Paul and Paula - Her Story 04

Being also married, this younger man seemed like the perfect type to be my lover. In bed, he ticked all the boxes of the Paula checklist. The first time with him reminded me of Danny Ortiz, who I had unceremoniously ditched.

Funny story about Danny Ortiz. One time, Gil thought he caught me cheating on Paul when Danny was over at our home working on my garden during the day. Gil knocked on the door, thinking I would wither in shame and guilt to his accusing gaze. But he left disappointed as Danny and I stood together and told my nosy neighbor that we were working on a project in the backyard. I was practically daring him to go to Paul and make a fool of himself as I would deny it. Especially as the landscaping project was nearly complete and Danny would not be coming over after he was paid. Paid in kind, but then it's how it worked with us.

I know Gil hates me. But I also know that he would do me in a New York minute if I gave him the green light. He is one of those hypocritical conventionals who will lecture you on morality yet screw anyone that would let them. Men like him are so weak. But what bothers me about them most is their hypocrisy and judgementalism. I wouldn't fuck Gil if he were the last man on earth.

Now Greg was a bit arrogant, but he was a good fuck, but so long as he did me well, I put up with his quirkiness and let his ego soar thinking he was the best man I ever had. I never told him "you are the best man I have right now." But, again, never damage a man's ego. It's connected to their sex drive and their dick, for one. And some can become vindictive or even violent if pushed too far.

But I had men friends who were big men. Loyal men like Hector Powell. Him being a Jacksonville sergeant detective who was large, horny, and armed. I always knew that Hec would come running if I called him in an emergency to scare off errant lovers or threats.

***

It was then the summer of 2003 as my youngest was ready to leave for college at the University of Florida. Meanwhile, my oldest, Patricia, was already attending FSU in Tallahassee for a year. They were both great kids. Paul and I were both proud of them.

I was thirty-eight, healthy, and successful in business, and my investments were then yielding hefty profits. Over the years, I had made many important contacts in the community - both personal and professional. Life was good. But things between Paul and I were the same.

My husband not only never changed, but he became comfortable in his mundane job, his buddy Gil, his secretary Sherry, and the Stepford wife I had become for him when we were together. We still had sex, although I gave him just what he needed to be happy by this point. I saved my A-game for my fun time with lovers who earned it by bringing their A-game as well.

So why was I still with Paul even though I had a new fuck buddy that was younger, better hung, and could fuck better than most men I had been with? I asked myself the same question each time I returned to Paul from work each day or a dalliance with another man.

The thing is that while I had long ceased to be IN LOVE with Paul, I still loved and cared about him. Each day, I wanted to know he was OK and worried when he was not home on time. I wondered if he was taking his high blood pressure meds or eating a good lunch with no salt. If we broke up, he was still young at forty. But would someone care for him as I did? Would they make sure he had all he needed and sex when he wanted? Because no matter what was going on, if I was in town, I never denied Paul.

At times I felt trapped in this circular issue that always brought me back to the same place. I wanted Paul to be more exciting and have fun with me. When he would not, I would get it elsewhere. Then I would miss him and go back home to him. Then do it all over again. But it was a trap of my own making, as Marisol had warned me years ago.

So my thirty-eighth birthday came and went, and I stayed married to Paul, albeit with a new semi-regular boyfriend, the occasional romp with Brandon, and some other less frequent or one-night-stand lovers. As the months passed, Greg fucked my oversexed and still stunning late-thirties body. I still worked out, played indoor soccer with younger people, and could fuck for hours if enough men were available. And I still went home to Paul. Always going home to him, and always postponing my exit. But not fretting about the situation anymore.

Instead, I focused on the business I had created: the real estate to provide cash and the investments from the profits. By 2002 I owned properties that yielded steady rental income - residential and commercial. My corporation owned properties overseas as well as in other states. Investigators were on retainer to research clients as well as competitors. And as my business expanded, lawyers, tax consultants, property managers, plumbers, electricians, and building inspectors were also added to the corporate retainer list. And I had staff and managers to handle management that I oversaw.

I even had my own real estate company, where I was listed as just an agent if Paul looked. But I owned it outright and had the credentials to do so. By 2003, I had become a multi-millionaire. And through wise handling of my visible income, Paul had no clue how wealthy I had become.

But I always made sure that Paul and the kids were never in financial distress. There was always a steady yet modest stream of real estate income to pay for college fees, expenses, new cars, and healthcare. Never too much to make Paul weary or too little to start getting involved in our finances that I handled.

