Separate Vacations

I think Kaitlyn understood, because she was old enough to know friends whose parents had divorced. But Kristen never did. She cried when she left her mother, and she cried when she left me. And I felt like the shittiest human being on the planet.

I gave Tiffany my cell phone number and a few times late at night the phone would ring. I could hear someone breathing, and I think crying, but they never said anything, just hung up after a few moments. I knew who it was.

And I knew she was hurting. But I was too. I could have stopped at any minute. I could have turned back. And I would have had her and the girls and our house and our old life. But I would never have what I truly wanted.

And now I did wonder if she had been faithful. And I wondered if she had been, could she continue to be. Everything she had said to me the day she announced our separate vacations was still true.

She missed me and she was lonely and she was afraid of change. But none of those affected the fact that we were fundamentally mismatched. We were two people who should never have gotten married.

Time passed and three months later with an expedited schedule, I got a notice and showed up on a Wednesday in Circuit Judge Katherine Holden's courtroom.

I was there with my pitiful attorney, Jeffrey Morgan, who I don't think even had the nerve to look the opposing attorney in the eye. His hands shook and I wondered again if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to me that he was a flaming alcoholic.

Tiffany sat in a demure powder blue blouse and matching skirt looking like something out of Betty Crocker, alongside Matt Henry. She didn't look over at me as the judge asked us a few questions.

"Mrs. Davis, it's evident this divorce action was brought by your husband and equally as evident that you opposed it. But you haven't thrown up any roadblocks, asked for any counseling, nor has your husband asked for any share of your financial assets or child support which in almost every other case where there's such a financial disparity between the two parties is almost inevitable.

"The only thing he has asked is an equitable share of time with your two daughters and you've not only acceded to that, but given him more time than he requested.

"I have to say, you have both surprised me. I understand that you've already indicated, Mr. Davis, that you won't consider counseling, but could I ask you to reconsider?"

Morgan just looked at me.

"No ma'am. I would not consider it."

She looked at Tiffany.

"It would be well within my rights to order both of you to undergo at least three months of counseling, Mrs. Davis. In this case I can't help but feel that you two have not apparently had any discussions of the underlying problems that led you to this courtroom. Would a delay of three months pose an intolerable hardship to either of you?"

"No ma'am," she answered, looking at me. "I don't want you to order counseling. Bruce has already indicated he'd rather go to jail than sit down with me and try to save our marriage. I don't have a lot of pride left, but I have some, and I will not force him to sit down with me when all he wants to do is leave me behind."

The judge gave me a hard look.

"Is that correct? You said you would go to jail before you'd sit down and talk with your wife and a counselor?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And if I said I would put you behind bars until and unless you agreed to go to counseling. I could hold you for six months without even another hearing. Would you be prepared to go to jail for that length of time just to gain your freedom from your wife and family?"

"I'd go to jail. If you held me for a year or two. Eventually you'll be replaced or die. And I'm not seeking my freedom from my daughters. I love them. I just want to be free of my wife."

"Are you in love with another woman, Mr. Davis? Do you have plans to engage in another relationship after this divorce is granted?"

"No, although I hope I will find someone else after this marriage ends. And I hope Tiffany can do the same."

She looked at me and then at Tiffany and just shook her head.

"I have no legal authority to question you about your emotional involvements since adultery or infidelity or anything like it is not alleged on either side.

"It's just that...I've been on this bench for seven years. I've seen a lot of divorces. Sometimes people divorce because they fall out of love or just get tired of each other. That's so obvious I don't even have to look for the signs anymore.

"That's not the case here. I can look at you two and see there is still an emotional attachment between you. And when there is that kind of passion, there's almost always an outside precipitating cause. It's either adultery, infidelity, suspicion of infidelity, some type of emotional harm or injury that one or the other party cannot get past.

"Both of you have in your court documents not alleged any type of such conflict, and in fact, you've behaved more rationally and responsibly, and in your case Mr. Davis unselfishly, than the couples who just don't care one way or the other about each other anymore."

She looked down at the documents in front of her.

