A Tale of Two...Titties?

"Rick, you've always been the safest driver I know. You obey every speed limit, stop sign and even the stupidest traffic laws. You've had the Mustang for barely over three months and you've been stopped four times for speeding and got two tickets. Our insurance premiums have gone up fifty percent since you got that car," I said.

"I had to get used to it," he said sheepishly. "It's a different mindset knowing that I can blow the doors off of most of the cars I pull up next to. And sometimes I have to defend the brand against the competition. You know Challengers, Chargers, Impalas and those damned pesky Camaros."

"Rick, for most of my life, no one paid me any attention," I said. "The only person who did was you. But all of a sudden every man I ran into was interested in me."

"And they can all have you, now," he said. "We'll have the papers signed by next week and we won't ever have to speak to each other again. You can have all of the men you want."

"Rick, listen to me," I said. "They aren't interested in me. It took me a while to realize it, but they don't give a shit about me. They're just interested in these titties. They drive men crazy. I guess just like you needed time to get used to your Mustang, I needed time to test drive these tits. I didn't get upset about your tickets, so..."

"My tickets didn't come between us," he snapped. "My tickets didn't break our marriage vows. I don't remember promising to love, honor, obey and keep it under 55 MPH. Lucie, you are the person I loved most in the world. I'm not even sure I'm going to be able to ever be happy without you in my life, but I'm going to give it a try. You and your titties can find all of the men you want."

"But I only want you," I screamed.

"You always had me," he said. "Until you betrayed me; Lucie, I loved you more than anything else in the world. I loved you just the way you were. Your chest or lack of one didn't mean shit to me. You were mine. You were the most precious thing I had. Nothing else mattered. Do you know how many times my friends tried to hook me up with someone else? I have never cheated on you, never thought about it. I've never even flirted with anyone. Look where it got me."

"Rick, can't you please forgive me?" I begged.

"I forgive you, Lucie," he said. And I could see that he meant it.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you, I swear," I said. "No man will ever touch me again."

"You can let as many men touch you as you want," he said. "We're not going to be together."

"But why?" I whined. "This isn't fair. You said you forgive me."

"I do Lucie," he said. "I guess deep down inside, I know that you didn't intend to hurt me. But I'm so angry right now that I can barely keep it in. At the same time, I feel like my heart is in my throat and I really don't want to give up what we had."

"Then don't Rick," I said. "I swear to you that none of those guys meant anything to me. You're the only man I've ever loved. We can make this work somehow."

"No Lucie, we can't," he said. "Can we at least do this like adults? Don't try to fight the divorce and it will be better and less painful for both of us. I guess we can sleep in the house together for one night since it's getting late, but please go away tomorrow and give me some time. I promise to be out as quickly as possible."

"Why can't I just stay here while you pack," I said.

"Because I'm trying to get over you Lucie," he snapped. "It's hard enough as it is. If you're here it'll only be worse. And if I break down and start crying it'll only give you more to laugh at."

"What are you talking about," I screamed. "I love you Rick, I have never laughed at you."

"You must've while you were with your other men," then he walked away. He spent the evening packing everything he saw that he wanted. He was dead serious about divorcing me. I could see when he looked at some of the items we'd picked up over the years that he was fighting back his tears, but he never cried. A couple of time when I walked into a room he asked if I wanted something. He was taking a lot of our pictures but I noticed that he didn't seem to want any pictures that I was in.

"I guess you don't want any pictures of me, huh?" I asked.

"Pictures of you before the surgery would make me cry," he said. "Pictures of you after the surgery would make me angry."

"Rick, why didn't you like my breasts?" I asked. "Before the surgery, when I was as flat as a board, you spent a lot of time lick and sucking on my hard flat chest. But you've never even felt my boobs accidentally since then. Do you have some kind of flat-chest fetish? If you do I wish you'd told me."

"I like titties as much as every other guy," he said. "But those things aren't really a part of you and I love you. I always will. You never needed those things for me. I married you long before you got them and wanted to make babies and spend my life with you. You didn't get those things for me. You didn't need them for me. So you must've got them for your other men. Let them enjoy them. I know this isn't what we planned. And I'm really sorry it has to be this way. But I really hope that you can be happy."

