My New Life

Any and all references to people are strictly a figment of my imagination and should not be construed as having to do with anyone that actually lives in Coffeeville, KS. This is not a cheating story but one of a new and fulfilling romance because the husband has cheated, the fact that the new lovers aren't the same skin color shouldn't take away from the romantic aspect of the story.

I wasn't sure about our move to Coffeeville, Kansas, it was a smaller city of just over ten thousand in the middle of what I considered nowhere, seventy-five miles north of Tulsa and famous for one thing, the Dalton Gang shoot out in 1892, the city still has a celebration every October commemorating the event. When the community people figured out the Daltons were robbing not one but two banks they took a stand in a gunfight with the five Daltons. The brother who survived had been shot 23 times and lived to serve a fourteen-year prison sentence. Who gets shot 23 times and lives? Of those stopping the Daltons four were killed which is mainly what the October thing is all about.

My husband Darnell, (everyone knew him as Denny), thank God, had graduated at the top of his class as a chemical engineer and was hired right away by the Sherman Williams Company headquartered in Cleveland. We were located at the Bowling Green facility and I loved it, we were close enough to Nashville so that we went without anything concerning culture but far enough away that we could enjoy the sort of country setting of a smaller city. With a degree in business management I landed a job as store manager for the local Wal-Mart, sure you can scoff, but the pay and benefits were good, as it turned out I was the first black person to hold that position. The fact that I was also the first female manager for that store was icing on the cake, I was twenty-seven, good looking and full of energy, the world was my oyster.

I recall the day Denny waltzed into the kitchen proudly proclaiming he had landed a position as head scientist and we would soon be moving, everything covered by Sherwin Williams, I was so happy and giddy I forgot to ask where. Lying in bed after an average love making session, it seemed to be the only kind we had, it was never earth moving and it was anybody's guess as to whether I might climax. Making sure my needs were met in the bedroom was never high on his list of priorities. Lying in the dark I realized I had no idea where we were moving me to.

"Where are we moving to by the way?"

"You're gonna love it Wendy, it's the home of my great-great uncle Frank Wickware, you know, the baseball player."

Oh yes I knew the one, I'd heard the story a hundred times, ranked as one of the top three pitchers in the Negro Leagues, his nickname was rawhide and he pitched for a total of nineteen different teams from 1909 until he left baseball in 1925. It was said that he would have ranked with the all-time greats had his skin been white. Yes, I knew the person and I knew where he was born, the middle of nowhere in the far south of Kansas, not exactly a hub of fine culture, or anything else from what I knew of it. My heart sank, the very next day I began researching Coffeeville in an effort to steel myself for the inevitable.

Coffeeville is a city of just under ten thousand people, they have one high school, one middle school and one elementary school that serves the entire city, there are jobs in industry, white collar, blue collar and entry level positions for those who want to work. John Deere has a big plant located there and Sherman Williams has operated a smelting facility there since the early nineteen hundreds. Along with that demographic are all the small businesses and agriculture surrounding the area, the median income ranges from thirty-six to forty-three thousand with over forty five percent of all homes occupied by married couples.

The cultural aspect was what I considered fairly normal for a Midwest town that had originally been mostly agriculture based, about 68% white, 13% black, 11% Hispanic or Latino, American Indians, Asians, and other ethnicities made up the remainder. While researching the town I noticed they had a large Wal-Mart Center and contacted them immediately, as luck would have it there would be a manager's position opening within six months at that very store. With me being not only female but black I felt I had a good chance of landing that position. Three weeks after contacting the headquarters in Arkansas I was notified that the position was mine if I wanted it, I accepted.

We'd been there several months which brings us to the present. Denny and I are what are considered DINKS in the working world, double income, no kids, we both make good money and live in a nice home located on the outskirts of town. Coffeeville had every convenience we needed but would never compare with somewhere like Nashville, or even Tulsa for that matter which was less than two hours away. When I tell people that my husband is the head scientist at the Sherman Williams plant I get the impression they think he's something he isn't.

