Lifestyle Ch. 11 - Demons Past

Her words pushed me over the edge. My cum burst forth inside her, and I pumped just two or three more times until I pulled her back onto me, keeping it deep inside her. She could feel my body tensing with each shot, the thick fluid surging inside her. I felt her body tense and shake as her orgasm hit, getting what she demanded, and her butt squeezed on me. Her knees went weak and bent out from under her. I quickly wrapped an arm under her waist to keep her from falling. I struggled to stand straight up, picking my wife up with her ass still impaled on me.

When Jan stopped her spasms and calmed, she regained her legs and stood, straightening her back as I pulled out. We silently took some toilet tissue and cleaned ourselves, dropping it into the toilet and flushed it away. I pulled my pants back up and Jan straightened her panties and dress.

Jan turned to me and wrapped her arms around me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I held her close, and I felt her shake a little as she held back a sob. So, I pulled her tighter into me.

She only needed a few seconds, then pulled away from me. I watched as she stretched her neck looking up at the ceiling and twisted her head around, as if stretching out after finishing some exercise. She regained her composure and self-confidence, pulling her shoulders back and looked at me, the wild woman gone and my wife again standing in front of me.

"Thanks," she said, as she put a hand on my chest, then she looked down, now suddenly shy again. She quietly added, "I was twenty-one. And after you went away to the university, he was my first, other than with you.... I wasn't ready, and I didn't want him to do that. But it was my third time coming here. And I wanted to be with him,... even after that.... I'm glad you came with me this weekend. I didn't realize how much I needed you to do this with me."

Reaching under her chin, I tilted her face up toward me and leaned down to kiss her. "Let's grab a drink," I said "and go back to our room. I think you might want to talk a little more in private."

"Ya think?" she said sarcastically, as she laughed then smiled at me. "Let's go, geek!"

I laughed a little with her. "The bitch is back."

"But I'm your bitch!"

Jan unlatched the stall door. We went to the sinks, washed our hands, and she checked her make-up. Then she slowly pulled the rest room door open a little to look out into the hallway. Pulling the door the rest of the way open, she took my hand and walked out. As the ladies' room door swung closed behind me, Jan turned and reached for it, pulling off an "Out of Order" sign from the door handle.

We walked out the short hallway and Jan placed the sign on the bar. The bartender came to us and smiled at Jan, taking the sign and putting it under the bar. We ordered two more drinks, carrying them out, heading to our room.

Jan never looked back at the band again. But as we passed through the bar room door into the hotel lobby, she let out a deep sigh, almost as if she had been holding her breath.

My wife has a strong personality and seems to never allow anything to bother her. She quickly forgets the past and has the attitude "Get over it!" But this was something she never quite got over.

Since that first summer long ago when we got back together, we've had the pact "never lie to me." Jan came up with that pact due to those weekends, first fucking the band guy, then a week later finding that he was married. And although she's never lied to me, it seems I've cluelessly never asked the right questions.

Tomorrow we're going to the house where she grew up, a place we've mostly avoided for the past thirty years. But with this evening's drama, it may be she has a few other unsettling things she might need to get over. We may have a few more old demons to dispel. So, this was turning into a very interesting weekend.

Saturday

We slept in a little late the next morning, after spending some time on the hotel room balcony the previous night with our drinks, appreciating the warm spring air. Jan and I had some very enlightening conversations, with her as usual doing most of the talking. I mostly listened attentively allowing her to get things out which she had bottled up. These didn't change anything between us or the woman I married, but they were things which seemed to bother her.

I'm a quiet geek, spending my time cruising through life and mostly observing things around me. Everything that happens to me is permanently engraved in my memory, but I mostly just move along in an emotionless state, the past merely 'having been there'. I don't dwell on how those things might be good or bad in the long term or what 'might have been', which could have made my life better. The older kids in my neighborhood avoided me and drove me away because I was too young, making me live more alone as a teenager. Those older kids were merely behaving as they needed due to their own demons. And they helped make me who I am now.

