Too Close for Comfort B

As they dressed, Glenda noticed that I wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Slowpoke, you'd better hurry up," she said.

"Glenda, you two go ahead," I said. "Grant promised to call me before the girls went to bed so I could talk to them too."

She looked at me and shook her head.

"We've gone out every night since we got here," I said. "I miss my kids."

"You're supposed to miss them," she smiled. "Now that's the Dahlia we all know and love. Do you remember when we talked about you and Grant needing some time away from each other?" I nodded.

"We were wrong," she said. "Maybe the rest of us are just jealous of what you have. The two of you clearly love each other. Shit, you guys are one of the few long time married couples I know who don't argue."

As they headed out, I grabbed the phone. I punched in the most familiar number I knew and waited as it connected.

As soon as I heard the most important voice in my life, I answered.

"I love you Grant," I said.

"I love you too, Dahl," he replied. "I've got a couple of ladies here who want to talk to their mom."

A short time after I hung up the phone, he knocked.

I opened the door a crack and saw him standing there. The smile on his face was one of confidence. I hated that man more than anyone else I had ever known.

"You ready?" he asked.

"No, I'm not having sex with you again," I said. "I don't know what came over me this afternoon, but it won't happen again."

"Okay," he said. He turned to leave.

"Just like that?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "I'm not some thug. I'm a business man. I can't force you to do anything. Of course you not being ready to do what I wanted, means that you are ready to give up your marriage. I'll send copies of those videos to your husband."

"No, wait," I said. "I'll do it. I have no choice."

"Great," he said. "Shipping is so expensive these days. I really didn't want to send that package to your husband."

"Come on in and do it," I said without enthusiasm.

"Oh it won't be me," he smiled. "I have someone else lined up. He'll be right up to see you."

About five minutes later there was another knock on my door. I opened it to find a thin balding man standing there. He seemed familiar to me. Suddenly I realized that he was one of the men from my tour. He recognized me as well and smiled.

After some embarrassing small talk during which I tried to explain my plight; and how I was being forced to do it. I got an idea about the character of the man I was about to have sex with.

"Sucks to be you," he said. "But, Honey, things are tough all over. I was actually hoping for the redhead with the big knockers, so I'm a little upset too. Let's just make the best of it."

He wanted his dick sucked. And he moaned and announced it to the world when he was ready to cum. After that he looked at his watch.

"Suck me hard again, whore," he spat. A short time later, he was fucking me. He wanted me on my stomach with my ass in the air and he just pounded me. He treated me less like a person and more like an object. After a while he reached around me and gave my tits a vicious squeeze as he continued to pump away at me.

I didn't fuck him back; I just let him take what he wanted.

"The thing that makes this so nasty and so hot is the fact that you're someone else's wife," he said.

When he came the second time, he insisted on pulling out and spraying his cum all over my face. At least it was over, I thought.

Unfortunately I was wrong. I ended up having sex with four different men that evening. It probably would have been more, but Glenda was on her way up when the last man left the room.

The next day was a repeat. Dennis, the fake Jamaican man who was making my life hell, came up to the room to fuck me one last time since it was my last day. He tried to get his huge dick in my ass, but he wasn't able to get it in.

He told me that he had five men lined up for me that evening as well and when I took care of the last one, he would give me the flash drive with the videos on it. I could go home and forget about the ordeal I had just gone through.

The five men were all varied in terms of size, race, and appearance. One of them was the Mexican man I had refused the first night. Apparently Dennis would take anyone's money.

The one thing that was the same about all of them was that they wanted their money's worth and they didn't give a damn about me. No matter how much I protested or asked them to take it easy on me, my cries fell on deaf ears. I swore that after that ordeal was over, no man except Grant would ever touch me again.

I was almost surprised when Dennis handed me the flash drive with the videos on it.

"Don't go away mad," he smiled.

"Fuck you," I spat under my breath just loud enough that only he and I could hear it.

"You already did," he smiled. "Twice. And it really wasn't that good." Then in a loud voice that everyone around could hear. "I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Jamaica. Please come back soon."