"I will honestly tell you both that I have a bad feeling about granting this divorce. I will ask you one more time. Would you consider counseling, or if you're adamant about that Mr. Davis, would you simply consider a postponement. Give yourselves another three months to think about what you're doing. These divorce papers will still be here in three months if you want them."

"No, your honor. Three months won't make a difference. Three years won't make a difference. "

She looked at Tiffany.

Tiffany looked over at me and there were tears in her eyes but she wouldn't let herself go.

"No your honor. If my husband wants to get rid of me that badly, I'm not going to stand in his way. Give him his divorce."

"The divorce is granted. Mr. Davis, you are a free man and Mrs. Davis, you are a free woman. I wish you both well."

Tiffany didn't even look at me as she walked out of the courtroom with Henry. I sat back down for a minute and then realized a new attorney and new clients were waiting to sit down. The divorce merry-go-round never stops.

I walked out a free man, but freedom is over rated. I'm fairly tall and in fairly good shape and I've had girls in the store and female customers come on to me, but I never took advantages of any of the offers. I didn't when I became a bachelor...for two months.

One December night in the middle of the month, I was working in a Blockbuster filling in for a sick manager when a dark haired woman came in with her elderly silver haired grandmother. They were chatting away in Italian.

My mother was born in Naples and had grown up in Italy before meeting my father who was in the Air Force at the time. So I had grown up with a fairly good understanding of spoken Italian and a rough ability to speak it. They were asking a question about a movie and I answered without thinking, in English.

They both stared at me and the grandmother tilted her head and looked at me as if trying to recognize me and said in Italian to her granddaughter, "A paisan, and not too bad on the eyes. You should flirt a little."

I blushed a little and said, again in English, "My mother was born in Naples and I understand more than I speak. Thank you for the compliment, and your granddaughter is entirely too beautiful to be chasing men. They should be chasing her."

The grandmother looked at me and smiled and a slow smile grew on the granddaughter's face. She was beautiful. Long black hair, red lips, and a set of breasts that threatened to overwhelm her sweater.

It was sweater weather because it gets cold in December in Jacksonville. It was raining which made it even colder. Jacksonville is a Florida city, but it's more apt to consider it South Georgia weather wise and we've had bone-chilling freezes as early as December.

Anyway, she was huge and when I'd gone back with my mother to visit relatives in Naples before I'd met Tiffany, I got the impression that most Italian babies would never starve. Almost every Italian woman seemed to have big tits.

And Delanna Smith, her father was a good old Georgia boy, was definitely all Italian female. She was the apple of her grandmother's eye and her daddy was big and protective, but two weeks later after celebrating New Year's Eve together she was bucking underneath me and trying to push my cock all the way through her pussy while I milked her two handed and tried to suck her tits off.

The only thing I'd ever missed with Tiffany was that she didn't have large breasts. I'd learned to live with it and I loved our sex life, but manhandling those huge fleshy mounds while I pumped her as hard as I could made sex with Delanna unforgettable.

She'd made me come hard inside her twice when she grabbed my dick and with her mouth and hands made me hard again and rolled me over and enveloped my dick in those mountains of titties. She started massaging my dick roughly and sucking on the tip as it popped out between her breasts.

"I know you want this," she said because sucks, " because guys always want to tittyfuck me. How'd you manage to hold out so long."

"I didn't want you to think that all I wanted you for was your boobs."

"It's okay," she said sucking and slurping. "All I want you for is your big hard dick."

So for four months we did our best to fuck each other to death. And while I didn't love her, not the way I had Tiffany, she kept me happy in bed, she was funny and loving and good company.

When we finally broke up it was my girls, oddly enough, who precipitated the split. She had loved the girls when she'd met them....loved them too much in a way.

One night after I'd had them for the weekend and took them home she used her mouth, pussy, ass and tits to drain me four times. I lay back in my bed in my cheap apartment and thought that life wasn't too bad.

"We need to talk," she said and a shiver went through me. Whether you're dealing with a girlfriend or a wife, those are four words you never want to hear.

"Where are we going?" she asked and those are another four words a single guy never wants to hear.

