Laura and Greg Ch. 02

I wanted to yell back at her and deny and refute what she was implying. But by then I was a mess and didn't know what-was-what in my life anymore. She was right, he could have cheated after I did, but then thinking he had cheated on me was what got me in trouble in the first place.

"Angela, do you know something I don't know? Spit it out."

"If you trust me and do as I ask, we can try and fix your marriage Laura. And we can find out what Greg is thinking and has been doing. Let me put it this way. Think of me as a marriage counselor that cost you nothing. What do you have to lose? Your marriage? How is that going right now?"

I swallowed hard and sighed. She kept goading me with that "how's it working out for you" thing. It was annoying, but it was very on point. My way of thinking had ruined my marriage.

No. Actually I had ruined my marriage with my way of thinking.

"What do I have to do?"

"Come over to our house this weekend. We can cook out and our kids can keep each other busy. While you and Joe are outside talking, I'll talk. And I mean talk to your husband. I'll find out what I need to know and let you know."

"What do you want to find out?"

"If he is interested in a swap silly. I will do to him what Joanna did to Joe years ago. Leave it to me. I promise I will not fuck him. But before you agree to come over, I want you to think about what being in the lifestyle means. It means sharing your man with other wives and in return, you get the fucking from other men you used to get, only this way it's not cheating. Are you willing to share Greg with me and other women?"

"I don't know," was my instinctive possessive answer.

An answer from the kind of thinking that got me where I was. Selfish and possessive thinking. I wanted to fuck other men, but not have Greg do the same. Yet when I was on my fucking spree I had resigned to the thought Greg was fucking the brunette that turned out to be his cousin. What the hell was that?

And deep down, I also knew she was right about me. Sooner or later, I would miss the sex and the excitement and relapse. It was not a question of if, just a matter of when as she said. I liked it too much. And if I did, this time there would be no fig-leaf excuse like last time. The next time I began fucking around again it would be because I had given up on my marriage and surrendered to the needs of my cunt. My own selfish needs placed above the needs of my children and forever giving up any hope of patching things up with Greg.

The thought of that hurt me to the core. I gasped in pain and sobbed seeing in my mind's eye a life of nothing but fucking strange men as my husband left me and my kids thought of me nothing but a whore. I thought of my kids in the care of others and all that entailed.

Greg would remarry and another woman would be spending time with them. And if I had custody of the kids, I would be struggling the life of a single mom while still fucking men for my kids to see parading in and out of my life. It scared the shit out of me that some man I was fucking would put his hands on Amber or Robbie.

I had to stop thinking of myself and fooling myself with delusions and procrastination. I had to face my reality and save my family in any way I could. I had to try. I had to take a chance. I had to trust Angela.

"Yes," I relented.

"Yes what?" Angela asked staring at me directly. She could see into my soul that woman.

"Yes, I can have Greg fuck other women. I can let him fuck the wives of those I fuck and even more women if he wants. I owe him that," I said in surrender. "Whatever it takes."

"Because?"

"Because I love him." I said crying out. "And I love our kids. Our family. I will do it for them. I will do anything to keep us together. To make up for what I have done."

She let me sob and placed a hand on her shoulder. Eventually I sat up and looked at her.

Angela sat back with a look of victory in her face. But I misjudged her. She wasn't gloating at getting me to come around. She actually cared about me and had tried to help me only for me to reject her offer. That she was still willing to help was a testament to her character. But I was too wrapped up in my own fears and troubles to see her for what she truly was just yet.

"Laura, go home and just hold him tonight. Trust me on this. You two need to go back to square one. If more happens, it happens. But if nothing is happening, start there."

"How do you know all this?" I asked.

"Joe and I spent a ton of money on couple's therapy. Then I did it again for my childhood issues. I'm saving you a fortune by skimming over the psycho-bullshit I had to pay for to get to the stuff I needed."

She smiled at me and I smiled back holding her hand.

"We'll be there Saturday," I said. "If I have to drag Greg there."