"Like fuck I will," I spat angrily.

"Is sex all you ever think about?" he asked. I walked away trying to think of a way to kill him painfully and get away with it.

On the flight home, I did everything I could to wipe the events of the past few days out of my mind. While Glenda and Mary talked about things we had done and saw, I tried to forget everything. Even remembering the good things would only serve to bring the horror back.

As soon as the plane landed at the airport, I went into panic mode. I was very afraid that Grant would take one look at me and simply walk away from me. I wondered if Dennis had simply given me the flash drive to take my mind off of things and then e-mailed the video to Grant just to be an asshole.

The moment that I stepped into the tunnel, something that had been missing in me returned. I could feel Grant. I could feel his love, and how much he missed me. Our eyes met across the terminal and we both started running towards each other.

And then I was in his arms again. I was happier than I had been in a long time. He lifted me off of my feet and kissed me very passionately and I returned his passion. People in the terminal stopped and smiled watching us.

"Get a room," laughed Glenda.

"We've got a house full of rooms," I said. "And we're going to re-christen every one of them."

I didn't let go of Grant's hand until he retrieved my bags and even then I held onto his arm. As strange as it seemed, I wasn't joking. Even though my pussy was so sore it hurt after the abuse it had received over the previous three days, I wanted to fuck my husband so badly that my pussy throbbed.

My need was two-fold. On one hand I needed to make sure that my marriage was still secure. And on the other, after the abuse I had suffered over the previous few days, I needed something to reforge the connection between sex and pleasure. The last thing I needed was to remember being abused every time I thought about sex. I needed Grant to make love to me and to give me orgasms instead of just pounding me for his own pleasure the way the men in Jamaica had.

When we got home, I sat in a tub full of warm water and my favorite bath salts for a long time. Then I got out and went to bed. I left the lights off to keep Grant from seeing any marks on my body or the redness around my vagina.

Grant wanted to eat me, and I wanted to let him, but I stopped him. I thought that if he was that close he might notice something.

As soon as Grant entered me, it only took him three or four strokes before he slowed down. He had taken his time pushing into me and I moaned in pleasure. This was the way sex was supposed to be, or so I thought. I noticed that Grant had not only slowed down he had stopped. And then he pulled out.

He rolled over to his own side of the bed without saying anything. I knew that I was in trouble.

"Honey, is something wrong?" I asked.

"You tell me," he said quietly. "It feels different. I even tried to stick my pinky into your ass. Normally, I can barely get it in. And even then you're cumming like crazy. I just stuck my index finger up your ass to the second knuckle."

"Honey, I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. "I missed you a lot. I did borrow Mary's dildo. And I kind of used it on that other hole too. I wanted us to try that so I figured I'd loosen it up for you. And as far as how it feels, you've been jacking off again haven't you?"

"You were gone for a week Dahl," he whined.

"Grant, I keep telling you not to do that," I said sharply. "No pussy on earth is going to be as tight as your fist is. Especially not one that has had two kids pulled out of it."

"I'm sorry, Dahl," he said. "I just missed you so much."

"Oh, Fuck!" I said. "You were watching that damned video again too weren't you?"

"It just happened," he said. "I missed you, Honey." I had to keep the pressure up.

"What else did you do?" I asked. "The girls were already asleep when we got in. That means that you let them stay up as long as they wanted didn't you?"

He was surprisingly quiet. "Okay that's it," I said. "We will never be separated again. No more vacations without each other. I go away for a week and the girls are running wild and you're jacking off to porno."

"It isn't porno," he said. "It's a video of us."

"That isn't us anymore, Grant," I said. "It's you and a younger version of me."

"You still look the same way to me," he said. "And I love you just as much."

Somehow it seems as if I made it through the nightmare.

* * * * * *

Grant

"Only you would see it that way, Dahlia," I said.

"For me the nightmare was just beginning. I was confused and on edge, but I had no idea why.

