Belinda Rose

Belinda Rose

My wife Posted on the internet

I stared at the screen "Fucking Hell, That's my wife. I know it is."

Our marriage had come to this. We no longer made love. My wife, the Politician was now public property, too busy for the boys and me. I now had to rely on porn for any form of gratification and tonight what do a I find, on a website entitled, 'mature elegant ladies', in the amateur section, there is a high definition image of my wife standing fully naked in our bedroom. It's a late night, a lonely ordinary late night and this image was not only explosive to our marriage but had the makings of a high profile political scandal and whatever else.

I took a deep breath and leaned back. I had to think about this. It must have been taken 6 years ago. That was when she had her new hairstyle. The bed coverings you could see in this image must have been replaced just after this was taken.

I scanned her body. In her forties she was still so beautiful. She was always so stylish and elegant. She took enormous care of herself and her body and it showed. Who would have believed she had two boys born naturally. Apart from those nipples you would never believe that she had breast fed them. She had never had work done. There she was in this image sporting that grey hair style. She had found a few grey hairs and turned her hair completely grey. These days she would often have a subtle pastel wash through it from time to time. She had it styled then into a kind of curly bob which had become her signature hair do.

I looked into her face; she looked brazenly and confidently staring back at the photographer. Those slightly hooded eyes and that Mona Lisa smile. It was obviously meant to look seductive. So who was the photographer? It wasn't a selfie.

Her face was sculptured, finely chiselled, you might say. High cheek bones and pointed chin and nose. Coloured with the hair you could hardly make out her eyebrows, giving her an ethereal look. You could see her dangling earrings and the very pale birthmark at her neck. It was a mark that most people would not notice and she easily covered it with her make up. But I knew where to look and with those distinctive earrings, designed by my sister, I was absolutely certain it was her.

My eyes swept over her body. Although not the one of an 18 year old it was remarkably smooth and firm. Apart from the birthmark her skin was near flawless. Those breasts though larger than when she was young were still on the smaller size but they maintained their shape with a minimum hang. It was just the nipples that marked her as a mother.

Her torso had just the right amount of curve and although she was very fit her tummy displayed a feminine softness with a slight roll below the navel leading to her pronounced pussy mound and cleft. She had had her hair removed about then. I remembered being a little disappointed but she said that grey hairs appearing down there would be gross and added that it would enhance our sex life anyway. Which I suppose it did, along with her change in choice of underwear. The image did not show her derriere which was, like the rest of her, in excellent condition but those sculptured legs were all there.

"No!" I can virtually hear you saying... "Sucker, she's stepping out on you and you never noticed." But it did not happen overnight and I have to say I did have my suspicions following this transformation but for other reasons.

Back to the problem, what to do about it? I was under the initial shock of seeing it and my first thought was that I would just confront her with it. We were always open with each other on things that mattered to us as husband and wife. At least I thought we were, but suddenly now we were obviously not. When I had my previous suspicions about her we always talked about it and the result was always reasonable and reassuring. Now I discover I had been conned.

Now it was getting late. For some men seeing their wife naked on line to the enjoyment of millions of men worldwide might be highly erotic. Me? No; there was no thought of gratifying myself that night so I went to bed; alone, as had become my custom. I am not a guy that gets angry often; tonight I was angry.

Parliament was sitting and my wife, a local Member of Parliament was in Wellington.

Obviously I was not going to get much sleep. It dawned on me that confronting her straight away might not be in any of our best interests. There should not be an emotional knee jerk reaction. There are our boys to consider, her career and my career all sit on a precipice. I had to give this some thought. The 'who' was the key to all this. Everyone knows the rumours about those lonely politicians in Wellington and their affairs over drinks at Bellamy's, and heaven knows Rose has been drinking far too consistently and at times excessively. She always seems to hold herself together but I Have had the alcoholic alarm ringing for a while. Unfortunately, nothing would rile her more than my suggesting she tone it down.

