Paul and Paula - Her Story 03

This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the author's express authorization is strictly prohibited.

It is the story of Paula and spans close to twelve years in Paula's life. 1983 to 2005. And the story is a prequel. Read to the end to see more information where the story continues by the original author.

My characters are often flawed, and like real life, my stories are a shitshow, like life.

One more thing, you are on an erotica site reading smut. The last thing we need to hear is your morals and judgementalism. What are you doing here reading smut then trashing the writers, and characters on moral grounds? How "moral" is that?

I moderate comments. Make any derogatory or violent comments, lie about the story content to influence readers, or give me a lecture on morality, and your comment is gone.

You need to read parts 01, and 02 first. It's complicated.

It is a 4 part story

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Part III

Ch... ch... ch... changes!

Four years later, Ft. Lauterdale 1994

I was visiting my parents with the kids and had left them over at my parent's next door, so Marisol and I could catch up. Patty was ten and Ben just a year behind her by this point. They had their individual personalities and looked forward to two weeks with their grandparents. My parents loved the chance to spoil their only grandchildren. What with the school year over and summer break an excuse to play and have fun, my parents proceeded to spoil my kids rotten. I allowed it as I thought both the children and my parents deserved the experience. And I needed the break.

"What's going on with you, girlfriend?" Marisol said after the two of us hugged. "I haven't seen you in a year."

"I know," I replied, returning the hug to my old neighbor and past lover. "Things have been hectic. How is Garry?"

Marisol's husband had been my first, some eleven years back. My first man that is. Marisol, his wife, had been my first woman. Oh, those were the days!

"He is doing well. He is probably balls deep in his latest conquest," Marisol feigned indignation as we laughed. "Some woman a few blocks away that you've never met."

"Somethings never change, do they?" I giggled, sitting across from her in their kitchen.

"We make it work," Marisol smiled. "And how is conventional married life working out for you?"

Knowing how I had embraced sexual freedom before meeting Paul, Marisol had warned me that my husband might not allow it - that his ways would make me unhappy. But I had ignored her advice as people in love do, discounting issues that required rational thinking over raw emotions.

"The kids are good. And I finally got my real estate license," I replied with a sigh. "But, things are not going well with Paul."

"What's wrong? Is he having an affair?"

"I wish," I replied.

"He is not sick is he?"

"I thought he might be, but he is still healthy as far as I can tell."

"What then?"

"He quit his job at the paper," I said, sitting back.

"What! No way," Marisol said in surprise. "I thought he liked being a reporter."

"So did I. It was all he talked about when we met. Being a reporter... a journalist was all Paul wanted then."

"What happened?" Marisol asked with concern.

"I don't know, and he won't tell me. Lord knows I've been asking the last few years. He used to come home and talk to me about the stories he was working on -- the leads and the contacts he had made. Then he stopped."

"Just like that?"

"It started slowly, so I didn't realize it at first. But when I noticed and pressed him, Paul said it was nothing. Before I knew it, discussing work was off-limits. Then last month, he told me that he found a job as a public relations guy for some college and had quit the paper. No discussion, nothing."

"Wow! I don't think Garry would ever stop being a cop, but if he quit without talking to me first, I would be pretty pissed," she said before looking at me apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to toss fuel to the fire."

"You're not Marisol," I replied, realizing how much I needed to unburden myself to someone. "I'm already irritated with my husband."

To be honest, I had gone home with the excuse that I wanted the kids to see their grandparents. But in reality, I did so to get away from Paul and talk to the one true friend I had.

"I needed someone to talk to. The only friend I had in Jacksonville is gone now."

"That neighbor, Lynn, right?"

"Yeah, her," I said, shaking my head.

"That doesn't sound good. What happened between you two?"

"Not between us, Marisol. Between Lynn and her husband."

"And that caused problems with you and Paul?"

"In a way it did. It all happened over a two-and-a-half-year period, and we were there for them for most of it."

"What happened?" Marisol asked as she poured us some coffee.

"They were having problems. Apparently, drifting apart as Gil, her husband, was focused on this patent he was working on in computer science. It eventually happened, and he got semi-rich from it, but it cost them their marriage."