Black men in positions of authority are typically portrayed as being on the taller side, broad shoulders, long legs, muscular body, shaved head, handsome facial features and in command, always in command. Unfortunately, a lot of good young bosses and supervisors are set up for failure when they're compared to the stereotype of the very few who do fit that image. My husband is one of the those not fitting the stereotype. He's five foot-eight of average build, no six packs or taught biceps on this guy, he wears his hair cut close, dresses like the nerd scientist he is, pocket protector and all the other normal nerd qualifications. The worst part about Denny, he is average at best in the bedroom regardless of what I do to try and spirit him on.

It was always all about him and his needs. I've read and heard stories of all these huge unrealistically hung black men servicing the little white wife married to a limp dick pansy ass husband, except I've never met one of those guys. I lost my virginity at nineteen in college and had a few lovers before meeting and falling in love with my normal run of the mill guy, Darnell. None of them, I mean not one had a penis beyond average for all males worldwide, some were a little longer, shorter, wider, thinner, but there were no twelve-inch beer can diameter cocks that either myself or any of my girlfriends ever encountered.

We girls reached the conclusion that no one group had the market on big dicks. In fact, my bestie Shirley did a bunch of research and discovered that the number of penises over seven inches is less than ten percent throughout all cultures and a nine-inch penis is found on less than one percent of all males worldwide. Our ultimate finding was thus, they're all about the same give or take an inch in most cases, of course there are the tiny dicks and the extremely large, but they aren't the norm, regardless of race.

At four and a half inches and not very fat my Denny was on the lower end of average, which I took into consideration when I agreed to marry him, what he had wasn't the biggest I'd had, but with foreplay and affectionate attention he nearly always got me off when we started being sexually active. Besides, I was marrying more than his dick, he was sweet, kind, and attentive, at least in the beginning, now with the greater responsibilities of the lead scientist position his mind was often elsewhere instead of on me. I initially thought it was the job that captivated his time and thoughts, that would change all too quickly.

I would look at myself in the full-length mirror after I showered and wonder why he wasn't paying more attention to me, my legs are long and shapely, my hips have a slight flare to them and my butt is what my brother calls "sweet", whatever that's supposed to mean. I have a slim waist, a flat tummy and 34C breasts, my facial features and flowing hair look more white than they do black. Yes, I am a mixed-race baby, my father is Danish, my mother is a deep brown, my skin hue is the color of light brown sugar, height wise I'm on the shorter end of the spectrum at five foot five.

We had been in Coffeeville about ten months when I got tired of sitting in an empty house waiting for my husband to trudge in, eat, shower and plop his ass in front of the TV. I needed something to occupy my time when Denny was working late at the lab, or, at least I thought he was working. Those nights were usually Tuesday and Thursday, he was always home just after eight but that still left over three hours for me with not much to do. One can only clean, dust and rearrange so much, so I joined a fitness center/gym and began attending the nights he worked late. The fitness portion occupied most of the space, but at the end of the building was an area twenty feet by the width of the building that contained a free weight area, or gym if you like.

When I would arrive at five-ish there was seldom anyone in the gym area, by the time I would leave at seven there were usually eight to ten men lifting, spotting one another, pushing each other just a bit further. By the third week I found myself doing all my exercises on the machines nearest the gym area, I loved watching those muscles bulge and ripple, one of the bulkiest men was black, but he was probably the most arrogant as well. Though we were of similar skin color I somehow didn't find myself attracted to him, what did catch my eye was a tall white fella with light brown hair and muscles that popped even though they weren't as large as some of the other men.

From time to time we would glance at one another at the same time, we would always grin and nod a greeting then continue. I was giving an elliptical everything I had one evening in an effort to impress when he lowered his weights and walked to me. I stopped, extended my hand to shake his and spoke.

"Hi, my name is Wendy, and yours?"

"Oh, it's Jerry, Jerry Tillmore. I was gonna ask if you're tryin to add muscle and bulk or just stay toned? Cuz if you just wanna stay toned you're goin at that machine way too hard, you look fit, more muscle might deter from your natural beauty."

