Paxton, a man in his late 50s who had an MD and a PhD in "Cancer Immunology" (I had never heard of that science before) and was renowned as an expert manager; Dr. Hwa Lee, a Korean-American woman in her late 40s whose PhD was is some form of pharmaceutical science that I couldn't pronounce; Dr. Chad Beltran, a guy about my size in his early 40s who had an MD and a Master's in biochemistry; four technicians all of whom had at least B S degrees, and two who had Master's degrees, in some sort of biological or chemistry-related science; and of course Ashley. There was one major drawback to RCA. It was located 150 miles from where Ashley and I lived, and I was at a point in my career where if I moved it would be disastrous. If there was any way that I could have actually helped the research at RCA I would have, but I didn't have any expertise. However, I was tireless in my non-work hours in attempting to raise money for the research. I didn't like living apart from Ashley; it was the joy of my life to be with her, and having her two and a half hours away by car, while she worked twelve hours a day, was painful. While Ashley and I talked on the phone every night for a half hour, and while I went to visit her at the apartment she rented just a mile from RCA from Friday night to Sunday night, it was really hard on us. Friday night she was wiped out, although she greatly enjoyed me servicing her orally and a straight missionary love-making session. Saturday she worked from about 7 a. m. until about 2 p. m., and Sunday evening she went into work as soon as I left for our house. Although it was painful to be away from Ashley there was no doubt that RCA was making progress, and my entire close family was so buoyed by the effort that Tom was not deteriorating as quickly as my father had. Of course this was especially good news since Tom and Melinda had two young children at the time that he was diagnosed. In fact, after just a month RCA came up with a drug that it was certain would delay the disease for months. Of course the drug was not approved by the FDA and I had to smuggle it from RCA to Tom to take it on the "QT." Ashley assured me that it would have no significant side effects and Tom was anxious to use it. *************** Then came the phone calls that put me in the worst dilemma of my life and demonstrated clearly to me that "life is strange." On a Tuesday night Ashley told me about how they had hit a serious road block; and then the next night told me that they had a Eureka moment and got past it. When I enthusiastically inquired as to how they had gotten past it she gave a bullshit answer, changed the subject, and then during the rest of the conversation she sounded different. After I hung up I started to think back on her PhD days when she'd call me for an intense doggy fuck to get past some mental block, and an uneasy feeling came over me. I tried to put it out of my mind, but couldn't. When I saw her that weekend she seemed to be "trying" too hard to act normal, although there was no doubt that she was completely into our love-making. When the next Wednesday night she told me again about another impediment that was holding up their research, I became pro-active. Early the next morning I left for RCA's office, with a well-thought out ruse for why I would be showing up. I got there about 10 a. m. I asked for Ashley at the reception desk – it was a secure facility in view of the materials that they worked with – but Ashley didn't come out to greet me, the director, Dr. Paxton, did. I had socialized with all of the researchers at one point or another during my weekend trips over the previous three months, and knew Dr. Paxton well enough to call him "John." One thing that I had recognized about him soon after I met him was that he was very honest, and devoid of subtlety. "Uh, how nice to see you Kurt," was his awkward greeting. "What do we owe the honor of your presence to?" "I had a meeting with an important customer in your neck of the woods that came up suddenly, so I thought that I'd stop by to say hello to my charming wife. Where is Ashley?" "Uh, well, uh, you see," he started out. John is an extremely intelligent and articulate guy – his unease and stumbling on his words confirmed in my mind what I had been thinking. "Uh, well she's not here right now," he concluded as sweat beaded on his forehead. "Really, John? Then why is her car in the parking lot? Let's talk in your office, John." He reluctantly led me to his office. I could see the lab from his office and Dr. Lee and the four technicians were busy at work, and I could see from his normal lab station that he had been too before I showed up. For The Greater Good "Look, John," I got right to the point. "I have suspicions about how Ashley is overcoming the mental impediments she's experiencing during her research, and now I notice that she and Chad Beltran are not in the lab yet both of their cars are in the parking lot. What gives?" John could tell that I was agitated. He spoke hesitantly, without making eye contact. "Kurt, you can't do anything to hurt our research. We're so close, and we need Ashley at her best to get over the peak. You know that she loves you completely and Chad is crazy about his wife – but Ashley has this idiosyncrasy..." I interrupted. "Where are they?" I sternly inquired. John looked defeated. "You have to promise me that you