When We Were Married Ch. 05DbyDanielQSteele1©
I'LL BE ALRIGHT...'TIL THE HURTING STARTS
(Author's note: Another long gap and as always I apologize to readers who've emailed me asking for more of the WWWM saga. But I hope readers like this one. And as I mentioned at the end and I'll repeat here, this is not the end of the story. There are a number of chapters remaining. Which I'll post as I can finish them. If there's any confusion, all I can suggest is going back to earlier chapters to refresh your memory on who's who and what's what. As I've said too many times, this is a novel, and a long one, and there are a lot of characters and a lot of interwoven stories.)
My name is William Maitland. I am, as of today, 42 years old. I have been divorced for nearly 2 months from Debbie, my wife of 18 years and companion of 20, who tore my heart out and cut my balls off when she left me for a 10-year younger stud five months ago
I have moved on, to the extent of starting a hopeless relationship with a beautiful French woman I can never have a future with because she is married to a man who was my friend, and she has a young son she will never leave.
After being ambushed by my entire family at my new downtown Jacksonville condo and having to introduce my friend, Aline to my kids, ex-wife, mother and stepfather and ex-mother and father in law, my ex's beautiful sister and her two small children, we are all getting ready to go out for a big family celebration of my 42nd birthday.
I haven't told anyone and won't that Aline is a married woman who will be going back to her husband -- probably. She may have an open marriage, but it's not anything my family would understand or accept.
And it doesn't matter. Our relationship is ours -- not my mother and stepfather's, and not my kids. I've done something very stupid and it will come back to bite me, but it's my decision.
The only person who isn't going out with us is Debbie. She and Aline had one of those female catfights conducted at a level that males can only realize SOMETHING is going on until somebody's head falls off. There wasn't any blood, but blows were taken and received. And Debbie retreated.
I don't know where she is or what she'll be doing while I'm enjoying the company of my family and Aline. I know she was hurt, at least her pride.
I know she didn't think much of me as a man, and I hadn't given her much of a reason to look back on our last years in the bedroom with much affection. I know she pitied me, compared to her tall, strong young boyfriend with, she said, a much bigger dick than I wield.
And when she saw a naked Aline walking out of our bathroom to give herself to me, when she saw her slim, gorgeous body in a slinky black dress, it was as if I were giving her the finger, figuratively. She couldn't pity me anymore as the hopeless loser who wasn't worthy of her love or her body.
I saw it in her eyes as she left my condo. I had hurt her. Why in the hell she would be hurt like that, I still don't understand. If you don't care for someone anymore, why should you care if they meet somebody else.
Despite everything, I felt sorry for her. How people can shut off loving someone I've never understood.
I could never live with her again. I could never share her bed again. We would never look in each other's eyes at the end of a long day and know without words what the other was thinking.
But how do you tear memories and emotions and a life out of yourself and pretend it was never there? And our two children are a daily reminder that I can't remove what she was to me once upon a time.
But even loving her still, there was a part of me that enjoyed seeing the pain in her eyes. She had never once apologized for falling out of love with me and lusting for a younger man. She had never apologized for taking him into her bed before she even told me she wanted a divorce.
She had said she was sorry she hurt me. But that's not the same thing. And even though it was low of me, I wanted her to know and feel what it was like to be replaced in someone's life. Of course, it wasn't the same. Because when she had dumped me I was desperately in love with her. Now, I was only hurting her pride. But I'd take that.
She needed to be hurt. If there was any cosmic justice, she needed to be hurting even a little bit like she had hurt me.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2005 9:30 p.m.
She knocked on the door of the Shire apartments just off Atlantic Boulevard. They were set right along service road that ran alongside the Arlington Expressway. They were built in a faux-Medieval system with corner apartments looking like the rounded towers at the edge of a castle.
He lived in one of the tower apartments. The fact that they were set at ground level instead of 50 feet in the air kind of defeated the image, but he had said he just liked the idea of living in an anachronism. She wondered if he had someone with him. Usually she would have called. But tonight it didn't matter. If he had somebody, he'd have to kick their ass out.