I loved Dahlia so much that I always thought that I could feel her. We had a strange connection. And as she'd said, she could feel me and felt what she'd been missing while she was in Jamaica. However, I could no longer feel her. I wanted to. But the connection just wasn't there.

When we got home, it got worse. And when she pulled me into the bedroom for sex, it became clear. I had no idea that she had cheated on me. I just knew that something was different, and it was wrong. It's like the feeling you get when you've lived in a house for a long period of time and then one-day someone breaks into your house. From the moment you step in the door, you always know that something feels off, even before you notice what is missing.

And that was how I felt. At first, there was the anal thing. Dahlia and I flirted with anal on several occasions. She loved to have me stick my finger up her ass. However, that ass was so tight that there was no way I'd get my dick in it. But that night my finger slid up into her ass so quickly and so easily that it threw me for a loop.

As shocking as the finger was the rest was more hurtful. My dick had been inside of Dahlia more times than I can count, but the second I got it inside of her, I knew.

I tried to rationalize it. I tried to come up with different reasons for what I felt, but none of them seemed to make sense. After a few strokes, I just stopped. We had a conversation, if you can call it that. I admitted to masturbating during the week that she was away. She knew me well enough to be able to figure out what had happened while she was gone. Why didn't she realize that I knew her just as well? I guess the idea of her cheating was so foreign to me that I didn't come to that conclusion. I knew that something was very wrong, but I didn't think that she had done that. I did, however, know that Dahlia was lying."

"I ... I ... I just couldn't bring myself to tell you then," said Dahlia, interrupting my story. "I didn't want to hurt you, Grant."

"So you just lied to cover up what you did," I spat. "Dahlia, you had your turn. I was quiet, and I listened without interrupting you. Give me the same courtesy."

She nodded her head, and I continued.

"As I was saying, I knew that something was wrong. I woke up early the next morning and rolled out of bed to go for my morning run. I started to wake Dahlia up, but then stopped. For some reason, my hand refused to reach out to her. I thought at first that I had, during the week that we were apart, grown used to running alone. But, there was more to it.

As soon as I started to run my mind filled with thoughts about Dahlia. I felt as if I was trapped in an episode of the twilight zone. My wife had gone away on vacation, and someone else had returned. Whoever the creature was she had probably killed my Dahlia and had taken over her body. She looked like Dahlia. She sounded like Dahlia. Nevertheless, I was convinced that it was not her. It sounds crazy, but that was how I felt.

For the next few days, I tried to act normally. However, it was hard. I had to concentrate and force myself to do things that were usually just automatic reactions. When Dahlia came near me before, I automatically kissed her. I couldn't help it. I was always so glad that she was mine that I couldn't stop myself from kissing her or hugging her. And I think that was a big part of it. Since Dahlia had come back, I just didn't feel like she was mine anymore."

"I'm still yours, today, Idiot!" spat Dahlia. "Even after all of this time. Even after what you did to me and the way you've treated me. I'm still yours ... Okay, I'll shut up."

I sighed heavily at her outburst and tried to compose my thoughts enough to continue.

"So I walked around in limbo for a few days while trying to act normally. I guess that I failed in that. Dahlia was always telling me to hold her hand, or asking me why I didn't kiss her. She looked at me as if I was crazy when we watched TV, and I didn't sit next to her. I tried, believe me; I wanted things to go back to normal even more than she did. However, my heart was telling me that things just felt off.

A few days later the flames began. I immediately went to see my doctor. I got right to the point with him. I knew that I could speak freely with him because he'd been our family doctor for more than 18 years. Besides that he was a friend. My kids hung out with his kids, and we got together for parties and barbecues.

"Tom, it burns when I pee," I told him. He smiled and told me we'd run some tests. "There are all kinds of reasons for that," he said. He assured me that it was probably nothing, but then that's what doctors always do. They tell you it's probably nothing until they figure out what it is, and after that they tell you it's something they can fix. Then they tell you why you got it and what you have to give up or start doing more of to get rid of it.