won't do anything rash – that you'll wait until we've found the cure or permanent treatment – your brother's life, as well as the lives of hundreds of other people in our country with the same condition, depend upon it." A sudden calm came over me when I thought about Tom, Melinda, and my young niece and nephew. "John, I will not be doing anything rash. Where are they?" John sighed. He reached into his desk and handed me a key. "They're in the napping room. If you're careful when opening the door you'll be able to see them behind the two way mirror, but they won't be able to notice your presence. PLEASE – your brother's life depends upon it – don't confront them or do anything rash!" I had seen the "napping room" once before. It had a couch and a twin bed in it that the researchers used for breaks from their long hours. I didn't have to go through the lab and alert the other employees to my presence to get to it. As I silently unlocked the door I heard the sounds that I expected. Looking through the two-way mirror I saw Chad Beltran doggy-fucking Ashley. I felt faint, then sick, as his cock vigorously stroked in and out of her glistening cunt. I silently closed the door, stopped off at the men's room and tossed my cookies, then returned the key to John. "How long has this been going on?" I asked John with a calm that belied the turmoil inside me. "I'm not entirely sure, but I think that this may be the third or fourth time. There have only been two or three times in the past that they have been gone together, each time when we had reached a plateau in research, and those times when they returned Ashley saw a solution within hours. I'm so sorry." "Keep my visit between you and me – and tell the receptionist not to say anything to anyone either," I said. As I walked out the door I turned and said "I promise not to screw up the research – I have no idea what I'll do after that." That night on the phone I asked Ashley about the problem that she had mentioned the night before. Not surprisingly she had solved it. She asked why I sounded distant. I told her that I thought that I was coming down with something. That weekend I feigned sickness because I couldn't face her yet. She expressed real concern and said that she'd visit me, but I told her we couldn't take the chance that she'd get ill. "The kids need Tom, Ashley; I can't have you getting sick." I'm sure that Ashley worked all weekend. On Monday morning an obviously sleep-deprived Ashley called and said that she thought that she had come up with a breakthrough, and that Dr. Lee and two of the technicians were implementing it right now and that John and Chad were visiting the local hospital for access to a patient there that had HDGC. Two hours later she called me back. "I just talked to Dr. Lee and then to John by phone. I'm certain that we've achieved not just a treatment but a cure. However, the local HDGC patient wants nothing to do with a trial. Can you bring Tom here?" "I'll call him right now," I said. "Thanks, Ashley – you're fantastic." Of course Tom was more than willing. Despite the drug that he was taking "off-the-books," in the last few days he felt himself getting worse. I drove him to RCA, he signed some forms, and Ashley and John had him hooked up to an IV dispensing an experimental drug, and to a pulse generator that Ashley had designed, within an hour of his arrival. I could see Chad making his way toward me to say "Hi," but I quickly ducked out. I didn't think that I could refrain from knocking his teeth out, which would not have been good for future developments. Ashley called me on my cell phone as I was driving back home. "Kurt, I was so disappointed that you left. I was hoping that you would stay a few days while we treated Tom." "Sorry, Hon, but I have a meeting I can't miss this afternoon. When will Tom be done?" "In three days we'll take him back home and continue treatments there. I'll give you a progress report tomorrow, but I hope that I can move back as soon as Tom goes home. I've really missed you, Kurt!" "I've missed you too Ashley. Let's hope that it works out." ********* I picked Tom up and moved him back three days later. Ashley started closing up her apartment that day, and will be coming home tomorrow, three days after Tom got back. According to her, especially given how Tom has responded to treatment, RCA expects to have all details for the new HDGC cure worked out within the next two months, and there is no reason for Ashley to stay and work at RCA. She and Tom can videoconference with Dr. Paxton every day, and she can simultaneously work on optimizing the pulse generator aspect of the cure that she developed to work along with the medicine administered via IV every few hours. I can tell that Tom is much, much better. In fact, he even thinks that he's well and wanted to play me in tennis this morning. Ashley and Dr. Paxton put the kibosh on that, big time. "Tom, I have every expectation that you'll be normal..." "You mean as normal as he's ever been," I interjected to laughter all around. "Yes; as normal as you've ever been within a month, six weeks at the most. But don't do anything stupid to set back your progress," Paxton seriously warned. "Can I at least play Kurt in chess?" Tom asked with a twinkle in his eye. "As long as the pieces aren't life-size," Paxton chortled in reply. ************ After the videoconferencing