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Laura and the mystery man

I left Angela and went home feeling a bit relieved, but not totally. For one thing, I didn't know if Angela's plan would work. So many things could go wrong. But there was another reason. I had not told Angela about all the men I had been with. In that regard, I had been vague. I let her think that by men I meant strangers; bar pickups.

What I did not tell her was the one man I had sex with that I could not share with her or anyone else. His identity I planned to take to the grave with me. But like she said, there would never be guarantees and I had to make sure this man's identity stayed between just he and I. To do so, I called him and made him meet me on the way home. No, it was not Steve. It was someone Greg knew and was dear to him.

He was older than me by twenty two years. It was what had attracted me to him. Being in his early fifties, he was a different lover than the younger studs. And different than Steve who was ten years younger than him. But he was one of the best lovers I ever had.

The man was hung like a horse, both wide and long. But as much as I enjoyed him fucking me, it was the foreplay and oral sex that were his expertise. It's true what they say about older guys. They sure take their time to please a woman.

Our first time was hurried but still memorable.

"You were great Laura," he had said as we dressed. "But I wish I had time to spent on foreplay that I like more."

"You like that more than fucking me?" I asked in surprise.

The only man who had spent time with me on foreplay was Greg. The rest were mainly interested in a quick blowjob and a hard fuck. Something that please me as well. It was all part of my just get fucked thinking. To me, foreplay was part of making love.

Some guys wanted a quick blow job first, then ate my pussy while their dick recovered, and they recharged before getting hard again for the main course. A few had been good at bringing me off with their tongue and fingers. But I never had the time or the inclination to have one spent time kissing, paying attention to my tits other than a grope while we fucked. His suggestion of finding time to devote to that intrigued me.

It was with him that I had my first Saturday excursion. Not only did we drive out of town to a motel by the highway, he brought a massage table with him. he had me shower first and lay on the table as he spent close to an hour massaging my body all over. From my legs to my ass to my back and shoulders and back. Then he flipped me over and did the same up front. I was putty in his hands.

Avoiding my tits and pussy, he tease me by massaging my entire body from neck on down to my toes. I enjoyed it so much, I just let him go on and on with my eyes closed. It was the first time a man had actually pampered me this way. When he finally used oil on my breasts and began a fifteen minute massage on them, I closed my eyes and reached for my clit with my fingers.

"No," he said. "That's my job, and you are distracting yourself from enjoying your breast massage."

I sat back stunned as he refocused his efforts on my breasts. He hadn't gotten to my nipples yet; deliberately avoiding them. When he finally got to them, I was in deep heat and the sensation was unbelievable. He never hurt my tips, but he certainly worked them over. What started as gentle caresses with his fingers around them to get them hard, turned in to tweaking and tugging that drove me wild.

Then just as I thought I was going to beg him to pay attention to my cunt, he moved his hands down to my thighs and spread my legs wide. What happened after that was probably the most fantastic forty five minutes I spent without a dick inside me. He massaged every inch of my inner thighs, groin and hips but my cunt at first. Eventually his fingers got closer and closer to my splayed cunt that was now dripping from arousal.

He used his fingers to spread me wider and then inserted them in me one by one. He stopped at two but occasionally would insert three and go back to two. He massaged my entrance ring with his fingertips of one hand as the other rubbed my vulva around my cunt and clit, never touching IT. I have a nice sized clit. Nothing like you see in some porn sites these days, but big enough that it gives me fantastic orgasms when stimulated with either fingers or tongue. I even used to rub it on Greg's cock as I lay over him.

But this was different. I lost track of time as he brought me off just by penetrating my cunt with his fingers and fucking me that way. I get these smaller milder orgasms during fucking sometimes when a man fucks me with a steady long rhythm. But his fingers were exquisite. By the time he went for my clit, I was beyond impressed. What he was doing was a lesson I wanted to learn and take with me. For some reason, the first thing I thought off was I need to teach Greg this.

