Moving On

I stood staring at the casket being lowered into the ground. I could hear the quiet roar of traffic and muted conversation in the background as the friends and family left my wife's graveside services. My children Alexander age 21 and Chelsea age 20 stood on each side of me. We were wrapped in each other's arms and in our sorrow. I felt them shaking as they quietly cried along with me. Unfortunately their sorrow was much greater than was mine.

I knew I should be more upset at Joan's death but, in a warped, perverted way I was pleased it had come to this. At least this way I was spared the pain and suffering of a divorce and the financial disruption it would have entailed. A divorce you ask? Well, yes. You see the night she died in a traffic accident was the night I found out I was married to a lying, cheating slut.

I let out a wavering sigh and remembered once again the happiness of our early years and how my marriage spiraled out of control over the last two years. Joan and I had been going steady our last year of high school and first year of college. We became intimate and we found we both loved to fuck. We almost lost our scholarships the first semester of college because we took to the party scene and sex so well. Oh, sure we had to live in the dorm but we still found a way to be together nearly every night. Like the young sexual beings we were we found a place to screw several nights a week.

Joan wasn't on the pill. Our birth control of choice was rubbers. Occasionally when she thought it was safe we would go bareback. We both preferred the natural feeling of unprotected sex. I asked many times for Joan to go on the pill but she refused because she did not want to take a chance of her parents finding out. As is normal, a time or two a rubber broke. We never did figure out if she got pregnant because of a broken rubber or if one time she wasn't "safe" like she thought she was. Whatever the reason, she did get pregnant and we elected to get married. Since she had to care for the child Joan did not finish college. I continued and promised her she could return to college to finish her degree after we were settled and the kid was old enough for day care.

It seemed like a good time for Joan to return to college never came. Finally when Alexander was a college freshman and Chelsea a high school senior Joan enrolled in college once more. She took to it like a duck to water. It was as if she had never quit, she immersed herself in the class work and, unfortunately, she decided to experience the entire college experience. She made friends that were slightly younger than her all the way down to our children's age. If they were "good people" she took them into her circle of friends. As the got more and more wrapped up in the college social scene she began to change. She was no longer my loving stay at home wife. She began to treat me with disrespect and got upset when I complained about all the time she spent away from home in the evenings. She began to come home later and later and many times she was drunk and her clothing was mussed. Joan became distant and resented social outings with our friends or for my job.

Oh, sure, she had a reason for being late coming home on non-class nights as well as nights she had classes. According to her, she had to study in the library, she had a night course then afterwards she and some of her friends went to a local hang out to discuss the class. She needed to unwind, etc. I guess I was like most cuckolds. I just didn't see the signs of a cheating slut. All I knew for sure was our sex life went from full ahead to dead stop within about a year of her returning to college. She always had an excuse—too tired, headache, has to get up early the next day and so on. I got laid maybe once a week if I was lucky and then it was as if it was just a favor she granted me.

Literally my world came crashing down on a Thursday evening. Joan had a night class that should have ended about 9:20 p.m. Considering the distance we lived from the University and traffic she should have been home no later than 10:15. I finally gave up and went to bed without her at 11:30. Of course I was angry. She had promised me she would stop staying out with her friends, that she would come home early—HA!

My doorbell ringing awakened me at 1:20 a.m. Before I got to the door someone began pounding on it. "OK, OK," I yelled as I grabbed my pants (I sleep nude), turned the bedroom light on and stumbled toward the front room. "Who is it?" I asked. Finally I reached the door and flung it opened. I was angry, expecting to find my drunken wife wanting in and unable to get her key into the lock once more.

I stopped in shock when I saw a police officer standing on my porch. I looked further out through the opened door and saw a black and white sitting in my driveway. The officer flinched back then he asked, "Mr. Rowland?"

"Yes."

"Is your wife Joan Rowland?"