session with Ashley and Paxton, Ashley called me on my cell phone. "Hon; there's something that we need to talk about as soon as I get home. I probably should have talked about it with you sooner, but I was so focused on a cure that I put it off. I love you so much, though, and we need to talk about it right away so that it doesn't affect our future together." Of course I knew what it was about. I played dumb, however, because I was still playing ping-pong in my mind. "Whatever you want to do if fine with me; I just need you back as soon as possible," I replied, hopefully without any trace of my inner turmoil in my voice. Now it's fish or cut bait time. I knew what Ashley was like when she was getting her PhD; what led me to believe that things would be different now when she was laser-focused on developing a cure for my brother – to save him for his family and not leave Melinda a widow and my niece and nephew without a father. When Ashley was putting everything on the line I should have said "to Hell" with my career and joined her. There is no way she would have cheated if I was around to help her fill her idiosyncratic need. However, cheating is still cheating, and it is so hard for me to get past it. I know that she didn't love Chad – hell the fact that given her views on things that they were doggy fucking instead of being face-to-face made that clear – that she was just using him. But that is little solace to my guts being ripped out. I can't imagine life without Ashley – but how can I get past her cheating? It probably will never happen again, but will I always have doubts? I know that I have to at least have a plan of what to do when she admits her cheating tomorrow – however, right now I can only wonder what it might be! Yeah, life is strange; and right now, it sucks! ****************** Don't like my ending? Make your own! For The Greater Good - Redux Upon reading the comments on imhapless' story "For The Greater Good" I started to believe that many were written by whiny petulant little girls. Then I realized that my thoughts were insulting to the whiny petulant little girls of the world. Since no male took up imhapless' challenge to write another ending to the story, I decided to, even though I was quite happy with the original ending. I have enough imagination to provide my own satisfactory ending to the story, and to help out those commenters that are worse that whiny petulant little girls, I decided to publish it. *************** In summary, in For The Greater Good, Kurt Bronson fell in love with genius PhD candidate Ashley Bronson (no relation). After a year of hot love-making during which Kurt got his MBA and Ashley her PhD in biomedical engineering, they married in a simple civil ceremony. Ashley was particularly appreciative of Kurt's help when she reached mental blocks in researching, or writing the thesis for, her PhD, since Kurt would go to her apartment upon a moment's notice in the middle of the night to fuck her doggy style to get her past her mental block. The only time that she sought, or even agreed to, doggy fucking was at these times; normally she wanted face-to-face sex with Kurt to express their love. Ashley was quickly integrated into Kurt's family and loved Kurt's brother Tom (and his wife Melinda and two small kids) and Kurt's sister Jill and her family. Tragically, Tom developed HDGC, the rare form of cancer that had killed Kurt's father. Ashley immediately became pro-active, redirected an existing organization (RCA) to start HDGC research, and devoted her genius expertise to coming up with a cure. Unfortunately the research facility was 150 miles from Kurt and Ashley's home so they were apart except for weekends since Kurt was unwilling to jeopardize his career to move to be with Ashley. While Ashley and her co-researchers developed a cure that saved Tom's life, during the research a few times when she reached mental blocks and Kurt was not there to help her out, Chad Beltran, an MD co-researcher, fucked her doggy style. Kurt witnessed one instance although he did nothing about it at the time since he knew that precipitous action could sabotage the research team, and jeopardize their ability to come up with the cure that ultimately saved Tom's life. Ashley told Kurt on the phone, the day before she was to return home and Tom was well on his way to being cured, that there was something that she needed to talk to him about to assure their happy future, and as imhapless' story ends, Kurt is contemplating what he should do when Ashley returns tomorrow while he is preoccupied with how strange life is. Now the Redux! **************** It was likely only an hour before Ashley would be back home, undoubtedly with her car loaded with her possessions that made her apartment living over the last four months bearable. Despite the tens, if not hundreds, of hours that I had spent agonizing over what to do, I still honestly did not have a clue. I didn't know how I could possible live without Ashley – not just the love of my life, but almost my reason for living – especially since I knew her idiosyncrasies before she left, I was too selfishly worried about my career to follow her, and she had saved Tom's life so that his kids would still have a father and his wife Melinda would not be a widow. On the other hand, how could I get the image of Chad vigorously stroking his cock into