She knocked again, and a third time. His car was in the parking lot. He could have gone out with friends, but she was praying he hadn't. He had to be home.
The door opened and he stood there, dressed in slacks and a white t-shirt. He had a bottle of Bud in his left hand.
He was about to say something when she stepped across the threshhold, put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to plant her lips on his. After a few seconds his lips parted and she darted her tongue inside. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and pushed her groin into him. She felt the hardness between his legs started to grow and she made love to it with her own body.
After a minute he pushed her away gently and held her by the shoulders.
"I know this is a silly question, Deb, but why are you here?"
"Do I need to give you an instruction manual?"
"No, I think I know how to insert Part A into slot B and how it goes from there. But, I didn't know we had a date tonight. Did I do the unforgiveable and forget about a scheduled assignation?"
She kissed him gently this time, reaching up to brush his unruly hair away from his eyes.
"No. This is a spur of the moment booty call, as my kids would say. Do you think you could work me into your busy schedule? You have any women I need to run out of here?"
"No. No women hiding in any corners. Actually, I was working on a freelance magazine article. It's for Parade Magazine. It's due next Friday."
"And I interrupted your work? Do you suppose...."
She knelt and unzipped him. He was already hard and she pulled his Hanes down and was able to move the stiff column of hard male flesh enough to release it. She ran one hand up and down it, rubbing her thumb over the head and feeling the wet pre-cum that was already leaking.
She squeezed it hard enough to make him gasp, then lifted it to allow her tongue to run over his balls and ran her tongue up its lenth until she got to the tip, where she licked and stuck her tongue as far into his pee-hole as she could get it. Then she sucked it like a straw while she jerked.
Finally she pulled her head back and look up at him.
"You taste so damned good, Clint. Is there any way, any way at all, that you would consider putting off your very important freelance article for a few hours? Would you let me jerk your big hard dick until you squirt all your hot white stuff all over my face and titties? And let me get you hard again and convince you to slam it all the way up inside my pussy until you make me scream?"
He took a deep breath and pulled her to her feet.
"Damn, if you weren't a college professor and a professional administrator, Deb, you would have made one hell of a saleswoman. Screw the article."
He swept her into his arms without straining too much and she mentally applauded him. She knew she wasn't a little girl and he wasn't a bodybuilder, but he hoisted her without showing much strain. For a writer, he was pretty buff.
On his bed, which she'd already become familiar with, he threw her down and with a few practiced moves, unbuttoned and slipped her blouse off, then pulled her skirt down. He looked at her naked vagina and grinned.
"Why do I have the impression that you came ready for action, little lady?"
"Why, whatever do you mean, Rhett Butler. Are you prepared to take advantage of little 'ole innocent me?"
He made the classic 'villain twirling his mustache' gesture and slipped his slacks off. His cock was standing straight, hard and proud. She felt herself beginning to get even wetter.
"Actually that was my plan, if you see anything you like."
"Umm....yes, actually I do. Would I lower myself in your estimation if I told you that I find mens' cocks beautiful. Yours very beautiful."
He sat down beside her and ran one finger lightly down the side of her thigh, his fingers running close to the opening of her femininity.
"Really? I mean, I know women like what we do with them. But I've never quite heard a woman call them beautiful."
She rolled toward him and closed her fingers lightly about him, moving it up and down so softly as if she were afraid of hurting him.
"They are beautiful, Clint. I ..you know...I was kind of wild when I was younger. I've seen and rubbed and sucked big one and littles one and thin ones and ones with a kind of kink. Circumcized and uncircumsized. I've watched pornos. Everybody watches pornos nowdays, you know. Even Bill....and I...we watched them sometimes to make it hotter for us.
"And a hard cock....God.....its strength. Men are hard and angular and women are soft and round. And the cock is where you're the hardest. It's like living rock, soft, pulsing. Those strong lines. I wish I were an artist sometimes. I'd specialize in beautiful strong, long, straight cocks."
He rolled toward her and slipped his fingers into her pussy and felt them sink in. She was so wet he went in with no effort; He lowered his mouth to one heavy breast and licked the pebbly aurealea. As he did she sucked her breath in. He already knew she was one of those women with a direct line from her breasts to her pussy. If you could suck her, she'd spread her legs and be ready.