Then he got up and continued packing. A couple of hours later, I made dinner. He thanked me but declined to even sit down and eat with me. A little while after that I got ready for bed. I met him when he came out of the shower as naked as a jay bird from the waist down. I'd covered up my boobs because I didn't want to turn him off. Either he didn't notice or he didn't care.

"Rick, why do you have to leave?" I asked him. "I don't want you to go. I want us to fight for our marriage. I'm sorry I promised you I'd be civil about it, but fuck that. You aren't getting away from me without a fight."

"Lucie, you can't make a person stay married to you," he said. "All you'll do is make it so that we can't even talk to each other. You'll try to slow down the divorce or try to clean me out. I'll end up destroying your reputation and in the end we'll eventually still be apart. We'll just both be broke and we'll resent each other. It's not worth it."

I rubbed my bald pussy right in front of him. "Can we make love one more time, then?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he said. "I don't know who else you've been fucking or what they have. But if you can call one of your guys and go visit them, if you need to."

I bit my lip to keep from crying. "Rick, I was totally wrong, but I'm not a slut. I let a few men that I work with feel on my breasts. The breasts that you bought me but never touched. Only one man actually had sex with me and he only had me one time. That one time was a mistake and I knew it instantly. I have never sucked anyone's dick but yours. No one except you has ever fucked my ass. Since we met, one guy except for you has been in my pussy one time and neither he nor I enjoyed it. I'm not a slut. I just made one mistake and you want to throw away everything we have. I'll quit the job. I'll do anything."

I looked at him.

As I watched, a tear slowly rolled down his cheek. I suddenly realized that I had only been thinking about how much I wanted to stay with him. I had completely ignored the fact that he'd loved me for as long as I'd loved him and just as much. It was tearing him apart to leave me just as much as it was for him to leave. I stopped then. I left the room and let him go to sleep.

I went into the room where I kept our first aid kit. We had three or four rolls of medical gauze. I took all of them and wrapped my breasts as tightly as I could. I thought I should laugh but it was too serious. I'd heard of all kinds of women padding their bras to make their breasts look bigger, but I had to be the first to try to make mine smaller. When I was done, I stood in front of the mirror naked except for the bandages. Even bound as tightly as I could get them, I couldn't make them flat, they were simply too big.

I went down the hall into the living room and got onto the couch with my sleeping husband. I stuck my hand into his boxers and started to rub his dick gently. He slept like a rock usually. I took one of his condoms and put it on him as his dick rose. His eyes popped open. And he started to protest.

"Rick, just give me one last time," I begged. "Please, I'll never ask you for anything again. I swear it. This will be the last time I ever make love to a man so let me have this one thing. I put a condom on you. So you can't catch anything from me." He sighed and then he started to rub my sides. He looked into my eyes and it was all I could do not to cry.

He massaged and touched and kissed everything except for the parts that he would never touch. My nipples were so hard that I was sure they'd pop the wrappings. Rick might not have wanted my breasts, but they missed him and they wanted him.

I stopped thinking after that. Rick started kissing me and playing with my pussy. I remembered back to the way I'd felt in that supply room with Bart and there was no comparison. Rick was far better. I wonder why I hadn't thought about that then. Suddenly I realized that it had been the tits. Bart had stimulated my nipples the way Rick used to and wouldn't do anymore.

Suddenly, I forgot about conscious thought completely as I had my first orgasm on Rick's fingers. "No," I screamed. "I don't want to cum on your fingers. I want your..."

"I didn't get to pick what I wanted our last time to be either," he said. He got up then and went into the bathroom. When he came out, he was fully dressed. He kissed me one last time before he left. The last thing I remember hearing was that Mustang pulling off.

The next morning I went in to work and was told to go to Mr. Stevens' office. "How did you do?" he asked nervously.

"I didn't get to ask him about you," I said. "But I really don't give a fuck. I guess I'm fired huh?"