"Money messes with people's heads. Doesn't it?" Marisol stated more than asked.

"Well, they broke up before the money came along. He spent so much time away from her - and then didn't want them to have kids. Lynn did, but he kept postponing it."

Her expression showed that she understood the storyline, almost like a book she had read, but Marisol waited for me to continue.

"So Lynn, our neighbor, was at a house party and met the son of the hostess. He was then a premed student at UF in Gainsville."

"Isn't that where you guys went to college?" meaning Paul and I.

"Yeah, it's not that far from Jacksonville. But Lynn fell in lust with this kid."

"Lust. How quaint. How old is she?"

"Thirty-three now. She was thirty-one when she fell on his dick."

"How romantic," Marisol scoffed. "So she had an affair. Typical suburban wife experience. She won't be the first or last."

"Yes," I replied. "Very typical. Typically conventional and basic they both were. Not only did she cheat on her husband, but she had this stupid notion in her head that it could not possibly be just for the sex. It had to be love."

"It wasn't?" Marisol snickered.

"Hardly. The kid was a college student who had a nice piece of ass show interest in him. That was all he wanted," I replied. "And that was all she was to him."

"Sounds like a great deal for a summer affair," Marisol smirked, knowing there was more to the story and letting me continue.

"Lynn should have been honest with herself to admit that she was just a bored housewife looking for some attention and cheap thrills. That was all it was."

"I have all that, and I don't have to hide from Garry," Marisol said. "Only I know where and to whom I belong to after the moaning and groaning are over."

"You're so bad," I smiled back at her.

"You know it, babe," Marisol pursed her lips at me, then chuckled. "I still do your dad, you know."

"Too much information, Marisol," it being my turn to feign indignation. "Next thing you'll tell me, Garry is stumping my mom."

"Every Friday," Marisol nodded with a smirk. "We get together to play cards, but it's strip poker and swapping we end up playing."

"I'm so fuckin jealous, Marisol."

"You are in a trap of your own doing," she replied, giving me a speak to the hand gesture with an open palm. "I warned you."

"I know," I sighed, knowing she had been right.

Her caution years ago about how Paul was not the type to agree to an open marriage or even simple spouse swapping had been clear. And I had ignored it, thinking I could bring Paul around.

"So, your friends, what happened?" Marisol changed the topic seeing my unhappy reaction to talk of Paul.

"So the stupid bitch convinced herself that it had to be love. Sex to break her boredom is not what 'good girls' like her do."

"Bullshit," Marisol spat out. "These uppity twats think that sex for just sex is what sluts or whores do. Not them. They delude themselves that they are above that when they lift their skirts for some strange dick."

"Exactly. We've talked about this before," I agreed and continued. "She was typical all right. So she ran off telling Gil, our neighbor, that she was in love and had to go be with her true soulmate."

"Did she really say that?" Marisol asked, then made a gagging sound when I nodded yes to her. "I'm going to barf."

"It would be funny if it weren't sad," I said because there was more.

"She did this Gil guy a favor," Marisol said, pointing her finger at the table.

"He didn't think so," I replied.

"Ain't love grand? Let me guess. He couldn't live without her. Then he went back and forth from loving her one minute to hating her the next."

"You got it," I replied, remembering the entire event as if it happened yesterday.

"Typical reaction of basics. What then?"

"Oh, it gets better. Worse actually. She dumped him in 92, right? Then she came back almost a year ago and begged Gil to take her back."

"No way!"

"Oh yes way. And Lynn brought someone along."

"Who?"

"Her little boy. The student's boy. The same student who tossed her out and wanted nothing to do with her. So much for true love and soulmates."

"Serve the bitch right," Marisol said. "Shame that her child has no father and a moron for a mother."

"So true, but things almost worked out for a while."

"How?"

"Gil took her back."

"Wow! He did?" Marisol asked in surprise. "That was nice of him."

I raised a finger in a there is more gesture and expression. To which Marisol waved me on to continue.

"Yes. Her and the kid both. They were with him for some time. Then one day, he just up and tossed her out. Both her and the little boy."

"I bet that got his manhood back," Marisol shook her head.