This image was taken before she was an MP and in fact must have been just before she was voted onto the local council. Why was it taken and why was it posted? Had she been having a long running affair or even affairs? Was this perhaps a jilted suiter getting back at her? Was anything else on the net? I would go back and look but I found nothing that night in my brief look around.

I began to think back over our lives together to piece together any clues. This image was a big glaring piece of an apparent puzzle that was our lives.

First of all we met when I was in my last year of high school. She was the daughter of a well-known local doctor. He was a motor racing enthusiast and had bought Rose a cute, old done up MG midget.

It was one gnarly car. She would pick me up from school. There was nothing better than swaggering out to her parked car, me in my school uniform; all the young dudes watching me. She was from a local co-ed school; I went to a single sex school. She had obviously tired of the lame co-ed boys. She was also part of a set we called the main street cockies; a lame crowd that tried to dress and act like the local farming gentry. The English had a great term "Hooray Henry's" which we liked to lay on them. In turn, the dipsticks called me George of the jungle; but we were the 'Cool Dudes'. That's what my friends and I called ourselves. It's embarrassing now but we were young and it worked as far as impressing Rose.

It was the eighties. We were wearing those bomber jackets with the big shoulders. The gnarly ladies who came with us were sort of wearing their undergarments on the outside of their fluoro duds.

Rose was vivacious and fun. I always had a great time with her dancing out to talking heads or some other electronic new wave dance music. Everyone knew her Dad and she was one helluva trophy for a poor boy like me. I came from a family of 'once fairly wealthy' but my businessman father's little empire had gone belly up after some bad business dealings. I had two sisters; one is now an architect in Dubai, the other a jewellery designer in London. My brother is a criminologist. In those days my designer sister had just finished fashion design school. I could not afford flash clothes but she kitted me out.

Us cool dudes included muso's and the odd rugger bugger, but we all like to wear the smart threads and party hard when we were not working hard.

Rose's full name was Belinda Rose Shannon She didn't like Belinda and called herself Rose. I used to tease her sometimes and call her 'Belinda Rose'. She hated that because she said it sounded American. She was elfin and was like a sprite, always jigging about, ready to dance. She wore her blonde hair permed and swept to one side falling across her eyes like that kiwi gal from the Thompson Twins. She had to severely pin it back to be acceptable to her school.

In this period I was on a high. My grades were good; I had standing in 'Dudedom' and the best chick in town, I thought. Then there was that night. It was Guy Fawkes and we had ended up way down the beach in her MG midget. For us in the dark by ourselves, the surf pounding in the background, it was a night of pure teenage passion. I had my hands up her skirt and in her pants. For the first time in my life I was feeling female bush. Then I broke through her blonde wiry felted mesh into the warm wetness inside. I remember being surprised. Remember, it was a first for me. I was suddenly wilfully driven with passion, I remember taking my fingers out and sniffing the essence of girl on them. Us guys called it stink finger; I just had to know.

Now, have you ever made love in an MG midget? If you manage it you don't make love, you can only fuck. I consider it an achievement we ever did it at all and I still look back at that bit with some pride. We only managed to do it because I was in the passenger seat. Rose had been driving. In our passion she had been trying to get a leg over. It's a wonder she didn't deflower herself straddling the gear lever as she crawled across.

Anyway she was a lot smaller than me and eventually found herself in what we these days call cowgirl position. She was sitting on my dick staring into my eyes. She kind of sat up then wriggling around lifting each leg in turn, managed to get her panties off. I, in the meantime was awkwardly working my trou down my legs. I didn't get it very far but between my trou and my daks I got them far enough down for some action. Then between us we juggled my standing dick into where I figured her vagina was.

Now this was a first for both of us. I had heard stories of copious amount of blood. But no, she was so wet she just sank onto me. There was hardly a wince as she pushed down. Boy her pussy was tight and there was a tiny bit of blood once down she was away pushing up and own. I was kind of trapped letting it all happen and it did not take long for me to discharge. She tried to keep going but once my dick deflated there wasn't a chance. So I guess I was disappointing for her; orgasm for her would have to wait.