Yes, my heart was racing, he complimented me on my 'natural beauty' and thought my body looked good as it is. Considering how long it had been since Dennie paid me the kind of attention he used to, those were words I desperately needed to hear. It wasn't as though I was looking to replace Dennie, but as mother used to say, "flattery will get you everywhere". Looking to the right I could see mister muscle- bound strutting toward us, when he got there he made a huge mistake, he opened his mouth to speak.

"No need for you to be over here talking to the sister Tillmore, go back to your weights, I'll take care of this fine young lady."

I was pissed. Why couldn't he be a gentleman instead of the stereotypical braggadocious rectum who thinks they have the market on women's emotions, they come in all colors, this one just happened to be a similar shade as me. I bristled as I spoke.

"This 'sister', as you so incorrectly described me, doesn't need your interference, this man is simply being polite, unlike you. I suggest you take your own advice and go back to your weights while I talk with Jerry." I was so thankful I remembered his first name.

Mister muscle bound had a sour look on his face as he spun on his heel and headed back to the free weight area.

Jerry was apologizing, "Wasn't tryin to cause trouble Miss Wendy, just wanted to help if I could, I'll leave you to it."

Before he could get away I blurted out, "No, you don't need to go away. To answer your question, I don't want to add muscle, but sitting at my desk most days has gotten my bottom a bit soft and I need to tighten up other areas as well. I appreciate your input and I'll take it to heart."

"Miss Wendy where do you work that you sit most of the day? I know Sherman Williams employs a lot of professional folks like you."

Professional folks like me. Was this some kind of hokey country boy come on or was he simply that ... well ... simple? He didn't seem to be putting on airs, he certainly sounded genuine.

"I'm the store manager at Wal-Mart, and before you bad mouth the place they pay me well, provide me with good benefits and I have a future there if I want it."

He laughed, "I got nuthin against Wally world, they're like any other big company, there are things to improve on but by and large they employ a lot of locals, like my mom's sister who's been there twenty-six years. My ma worked there before she passed."

"Really, what's your aunts name?"

"It's Beaulah, Beaulah Goddard. She was offered your position but turned it down sayin someone younger needed to be in charge."

I smiled, thankful I knew who it was, "I know her, she oversees the grocery portion of the store, great woman, knows her stuff and runs a tight ship. I like her a lot, we talk almost daily. Small world."

After shaking hands once more he went back to his free weights and I continued, moving to the treadmill for a cool off. It wasn't planned that way but as I walked out I saw him walking to a truck on the far end of the parking lot, as he turned to get in his pickup he noticed me and waved. On the inside I felt like a high school girl with a crush on the star quarterback. My heart was beating a little faster, I looked in the mirror and tried to fluff my hair, the palms of my hands were sweating and I seemed to have a difficult time maintaining a steady breathing pattern. I didn't have wet panties or a tingling in my nether region but inside I knew something had happened, I just wasn't sure what.

Supper was ready when Denny walked in, after cleaning the kitchen and changing into night clothes I settled on the couch with him to watch some documentary he was interested in. I kept fidgeting and squirming around until he paused the TV and said a bit too sternly.

"What is the problem, why can't you sit still?"

I cuddled into his chest and purred, "I'm feeling horny, take me to bed and make love to me."

His answer momentarily broke my heart, "You're kidding. Right? We made love three nights ago, isn't that enough for a few days, geez Wendy, you're becoming so needy in the sex department. Is there something going on with your body? Do you need to see a doctor?"

I was so pissed I could barely speak, "Something wrong with my body? You damned right there's something wrong with my body, it doesn't get enough dick lately. What happened to the guy I married three years ago and couldn't keep his hands off me? I don't need to see a doctor, I need to get laid more often."

Mind you those terminologies never leave my lips on a day-to-day basis, only when I've been pushed to the brink do I cuss like that. He sat on the couch slack jawed as I stood and made my way to the bedroom hoping my tirade would inspire him to come and ravage my body. No such luck, he raised the volume on the TV and I sobbed in the darkness. Standing in the shower the next morning with the spray caressing my nipples I did something I rarely ever do, I slipped two fingers inside my wet needy vagina and masturbated thinking of the tall handsome white guy at the gym.