"No. His ego got the best of him," I replied, shaking my head. "The poor child was not at fault, but the first time the kid called him daddy, Gil flipped out and threw them out. Lynn was crying, banging on the door with just a robe on. The poor child was crying too. Oh, it was a mess."

"I get it. She did him dirty," Marisol said with a sad look. "But why do that to the poor child?"

"Spite, revenge, you pick from the above," I replied. "I had to go get Lynn and the boy and bring them into our house. I couldn't leave them out there. And this is where the shit hit the fan."

"Don't tell me the husband followed you to your house. Did he?"

"No. We took them in that night, and Paul went next door to calm Gil. I stayed home to get our kids to bed and get the couch ready for her and the boy. We only have rooms for us, no spare."

"What then?"

"Gil would have none of it. The next day her stuff was on the driveway - the same with the little boy's toys. It was awful. We eventually gave her money to rent a van to drive to her parents in New Jersey, where she and Gil had met. The whole thing was a mess. But it caused issues between Paul and I."

"How so?"

"Paul stayed quiet as I ranted about how cold Gil had been toward the child. Paul may have said nothing, but I could tell from the snide look on his face that he didn't care. To be honest, Marisol, I could have cared less about the silly bitch. She made her bed and deserved what she got. But the child, the boy. Marisol, he is so cute and innocent. It broke my heart to see him crying... calling Gil, daddy, from outside the door. How can anyone do that to a child?"

I was crying by then, and so was Marisol.

"Garry has not seen his child for years, Paula. Do you remember how I told you the surrogate mother just ran off reneging on the deal? I've caught Garry holding on to the ultrasound picture and crying as he stared at it. This is awful. Plain awful."

I had heard the story second hand from Marisol years ago, but it was still vivid in my mind. Not being able to have children herself, Marisol had convinced Garry that he should have a child with a woman they knew. They would pay her expenses during the pregnancy, and she would give them the child. Only the woman had changed her mind and disappeared with the newborn. It had been hard on both of my neighbors.

In that instant, I realized how lucky I was to have children. And how fortunate Paul was that I had not run off with them. Many women who had unhappy marriages divorced, knowing child custody would be awarded to the mother. In Florida, as in most states, the mother almost always got the kids, and the husband had to pay child support. But I could never do that to Paul. We may have had our issues, but neither he nor the children deserved to be separated from each other because he and I had problems.

"The whole thing has given me a lot to think about, Marisol. But there are two things I don't want for sure."

"What's that?"

"I don't want to break up my family. And I am not going to live a boring humdrum subsistence life because Paul is content with it."

"What does that translate to in real life?" Marisol asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're making me do all the work. I came here for advice, girlfriend."

"It's your life Paula. You only get one, and it has better be on your terms. I made my choices."

She was right.

"I'm going back to work. We need the money. When I worked briefly at a real estate agency, I discovered that it was easy and that I liked it."

"I have a feeling there is more," Marisol smiled.

"There is," I replied. "Paul is not the man I married and fell in love with."

She stared back at me, then smiled and nodded with an expression that said 'I told you so.'

"All men change after almost ten years, Paula," she replied. "You don't have to go far. Look at your dad."

"My dad is still full of zest in life. He is still a man women want. Women like you. Paul is but a shell of the man I married."

"It's that bad?"

"Let me tell you how?" I said and began. "When I first met Paul, he was a virginity taker."

"A what!" she exclaimed. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. That was his specialty with the preppy sorority girls in college," I continued. "I did some checking on him back then and found out Paul probably popped nineteen cherries- maybe more."

"Go, Paul!" Marisol giggled and clapped. "Was that like a fetish or something for him?"

"No. Apparently, he had sex with a sorority girl, and she told the other girls how gentle Paul had been during her first time. So others went to him for the experience. Finding it true, they confirmed the first review. From then on, he became legendary in preppy circles. They went to him. Paul didn't even have to go looking."

"Wow! I never heard of that," Marisol laughed. "Is that how you got interested in him?"

"No, I met him by chance at a frat party."

"Ok, I'm stunned. Continue."