But somehow, she managed to bring her hands up under his chin and she pushed him away. He looked at her in confusion.
"You can have me, Clint. All night. But first..."
"What? You want me to do a handstand, pound some nails into a board with my dick. Jesus, just tell me..."
She rolled toward him and he couldn't read her eyes. It had happened before. Even though he knew better, it was too easy to fall into the trap of thinking she was just a big tittied bimbo. But she was a lot more than that, and if she let you treat her like a fuck toy, it was because she wanted to be treated that way.
"Tell me I'm beautiful."
He looked her, curious.
"Don't ask, Clint. Just tell me. Use words to make me wet. I know you can do it with your body. Make me believe that I'm beautiful, for a few hours anyway."
He knew then, but it wouldn't do any good to talk about it, now.
He lifted himself up on an elbow and looked at the golden body lying next to him.
"Alright, Ms. Bascomb. I could with Biblical allusions from the Song of Solomon, but how about this. You are a walking wet dream. When you walked into my office that first day I took one look at you and knew that if I had to crawl across broken glass to get into that hot pussy, I'd do it.
"You are every horny teenage boy's dream of a blonde with huge tits and big nipples and a great ass. I can't see you in clothes without thinking of what you look like under those clothes. I want to stroke those huge soft breasts, to sink my fingers into them, to suck on like a baby on the teat.
"I want to spread your legs and dive in to that wet pussy that's gleaming at me. I can't be around you and not envision myself sinking all the way in. I think about the way those breasts look like when they're wrapped around my cock and I'm sliding it back and forth.
"I can be sitting here sometimes, alone, and I think of you and the way you look naked on my bed and I can't help pulling my dick out and jerking until I come all over myself. I haven't done that in years. But you bring that out in me.
"It's like the old joke about Marilyn Monroe. Some critic said she just appealed to 13 year-old boys and the rejoinder was, yes, but around her, every man is a 13-year-old boy."
He leaned over and placed his hand at the base of one large breast and pulled it up, running his fingers over the yielding flesh until he captured the nipple and tugged and pulled until she gasped.
"But it's not just sex, Debbie. Your smile lights up this room. If I knew I could never have you, that smile would make me want to be your champion. It's the lips and the eyes and those cheekbones. I want to be a hero for you, to be better than I am. I know that's what other men feel for you. It's the reason why guys fall all over themselves to do whatever you ask.
"Even if they're old or young or fat and know they'll never in this lifetime have you. They want you to smile upon them.
"And I know that's what Bill felt like that night..."
She grabbed his hand, held it tight and raised herself up to catch his lips with her own.
"No, don't mention his name, Clint. I don't want him here. He's not part of my-"
He shut her up and rolled onto her, sliding his cock deep inside her in one fluid motion so that she gasped into his mouth but couldn't make a sound.
His cock slammed in as far as it would go, so hard it bruised her, but she pushed herself up to him to take even more of him inside her. She wrapped her legs around him to keep him as deep as she could, only allowing him to pull back and then ram it home again.
He ran his lips down from hers nipping her neck and then fastened on her right nipple, sucking and then pulling it up with her teeth hard enough to make her wince. But it just made her wetter. He'd already discovered that she liked a little bit of pain. Sucking hard made her moan inside her throat and start to scratch his back.
She wanted him to hammer her hard, the way Doug had, the way---no no no and she pulled her mind from the past and concentrated on the feel of him inside her, the way he played her, using her breasts and lips and pussy and ass, kneading and stroking and pulling and hammering and driving any thought but the moment out of her mind.
And then she felt him speeding up and she exploded around him and still the hard ram inside her hammered and she came again and she felt him almost there and she scratched his back and screamed and felt him pouring into her one molten blast after another and she came again.
He fell backwards, and she felt his still hard cock sliding out of her and she felt empty.
She rolled onto her stomach and found his cock and licked it, then shimmied up the bed until her breasts were over his face. She smothered him and grinned as he licked and then sucked as much as he could of the left and then the right in his mouth.
