Ridin the Storm Out Pt. 01

I started this story almost a year ago and somehow lost track of it. It was originally going to be an LW story but through time it became a romance. Yeah, I know, go figure. Thanks for reading.

Ridin the Storm Out

The storm rolled in around midnight, flashes and cracks of lightning followed by the long rolling rumbles of thunder. At one point there were so many bursts of lightning the sky looked like a strobe light. I knew there would be no going back to sleep until it was past. With a steaming cup of hot chocolate I walked onto the covered porch in my sweats, found my favorite chair and plunked my butt down. When the cabin was built by my grandparents it was purposely faced to the south. Not only would it pick up the passive solar heat in the winter, facing south would also protect the dwelling from the majority of storms which tended to come from the north or northwest.

The porch was ten feet deep, screened in and ran the entire length of the cabin. I call it a cabin, in reality it's a log home consisting of three bedrooms and two baths attached to bedrooms. There's a half bath in the hallway for guests and if anyone slept in the third bedroom. Which was highly unlikely since I had turned it into an office. From time to time a gust of wind was strong enough that I would feel a slight mist as it was pushed through the screens. Other than that I was completely dry.

I had come to like thunderstorms as a boy. Being the youngest of seven kids my early childhood consisted of most days with my great granddad. He would take me out on the porch while we watched it thunder and pour rain so thick at times it looked like a wall. He was 93 when I turned eleven, in my eyes that man could do no wrong, it was as though he walked on water. He taught me how to shoot and clean a gun, how to gut a deer, how to forge a stream and not be swept away, how to spit and blow my nose without a hanky, there seemed to be something new every day.

What I loved the most were stories of his boyhood home in northern Wisconsin. Stories of torrential downpours on a lazy afternoon, stories of winters so hard and snowstorms so prolific they had to tie a rope between the house and barn to find their way back and forth. One of my favorite pictures was a faded black and white of he and six other guys digging through a snow drift. What made it so significant was that the top of the drift was nearly two feet higher than the team of horses standing with them.

It was easy to reminisce on nights like this. It brought a smile to my face as I remembered an old REO Speedwagon song titled "Ridin the Storm Out". Just then a blast of wind came in from the north, I heard a loud "crack" followed by a bone numbing "thud". I didn't know which one, but a tree had gone down, thankfully it fell away from the house. Sadly it reminded me of the ruination of my marriage. Much like the tree it had come crashing down unexpectedly, but with finality.

Four years ago I sat watching nineteen years of marriage begin to unravel before my eyes as I observed Neal Everts put his hand on my wife's ass and she didn't move it or pull away. It was the annual Stenson family barbecue, they lived four houses down and threw the neighborhood soiree every July 4^th weekend. My wife Babs and I met in high school, dated a little and went our way to different schooling after graduation. We bumped into one another three years later at of all places, the county fair. It wasn't love at first sight, hidden sexual desires, or the need to be with someone that kept us together that evening and the next sixteen years to come.

It was as simple as we liked being with each other, during that year after the county fair we did something so many couples don't do. We got to know each other. Being hundreds of miles apart we relied on phone calls and something fairly new to us, texting. Neither of us were party goer's or in need of constant sexual gratification, she had been ignorantly active in the past, as had I. We weren't virgins, far from it, but we also weren't what some might refer to as 'experienced', we knew the rudimentary functions but not much more. The few times we'd been with someone was okay, but it wasn't an over the moon kind of experience.

We both graduated college at 22, she was offered a position in the city where she had studied, I was still looking for something in my field many miles away. She took the job with the premise that we would find a way to be together when I was better situated concerning employment. In our minds it was going to be a lifetime of us, 3.2 children, 1.4 pets, a white picket fence and living together long enough to celebrate our seventieth anniversary. Isn't it interesting how life goes on as you make plans, what we thought was going to be forever soon dissipated when she became involved with a co-worker.

I voiced my disappointment but understood her situation as well. We'd never been intimate with each other, there were no strings attached, we were two young people with a dream and nothing more. We parted amicably, she married the co-worker a year later and I continued on alone. I was invited to her wedding and like a fool I went, the guy was handsome, intelligent and very attentive of Babs. It was easy to see how she fell for him as far apart as we were geographically. It only increased the despair I felt over losing her. I poured myself into my career as a physical therapist, having numerous contacts with females along the way.