Some people might try to bury their past. They try to forget the bad things, trying to be happier. Jan's mother had a very traumatic experience involving one of her kids, and in trying to forget it, she forgot about her own daughter. And Jan has had to grow up with that.

When we first started our journey into the swinger lifestyle, we found some people's descriptions of their fetishes a little strange. Jan asked our mentors "Who would want to do those things for fun?" They said, "Some people aren't doing things for fun, but are a little damaged, and doing it for a need." And that's what I saw last night, Jan's need.

Jan didn't try to forget the lady's room incidents with the band guy. But last night, she chose to handle it by changing it into something she could remember at least a little more fondly. Last night, she was a little damaged with a need, and I was there to hopefully help her repair a part of it.

***

It was a little cloudy in the late morning when we left the hotel. This late spring day was rather warm, the temperatures predicted to raise into the high seventies by late afternoon.

Around lunchtime, we finally turned onto the two-lane state road and drove to the end of the community of similar brick rambler houses. The state road continued past that last yard and house, with farm fields on both sides of the road for another mile before turning out of sight. I turned into the driveway and parked under the carport beside the house where Jan grew up.

"Your dad's taken good care of the place," I said, seeing the freshly mowed lawn.

"I think he has one of the neighbor kids cutting the grass and trimming the hedges," Jan said. "Otherwise, the place should be completely empty and ready for the closing. Let's take two lawn chairs out to the back porch. I'll pour a glass of wine and sit out back there for a little while. That was my favorite view."

"Do you still have your old key to the house?" I asked. "Or did your dad tell you where to find one hidden nearby?"

"No need for it," Jan said. "He installed keyless door locks, and he gave me the codes."

"Then let's go." I pulled out the two folding chairs from the car trunk and took those to the back porch as Jan opened the front door of the house.

Jan opened the kitchen door to the porch and came out carrying two glasses of white wine, and we sat in the folding chairs. Looking across the half acre lawn, we saw the freshly plowed field stretching beyond and over the small hill a few hundred yards away.

I took a sip of the wine, a chardonnay, and asked "So, what's the plan today? Are we staying here the whole afternoon? Or did you have anything else in mind?"

"I prepared a picnic backpack," Jan said. "I thought we'd look around the house for an hour or two, then drive over to the park for a hike."

I chuckled and asked, "Same place, same time?", remembering those summers when we got back together.

"It's been a good year," Jan said with a smile. "It's just a one bottle picnic this time."

Jan stared out across the yard and farm field toward what I knew was the barn she and her friend Marlene used as their getaway.

"Do you feel like taking a walk over there to see their barn?" I asked.

"Not today," Jan said, and she paused in thought for a few seconds. "This visit is about the house. That barn was my 'happy place' to escape from here."

"Did you spend all your time there?"

"After my brother's funeral," Jan began, repeating the story I knew so well, "I couldn't stand to hear mom crying all the time. I was only twelve years old, and they didn't tell me all the details at the time. I just knew she was banged up in the car accident with my brother. But her constant crying was something I couldn't handle. So, I spent more time at Marlene's barn even when Marlene wasn't there."

"Your aunt June helped out around the house for at least a year or two after the funeral," I prompted for her to continue.

"Yeah," Jan went on "She was a life saver, bringing us dinners when mom was on one of her sleeping binges. Then she'd stick around helping to clean for a while. But it was taking a toll on her, too, with her own family to care for. I learned to do more of the cooking and cleaning so she wouldn't feel obligated to do it."

"That's a lot to pile onto the shoulders of a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old."

"That's probably where I picked up my obsessive-compulsive disorder," Jan realized. "I would start cleaning something around here, then mom would see me and start crying again. I reminded her of kids, and she would remember Daniel pressed against her when he died and think about her miscarriages, too. She would sometimes cry for hours before falling asleep, until they started prescribing the pills. When she was in one of those crying fits, I'd get super-focused on whatever I was cleaning to tune her out. Then I'd put the cleaning stuff away and run over to the barn to escape until she calmed down."