Unfortunately what happened next sealed my fate. Rose dismounted me and squirmed back into the driver's seat while I shuffled my trousers back into position. On her way she straddled the gear lever and with a cheeky little grin she pulled her skirt up and squatted over the lever, hovering a few seconds as though she was about to root it. She appeared to think better of it and rolled over with a thunk into the driver's seat.

Let alone the gear lever, there was cum dripping everywhere and it was all uncomfortable and messy. I was in an emotional flush and to this day I have no idea why I said it, I blurted something totally inappropriate like, "I hate you for what you are." Why the fuck did I say that? She froze straight away. I instantly knew I had made a totally mind numbing gaff and could not follow up with anything sensible.

Looking back on it I think I wanted to say something dramatic for the occasion. Why that? I don't know. I was certainly aware of my families fall from grace. We had moved from a beautiful house into rented accommodation that I was embarrassed about. Maybe Freud would have something to say about; perhaps it was envy.

We never went out again. I would call but I was basically dumped. I mentally beat myself up about that gaff for years; it was my first time and nothing to brag about. The fellas never understood our breaking up. She was the first girl to break my heart. I moped around all summer and never really got over it until I started Uni.

It shows just how self-absorbed I was as a teenager though. Did you miss what we call these days as the elephant in the room? I had unprotected sex with a virgin. Rose was catholic to boot, she was never going to have condoms with her and I didn't. The girls we went with were generally on the pill. I had a great deal of difficulty in talking to girls about sex, OK. I was from a single sex school. I kind of assumed she was on the pill. Actually I was in denial about it because I couldn't put the words together to ask her and we were young and risk takers. It was years before I twigged that she was probably more pissed off with me about that than whatever I was stupidly blurting out of my mouth.

Any way that was that; my beautiful young vivacious fun loving blonde; gone. I was left wondering what might have been. I thought I would never have another gal like her.

So, I didn't think I would see her again but I did. At the time I went away to Uni and I worked my way through Bachelors, Masters on to my PhD which I did in the States. I finally was able to take up a permanent position in New Zealand. I was an ecologist.

I had the usual run of girlfriends, I lived with a woman for about four years but our careers took us in different directions. It wasn't a strong relationship but we were committed to a degree but I guess the parting was convenient as we really saw no future in each other. We parted amicably; neither of us did anything dramatic to cause the split.

It enabled me to throw myself into my work and it was in that period I did my best and became well known for the research I was turning out. This led me to attending conferences around the world as well as a quite busy local speaking schedule. It was at one of these that I crossed paths with Rose. I was to give a public talk sponsored by a group of environmental enthusiasts who were engaged in a major riparian re-vegetation project. I would be giving the talk and agreed to spend two days at the restoration project site where they were having seminars as well as planting. I was an introductory keynote speaker at the first seminar and I would be helping and talking with volunteers attending the seminars and planting for the rest of the weekend.

By coincidence I saw Rose at a supermarket beforehand. I really did not recognize her but she looked striking and familiar. As it happens she recognised me and I caught her staring at me. I just passed it off at the time as someone who thought they knew me and no more.

As it happens she had an interest in things green but seldom went out. At that stage she was a bit of a recluse but she mentioned seeing me to one of her environmentally oriented friends. The friend, Gina, talked her into coming to the lecture but more importantly came to the first morning of the planting. After I had given my keynote speech, it was Gina who introduced herself to me and asked me to come across to meet Rose.

I wondered why Rose did not come herself but I obliged. As I approached my heart did an absolute leap; I think I intuitively connected even before I was told her name. Gina introduced us announcing that we had once been an item so many years ago.