When I nodded my head yes the officer continued, "Mr. Rowland I am afraid I have some bad news for you. The van your wife was riding in this evening was hit broadside by a semi truck. I am afraid she and the three young men with her died in the accident. The semi driver had apparently been drinking and ran a red light at a high rate of speed. I'm sorry sir. Are you alone sir or is there someone you can call? I"

About that time my daughter Chelsea came wandering down the stairs. She was dressed in her robe and was rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Daddy, what is it?"

The officer looked at her then he said, "Sir, I'm sorry. If you would stop by the station in a day or two the accident report will be ready. We will also need you to view the body for verification at your earliest convenience." He tipped his hat and said, "Ma'am. I'll just leave you folks now. Once again, I'm sorry."

I stood in the door watching the police car back from my driveway then accelerate away. I felt the tears running down my cheeks and then Chelsea wrapped her arm around me and guided me back into the house. After I told her what had happened we sat together in the living room crying.

We dozed sitting together on the couch. Finally about 6 a.m., I shook myself and began to make plans for the next several days. I called my son at his apartment, then Joan's parents and my parents. I also called the funeral home and made arrangements for them to pick up the body. I was still in a state of shock but was beginning to function somewhat. Before I had much time to think of the implications of my wife's death a man from the funeral home called. He said they could not pick up the body until after I had positively identified it.

I called to make arrangements to view Joan's body. While I was talking on the phone I remembered the officer had said Joan was killed riding in a van. I called the police to verify that she was not in her car. I also asked about her purse and other personal effects. The officer told me they had no personal effects of Joan's. The records showed they had identified her tentatively based upon a medical warning bracelet she was wearing. After I had identified Joan's body my daughter and I went to the university and drove around until we found Joan's parked car. I gave Chelsea the spare key. I waited until she had the car started then drove off toward my home with her following.

When we arrived home Chelsea and I searched the inside of the car for Joan's purse and books. When they weren't there we opened the trunk and found several items—many which should not have been there. Joan's purse was lying neatly in the trunk on top of the carefully folded dress she had worn to class the night before. When we opened her purse we found several unused condoms. Later that day, to pass time I began to clean out the car and found three used condoms under the front seat. I was beginning to become upset, nay angry.

Occasionally Chelsea drives our car to college instead of her small pick up truck. My first thought was she had entertained one of her boy friends in the back seat and let him discard the used condoms in the floor. I backed out of the car with the damning evidence in my hand and yelled, "Chelsea! Come here a minute please."

When Chelsea came into the garage, her eyes still red from crying I turned to her and snarled, "How do you explain these?" and shook the condoms in her face. I watched it turn white, then red as I resumed speaking. "I thought...No; I hoped we had raised you better than this. You know rubbers aren't the best form of birth control. I know your mother told you the trouble you can get into using them. How could you take a chance like that?"

Chelsea stood looking at me in shock, then her face broke down and she began bawling once more. Through her tears I heard her say, "Oh, Daddy, how could you even think I would do something like that? I am on the pill and do make a new boyfriend use a condom but I would NEVER leave them in Mom's car!"

"Are you telling me these aren't yours? You borrowed the car last weekend. Who else could...?" I felt my stomach clench and I became nauseous. I stopped speaking and stood looking at my daughter. She was staring into my eyes and I saw the same thought hit her too. Her hand came up to her mouth as she flushed once more. "OH," she said. "Oh, no, no Daddy it couldn't be... Maybe it was Alex. He uses Mom's car sometimes."

The rest of that day and the next were filled with phone calls and visits from family and friends. Our out of town family began arriving for the services. Finally, I called the police station and found the accident report was ready. I told my family I was going for it and Chelsea looked up from her conversation. "Wait Daddy. I'm going with you."

I started to tell her no, that I wanted to be alone but she kept talking, not letting me get the statement out. "NO Daddy. I'm going. You don't need to do this alone and besides...Well"

When we got to the police station and told the female officer what we were there for she got a sad look on her face. She turned and went to a file cabinet in the back. She took an envelope from a file and walked back to the window. She placed the envelope on the counter and held her hand over it. She looked at my face and said, "Mr. Rowland I don't know how much you've been told about this accident but..." She took a deep breath and let it out then continued, "You really shouldn't look at this report at all if you don't have to. Just let your wife go and keep the good memories. For what it's worth I'm sorry sir."