"How did you know when she calmed down?" I asked.

"After a while, it just became her habit, and I recognized the pattern. If she started to cry when she saw me, I eventually learned to stop whatever I was doing and leave the house for at least an hour. She would calm down faster when I wasn't around. Then I would sneak back in to finish whatever I was doing."

"That must have been tough on your dad, not being able to see the two of you together."

"Yeah, but that wasn't my fault! She's the one who couldn't deal with it."

"That time your mother went away with her sister, and your dad visited us," I started "he and I had a drink together, and he gave me more details of the accident."

"I don't want to know," Jan insisted suddenly.

"Okay," I said, realizing she had her own reasons for avoiding the unpleasant details.

Her father confided in me over that drink. I think it was his way of unloading part of his burden, too. He was briefed by the police and the coroner after the accident. It was a freak accident, a failed break line in the car that allowed it to hit them going full speed. He said the coroner described the injury in far too much detail and described the excruciating pain Jan's brother must have felt for at least the ten minutes it took before finally passing out from blood loss. Her mother endured those ten minutes, with her son pressed against her, unable to move or do anything about it. And whenever those memories peeked out, she couldn't handle it.

Jan had been burdened with enough over the years, almost acting as the 'woman of the house'. And the details of what her mother went through would only add to her load. Jan's attitude was always "get over it!", as if you should be able to ignore anything. She didn't want to consider that maybe her mother couldn't get over it.

Jan was looking for someone to help her escape from here. When I went away to the university, she turned to any guy who might help. She endured the painful ass-fucking by that band guy, even going back a week later hoping he might be the one, only to find out he was married and just used her.

My job relocation after I graduated and my proposal to her gave her the escape she sought. And our restroom fuck at the nightclub was her way of finally burying the past without feeling like she wanted to cry about it.

"About last night," I started, "you had the bottle of lube in your purse. Did you plan it all?"

Jan was quiet for a few seconds staring out at the field. "When I decided to come back to visit the house, I checked that club's website, thinking about that time. I saw his band was playing there this weekend."

"Would you have gone there without me?" I asked.

"If you weren't with me, I would have gone off on him shouting in the bar, making sure everyone there knew he used me to cheat on his wife."

"So, the lube wasn't for him?"

"Oh, hell no!" she exclaimed in surprise. Then she looked back at the field. "With you coming along this weekend, I thought... maybe... I don't know. Could it have been better, easier, what if... Oh, whatever!" she finally exclaimed in frustration, unable to find the right words to describe her search for closure. She looked back at me. "I was naïve with him. And maybe I wasn't ready when you left for the year away."

I chuckled a little and looked at her. "I wasn't ready either for the lies and deceptions. I hooked up with Bev that first year away, and she said she was separated from her husband. Then there was Brenda that second year, who I found out was into gangbangs when I wasn't with her. But that's how we learn."

"Maybe I should find Ryan's wife sometime to thank her," Jan said pensively, looking back across the field toward her happy place so long ago in the loft of a barn.

"Why would you thank her?"

"If she hadn't married him or been there that second week when I returned, I wouldn't have seen him as the abusive asshole he is," she mused. "I would probably have done it again, and again, with his abuses probably getting worse. I think that's how it happens to women when they finally find themselves in a bad relationship, the abuses coming on slowly, accepting just a little more each time. I wonder if his wife has realized it yet."

"Did I abuse you last night?" I asked.

"No!" she said quickly with a hint of concern. "You gave me what I needed when I was expecting it, and I asked for it."

"You might have talked to me ahead of time with what you were planning."

"I needed something," she replied. "I just wasn't sure what that something might be.... Sometimes we need to take the medicine, even when it tastes bad."

"Is that when you swallow?" I said and chuckled.

Jan laughed. "I guess I owe you a blowjob."

"You read my mind," I said excitedly.

"It's always the same, simple mind to read," Jan replied lovingly. "I love you, geek!"

