Charlotte's Addiction

May 18:

Charles came home late. He had texted about an evening meeting, but when he got home he had had a few drinks. Also, his tie was off. He never takes it off until he is home.

May 19:

He texts me to go on to Esparza's; that he'll catch up. He gets home after me. Gentle probing gets noncommittal answers. Again, he's had a few, and the tie is off.

I text Sean and leave VMs. Nothing.

May 20:

He's back from his group ride a good hour later than usual. When I wash his bike clothes this afternoon, the front of the jersey and shorts are soaking wet, like he spilled a whole water bottle down his chest.

Sean still does not reply.

It's a quiet, distant evening. He's off to Vegas tomorrow for the big national logistics convention; usually I go, but Dad has doctor's visits.

May 24:

No calls, perfunctory texts only. He'll be home Friday. I've got to get this resolved.

May 27:

Well fuck--squared. My world just turned into one big diarrhetic mess. Charles texts me yesterday afternoon that he is staying over and will be home later today. So I call Sharon and ask if I can ride with her. My intent was to get thoroughly shit-faced and then figure out how to undo this cluster-fuck.

She calls; I'm out the door; it's just her as Steve is running late.

She remarks about how tense I seem. I tell her Charles got stuck in Vegas, and I was hoping he would be back.

Then she says-------- oh God in Heaven, she says Sean is out in Vegas too, left Wednesday. I start yelling for her to pull over. We're still in the neighborhood so she does. I barely get the car door open in time to puke on the curb -- twice.

She's speechless, just staring. I ask her to take me home. She nods and U-turns. I hop out before the car fully stops, opening the garage and running in. She's right behind me. I get to the kitchen and the sobs start.

A week or so goes by it seems before I'm exhausted and stop. She steers me to the patio and then returns with a bottle. I toss two shots and then pull out a cigarette. She waits patiently while I finish.

I have nothing to lose now. I tell her the whole story -- from my fantasy, to Sean somehow making Charles willing to do it, to the several fuck sessions, to Charles being in bed with Sean, to the week of late nights and now Vega.

We were quiet for about 10 minutes. And then she says for me to sit back, take a few deep breaths and focus on listening. No thoughts, just listen.

June 3:

THIS IS SHARON. AS YOU READ THIS, YOU FIND YOURSELF BACK ON YOUR PATIO, LISTENING SO VERY CAREFULLY TO ME AS DIRECTED AND ACCEPTING WHAT I AM GOING TO TELL YOU BELOW IS WHY AND WHAT YOU ARE TO DO THE NEXT FOUR WEEKS.

First let's revisit how we got here. After you confessed your phenomenal screw-up, I told you that it was mistake to trust Sean, as he is indeed most persuasive, but also mostly amoral. And then I told you that it's some unknown quirk of DNA but all my siblings are persuasive---me most of all.

Point one -- you screwed up. Hear me clearly on this. Everyone likes Charles, a lot. And he adores you -- his wife - more than 99% of the husbands out there. And you came so close to royally fucking up your, his and Katie's lives.

Point two -- lucky you, I fixed it. It took the better part of the week. But Sean is nursing the mental beating I gave him, and Charles has some gaps in his memory he'll never fill--unless you tell him, but while I've left you with the memory of what you did, there is also a compulsion to throw-up with enthusiasm if you ever summon the courage to confess.

Point three- - there is no free lunch. And we need to get Charles thinking like a heterosexual again.

I'm glad you kept this journal, and thanks for sharing the passwords.

Now, here is what you are to do:

You are reading this now because I called you this afternoon.

You have reread all of the above and relived each and every cringe-worthy moment

When you get home from Esparza's tonight, you will call and ask me to come over.

When I arrive, you will obey me completely.

At some point you, me and Charles will go to whatever room I chose, and you will go down on me until I cum.

You will then ask Charles to fuck you in the ass.

I will give you a ball gag to put on.

I will give you the lube to apply to Charles, and I will lube your ass for you, even though I am tempted not to give you any comfort assistance.

After he cums, you will thank him sincerely and confirm your love for him.

Whether I let you then orgasm depends on my whim.

I will reinforce these instructions tonight.

July 1:

Sharon released me from the thrall today. But I cannot delete this journal. A small price to pay, she says.

Charles seems none the worse for wear, and we are both back to our routines. I threw away the panties I got him; no need to keep them around. Likewise, I haven't brought up anal.

But if the "Kink Gremlin" ever rears its ugly head again, I'll turn to PornHub on my own. Promise.

And, sorry folks, but somehow, I'll work up the courage to ask Sharon if I can go down on her again. Not too soon, but one day. Hey, we're both consenting adults.