and out of her glistening snug pussy as they grunted or moaned in ecstasy, or forgive her for not finding some other way – including demanding that I make visits – to get over her research impediments. My non-decision was to act as normally as possible, see what Ashley had to say, and then make a decision. Instead of just admitting the truth, namely that I was kicking the can down the road, I convinced myself that I was just gathering more information in order to make a completely informed decision. "Hi sweetheart," Ashley said, beaming, as she exited her fully-loaded car in our driveway. "Hi Hon," I replied with a smile of my own, not entirely sincere but trying to be. As usual, Ashley looked good – really good. At 31 she could pass for 25 – a really buxom, beautiful twenty five year old that is. "How was the trip?" "Uneventful," Ashley replied as she came up to me and gave me a kiss. "I see that your car is fully loaded." "Yeah, John and Chad helped me load it this morning." The mention of Chad's name soured my mood and my smile disappeared. "Let's unload it," I tersely responded, hoping that my soured mood did not come through. "We can wait for that, can't we Kurt?" Ashley replied, lightly touching my arm. "You left so abruptly a few days ago, and I've really missed you. Can't we just cuddle for a while?" By the time she finished talking I was already unloading. "I'd like to get this out of the way," I barked with my back to her. Then she grabbed my left arm and forcefully said "Stop, Kurt. You may not want the car unloaded after we talk." I looked her in the eyes. There was a small tear in one of them. "Please, just put that suitcase back in and we'll talk," she sniffled. Then something unique in our relationship; she started to cry and ran into the house. "Now is when the shit hits the fan," I mumbled to myself as I slowly followed Ashley through the front door. I found her sitting at the kitchen table, her face buried in her hands. I sat next to her, making enough noise so that she knew that I was there. I just waited, though, and didn't say anything. However, I didn't cross my arms which would have been a sign to Ashley, who gave a lot of credence to body language, that I wasn't really going to listen to her. After a few minutes of quiet sobbing, Ashley snapped her head up. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I've had many emotions in the last few days including elation, depression, gain, loss, euphoria, guilt, and confusion. Let me clean up my face – I'll be right back and promise not to break down again." I nodded my head as she rose and tenderly squeezed my shoulder as she walked past me to the bathroom. I heard the water running. She returned a few minutes later with her face clean and sparkly, but her mood anything but that. "I sense that you might already know some of what I'm about to relate to you. I don't know how you would except for the fact that you've become an expert at reading me – just like I believe that I am with you. Your abrupt departure when you were last at RCA, and your supposed illness the last weekend that I was there really put my antenna up. Anyway, ask any question that you want to while I make the most painful confession of my life." Ashley sighed and started to speak when there was a clamor at the front door and Tom, Melinda, their six year old son Brett, and their five year old daughter Brittany, came bounding into the house. While I had probably not closed the main front door, only the screen door, they might have come bounding in without knocking anyway since our families were so close and were always welcome in each other's houses. "Ashley, Ashley," Brett and Brittany screamed at the top of their lungs as they brushed past me and clamored to see her. Brett literally threw himself onto her lap and put his strong little arms around her neck while Brittany grabbed one of her arms and started placing kisses all over it. The cacophony was deafening, especially when Melinda started sobbing and wrapped her arms around Ashley's shoulders. After what seemed like a long time Tom said – with a tear in his eye – "You three are going to smother Ashley. Let her breathe." Melinda let go and sat next to Ashley on the opposite side from me while holding her hand. Brittany had somehow managed to worm her way onto Ashley's lap alongside her brother once Brett released his grip on Ashley's neck. "You saved my Daddy – I want to be just like you when I grow up," Brittany's high-pitched little girl's voice rang out over the din. Obviously my talk with Ashley was going to have to wait. When my Mom, Jill and her husband Bill. and their two little kids, showed up a few minutes later, it was clear that this was going to be an Ashley love-fest, and there is no way in Hell that I would put a damper on it. We ordered pizzas and salads, the kids got to drink colas for the first time in a year since it was a very special day, and everyone laughed, giggled, grinned, or sighed with contentment at one time or another. The only looks I gave Ashley were loving looks, not tense ones, and she relaxed completely – that is as completely as was possible with four little kids vying for her undivided attention. When the last guest left, it was eleven o'clock; fortunately it was a Friday night so no one was working or going to school the next day. As we cleaned up the mess left by the human