One of those females I could see myself being committed to was a striking red head with a slim body and exceedingly sweet personality. What brought her to me was rehab after a broken elbow and wrist. Don't ask how it happened, I didn't ask, what I did know is that she was cast from fingers to just below the armpit. There was no ring on her hand, and she had never mentioned a man in our conversations. As her therapy was coming to a conclusion we had been flirting for a few weeks, she invited me to spend a weekend with her at her parent's lake home. I hadn't been with a woman for a few months and accepted on the spot.

It was Thursday of that week and her last appointment when I discovered she was married with a child. Her phone had rung and she said she had to answer it, as she stepped from the room I heard her say, 'I can't talk right now, yes, I love you too'.

I found myself thinking "what the hell was that about?" After she departed I began inquiring if anyone knew her, my suspicions were confirmed, she was indeed married. My dad had been a cheater and my mom followed suit trying to get even with him. I hated the thought of cheating and I sure as hell wasn't going to contribute to the demise of a marriage. She could find someone else for a little on the side, that incident caused me to delve further into myself and deeper into my career. It was three years later when I met Babs again, at, you guessed it, the county fair.

She looked different, not just naturally older, but worn out. Tagging along behind were her folks and two little girls, one a toddler, the other in a stroller. The one in the stroller was what I figured around six to seven months and the toddler closer to two. She smiled and shook my hand, we chatted a minute, I proceeded to excuse myself when her mom spoke.

"Calvin. Do you still live at the old farmstead?" I nodded. "Did you change the phone number after your mom died?" I shook my head. "Okay, thanks, have fun and eat a few curds for me."

Calvin? No one called me Calvin except older folks around town or the occasional government official I may have to deal with. To the rest I was known as Cal. I made my way around the fair, took in the dairy barn and made it a point to have a funnel cake and some curds. It was Saturday night so there would be a demo-derby, always fun to watch. To my right about forty feet were Bab's folks, they waved as I sat, I didn't see them anymore that night.

Sunday after church I stopped at the IGA for a few groceries and happened to run into Bab's again. She had moved back home, her husband had been married to another woman when he married her, it took her almost two years to figure it out. When he would be gone a week at a time it was for work, or so he said. Long story short we began dating, within six months the girls were calling me daddy and we had plans to marry. That was nineteen years ago, I watched my loving faithful wife begin to throw all that away as I walked to her and took Neals hand off her ass. He bristled when he turned to face me, all I could muster was.

"Walk away or have someone call an ambulance." Looking at her shocked face I muttered, "Home, now."

Nary a word was said as we trudged on home, she wanted to hold my hand, I felt I could show her that much affection without destroying my self-esteem. Both girls were gone, Jennifer was in her second year of college and stayed on campus to work through the summer. Bridgette was away with three other girls on a road trip to Pikes Peak for the weekend. Inside the door she jerked my hand causing me to stop.

"What the hell was that about Cal? You embarrassed me in front of everyone."

At the moment I wanted to kick her in ass so hard she'd have a ring around her neck, instead I found a calmer voice somewhere deep within.

"I embarrassed you? Oh that's rich Bab's, rich. I wasn't the one with my hand on another woman's ass and her doing nothing about it. Is that the reason you asked me to get a sweater for you, so you could flirt with Neal while I was gone?"

She straightened and spat back, "Of course not, how could you think such a thing? His hand grazed my butt as you happened to walk in the gate. It was nothing, a neighborly flirt. He knows I'm yours and yours alone."

"Babs, his hand cupped your ass cheek and squeezed. How the hell is that a simple flirt?"

"I know what you may think you saw Cal, but it wasn't like that. His hand had been lightly touching my waist when I moved and his hand slid down, I was getting ready to move it when you walked up. Jesus Cal, I'd think after 19 years you'd have a little more trust in me than that."

I wanted to believe, Lord how I wanted to believe her. When she took my hand and put it directly on her mound she whispered.

"This is yours Cal, it belongs to no one else. Come to bed and let me show you why you're glad you married me."