"Does baby like that?" she said in a teasing tone. She lifted herself lightly and batted them across her face.
He sounded winded but, "God yes, just let me lay here and suck for a while till I get my strength back. I'm not 20 anymore."
She pulled her breasts out of his reach and then began to give him what Bill-fuck shit fuck why did he keep sticking himself back into her memories --what the bastard had called a titty rub. She slid the heavy melons that sometimes gave backaches but were worth it up and down his chest and over his arms and back up to where he could nip them with his teeth and then down around his groin.
She sucked him first and then enveloped him with her breasts, rubbing them up and down and using her hands to press them in and, not surprisingly, in a few minutes she felt the steel beginning to return and he started to rise again.
"You like that huh...you like having those big heavy titties loving your dick....don't lie I can tell.....let's see if you like this," and she captured him in her mouth, sucked, then let him go and caressed him again. She sucked and rubbed and massaged and in minutes he was thrusting up to meet her mouth.
Then she stopped and keep his quivering cock motionless a few inches away from her hot wet mouth and looked up at him to ask, "Do you want to fuck me again, Clint...or would you like to cum like this?"
He answered her by grabbing her head and pulling her mouth onto him and he hadn't thrust more than two or three times until he was squirting into her mouth. She continued to titty rub him until the squirting stopped. He didn't have much, but hell, like he'd said, he wasn't' 20 anymore.
She kept her head in his lap while she licked him clean and rolled it around her mouth before swallowing. As she'd told Teller, she knew the taste of a man's semen. As a young girl she'd hated it. It didn't taste like anything else she'd ever tasted. But, now...hell if you could learn to like oysters you could learn to like almost anything.
She waited until she thought she'd swallowed it all before moving up to lay her head against his chest. Most guys, no matter how nice they were trying to be, just didn't like tasting their own cum. They didn't mind licking pussy, but their own...probably some hangup about having homoerotic tendencies. She still didn't understand, but when a guy made her feel this good, why force him to do something that really turned him off.
They lay like that for awhile until they were both breathing normally and then Clint slid her off him and asked, "You want a beer? Wine? I got coffee and some Danish in the kitchen in case you worked up an appetite."
"Coffee would be good. No Danish. Got to watch the figure."
"Can I watch it for you?"
She pretended to slap at him. A few minutes later they were sitting up in his bed naked, drinking hot coffee carefully. Clint was demolishing two frosted slices of Cheese Danish.
They'd been talking about nothing in particular when Clint said, "So what did Bill do this time?"
"Don't Clint...don't go there."
"I keep telling you, it's alright Debbie. You were married until a few months ago. It takes a couple of years for most people to get their heads screwed on right. I was in love with my wife for five years after she died and she was a cheating lying bitch."
"Just like me...that's what you're thinking, isn't it," she said, turning away from him to put her coffee on the side table and thought maybe this was a mistake.
He was able to grab her shoulder before she got off the bed and pulled her back to him. She wouldn't face him but she didn't try to pull away.
"That's what you see yourself as, isn't it? Yeah, you made mistakes. But most of the time it takes two people to kill a marriage. Bill is a good guy, but from what you've said, he wasn't the best husband in the world. Even if it was 100 percent your fault, you two are done now. You've got a new job, you're seeing at least one nice guy and if Bill hasn't found somebody, he will.
"He's not that old, even if he thinks he is, he's a powerful man in an important job and he's started getting famous. Trust me, women willl be stalking him."
He was silent for a moment then put his hands on her shoulders.
"He has, hasn't he? That's why you came here tonight. I'm hurt. I thought you were lusting for my body. This was a revenge fuck. Even if he doesn't know about it, you're giving another man what used to be his."
"Her name is Aline....Aline for God's sake. Who's named Aline? And she's a fucking stewardess. Oh she works on a cruise ship, but it's the same damned thing. Coffee, tea or me. And in his case, she gave him HER."
Clint's voice was gentle.
"You had Doug. You've got me. And...I don't know...maybe other boyfriends. He's got one woman. Why does it bother you so much?"