cyclones Ashley said "Kurt, despite the hour, I still think that it's best that we talk now. We can clean up tomorrow morning. "OK," I replied, although I really didn't want to. The "talk" started out predictably but didn't end that way. "Kurt," Ashley said, sighing, and only making fleeting eye contact, "I guess that I have to come right out and say it. I got so preoccupied with my work at RCA that I reverted back to my old PhD ways and needed a doggy fuck to get over mind blocks that occurred at four critical times. You weren't there and instead of making a desperate call to you I did what I shouldn't have – I asked someone else to do the honors." "Who?" I asked, even though I already knew, and with more edge to my voice than I wanted there to be. After a pause, she said "Chad." After a little sniffling while she looked at the floor she said "There was no love – it was just a physical act, a doggy fuck that did serve to clear my mind, just like in the old days." "Was it with a condom or bareback?" "Bareback," she said softly, again looking down, as I grimaced. I already knew that too, but hearing it somehow made it worse. "So because you got a sense of entitlement and needed to get your pussy reamed, you expect me to just forgive and forget?" I bellowed, even though I had intended to act more subdued. ""Unfortunately, that's not the end of it. I...I...This is really hard to say and still convince you that I truly love you," she sniffled, "but the euphoria caused by a strange cock – not because it was Chad's because any decent cock and fuck would likely have done it – I realized that I wanted to experience that some more. I...I...really would like an open marriage where we could both have a sexual, not romantic, but sexual, relationship with others if the situation was right." My head started spinning. I was not prepared for this – not in the least. I started stuttering, quickly stood up, and the next thing that I remember I was in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. I regained complete awareness in the Emergency Room, where the doctor told me that I had a concussion. "How did it happen?" I groggily asked. "According to your wife you stood up too quickly and then fell backwards and hit your head on the floor. Your 230 pounds," as an aside I lost fifteen pounds once my football days were over and kept it off by regular exercise, "hitting the floor didn't do your head much good. Now that you're awake I'll have your wife and mother, who is here too, come in to see you." The reason that I blacked out came rushing back to me. I grabbed the doctor's arm. "Can you just bring my mother in for now – please?" The doctor looked at me with a perplexed look; then she frowned; then she said "OK, I'll see what I can do." When my mother came in I was direct. "Mom, I want out of here. Can you take me to your house right now?" "But the doctor said that you have a concussion and it would be best if you stayed overnight. And what about Ashley?" I wanted to say "Fuck Ashley," but I didn't dare, especially in view of the Ashley love fest that had taken place at my house that night – although by now it was really the next morning, probably about 2 a. m. "Mom, please do as I ask. I don't want to answer questions, I want you to trust me; please, please, take me out now, otherwise I'll have to try and leave by myself by cab." It was clear that my mother didn't want to do what I was asking. She called the doctor back, and against the doctor's strenuous objections I signed discharge papers. Fortunately I still had my clothes on, and my wallet in my pocket. I flagged down a janitor who was cleaning up a mess in the Emergency Room, gave him $50 and asked him to tell the woman in the green dress who was pacing the floor in the waiting room – after confirming with my Mom that was Ashley's garb and activity – to please get her husband a soda from the cafeteria vending machines. He was only too happy to comply. "Why did you do that?" My Mom asked after I was sure that Ashley was no longer in the waiting room. "Mom – please – no questions tonight," I begged as she wheeled me out to the curb. I rose from the wheelchair, she steadied me, and we went to her car and drove off. My Mom respected my wishes that night, although I overheard her calling Ashley on her cell phone telling her where I was, for which I was grateful. I wasn't as grateful the next morning when I awoke, stumbled downstairs with a splitting headache, and found Ashley and my Mom sitting at the kitchen table. "I was so worried about you sweetheart," Ashley blurted out. "Then how about a pain pill?" I gruffly replied. My Mom hurried to get one and Ashley got me a glass of water. After I took it I asked my Mom to go outside – so that she couldn't eavesdrop – for a few minutes while I talked to Ashley. She reluctantly agreed. "Ashley, I need some time to think. Since your car is still loaded, or at least it was as of last night, why don't you find someplace else to stay for a few months." "W..w..why a few..ew..months?" she stammered. "It's a lot to digest. Either you leave, or I will, but I need time away from you to think." "Maybe you can just forget what I told you – I can get by without strange cock, I did for the eight years we've been married before the last six weeks..." she started to say. "Ashley," I loudly interrupted. "Either you find another place or