Sometime in 2000, Brandon had suggested that I begin moving assets overseas. And not just in holdings, but also some liquid assets. (Cash in the bank.) In an unexpected divorce, more than half my assets would be safe overseas. But in my will, the assets were split into three equal parts for each of our children and Paul. No, I would not give Paul half of our assets, but I would not leave him out of them entirely either.

***

Once I discovered how to cover my tracks, my affairs with men and even some women multiplied. Most were one-time events. A few occasionally repeating, like my annual conference trips to Miami to meet with Karen and Frank. By this point, I knew just about everything in the real estate business that I could have taught most of the lectures and presentations at conferences. So these trips were merely for fun and games.

While other trips out of town were for legitimate business reasons, I always had a lover lined up to travel with me or meet me at the location for after-hour fun. And as was habit by then, I never showed any PDA (public display of affection) with anyone in public. My public persona was still of a married woman.

How long would that last? Not long, I thought, as business associates and lovers knew I was married. Yet it did continue, and I played my game by the day, postponing the known inevitable.

So 2003 turned into 2004. Then 2004 to 2005. And I was still married to Paul, even though the kids had long ago moved on to college. While there were dalliances with other men, my favorite lover was Greg. Sex with him was near intoxicating. But like everything in life, something good can come to an abrupt end.

***

Beware of the shades of Götterdämmerung

September 2005

It was Tuesday afternoon, and Greg and I were attending the real estate seminar in Miami. I had flown out that Sunday with plans to spend the week going to lectures and meetings about the craft of home and property sales. Then in the evenings, there would be dinners and banquets thrown by companies that leached off the real estate industry.

Their executives hoped to convince us to partner with them if they just managed to spend enough on us or toss enough drinks down our throats. But it was fun to meet new people, have dinner and drinks with them and if they impressed us enough, fuck them.

In the past, I had partaken in such bacchanalia and orgies with a select group of seminar goers. But this time, I had a fuck buddy with me in the form of Greg, who was a sure thing in bed performance and very demanding. He did not like Frank, but Greg sure liked fucking Karen. Something that I found childish. But as long as Greg was a good fuck, he stayed on my good graces and in my bed.

That afternoon, Greg had ambushed me as soon as we got into the hotel room. I had been holding my cell at the time and dropped it as Greg's hands seemed to be everywhere while his tongue magically was fighting mine for supremacy. The sex that followed was epic.

Being forty that year, I appreciated and was glad to have a young stud servicing me to fulfill my needs. I never had the heart to tell Greg that five minutes after he came hard, thinking he had fucked me to oblivion, I was ready to go again. Even after him, I could fuck for another five hours if other guys were in the room to take his place. It's the reality of sex with a woman. Well, with a woman like me.

But you can't damage a boy's ego if you want him to be your stud when you want him to. Or a man's. Sometimes I think Greg is a boy in a man's body the way he carries on. But he can be masterful when I let him believe he is in charge. And let's be honest here.

Guys think they seduce women with their 'Alpha male' personalities. But the reality is that we women spot men, then seduce them with all our charms and wiles. All they can do then is prove that they are worthy of our time. One mistake too many and we look for a replacement. And there is always a replacement.

Greg was a combination of a great body with an ability to learn and adapt. He had thus become an excellent lover by his late twenties that some men become ten years later. If they ever do. But Greg had become so with minimal instruction from me, as he was already a good lover when we met. I thought to ask and send a bottle of expensive wine to the woman who had trained him. But that is stuff that movies are made of. And I am not that gracious to the competition: other women.

Playing the part of the young buck taking his woman, yes, (he had said that), and forcing himself on her through his sheer will and magnetism. I often had to try hard to keep the smirk off my face because, theatrics aside, the boy was a fantastic fuck with a big hard dick whose stamina rivaled my other lover Frank.

I say rivaled, because when the two men went head to head with Karen and I, Frank was still ahead, screwing continuously for three hours without losing his erection or cumming. On the other hand, Greg came but was ready to go again in a few minutes. Then came again. Three times in the same time that Frank never wavered to come only once. But Karen and I had come so many times that we no longer cared who was doing what to us.

So there Greg and I were, fucking up a storm, and he decided to talk trash about Paul and deny me his cock and the fun it brought me. I know, a childish thing to do. Crap you read about in porn stories for people who like humiliation and denigration. But I was worked up and had a few drinks in me from earlier partying, that to my shame, I allowed and went along with it.