"Back to your house in a little while and maybe we'll take a movie in tomorrow?" I said smiling.

She shook her head.

"I'm serious. What are we? Fuck buddies? Boyfriend/girlfriend? Lovers? Do you ever want to make this permanent?"

I tried to come up with an appropriate answer and she read me. I asked, "Why are we talking about this, Delanna? Can't we just be friends and have fun and fuck each others' brains out?"

She put her face down on my chest and said, "I hurt every time I see your girls. I know how much you love them. I really like them. But I want my own babies. I'm not getting any younger. I would be a great mother. Have you ever thought of us...."

I couldn't lie to her. She was a sweet woman, a good woman, and she wanted more than I could give her. Just like I had wanted more than Tiffany could give me.

And that was the end of that. When I dropped her off at her apartment, we kissed and I knew there was no point in calling her again. I got a card from her a year later announcing her wedding in a big Mandarin Catholic church. I didn't go. Because I wondered why I was stupid enough to let her go. She was a good person and a great fuck and would have been a wonderful mother. But I didn't love her.

The April night in 2007 after I dropped her off I was at home at 11 p.m. after finishing a shift at my home Blockbuster. It was a Sunday night. The phone rang. I picked it up.

"Mmmmmmm...ohhhhhh....that's sooooooo gooooddddd...."

What the hell? I knew who it was, but what was she doing?

"Oh, Goooodddddddddddddd....it won't go in...it's bigger than it ever has been...."

"Tiffany, I'm hanging up if you're going to be pulling this shit."

"Don't you hang up you bastard, don't you dare.....oh ...Stephen, fuck me baby..."

"That's it. Fuck you, you bitch."

"No, Stephen's fucking me, you cowardly bastard. If you got even a fraction of a ball left, don't hang up that goddamned phone. If you can throw me away, the least you can do is listen to another man give me what I need."

She wasn't pretending. I could hear the squish of organs rubbing against each other, the noise a cock made sliding in and out of a wet pussy. She might be faking it, but somehow I thought he was inside her as I listened.

"We've been fucking for six months, Bruce, since the day our divorce was final...and my pussy should be loosened up, but some nights...GODDDDDDDAAAAMMMMMMIIIIITTTTTTT...Stephen it's going to come out my throat...but don't' stop....."

He pounded and hammered her over and over. I should have hung up...I wanted to...but it was like watching two cars colliding in slow motion. I couldn't force myself to hang it up.

And in my mind's eye I could see that body and pussy I had loved being penetrated and ravaged by Stephen's huge cock. I could see her drooling, from the pussy and mouth as he drove her over the edge again and again. I could hear the non-stop gasping that meant she was orgasming over and over.

She wasn't that good an actress. I don't think anybody could be. She let out a long, shuddering exhalation and he breathed loudly and then it sounded like he was lying down beside her.

It took her a minute and I was about to hang up when she got her breath back.

Her voice was whispery but got stronger as she went on.

"You know, don't you Bruce. You wanted to think I was faking it...but you know, don't you. You remember when I was with you. We fucked so many times. You'd know if I was faking, and I wasn't, and you know it. Stephen is lying beside me with that huge cock...it's soft now, but it's still almost seven inches long.

"It's so damned big....a lot of times even when he's done and I can't squeeze another cum out of him, I like to lay here and just run my fingers all over all over it and then get down and lick it up and down and up and down. It's my toy....no matter how depressed or bad I feel, I can lay down here and play with it and I get to feeling better.

"And I have you to thank, Bruce. I wanted to call tonight and thank you. The girls told me a couple of nights ago about that big boobed bitch of yours. I know you must be in Heaven. I was never big enough for you, you son of a bitch.

"Well, you want to know something...I never knew it, but you were never big enough for me. I never knew what having a really big cock stuck up your ass or your pussy or down your throat really felt like.

"He's better than you...he's better than you ever will be...he's better than you could ever be.....you never opened me up the way he does, you never filled me up the way he does, you never filled my mouth and throat with so much hot white cum that I nearly drowned...what a way to go....