Why did I think of my husband as the man I wanted this with and not any of the men I was fucking? If you are a psychoanalyst, feel free to opine. All I know is that I didn't want any of my fuck buddies doing something this intimate with me. Greg was the only man I thought of other than the man doing it to me the first time.

His rubbing of my clit with his oiled fingers drove me to the edge and back. My thighs literally jumped up as my legs strained against his fingers. He let me relax but didn't know how quickly I recharge after orgasms. My hands reached for his large dick so I can pull him in to my mouth. I lay on my stomach as he stood on top for the massage table feeding me his cock slowly. He never once face fucked me. That wasn't his style.

As for cumming in my mouth, that never happened with him. He always saved it for fucking my pussy. And he fucked it so good and long. His size was interesting to say the least, but he took the time to fuck me long and slow in most positions I asked for or he wanted. Getting fucked slow by a big dick as he filled me totally was fantastic.

Again, I had thoughts of Greg when with him. I could not escape it. They were the only two men who had ever fucked me slowly. One making love to me and the other servicing me, pampering me.

While I still had fuck sessions with Steve during lunch and other men when I went out with the girls, I reserved my Saturdays for him. Then after I would rush through the stores at the mall and snatch a few things to bring home so Greg would see that I actually went shopping.

The last time I was with him, he fucked me on the massage table as my legs wrapped around his waist. He was so totally in me. I will remember it forever. I had learned so much from him. I learned nothing from the other men.

We parked our cars so the driver sides were next to one another so we could only talk.

"You changed your mind?" he said with a hopeful exuberance.

"No, I haven't," I replied sternly. "You and I can't ever do this again. I will try and reconcile with Greg. I know you want that as well for him. But you can't have me anymore. I can't take the chance of him finding out. He may forgive me for all others I have been with, but never with you. And he would never forgive you either. You know that don't you?"

He nodded with the sadness of reluctant acceptance.

"I know it will not be easy for us from now on. But let's face it, we are not in love. It was about the sex. You said so."

"It was the best sex I ever had," he replied. "You made me feel young again."

"At least you had it," I replied. "Cherish it. I know I will. I regret fucking up my marriage, but I don't regret our time together. Or the fun I had. I just wish I had done it with Greg, instead of behind his back."

"Not what you and I did," he replied. "You are right. Greg can never know about us. You and I have to make sure."

The sadness in him was replaced by a sense of finality and purpose. I was glad about that.

"Laura, you have to be seriously careful about this. You can never get drunk around him. You could slip up and say something. Please promise me you will never tell him. I will hold my end of the bargain. I promise you."

"I promise you too," I said and forcing myself, I drove away and went home.

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Greg

I knew Laura had been fucking around for some time. It hadn't taken me long to figure it out. She had all the signs of a wife stepping out with other men. The haughty attitude, the semi slutty clothes and the different haircut spoke volumes. Also, the coming home late smelling of hotel soap and occasionally other men's smell on her clothes. But the biggest tell was he distancing herself from my family. I would learn later that is a big cheater sign. They just can't look at their spouses family in the eye.

We married young and never had the time to enjoy life before we both settled down. A big mistake. Busy in college, we both dated, but not the way a young man and young woman should before marriage. I never had the fun of screwing many women and I had a feeling from what people told me about Laura she didn't date that much either to have much experience.

I found that hard to believe considering her looks that attracted men to her constantly. But Laura, just like myself came from a family where success was placed on education and achievement. Failure was not an option. So, we both spent more time studying than socializing. We had both been raised to be driven and do well at everything we focused on. I guess that was one thing that attracted us to each other in our senior year.

Funny thing, for high achievers, we failed at the most important endeavor we both would try in life; family.

Neither of us was a virgin when we married, but we were also not very experienced sexually. We learned from what we had heard and had fun in the early months of our young marriage. We both apparently lived sex and the rush we got from it. Being new to each other, we treated each other as new toys and played with them constantly. Unknowingly we confused new sex with good sex.