Before he could answer me, his secretary ran into the room. They spoke a few tense words and he ran out of the room. I followed him as he went into the owner's office. The owner was rarely even in the building, let alone his office. The door was open and I noticed Steven's sitting nervously and then he started crying. He got up and I saw Rick and a woman in the room. On Steven's way out he turned to look at me with nothing but hatred on his face. "They want to see you now," he said.

Rick and the woman left as I was walking into the office. He never even made eye contact with me.

I looked into the eyes of Mr. Parrish, the owner of our company. "Let's be short Mrs. Ens," he said. "Your soon to be ex husband is suing my company for three point five million dollars. Apparently, he thinks you're worth that much. He actually thinks you're worth more. He's out of his fucking mind. You're just another two dollar whore with delusions of grandeur and big, obviously fake breasts. I could keep this out of court for years, but the publicity will probably run me out of business. So I'll settle out of court and pay him a half mill, a mill tops. His lawyer is a smart woman. She'll arrange it so that I don't pay him until your divorce is settled. That way you don't get a fucking dime. I like it that way. If you or any lawyer you hire ever ask about this conversation, I and all of the people in this room will swear it never happened."

"Naturally, you're fired. Now get your trailer park ass out of my building. There won't be any severance for you. Your benefits are canceled immediately and we're attaching your last check. If anyone calls us for a reference or your job history you won't be happy with what we tell them. I'm also going to look into suing you for the damage you've done to my company's reputation. I probably won't get much but if I ruin you, it would be worth it."

I walked out of the office and as I walked past the desks of people I'd worked with for years, I noticed that most of them were laughing and pointing at me. Before I got the titties, these people had been my friends. Now I was a joke to them. I noticed Bart running into the office as I left. He sneered at me. "Bitch, tell your husband his ass is grass if I lose my job," he said.

I didn't bother going back to pack my stuff. I headed outside to try to find Rick. Apparently Bart's meeting was even shorter than mine. Two security guards brought him downstairs in the emergency elevator just as I was walking out the door. They threw him, cursing and screaming onto the ground.

He saw something in the distance and he stopped cursing at the guards just long enough to get up and run after whatever it was he saw. I looked in the direction he'd gone in and found out what he was running towards. He was chasing Rick. Rick suddenly stopped. He waited for Bart and as soon as Bart got close to him, he kicked Bart in the nuts. Bart was rolling around on the ground in pain. Rick reached over and took something from Bart. Then he got into his car and drove away.

Two days later, I got a call from one of my few friends left from the old job. She told me that Stevens' wife had come to the office the previous day and demanded to know why he'd been dismissed so summarily after all of his years of service to the company. She left the building angry as hell and filed for divorce that same day. Bart's wife had also filed for a divorce. My friend told me that both women had been visited by Rick.

I laughed. I thought that both of those bastards deserved what they got. If they'd been able to control themselves, they'd still be married. If I was losing my marriage everyone else should too. I made a list of all of the other guys who'd played with me and started visiting their wives too. I wanted to help Rick any way I could.

A few days later, I was sitting in my kitchen in the midst of my depression. I hadn't told my parents yet and I was hoping against hope that Rick would come home. The door bell rang and I got up to answer it. There was a young woman waiting at the door. She was chewing gum and she looked bored.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Are you Lucie Ens?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Oh goodie," she said. "Can I see some ID? I have an invitation for you. It's from Rick."

I was suddenly really happy. My prayer had been answered. Rick wanted to invite me to do something. Maybe he'd changed his mind and wanted to talk about saving our marriage. I showed her my driver's license.

She handed me a stack of papers and I realized as soon as I looked at them that they were divorce papers. "I thought you said this was an invitation," I snapped.

"It is Skeletor," she said "It's an invitation to go to court where he'll get rid of your cheating ass." Then she walked away.

The rest of my day sucked. I got a lawyer who advised me to simply take Rick's offer. He wanted to split everything 50/50. That included the balance of the lottery money and our savings, checking and investments. That was more than fair when you considered that I made barely more than half of what Rick did. I also noticed that there was no mention of the money from the suit if any existed.