I will. I'll be back at our house Monday morning and I would really appreciate it if you were gone by then." With that I laid my head on the table and started to sob. She got up, stroked my head, and then left. I had regained my composure before my Mom returned. The next few weeks were Hell for many reasons. Although I was basically clear-headed by Tuesday, my Mom got the word out quickly that Ashley and I were separated. Of course Ashley didn't tell her any details about what had precipitated the separation, instead mostly some bullshit about how I felt that we had grown apart while she was working at RCA. That meant that Tom, Mom, Jill, and even Jill's husband Bill, took it upon themselves to almost daily lobby me to get back together with Ashley. That, combined with Ashley's thrice weekly calls about how we needed to get back together, which I always answered the same way ["I need more time to deal with the situation"], left me with little peace. My family insisted that Ashley be invited to family get-togethers, and since I really wanted to see my family members, especially my nieces and nephews, I went knowing that Ashley would be there, and acted cordial, but distant, toward her. At one of such gatherings, I was outside playing catch with the kids when Melinda brought me a tall glass of lemonade. "There's some inside for you guys too," she yelled to the kids, "go ask your Dad/Uncle Tom." With that the kids went rushing inside, body-checking each other to see would could get their lemonade first. "Thanks, Melinda. That's so nice of you to serve me on this hot day." "With what you're going through, you need someone to be nice to you," she replied, stroking my arm. I looked at her strangely. Then I said what popped into my mind. "You're the only one in the family that doesn't bug me about getting back with Ashley. Why is that?" "I can tell that you're in pain, and it's not my business to tell you what you should do. I've always liked you, and you've always been great to me – I'm not about to suggest what you have to do. You need to work it out yourself, although I will tell you that I'm a good listener if you ever need a shoulder to cry on," she said with a smile, stroking my arm again. Her words stunned me. "What do you know?" I asked. "I haven't been told anything; but I have intuition and would be surprised if what I believe isn't correct. Come on back inside, and have a good time," she said with another smile. Then she rose on her tip toes and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand, and led me back inside. For the first time in my life I looked on Melinda as a woman – not just Tom's wife and Brett and Brittany's mother. "What a great woman," I thought as I followed her inside. There was one good thing about my otherwise fucked-up situation, a wife who had broken my heart and a family that seemingly had sided with her. I retreated to my work, and amped up my game there so much that I got a promotion to head of the largest department in the company a month after Ashley moved out. The constant lobbying by my family, and Ashley, was starting to get to me, however. Ashley also promised me time and again that she was "absolutely" not interested in an open marriage and was obviously just in a bad place when she had proposed one. Therefore, I broke down, and offered to go over to her rented condo to have a heart-to-heart talk with her. "I'll be there about noon on Sunday," I told her over the phone Saturday afternoon. "You don't know how happy that makes me," she chirped. As I was eating breakfast at my favorite coffee shop Sunday morning, my cheery waitress informed me "The cook made cinnamon buns today – are you interested?" Ashley and I had had breakfast together at that coffee shop many times, and whenever the cook made his special treat we gobbled them up. They were Ashley's favorite pastry, if not food. Even though it was only ten a. m. I decided to get some and bring them right out of the oven over to Ashley as a treat. My heart wasn't overburdened for the first time since my hospital stay as I pulled into the condo parking lot. I almost got into an accident, however, when I saw Chad walk out of Ashley's condo and get into his car and drive off. I threw the cinnamon buns against Ashley's front door, and left. I turned off my phone, drove out of town, went to a minor league baseball game, took a walk through a park, ate dinner, and when I got back to my house that night there was a note on my front door from Jill's husband Bill. "Tom has been in a car accident. Go to Memorial Hospital immediately." I couldn't fucking believe it when I got there. Mom, Melinda, Jill, Bill, and –fuck it – Ashley were crying in a surgery waiting room. "What's the prognosis?" I asked Bill after drawing him aside. "He's in surgery now, but his chances are slim," he dejectedly replied. I went up and hugged Melinda. We were joined in our hug by Jill and Mom, and I saw Ashley also trying to join in, but when she saw my stare she backed off. Just then the surgeon came in. He pulled Melinda aside. I knew what the news was by the look on his face. I stood behind Melinda and caught her as she collapsed. I couldn't help but initially take the situation personally as I drove my devastated mother and sister back to what had been Tom and Melinda's house, where a neighbor was with Brett and Brittany. "Tom's life had