Then we had kids quickly which placed us right into the world of responsibility and no time for each other. By the time our troubles started, we had both caught each other staring at other people. We joked about it at first, but I realized that I was looking at other women in our life wondering what it would be like to fuck one. Most of all, I wondered if women still found me attractive. Could I still "score?"

Life at home became mundane and so did the sex between us. The more we fell into routines and kid events, the less we spent with each other. I guess I should have known trouble was on its way, but I was too busy with work and the kids to talk to Laura about it. But that's bullshit looking back at all that happened to us; all that we did to ruin our marriage.

Laura and I ruined our marriage. It wasn't other people that intruded and made us be distant to one another. We did it to ourselves. I spent a long time blaming her for being the first to step out, but it didn't take me long to follow her footsteps and look for fun outside my marriage.

Then it happened. It was soon after my cousin Celia started working where I worked.

I still remembered the night Laura came home late wanting to have sex. It was fun to have her initiate things and I fell into it enthusiastically. She asked me for oral sex, and I complied as it was always something she had liked about our love making. She seemed different somehow, tasting different when I ate her out. I couldn't place the taste and didn't even think much of it since we hadn't had oral sex for some time together.

In the weeks to come, she would come home later at times. Sporadic at first, more so as time passed. But again, there were times she came home and wanted sex. Like a typical guy, I figured so long as we were having sex things were fine. But she always wanted oral sex from me before anything and I had stopped thinking about the taste. There were times I didn't even notice it at all. Other times I did. Not knowing what it was, I didn't think much of it. Women's insides were something not discussed much in our household growing up.

It took me some time before I figured "it" out. But I knew something was going on with her. But I didn't want to admit it to myself. Then something happened that told me exactly what Lauren had been doing.

Some would say that I should have hired investigators or followed her around or have my buddies track her down in a quest of medieval vengeance. But to me that all sounds like a bad novel. No one involved in a marriage with kids goes on full dissociation and revenge mode right of the bat. What really happens first is naïve denial.

"That's my wife. She would never do that to ME." or "I'm imagining things." Or "She's just going through a phase." Yup... I was busy paddling down the river of denial. Not the one in Egypt. (OK, old joke, but in my case it fit. )

I stayed with Laura for two reasons. One, I was hoping she would come to her senses and stop all this. Yes, I still loved her. I still couldn't understand why she had done this. Go ahead call me an idiot. Let the first idiot among you toss the first stone. Because we all know none of you people have been in my shoes. Right?

The other reason was I didn't want to break up our family. The kids needed us both. See, the notion that divorce was painful all around had been drummed into my head early in life. Seeing my uncle and aunt divorce had been an eye opener for me. They, called it amicable. But my cousins called it childhood hell.

I had watched as my aunt disappeared leaving her daughter Celia with our family while her boy went with his father. My uncle remarried and moved away when offered a better job. But Celia stayed with us and was like a sister, but not. She would be a big catalyst in my life down the road in ways I could never had expected.

Poor Celia was ten when her mother showed up with some guy in a truck and a Harley on the truck bed. A bike that he treated better than Celia's mom. I watched as Celia was dragged out of our house crying and didn't see her again for another fifteen years.

By then Celia had been through the mill with biker after biker boyfriend her mother ran with. One of them used to molest her, grooming her to be his bitch; a younger version of her mother. But Celia ran away and hid in a church in Sacramento.

The nunnery sisters took care of her and hid her. They made sure she got an education and a roof over her head. When she was of age, she joined the navy and saw the world. At twenty two, she went to college with veteran's benefits while working as a waitress and living with an older woman as a boarder. She eventually dated this guy and was in love, but they had a bad breakup and she chose to come back to where we lived and reconnect with her father's family. He own father had died and her brother had disappeared.

I saw her again one day when I was picking up the kids at my parents. I almost didn't recognize her. She was stunning. A gorgeous brunette with a perfect figure. Legs, 36D breasts, long black hair and eyes that made me gush. I hadn't felt that way for a woman since I met Laura.