I stood there confused for a moment then pulled the report from under her hand. "Thank you Officer. We'd been having some trouble but we loved each other deeply. Of course we will have the good memories of our life with Joan."

The officer gave me a pained look and turned back to her desk as Chelsea and I walked out of the station. When we got into my truck I took a moment and opened the report. The first thing I saw was a stack of photographs. The van was a mangled mess with the cab of the semi resting on it, the front bumper just about where the center seat would have been. I turned to the next picture and caught my breath. I felt my stomach clench and I let out a deep sob.

Chelsea turned to me and said, "Daddy, what's wrong?" I shook my head and tried to stuff the pictures back into the envelope. I was crying so hard I was having trouble breathing. I felt my stomach roll and I began to feel my breakfast trying to come up. I let the envelope drop and just got the door opened when my stomach began emptying itself onto the parking lot.

"Oh, nooooo," I heard Chelsea moan. I finished throwing up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I turned back into the truck in time to catch my daughter as she grabbed me in a hug and began crying.

We now knew why Joan's dress had been folded in the trunk of her car. The pictures and the write up told the whole sordid tale. Joan had been in the back of the van. She was found with no clothing on and neither of the two young men in the back with her was dressed either. She had bitten one young man's cock almost off when the semi impacted the van. The other man and she had been trapped in the wreckage. He was found still trapped between her thighs. Tests showed Joan had semen from all three of the men inside her. I guess that explained why we found a neatly folded pile of her clothes in the trunk of her car along with her purse. We had wondered why they had been there when we searched her car after bringing it home. We had finally decided she had kept some clothes in the trunk in case she got dirty or something. Now I knew the truth. She was dirty but not in the way I had suspected.

There was no indication of foul play. It appeared Joan had voluntarily entered the van with the men. At first the police had assumed Joan might have been forced into the van. During the investigation, they had found several witnesses that had seen her leave with the three young men. They had apparently left the class at the mid class break. She had been flirting and talking to them for several class periods. Two women testified that they overheard her agree to go with them for "another romp". Two other people had seen her strip in the parking lot and enter the van after locking her clothes in the car. They said the men had dared her to do that. They had told her they thought she did not have the "balls" to go for a naked ride with them.

Our family was devastated first by Joan's death and now even more so by her slutty behavior. I had known she was unhappy with her life but I had no idea she had became a slut. When I thought about her behavior I became scared for my own health. I didn't know how long she had been sleeping around and I was scared she might have given me a disease. I made a note to get checked for STD's immediately.

Thankfully I did not have to worry about my job. I owned and operated a small construction company so I didn't have to worry about work too much. I had a good management structure and my friends at work stepped in and kept the jobs going right and on time. I was a mess for several weeks. I was angry and lashed out at everyone.

I was so angry with my wife and at the three boys that had been fucking her I sometimes screamed out wishing they were still alive so I could hurt them more. Hell one of them was only 19—younger than our son! The others were in their early 20's. I wanted to hurt someone but I couldn't very well do that because they were all dead.

I kept putting off making a doctor's appointment for the STD test because I was embarrassed to do so. Finally my children made an appointment for me and took me to my doctor. After the test results came back I found I had Gonorrhea. Oh, I know I should have gotten the tests as soon as I thought about diseases but I just didn't. I had been hurting and burning for several weeks when I urinated but I just thought my cock was a little raw. It had been so long since Joan had let me make love with her I had begun beating off once more. When I did that I squeezed pretty hard and I thought I had hurt myself since it hurt worse when I squeezed it.

One day about three weeks after the funeral I was sitting in my living room drinking and looking over the accident report. I was wishing once again I could make someone pay for my pain when I had a brainstorm. I couldn't make my slut wife or her lovers pay but I could get to the trucking company for taking that option away from me. I decided to see if I could file a lawsuit against them. When I contacted a lawyer he almost cackled with glee. It seems that particular trucking company made a habit of hiring marginally competent drivers. They had a history of accidents and traffic violations. He thought that would help any case we brought against them.