And after years of feeling no regret for stepping out on my husband, I would do so later when the implication of that moment would become apparent. But that was to be much later. Not knowing what wheels had been set in motion, I blissfully frolicked with Greg, not knowing what was to come.

Upon waking the next day, I indulged myself in some introspection. Here I was at forty, still alluring and desirable, wealthy far beyond what I had ever expected to be, and my children had grown into intelligent and decent adults. I would be leaving both of them trust funds they could access at thirty or when they married. Yet I was still married and still going home to Paul each time I was out with other lovers.

And each time, I found myself asking. Why did I never show affection to a lover in public? Why did I never keep one around if they became possessive or clingy? Why did I not look for a replacement for Paul? And why did I still look forward to seeing him, catching up with him, and spending time with him after each time I had been with others?

There were times I felt trapped in the marriage. And yet there were times that I felt the comfort of Paul's existence, and I needed it. The conflict was not just annoying. It was disturbing after time. The thing is that I didn't feel guilty for the sex I had with other men and women. What bothered me was that I had to hide it.

I so wanted to tell Paul the truth and stop the pretense. But I knew how Paul was by this point. His blood pressure was controlled by medicine and diet. And he was of the mindset that knowing his wife was having sex with others would shatter him. Telling him what I had been doing would be selfish and nothing more than sticking a knife in his gut. If we broke up, I would keep my private life to myself and let Paul move on. If... if...

So the charade was likely to continue. And it might have for much longer had something had not happened that previous afternoon to set events in motion to end it.

If I had not dropped my phone and accidentally hit the speed dial to Paul.

If there have been no recording of my dalliance with Greg.

And if the sed recording had not been sent to my husband by mistake for him to listen to back home.

But there was no if. All that happened the previous Tuesday afternoon, and I would not find out that my marriage was over until I returned from Miami.

******

"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

Winston Churchill

Dec 20, 2018

I say this because this is not the ending of the Paula and Paul narrative. You are all probably screaming that the story is not finished. That I, the author, played you after such a long story and left you dry. Not so dear readers. As I said, this is a prequel.

Please continue reading for information of the story continuation.

You see, the original story of Paul and Paula is not mine. The general concept was already set by the time I took on the project. A year ago.

Ever since I read the Paul and Paula narrative by DanielQSteele1, (years now), I have been fascinated by it.

I had the privilege to ask DanielQSteele1 permission to write a prequel to his stunning story, "Paul and Paula." The story of the tumultuous and troubled marriage of Paul and Paula Donnally. Characters from this story also appear in the ending chapters of "When We Were Married." I highly recommend DQS1's work. He is a superior writer.

Much to my surprise, DSQ1 gave me permission to write Her Story under certain conditions. I could only write a one-story and ONE-STORY ONLY prequel based on the Paul and Paula characters before the events of the story Paul and Paula.

No references were to be made altering or expounding the narrative of the original Paul and Paula story, nor chapter 06C of When We Were Married Ch. 06C in which the Paul and Paula story continued. In placing this restriction on me, DSQ1 reserved the right to finish, OR not, the story of what happened to Paul and Paula. His story, his choice. I am just grateful he allowed me to write this piece.

On the story of Paul and what happened after:

There is not much of Paul's side of the story in mine. Why? Because Paul's discovery of Paula's infidelity and the reasons he was secretive with his wife are explained in "Paul and Paula" and "When We Were Married 06C," respectively.

Why just her story and not Paul's? Because the original Paul and Paula and WWWM06C do that. And also because I did not have permission from DSQ1 to write anything during the events of DSQ1's Paul and Paula or after.

My wife has berated me to no end to explain what happened to Paul and Paula after all the events transpired. Well, I would like to find that out as well. But DSQ1 would have to write that for me read as well as the rest of you.

But I am very grateful for the original author's permission to write this part.

Be advised. My story is only part of Paula's narrative. When "Her Story" begins, Paula is a tender eighteen, but there are no sexual references to her being fifteen when her father and mother separated. There are no underage sexual references in my story, as you can attest since you have now finished it.

I have tried to stay as true to the facts from P and P as I could. Any mistakes in that endeavor are purely mine. Please do not bother DSQ1 with my failings.

The original is here Paul and Paula

See more of DSQ's work here. DanielQuentinSteel1.

FYI.

The name of the Brandon Grierson character is not meant to be any political reference. I picked that name a year ago when I started prepping for this story.

Thanks again for reading through.