been saved from cancer at the expense of my marriage, and now he was dead anyway – what the fuck does the world have against me?" was my selfish self-pitying thought. For The Greater Good - Redux My selfish outlook changed dramatically as soon as we got inside and Melinda told the kids what happened. I was surprised that each of the kids, in turn, came running up to me, sobbing, and insisting that I comfort them. I slept in Brett's bed with him that night, while Melinda, Mom, and Brittany slept in Melinda and Tom's bed. I took charge of the situation the next day. I knew that I was the executor of Tom's estate, and got out his will and financial documents, and immediately made arrangements for the funeral. Even though I was new as the department head, I only went into work a few hours a day over the next week and got my assistant's up to speed on all issues, and made all necessary decisions on the spot. The quick decisions that I made turned out better than if I had agonized over them. I waited until a few days after the funeral – which was the most heartbreaking thing my family had ever experienced – before breaking the bad news to Melinda. I had reviewed all of Tom's finances and found that his illness, lack of work during most of it until Ashley's cure, the fact that Melinda didn't work outside the home, their high mortgage that they had undertaken before Tom was diagnosed with cancer, and only a small life insurance policy, had left her and the kids in bad financial straits. I had a solution in my mind, though, by the time that I talked to Melinda. As Melinda sat in her black dress in her living room, after Jill and Bill had taken Brett and Brittany and their cousins to the zoo, she was thin from lack of eating and had circles under her eyes from crying and sadness. She looked so vulnerable – yet more beautiful than ever, although I quickly purged my mind of that thought. "Melinda, you probably already know that your financial situation is not good," I started out, having determined that I needed to be frank with her. "I know. How bad is it?" I explained the situation to her in detail, showing her all assets, income, outstanding bills, and expected future expenses. My sad conclusion, "If you don't sell the house immediately and get out from the mortgage you'll end up having it foreclosed upon, and going bankrupt. Even with that, you'll have a terrible time making it financially." She started to sniffle again. "I have a solution, though, and I want you to carefully consider it. I have decided that I will be divorcing Ashley, as tough as that will be for the rest of the family. I'd rather not tell you why but will if you insist on knowing before you consider my offer." Melinda smiled. "I don't need to know unless you want to tell me. Remember, I'm a good listener." I smiled back, and then continued. "I have a big house that I've already almost paid off, it's in the same school district as your present house, and I want my niece and nephew to be able to get over their loss as quickly and easily as possible. Why don't you and the kids move in with me? You can take the large guest bedroom, Brittany can take the small one, I'll clean out what I am now using as a den for a bedroom for Brett, and I'll put a swing set and jungle gym in the back yard. How about it?" "I couldn't let you do that," she mumbled as she squeezed a hankie in her hand. "Why not? Isn't helping others in their time of need what families are for?" "I...I could get a job..." she started but I interrupted. "Right now, when the kids need you most, that would be a disaster. They need stability, and although I'm no substitute for Tom, I do love them and they know that!" "What would people say about a widow living with you, though?" "Who gives a shit? You and the kids know that it is out of love that I want to do this, not for sex." "Won't we cramp your style if you're divorcing Ashley and start dating again?" "No more than I'll cramp your once you start dating again. We can find a way to work it out." "Let me talk to Jill and Mom and think about it," Melinda said. Then she started crying, jumped into my arms, and said "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for being so kind!" It took a notice of possible foreclosure from the bank, the encouragement of Mom and Jill, and – once Brett and Brittany found out – constant pestering from them before Melinda agreed. The entire family – including Ashley, although I did not invite her – helped Melinda, Brett and Brittany move the Saturday after we sold her old house. I made sure that the kids' rooms were done up just like them wanted them, and that the swingset was up in the back yard before the move. I also made some changes to Melinda's room and the kitchen to accommodate some things that she wanted. Although Brett and Brittany, and especially Melinda, had some rough times getting over Tom's death, the child psychologist that I sent the kids to, and the adult one that I sent Melinda to, said that it was one of the easiest transitions that they had ever seen for people in their situation – where the father/husband that was lost was truly loved and revered. That made me feel as great as anything else in my life. Even though I eventually told Ashley that I had seen Chad exiting her condo – which she obviously had already figured out in view of the crushed cinnamon buns on her doorstep and