We made love that night, sweet, passionate love. Looking into each other's eyes with longing and passion, talking gently while encouraging the other, our bodies rocking together as only a couple who's been together that long can do. When her climax hit, mine was triggered, we grunted and moaned together as our bodies succumbed to the overwhelming result of twenty passionate minutes. She gave me no indication anything was going on from that point forward, I never saw her flirt or become friendly with anyone, and certainly not Neal.

There was no 'girls' night out' BS, or a weekend with 'her' friends' kind of crap. No sudden changes in her appearance or what she wore underneath. She had always been a stockings kind of girl and none of that changed beyond a new belt or panties, which she always modeled before ordering me to strip and fuck her raw. I had no reason to doubt where she was or what she said she was doing until a Saturday afternoon nearly a year later. She told me that she and her close friend Debbie were going for mani's and pedi's at a spa kind of place a half hour from home. She'd done so in the past, I had no reason to doubt her this time.

I was driving along in my state of ignorance on the way home from a quick trip to home cheapo for a few 2x4's when I swung into a fast-food burger place. That bubble of ignorance was quickly shattered when from the back of the line of cars at the drive through I saw Debbie with her two kids driving away from the takeout window. I didn't know whether to be outraged or calm, I knew I'd been lied to, I would view things differently from then on. I'm not a sneaky dig in your wife's dresser kind of guy and I would see her in undies everyday as we dressed so I never had reason to keep track of what she wore, until now.

When Bab's got home she was all peaches and cream, telling me she was going to take a quick shower to wash off the oils the masseuse had used, something she had decided to partake of at the last minute. To my surprise she told me Deb couldn't make it, so she went alone. Shit, I went from pissed off ready to confront her to, hmmm, maybe I'm making more of this than meets the eye. I like to believe the best in people, until they prove that I can't, or shouldn't. The rest of the afternoon went as usual, yard chores for me, dust vacuum and tidying up for her. When I came in she asked if we could do Chinese for supper, I said why not and headed for a shower.

For whatever reason I stopped to stare into the laundry hamper as I dropped my clothes inside. It seemed odd that her clothes weren't on top since she'd taken a shower a few hours earlier. I did something I'd never done before, I rummaged through our laundry until I found the jeans and underwear she'd worn in the morning. The jeans smelled like a well-used pussy and were slightly damp in the crotch, the panties were something altogether different. They had been in there a few hours and were still thick and sticky, not simple vaginal secretions, semen. The gusset was thick with some other guys cum, how did I know it was some other guys? Because we hadn't made love in three days.

I wanted to find and choke the life out of her, but knew jail and I would never get along, no, there had to be another way. My mind went from one scenario to another as I showered, even while we drove to the restaurant I was in a fog. Babs was rattling on about who knows what, all I did was nod and make an occasional grunting noise. We've always been the kind of couple that talk while we eat, not so that night. The meal was relatively quiet, the ride home wasn't much different than the way there. She wanted to snuggle with me on the couch while we watched some ridiculous chick flick, her body was leaning into my side and my arm was across her shoulders.

Since it had been a few days between coitus she asked if I might enjoy a blow job instead of making love, her excuse, the massage had left her lower body and legs sore. With me leaning against the headboard and her lying between my legs bobbing her head up and down I thought to myself, "Yeah, I'll bet your legs are sore, but not from a massage." Babs is a cock sucker extraordinaire, she's knows exactly what to do and how to get me off. Slow, deep, no hands, an occasional humm or slurp for added auditory enjoyment, as I arched my back and spewed three days' worth she swallowed every drop.

Pulling off my cock with a loud POP she looked at me and smiled. I'm sure in her mind she'd done me a great favor, in reality, I didn't want my cock in her recently used cunt. It may have no longer been sloppy, but it would have damned sure been seconds. I wasn't about to go down on her, and she didn't seem to want it, which was unusual, we always reciprocated with each other. She was asleep in minutes, it took me hours, and then it was fitful.