"And if I was ever crazy enough to let you in my bed again, I might pretend so I wouldn't hurt your feelings, but you would never do it for me again. I'm ruined for you.

"I actually feel sorry for you, Bruce. You got a wild hair and your feelings hurt and you threw away a woman that loved you. And now you'll never get me back, unless you'd settle for a pity fuck."

After a long time, she said, "You still there, Bruce?"

"Not any more, Tiff. Don't call again."

I snapped my cell flip top closed. When it rang again I set it on the floor and smashed it with a clock radio until I'd killed them both. Then I went to my liquor cabinet, pulled out a nearly full quart of Jim Daniels and proceeded to get seriously wasted.

I had to have a cell phone so I replaced it despite not having that much free cash.

And two nights later I smashed the new one all to hell and gone when she tried to give me a stereophonic cuckolding by phone.

I didn't want to replace it, but there has to be a way for the company to contact you and I bought a third phone. And smashed it three nights later.

I knew I was being stupid, but it was either smash the phone or drive to her -- what used to be our -- home or his apartment and smash him and lose the chance to see my daughters again unless it was on visiting days at the state prison.

Two weeks later he was walking into his apartment about 8 p.m. in the dark when I came up behind him just as he unlocked the door. A kick to his back sent him through the doorway, slamming the door open so hard it bopped him in the face before he got all the way in. He came down on a flimsy wooden coffee table and reduced it to splinters.

It took the breath out of him and he just lay there for a minute. I sat on the couch opposite him and just watched. He rose to his knees and shook his head. When the door slammed back it bloodied his nose and busted his lip. He was bleeding.

He looked up at me and noted I had closed the door behind us so we were unlikely to be disturbed until we'd finished our discussion.

"I don't care what fucking karate shit you try, you asshole, I'm bigger than you and I'm going to smash your fucking face in....you coward...had to jump me from behind...not only have I got a bigger dick than you, and I make Tiff scream louder than she ever did for you, but you're afraid of me...."

I held my hands out in a peacemaking gesture.

"I'm sitting right now nice and quiet. I'm not jumping you. Why don't you get up and try to kick my ass? Please."

He had the heart for it. He got up and charged me. And after I put him down he got up again. He was holding his side and he couldn't breathe right, but he went after me again. I could have killed him, but I just broke his nose. He stayed down longer that time, but after awhile, he just shook his head and rubbed the blood out of his eyes.

"She loves my dick, you know. She's not just saying that to rev you up. She can just play with it for hours..until my skin gets sore and then I let her suck me. And there's nothing -- I mean nothing -- that I want to do that she won't do.

"You're the stupidest fucking moron I've ever known. You threw away that piece of ass because you got your feelings hurt."

I didn't' say anything, just remained seated on the couch across from him. His big screen television which had been hanging from the wall was a collage of metal and glass on the floor after I'd sent him into it. Two chairs were pieces of kindling. A pretty nice piece of mounted modern art was scattered in pieces across his den.

"You can still leave and I won't hurt you."

He actually smiled. I had to stop myself from liking him.

"Your move."

"Well, let me get myself up," he said moaning and managed to make it to his feet. He came at me and I didn't see the leg of one of the chairs until it was whistling by just over my head. I took it away from him and hit him in the side and then in the stomach and then in the back over his kidneys.

He collapsed like a balloon that's had a spike driven through it. This time he wasn't going to be getting back up. I sat back down and after awhile he was able to roll over onto his back. He looked up at me and I saw for the first time that he'd had enough.

"I guess.....I should...taken that karate shit.....seriously.....but...I always....thought....it was...camera tricks."

He laughed and spit blood.

"Shows how much...I know....right?"

"For a pussy, you didn't do too badly."

He lay back and tried to draw air into his lungs for a few minutes.

"I guess...you're going to beat me...to death now, right?"

"No. How can I beat you to death? I was never here. I'm in a video game marathon at a friend's house in St. Augustine right now. Have been there for the last 18 hours and I'll probably be there for the next 24. Got seven people who will swear I never left the house."

"So I got the crap....kicked.....out of me...by a figment...of my imagination?"