I told him to file the lawsuit and we were off. Of course it drug on as these things do but finally it was over. Almost two years after the accident I was almost 3 million dollars better off even after the attorney took his 30%! My life was still in the shitter but at least I now had the means to build a really nice shitter! Life was the pits, I didn't enjoy my work any longer and I couldn't stand to be around the house my wife and I had built for ourselves.

I finally decided I was going to just chuck it all and take off. I know, I was running from my memories and hurt but so what? My son graduated from college with a degree in Construction Management in late May. He had been working part time in the company for years so I decided to turn the daily management over to him. I let him and his new wife live in my house rent free, contingent upon the guesthouse being always available to me. My daughter had her own apartment in the walk out basement. She stayed in what had at one time been meant as the maid's quarters. I made it clear she could continue living in her basement apartment until she decided to move on. I had legal papers drawn up outlining living arrangements, jobs, salary, responsibilities and so forth. I had no idea when I would come home or where I would go so tried to cover all bases.

My daughter was taking a degree in business administration and worked part time in the company also so I felt safe leaving. Three weeks after college ended I loaded up my new F250 Super Crew Powerstroke 4X4 and took off. I had no idea where I was going, when I was going to get there or how long I was going to take doing it. I had a small 26 foot fifth wheel trailer with everything I needed inside. I suppose the hippies in the 1960's would have said I was trying to find myself. I hauled my little 650CC Motorcycle on a rack I built at the rear of the trailer.

Since it was early summer when I left I turned my nose north and drove. It was amazing, the farther from home I got the more relaxed I felt. The first day I drove 12 hours and only stopped for fuel and other necessaries. The second day was the same then I came to Rapid City SD. I had never been there and I fell in love with the Black Hills. I found a nice little camp ground and settled in.

Every day I would get up to see the sun rise. I would leisurely drink my coffee while I enjoyed the morning then I would have a late breakfast. Mid morning after it warmed up a little I would take a ride on my bike. If I saw a pretty place I would stop and enjoy the view or hike down a trail to the view or ride my bike to the view. I took many scenic rides on my bike enjoying the Black Hills. I especially loved the little town of Keystone SD. I rode the train between there and Hill City several times and explored both towns very well. There were sure some beautiful women running around there also. A couple of local wineries made some outstanding wine. I probably bought and drank way too much of it but so what?

In the evenings I would either go to town for supper or to a bar or I would cook in camp and have a few drinks with my three traveling companions—Me, Myself, and I. Occasionally while I was walking around the camp I would stop and visit with other campers. Sometimes someone would stop at my site and visit also. I was surprised how many of the campers were permanent travelers. Many of them had no home, only their trailers or motor homes. WOW. They all seemed so happy. We exchanged stories. At first I was reluctant to talk about Joan but I finally just said my wife had died in a traffic accident and I had to get away to heal. Many times I was never asked for more details about her and rarely about my children. It worked for me and allowed me to somewhat bury the pain. I spent three weeks in that campground then decided to move on. I kept going west on I 90 and came to a small town named Sturgis SD. Oh, you've heard of it? Well, I found out the bike rally was almost upon us so decided to stay. I found a nice place to set my trailer up and began to establish myself.

I stayed until the end of the rally and whoo hooo did I finally begin to have fun! By the time the rally was in full force I had learned how to deflect the comments about the small size of my bike. Of course I suppose my willingness to provide my new friends with beer and some of the lovely ladies with a bed to sleep in helped also. I had to leave just to rest up from all the pussy I had managed to tap. I still wake up dreaming about all the lovelies that paraded around the camp showing off their wares. I just wish I had not felt I needed to use condoms when I fucked those women. Several times when I took a woman into my bed I could see someone else's sperm draining from their still red swollen cunts. Hell, I was almost afraid to even kiss them and tried not to but I sure fucked them when I could.