"And of course, they kept going back to him," I continued. "So Paul was a very busy boy in college. That was his idea of far out and exciting. But being conventional and preppy himself, Paul was pretty vanilla in his sex habits when we met."

Marisol sat back and waited for more.

"But?" she said as I took a sip of my drink. "What next?"

"Since then, Paul has ebbed off. We only have sex in the bedroom and have to be quiet for the kids not to hear. I get the last part, but we can get a sitter and do it elsewhere. Put some excitement in our life."

"I could have helped out if you guys lived closer."

"There are times I wish we did," I sighed. "Maybe Garry, you and my parents would have been a good influence on Paul. He is just so closed off and... hear this. I asked if he would like to go to a nudist beach, and he recoiled. He was like 'I don't want anyone seeing your body naked.' He would not even entertain the notion. Not even considering all the naked women that HE could see or those that would see him."

"What's the problem? Does he have a small dick?"

"No. Not really. Paul is just over six inches when hard. He makes me cum just fine when he sets his mind to it. I don't think all men at nudie beaches are above average, are they?"

"No, but the scene does attract people who like to show off, and usually that means people who have something they are proud of. Still, some men think they have to be gigantic to show their cock in public. Kind of like women with small titties," Marisol touched her boobs. "We are too obsessed with size."

"Size can have its time and place," I replied. "Other than Garry, I had a couple of guys that were big. I liked being filled up and pounded. But there is more than that in a man."

"I'm surprised you didn't go for a bigger one, Paula. What was the attraction to Paul then?"

"I get off no matter the dick size, so that was not important to me. I liked Paul before we fucked. He is handsome, a good man and...."

"So husband material for conventionals," Marisol smirked as she interrupted. "Not the kind for setting fires down below, was he?"

"Paul made me cum," I replied defensively.

"Made? Not makes. That speaks volumes, Paula."

"You're right. But then how many men are like your Garry? Not many in my experience."

"I'm not talking just size Paula, and you know it. I know men who are good and are the same size as your man or even smaller. It's what they do with it. Hell, what am I doing explaining it? You know this already."

"Yeah, I do," I said, admitting it. "All too well."

I had been with enough men to find out both how few were large and how few actually knew how to be good lovers. Size and quality together were often rarer than the two attributes alone.

"OK. So Paul needs a boost. You can work with him, can't you?"

"I've tried. It's just not working anymore."

"Where there is a will, there is a way, Paula."

"Marisol. There is something else I have to tell you."

Marisol crossed her arms and stared at me sternly.

"Paula... Did you cheat on him?"

As open-minded as Marisol and her husband were about their sex life, they detested cheating. Nothing was a secret between them. There is a misconception that swingers or people in open marriages embrace cheating. In my experience, it was never further from the truth. If anything, considering they allowed their spouse to have lovers, there was no reason to cheat in their view. And honesty was needed if they could pursue their lifestyle. My parents have become converts to the concept and no longer cheated or lied to each other about their lovers.

"Not exactly. Not cheating as most would think."

"What the hell does that mean? Either you did, or you didn't."

"OK," I sighed. "I told you how men hit on me at parties, cookouts, and such, right?"

"And?" she was still not letting me off the hook.

"Well, it's a good ego boost to know I still have it. Although, to be honest, I never lost it, and men have been hitting on me since I was young. I even had some do it when I was pregnant."

"Pervs," she smirked. "I've heard that some men are into that."

"Not Paul," I retorted. "During my pregnancies, he was doing me as if I was a delicate flower. While I wanted a good fuck."

"I've heard of that. What's it called?"

"Madona Syndrome."

She giggled at the name.

"The men I talked to wanted to bang a pregnant woman, Paula."

"Probably not their wife," I replied, making her laugh.

"So you had bad sex during your pregnancy," Marisol rolled her eyes. "Poor you."

"No, I had good sex. Just not with Paul."

"With whom?"

"There was a friend I had in college who was available. Sex only. It's all I needed."

"You weren't married then. Were you?" Marisol said, remembering correctly.

"No, but I don't think Paul would see it that way had he found out. Or if he did now. He is not the type that would. So keep that to yourself."

Marisol crossed herself and kissed her fingers.

"I'm taking it to the grave."