Introductions made, I suddenly found myself grinning like a fool and hardly knew what to say. Gina helped by asking questions and suddenly I was telling my life story. Rose hung back from talking about herself but she did say she had been a primary school teacher and she had undertaken some environmental papers in getting her Bachelors of Education. It had become her speciality for her classes. We found ourselves talking about the planting and my research. Rose seemed fascinated and I am sorry to say for the others at the planting she rather monopolised me for the remainder of the morning.

At the end of the morning's activities, I asked her to dinner as I had nothing planned for the evening, but to my disappointment she refused making some incoherent excuses. Gina was giving her a ride so as Rose got into the car, Gina came back to me. Gina told me she would get Rose to dinner however she and her husband would come as well. She named a place that Rose would like and said they would be there at 7pm. She added that there would be no trouble with bookings. With that I said Dinner would be my shout. Just before she left she pulled me aside again and with a conspiratorial air, almost whispering so those around me wouldn't hear, "listen you may not know Rose was married but she suffered a home invasion. Her husband was killed trying to defend her and she was brutally raped, losing a baby. She suffers from PTSD. She cannot teach at the moment and she seems to have a lot of difficulty with men. With you she seems different. Please go easy on her and be understanding."

When I heard that my heart really went out to her. Gina noticed I looked a little stunned.

"I'm sorry that probably seems to be a little heavy. Look if you would rather not come..."

"Oh no; after hearing that, wild horses couldn't drag me away. Anyway I can help, I will."

This probably came at strategic point in my life. I was becoming wrapped up in my work. I was conscious of it being an obsession and I needed some kind of other distraction. At dinner that night I think I discovered I was in love with her. I like to think of myself as a good listener. I have had to deal with so many students and I often find myself some kind of agony aunt for them. Because I am passionate in my work it tends to rub off on many of them and it was this kind of dynamic with Rose. I hardly needed to say much at dinner as Rose ran on about stuff that she had bottled up. I was actually very interested in her views and she would have seen my enthusiastic response.

None of this touched on the darker side of her life. Rose did not come to the planting next day but that night I made a commitment to come up and she would show me those special places in the bush and mountains she so enjoyed. It seemed that Gina and her husband needed to be there but I understood that Rose would need the support.

From there the relationship grew. I discovered that apart from Gina's husband Craig and her own father, Rose had disconnected herself from any men. Her reticence to talk about any of the men in her past puzzled me. She did not even discuss her husband. I told her that I was surprised she even remembered me. With that she exclaimed "how could she not remember her first love".

Love? She dumped me!

I replied that she had been so important in my life at the time but sometimes the other love interest just does not see it that way and just forgets, like it were ships passing in the night.

"Well you were a bloody big iceberg; how could I forget that? At that time I did not know what she meant but as life would turn out I began to realise exactly why she would say that.

Rose and I ....well; we began behaving, I think, like teenagers. I couldn't remember ever acting like I was beginning to act with her. We found ourselves just impulsively smiling at one another, giggling at silly little things.

I had an urge to interest her in my world but conversely I wanted to share hers. I felt our lives were beginning to merge. Inevitably there came a time when Rose accepted a date with me alone. We were so obsessed with one another it was frankly embarrassing to be with Craig and Gina.

For years I had been serious and earnest and now the façade was breaking down; it was time for my new persona to be part of the private world for just Rose and me. Our first get together was just dinner and a classical recital but for me it was a chaste and perfect evening and I like to think she enjoyed it too. She did give me a kiss all be it on the cheek and I went back to my hotel with my cheek tingling at the memory of it.

We were both grown up now and I think I convinced her that I was no longer the arrogant little sod I was in those days. We did reminisce a bit but never spoke about that night. I was not aware of making any verbal gaffs this time around. Rose came to visit me with Gina and I showed her around the university, I introduced her to my colleagues as I showed her around the department and she loved visiting the labs.

Gina spoke to me aside at one stage saying that Rose had curiously latched on to me as if I was almost a pet man somehow. She still distrusted other men. She hoped that I would not do anything to disappoint her. Rose was still very fragile and her confidence was slow in coming back; Gina feared that Rose might relapse.