I told my lawyer to reject the offer and push for reconciliation. Rick was very kind. He never lashed out at me. He never threatened to expose what I'd done. Even when my parents called him, he just told them they had to talk to me. I suggested counseling. He refused but he sent me a card and a gift on my birthday. That alone, made me realize that I was being childish and selfish, so as much as I loved him, I gave in and let the divorce go through.

Things really got bad for me on the day the divorce was final. I spent most of the morning crying. At just after noon I heard what sounded like the exhaust system on Rick's Mustang pulling away from the house. I still had yet to move out of the house even though it has been sold and Rick and I had received our money. I went out on the porch and picked up an envelope. It was a hand written note from Rick. He thanked me for the years we'd had together and all of the love I'd shown him. He told me that he still loved me and was sorry that we couldn't be together any more. He told me to remember that I needed to live my life and that our break up was just as much a factor of his inability to get past what I'd done as it was what I'd done. He asked me to forgive him for being rigid and unbending and he wished that I'd find love and happiness with someone else, someone better than him.

I cried for three days straight. Around Thanksgiving, I went back to our hometown. I was sure that he'd go home to see his parents. I also had to finally tell my parents the truth of what I'd done to wreck my marriage. I ran all over town looking for him, sure that he'd gone home for Thanksgiving as well. I saw one of his sisters and demanded that she tell me who he'd brought home for Thanksgiving and whether or not he was dating. She called me psychotic and told me I deserved to be miserable.

Once I got back home, I ran into a few of our old friends and neighbors. None of them would even talk to me. I started to date too. Most of the guys that I dated were awful. All they wanted was sex. They were more interested in my breasts than me. I gave a few of them sex hoping that it would be a gateway to a deeper relationship. It never was. The most embarrassing moment I had was when I went to the ladies room and came back and over heard the man I was dating tell the waiter that the only reason he was dating me was he'd heard from a friend of his that my breasts were amazing, but sex was so-so. He'd just taken me out so he could get a sample. I was supposedly easy and he'd give the waiter my number but he shouldn't call me for about a week so he could get his fill.

I was so hurt that I'd gone home. I didn't even go back to the table. When he called me later that night, I just told him that I'd overheard him and hung up. A few minutes later the phone rang and I started screaming into it. It wasn't the asshole though, it was Rick.

"Sorry," Rick said and I started crying.

"Lucie, How are you?" he said. As usual, he was concerned with me first.

"Not good," I said.

"Lucie, you're not going to find out who I'm dating," he began.

"And she's lucky," I snapped. "Because I'll pull the hair out of her head when I find her."

"Lucie, you're not going to find her," he said again.

"So you love this bitch more than me already," I hissed.

"Lucie, you're running yourself crazy trying to find someone who doesn't exist," he said. "A lot of my friends have tried to hook me up, but I haven't gone on one date in the whole year that we've been apart. And as for the person I love. Unfortunately for me, that's still you."

I could tell that he was telling me the truth and it just started me crying again. Once again he'd made me feel cheap. I'd gone on at least a date or two a month while we'd been apart and had fucked at least half of those guys, trying in vain to find someone who made me feel the way he did. Maybe I was a slut after all.

His call had been meant to make me feel better and to urge me again to move on in my life and all it did was to depress me further. I thought back on our relationship and I started to blame myself for the destruction of my happiness. But more than anything else, I started to blame my breasts. My life had been wonderful until I got the titties. The titties ruined my marriage and my life. They were evil.

My parents put me into therapy. The therapist started to realize after a while that I'd begun to hate myself. After a couple of incidents, including an aborted attempt to hurt myself, he recommended what I'd secretly wanted anyway.

I woke up in the hospital one morning and saw something I hadn't seen in years, my feet. My breasts were gone. It took two more surgeries. After the implants were removed it left a lot of extra skin where the giant breasts had been. The second surgery removed the excess skin and the final operation cleaned up and hid most of the scars from the other surgeries. After a few months of therapy, I was able to function almost normally again. I'd begun to hate men though. But that really wasn't a problem. Without the titties, I was invisible to men again. But I really didn't mind.