Trust me; I was the last person on earth to suspect what had happened to me. Even so, a few days later Tom called me and asked me to come into his office to discuss my test results.

He tried to make light of the situation. "So Grant," he began. "This is a fairly normal situation. You and Dahlia have been married for a very long time. She goes away on vacation without you for the first time ever. You decide to try something ... uhm, different in her absence. You mistakenly pick up the wrong woman and for your trouble, you pick up something she's carrying. We can easily cure it, but what we have to find out is did you have sex with more than one woman during Dahlia's absence and more importantly, have you had sex with Dahlia since she got back?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. It was like my peripheral vision narrowed in from both sides until everything went black. I didn't faint or fall over like those women on TV, but for a while, I just stood there in front of Tom on weak legs, with my eyes as big as saucers.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed. "You had no idea, did you?"

I just stood there without reacting.

"Grant; I know this is hard for you, and I'm sorry. I am regretful. This is fairly common. People like you and Dahlia are rare. However, it's not as unheard of as you must be thinking. You and Dahlia are so close. ... too much actually ... closer than most couples ... too close actually ... I've never actually seen the two of you apart. Admittedly Grant, the two of you are too close for comfort. So it's only natural that sooner or later one of you would need a break just to have some breathing room. And that while you're breathing, that person, precisely for the experience might want to try someone else."

I still didn't react.

"Grant when she came back, how did she act?" He asked. "Is she still touchy-feely with you or has she begun to pull away to a more normal distance?"

I didn't answer him. I was just too shocked. It felt like my entire world had come apart. He started me on a course of treatment and told me not to have sex with anyone until he retested me, and I had a clean bill of health. He also told me to have Dahlia come in to see him as soon as possible.

I called in sick at work that day. It shocked Dahlia. She called me several times during the day to see where I was. People at work asked her about me, and she had no idea what to tell them.

When my uncle had died a few years before, he had left me his heart and soul. He left his house, his money, and his investments to other relatives, but I'd always been his favorite. So he left me his small cabin. It's more like a vacation house on a lake that was only a hundred miles or so away from where I lived.

The house had fallen into disrepair. At first when I saw it, I thought that my uncle had just left me a headache. Even so, I remembered my uncle fondly and didn't want to sell the place. As I explored the cabin and then the shed and garages, discovered that my uncle had left me most of his treasures. The biggest shock was the 1967 Mustang fastback in the garage.

I checked with the lawyer who was serving as the executor of the estate. He assured me and several of my cousins and uncles that the language of the will specifically said that I was to have the house, grounds and everything therein. There was also the fact that the car, my uncle's prize possession, was not mentioned anywhere else in the will.

My uncle had a number of brothers, including my own father. A couple of them made very generous offers for either the cabin or the car; but I turned them all down.

My uncle Phil was particularly persistent in his offers for the car. He even offered me five thousand dollars plus a brand-new Mustang of my choice for the car. I always turned him down flat.

The car had been neglected for many years, but as I stepped into the garage with her the first time after being assured that she was mine, I felt a connection. In those days of course, Dahlia was with me when I went out to the garage to meet the car, but to her, it was just another old car.

I did most of the work restoring the car myself. The things that I couldn't do, I paid good money to have professionally done. I only hired contractors who would put as much love into the car as I would have done. There came a time though that I had to decide on which path to take in the restoration effort.

I decided then and there to modernize some of the car's systems. I know that a lot of my relatives were shocked. I guess they expected me to do a full period restoration to return the car to the exact specs it had when new. They probably expected me to get it restored and then sell it at one of those fancy auctions to rake in big bucks for it.

That wasn't in my plans at all. I wanted the car redone so I could drive it. The car was a connection to my uncle, and I loved it for that reason if none other. I also saw it as my last car. It was the car I would drive until I died, and then I would leave it to someone I loved, and who would love it as much as I did.

The car had so affected me that when it was time for me to have a new car for a daily driver, I bought a new 2012 Mustang GT. The day I found out what Dahlia had done to us, I took the 67' out for a drive.