I don't have buddies that were Army Rangers or members of an elite Seal Team. Nor do I have any friends who are electronic geniuses, none of my classmates were lawyers or judges and I didn't have a secret stash of money somewhere offshore. I had invested wisely through the years and established a sizeable nest egg, but I wasn't lighting Cuban cigars with $50 dollar bills either. I was what most men in my situation are, devoted to our wives and families, doing the best we know to work hard and show our love. I found myself asking internally,

"Now what Cal? What the hell are you going to do?" Then I answered myself. "Nothing until you have all the facts."

Babs worked part time at a local florist, she didn't need to, she simply wanted to. I made plenty of money to keep us comfortable, she called the wages she earned her "mad money". I didn't care, she'd always been frugal, why would having what my mom used to call "pocket money" change that? On Monday morning she was out the door at her usual time, carefree and fancy free. She must have thought the Saturday night blow job covered all the bases because nothing seemed to be altered in her day in and day out mannerisms.

The prospect of sex wasn't brought up until Thursday, I feigned not feeling well and tried to sleep. I say tried, I was torn between wanting to kill her and wanting to find out if my suspicions were true. I chose the latter. I moped around and looked sickly so she wouldn't insist I make love to her. Our youngest wasn't around much, but when she was, she knew something was in the wind. This carried on for close to a month, at which time I was fairly certain she'd been screwing around.

I needed time away to formulate my thoughts before addressing the issue and told Babs I would be gone fishing Friday through Saturday night. She mentioned something about a party at the Abramsons to which I said, "absolutely not, I don't want you going there alone."

She looked hurt and was about to speak when I interrupted, "I'll meet you halfway. I'll come to the party after I get home from the lake, which will be around nine."

She liked that idea, hugged me, said she'd go at eight and be looking for me by nine. My intentions were to be gone until late Saturday, make the two-hour drive home and meet Babs at the party. Like most good intentions it didn't work out that way.

It rained like a cow pissin off a flat rock all Friday night and into Saturday, the tent held and I was dry, but I wasn't about to spend all day cooped inside a tent. I tore down camp and chucked everything in the back of my truck, closed the tonneau and made my way into the small resort type town. With a hardy meal in my gut I made my way toward home, I was in no hurry, I wasn't expected to be at Abramsons until nine. I made it home just after six expecting Babs to still be there, when I asked our daughter where she might be she gave me a look I didn't understand. One of disgust and pity wrapped together.

"She's at Abramsons, she went early to help Shirley, at least that's what she said."

I was confused as she continued, "Dad, I have no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean but that's what she said."

Bridgette looked conflicted so I pried, with a look of concern she finally blurted. "Neal and Grace were here earlier today, they were talking about the party."

"Neal and Grace Everts?" I asked. "Are you sure it was them? Your mother told me she had nothing to do with them any longer."

"Dad, I know who the Everts are, of course it was them. Mom may not do much with Grace, but she was awfully friendly with Neal that's for damned sure. Grace had gone home but he stayed on another hour or more. They stayed in the kitchen most of the time. What's going on dad? Did you cheat on mom?"

"Did I cheat on your mother? Not only no, but hell no."

Her face got red, "Did she cheat on you? With Neal?"

I was as perplexed as she was, "I don't honestly know kiddo. I don't ---- honestly----- know. Do me a favor when you go over, don't let her know I'm home."

I unpacked the wet gear and hung it in the garage to dry, changed and sauntered the two blocks over to the Abramsons an hour or more earlier than planned. With more rain in the forecast the party consisted of about ten people hanging out in the garage or under the covered patio. Not seeing my wife when I arrived I went looking. No one seemed to notice I was there, I apparently blended in with everyone else. Standing in the darkened kitchen I had a clear view of the patio, with her back to me stood my Babs with Neal next to her, and his hand was once again on her ass.

I thought to myself, what a brazen pissant, does he not realize people can see them? This time there was no doubt his hand was where he wanted it. Just then his hand moved down, it was cupping her cheek and squeezing. It wasn't until his hand pushed the dress in between her legs that she put a hand down and sort of stopped him. It was a halfhearted effort, in less than a minute his hand was pushing the dress between her legs again, except she didn't push it away, she adjusted her legs so he could push further into her love nest. I made a decision then and there that our marriage was history and went looking for Neals wife, Grace. I was about to upset the cart in a fashion no one was going to like.