***

We spent the first hour finishing our wine on the porch, then Jan toured the house, describing some of her childhood memories in each of the rooms. She tried to keep it light, with stories of opening Christmas or birthday presents during her earlier years, describing the furniture, sleeping out under the stars in the back yard, or reminiscing about family gatherings when she was very young.

Absent from those pleasant memories were any mention of her teenage years after the accident. Memories from those years were more troubled. Some of those had to come out as she would stop and stare into a room remembering the people visiting after the funeral. Or she would touch the kitchen counter and pause, thinking of the pill bottles or the young girl taking care of the household chores and trying to get her mother to stop crying. Eventually the teenage girl realized if there was a pill bottle out in the kitchen, she could be in the house taking care of the cooking and cleaning. Otherwise, Jan said she had to find somewhere else to be.

Her reminiscing was winding down and it was soon time to think about dinner.

"Did you want to drive by the house where you grew up while we're here?" Jan asked.

"No need," I said. "I remember it all as if it was yesterday. They sold that house years ago when dad retired, and they bought the RV."

"Do you know where they are now?"

"My brother, Dave said he thinks they're in Arizona. So, I don't expect to hear from them anytime soon."

"Your mom always cared for you," Jan said. "Not like mine who tried to forget me. But I'm surprised they would just up and leave like that."

"That was just her way," I said. "You know she grew up in an orphanage. So, raising kids was more like a job to her. It's just who she is. And dad spent most of his time working, so, we didn't really connect with him either."

"I look at other families like my Aunt June's, Marlene's, and others, and see how normal people were raised," Jan said. "You and I both came from fucked up families."

"Maybe," I said. "But our parents are who they are because of the things that happened to them, too. It's life. We just made the right choices."

"We do have a great life together," Jan said, then she paused before continuing, "Let's use the shower here and change into clean hiking clothes. There's one more thing I want to do before we head back home."

Saturday Evening Park

Jan said she planned something special for our dinner out as a thirtieth anniversary of our first 'special' date. It was thirty years ago last month when I took her for that hike in the park on our third date.

When I came out of the bathroom after my shower, she was dressed in white shorts, hiking shoes, and wore a blue cropped tank-top tied Daisy Duke style with a knot in the front, an outfit like the one she wore just after our graduation. She looked at me with a mischievous grin and pointed to the backpack picnic in front of her. "I thought we'd go out for dinner where you took me 'cherry picking' the first time up that trail," she said.

"There weren't any cherry trees in the park," I observed.

"Mine was the cherry you picked that evening," Jan said with a flirting tone.

"That was my first time, too," I said and smiled.

"But I did give you a handjob on our second date before that," she said.

***

After parking at the trailhead, we walked along the trail starting up the mountain and stopped at the large old rock I used as the mark starting our side trip into the mountain laurel. Glancing around out of habit to see no one was following, we ducked through the first shrub branches, and she giggled.

"Thinking of something funny?" I asked quietly.

"No. Remembering something familiar. We're in our late forty's now, and we're still acting like horny teenagers."

We picked our way about a hundred yards through the tall bushes to the small clearing, still there on that rocky outcropping overlooking the ravine. I spread out the picnic blanket and we settled down in our secluded spot.

We are creatures of habit. We've enjoy going out on picnics ever since that date about thirty years ago. It's the routines like this we've enjoyed together which makes life easy and fun.

Jan took off her shoes and socks and turned to kneel on the blanket. She looked at me as I set the backpack down and I sat beside it.

She started by untying the knot in front of her tank top. Holding the two ends together, she paused and glanced down at her hands. She must have thought about that first time she wore a top like that with me.

Looking back at me, Jan said "I won't charge you a dollar for the strip show this time." She then allowed the ends of her top to hang free, partially exposing her ample boobs as she continued her movements. The occasional peek of her tits as the cloth dropped aside was an erotic look on her.

She remained kneeling as she bent over and pulled a wine bottle from my backpack, opened it, and poured two tumblers of wine, handing one to me.