With my back against the wall and my body slumped slightly I worked those digits in and out of myself in a frantic manner shaking and moaning as I came, my legs were weak as I slumped to the floor with the water beating down on my body. I raised my gooey fingers to my nose and sniffed, then shocked myself by putting them into my mouth and sucking them clean. I was thinking to myself what a slut I had become, I had masturbated thinking of a man other than my husband, I wanted to feel ashamed but somehow didn't find it within me. If Denny was going to ignore me I would find other ways to satisfy my womanly needs. I didn't have any toys, but they wouldn't be hard to get.

Looking at myself in the mirror after drying I told myself internally, "Wendy, you're only twenty-eight, far too young to settle for sex once a week or less." I knew that Denny sometimes jacked off in the shower and it always hurt me, why didn't he save that for me, why didn't he fill my pussy with his seed instead of letting it wash down the drain? We'd talked of starting a family but he never seemed very enthused and it surely wasn't going to happen with our haphazard love making schedule. I wasn't planning to leave him, at the same time I wasn't willing to settle for the status quo any longer. Over the next month when Jerry and I saw one another at the fitness center, we would smile and wave or walk over and exchange pleasantries. The typical stuff, hi how are you, all is well at home, blah, blah, blah, then we'd go back to our routines.

On a Tuesday he walked to my station and asked if I was free for a coffee when I finished. I explained I would need to get home for supper but if he wanted to leave earlier around six-thirty I could do that. He knew I was married, I'd seen him look at my rings many times, I had also noticed his ring finger was bare and looked like it had been that way forever. Our time over coffee was very cordial and casual, no inuendo's or entendre's, just simple conversation. I asked about his employment.

"I'm a farmer, I rotate between wheat, sorghum, soybeans and corn with a herd of beef numbering about seventy. It was my pa's until he passed, ma inherited it and was then passed on to me when she died. I was on my second tour in Iraq when I got the call, I was flown back immediately and after the Army took into consideration that I was the last of the family they gave me an honorable discharge four months early. I go to the gym mainly to work off tension and keep my body tight, I'm active all day every day, but it aint the same as a workout."

I provided him with a short version of how I ended up in Coffeeville, as we parted he mentioned he might like to meet Denny at some point in the future. Our coffee nights continued, I made sure I told Denny about them and all the junk we talked about, I kept nothing from him and he seemed fine with it. Sadly, our sex life continued to suffer, he was more vacant than ever, he was now working late Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights. Sometimes we would have sex on Saturday, more often than not nothing happened then either, if it did, it was uneventful. Early in our marriage there had been some oral, but not anymore, he wasn't about to eat me nor let me give him a blow job, said it was unhygienic, he was the first man I knew of who didn't want a woman to suck his dick. Something was wrong, I didn't know what, but something was way off kilter.

It had been three weeks since we'd done anything sexually and I began to wonder if Denny had a honey on the side. It was when sorting clothes on a Saturday morning that I noticed a perfume smell on his shirt that wasn't mine, I always wore China Rain, this was definitely not China Rain. His underwear seemed to be crusty at times and it sure wasn't from pounding on my neglected puss.

I said nothing but continued to check each week, more and more I smelled the perfume on his clothes, even on days when he was at work. My suspicions were confirmed when I drove past the Star Motel on the way to the grocery store one evening, I normally shopped on Saturdays but I was out of some ingredients for a special dessert I wanted to make him. There sat his car as big as day next to a Mazda X5, I knew the car, it belonged to Brianna, the tall skinny as a rail Jamaican co-worker he'd hired shortly after our arrival in town. No wonder he had nothing left for me, she was getting it all, what perplexed me was why her? She was skinny with no tits or ass, all she had going for her from my perspective was that long beautiful black hair cascading down her back, I guess that's why they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.