the fact that I never showed to talk to her – she was still persistently trying to get back together, even after I filed for divorce. Mom, Jill, and Bill continued to plead her case to. The situation was dragging out especially after Ashley's attorney got the court to order what to me seemed like endless counselling. It was about seven months after Melinda and the kids had moved in with me, and nine months since Tom died, when on a Saturday night Brett and Brittany went for an overnight with their cousins at Jill's house and Melinda and I were planning on taking in a movie, when she sat me down on the couch before we left. "Kurt, I need to tell you something about Ashley," she said, quite demurely. "I really don't want to hear about Ashley," I kindly responded as I started to get up. "I think that you want to hear this – in fact I guarantee that you do," she replied, pulling me back onto the couch. "OK – what now?" "Ashley has begged me to seduce you. She thinks that if you have sex with someone else then you'll realize that an open marriage can work and you'll stop the divorce." "What!" was my intelligent reply. "I told her that there was no way that someone as charming and handsome as you would have any interest in sex with a tired widow who had two kids and was already in her 30s, but she begged me to give it a try." "What did she say to that?" I asked, now intrigued. "She said that she could tell by the way that you looked at me that you would already have seduced me yourself if I wasn't your brother's widow, and I told her how ridiculous that was." When she spoke the last sentence Melinda was suddenly nervous, and wringing her hands. She could never be a poker player – her hand wringing was a clear tell that I had picked up even long before Tom died. I sat just staring at Melinda for what seemed like a long time. At first she looked at the floor, but after a while her eyes lifted and met mine and she stared back, with a bemused smile on her face. Unexpectedly I had a moment of clarity and self-awareness. Ever since she brought me that glass of lemonade while Tom was still alive, now more than eleven months ago, I had looked upon her differently even though I never really admitted it to myself. Suddenly my future was clear. I picked Melinda up, carried her upstairs to my bedroom, and flopped her on my bed. I slowly undressed as I stared at her – now she had a smile that had morphed from bemused to excited. Melinda just lay there as I started removing her clothing with my flagpole sticking straight up it was so hard. I was surprised when I took off her top and bra how ponderous her boobs were and how puffy her nipples were – how I had never noticed it before I have no idea. I was equally pleasantly surprised when I saw her bare pussy with distended clitoris clearly visible. It was only when I started crawling onto the bed that she said anything. Melinda sat up, put her hand behind my head, and said "Once we do this, for me there is no going back," just before she tenderly kissed me. "Nor for me," I growled more than said as I gave her a less-than tender kiss. With that she lay back and I got to work on her honey pot. Melinda maneuvered me into a 69 and feverishly sucked my cock as I used all ten fingers, my tongue and my nose to try and reach every part of her pussy. She continued sucking me even through her first orgasm, although she did moan into my cock. After her shaking from her climax subsided I turned around, penetrated her, and kissed her as we made sweet, caring, heart-felt, love. I found out that night that Melinda was a tender lover – and also an animalistic freaky sex goddess who was up for anything and who had a sky high libido. I could barely walk when in pain I picked up the kids the next day at Jill and Bill's house. I must have had a shit-eating grin on my face despite my sore cock and testicles because as we were leaving Jill whispered into my ear "It's about time that you fucked Melinda." I started to protest but Jill just smiled and mouthed "I don't believe you," then waved goodbye with a diabolical grin on her face. Melinda never slept anywhere except with me from that day forward. I told my attorney that I would not be attending any more worthless counseling sessions even if it meant going to jail, and to get the divorce concluded. I don't know exactly who it was that convinced Ashley to give it up, but within a month after that she agreed to the final dissolution of our marriage, and within two months after that I had the divorce decree in hand. I truly do believe that no one except for Jill actually knew that Melinda and I were not just fucking but madly in love with each other, although I'm sure that my mother and Ashley suspected it. Six months after my divorce was final, however, we decided to let the world know especially since we found out that Melinda was pregnant with our child. Brett was my best man and Brittany Melinda's maid of honor. We had a big photo of Tom at the small reception which Brett and Brittany showered with kisses, but there was no sadness. Everyone involved was overjoyed when Melinda and I married. I sometimes miss Ashley. But those moments get further and further apart as time goes on, and all I have to do to snap out of it is give Melinda a big hug and kiss – and maybe even get some freaky sex from her – and it passes quickly. Yeah, life is strange!