Shared

Shared

By Jay Cameron

It wasn't my fault. It wasn't!

My mother is to blame. My mother made me share everything I had as a child. I had to share everything as a teen. I got a new toy at Christmas. I seldom got to play with it. That's the burden of the older brother.

My little brother, Tommy wanted my toys more than his own. My mother thought he was so cute; she took his side. A little bit is okay, but in her case, this sharing thing went on till the day I left home to begin my real life.

There are words that still make my skin crawl. "Buster don't be mean to your little brother." My name isn't Buster, it's Stanley. Stanley Thompson raised the son of a single mom. Stuck with sharing my life with an obnoxious younger brother I learned to despise.

It wouldn't be until years later, I learned my father, or the man I thought was my father, was just one of my mother's many boyfriends. But that's a story for another day.

The best way to get away from both my mom and my younger brother was to play sports. There were practices and workouts. There were scrimmages, and pickup games. I knew my mother would be busy with her favorite son. So, as I grew older, I disappeared into my own world of running bases in baseball and chasing down wide receivers on opposing football teams, taking sharp elbows to the gut and giving them back in pickup games of basketball. I knew I would never see my mom sitting in the stands. I was right. She never saw me play.

Girls, in those early years, were the furthest thing from my mind. I couldn't afford to let anything get in my way. I, however, was more than just mildly interested in the fairer sex. My first prom night came, and without the money and the proper attire, I was a non-attender, thanks to my younger brother. I sat hidden and out of sight of prying eyes, watching the lights flashing, and wondering what was going on inside those walls. I knew it was just a pity party for one, but it would affect me and my future in many ways.

Finally, when college came calling, the work and sweat paid off. I received a full ride scholarship to an out of state University. There, I shared the bench with another bunch of football hopefuls, until I got my chance to show my skills. To be totally honest, I don't think I did a bad job, but I had languished too long on the bench and on special teams to give the pro scouts enough film. Some athletes grind on and on, but I was a realist. I never thought I was good enough to get into the NFL anyway.

Normally, your dad, your uncle, or some long lost member of your family would be there to push you to your peak level of success, but my father had taken all the abuse he could handle. Unfortunately for me, he didn't let the door hit him in the ass when my mom erased him from of my life. I wanted so bad to go with him, but that was not to be. When I discovered he wasn't my real father, it was a major kick in the gut. Looking back on it now, I was sort of proud of the way I handled the revelation and all that went with it.

Four years of study, girls, football, and more study. It all paid off with a paid internship. Not much pay, but enough that with a weekend and evening delivery job I could share an off-campus apartment with a friend.

Then, there was grad school. Twenty-two years old, a graduate student, walking toward the bedroom of an apartment I shared with my best friend, Tony Lucca. In my hands I carried three cans of Milwaukee's finest. When I turned the corner to enter the bedroom, I witnessed my best friend with his arms around my date from the night before. They were kissing. Not just a friendly kiss, but a tongue down her throat kiss...a kiss I had shared with her only minutes before.

Here it was all over again... I was sharing my date with my roommate. Sadly, it wasn't the first time we tag-teamed our dates. It was like nothing had changed; I was still the kid that shared his toys. This time I was sharing my adult toys.

After grad school I found myself working still further away from the home where I grew up. It seemed as though I was finally far enough away from the dark memories of my youth. I could find some semblance of pride in myself, and most of all, peace.

I was working as an engineer for a mining company in Arizona. Everything was turning out the way I thought it should. My life was going great. I never had a problem getting dates, and I had several. It was just a matter of time. I would have the perfect wife, in the perfect house, in the perfect neighborhood. We would have the perfect number of children, and of course a dog named Max. The only problem I could see was finding this perfect woman that might share my perfect dream.

All of this perfection was turning out to be a bit of a problem. I didn't have a nine to five job. I would travel from one site to the next. There were the mines, the smelters, the refineries, and they all required attention. I didn't have trouble addressing any of the day-to-day stuff, but it was the private, personal, me stuff that was being left unattended.

Wherever I traveled, I would meet a candidate for the Mrs. Thompson Trophy (or wedding ring). But I never had time to work on sealing the deal.

Finally, while on a two month stay at our New York office, I happened to meet and date a Scandinavian blonde named Amy. I was pleased on our fourth date to see for myself that she was one hundred per cent blonde... all the way to her toes.

Every day I tried to breathe in her golden hair, her perfume, her sweet voice and her mesmerizing blue eyes. She had been introduced to me as Amy Hazelton from near Fargo, North Dakota. It seems we had something in common. She was running from the lengthy cold winters, and I was searching for someone to keep me warm on those cold/dry air-conditioned nights in the desert of Arizona.

Amy and I saw each other every day. After a month we decided it would be better if I moved my suitcase into her apartment, so we didn't have to waste time trying to meet some place. I knew we would have to end our brief encounter, but I didn't want to face the facts. It would end up being just another fling that would come to an end like all the other flings I've had in my life.

The day finally came. I left the office early on that Friday, so I could prepare for my final evening with Amy. My mind rehearsed again and again the things I wanted to say. They sounded fine in my mind, but I knew few thoughts, if any, would find my lips as spoken words. During these minutes of doubt, I could see the return flight ticket sticking out of the pocket of my jacket, hanging next to the door.

What do you do? When you have searched and searched for the right woman to fill your life, and you're faced with the possibility of never seeing her again.... What do you do?

The door opened and I didn't wait another second. I fell to my knees and found myself pleading for her to say yes to my proposal of marriage. When she said yes, I felt like the luckiest man in the world. (Don't we all.)

I don't remember how long it was till we were naked in our bed. She wanted to take a shower, but I didn't give her a chance. I was riding an emotional high that lasted a long time... Maybe the rest of my life. I held her legs as I kissed my way up her body from her toes. I licked the flesh behind her knees, the inside of her thighs, and then plunged my tongue into the flower of her passion. After she came the first time, I manipulated her body with my fingers and tongue till she came again.

Never giving her a chance to gain control, I entered her body with a loving and gentle assault on her senses. My cock needed no lubrication as I felt her open up to me, and her hands pulled me tight to her body. Her fingernails scraped away tracks of flesh from my back. The pain was a joy and I savored it.

Afterward we lay in the twisted sheets. Her head tucked gently into my neck. We expressed all the love we felt for each other. I asked, "How are we going to get this done?"

She placed a finger over my lips. "Don't worry about that right now... I need you to make love to me again."

We did make love again. Softly and gently at first, ending in a crescendo of savage thrusting, grunting and pounding of bodies together. When we were finished in an exhausted heap on the bed, we showered together and made love again, (if you can count standing in a shower as making love).

I was scheduled to leave on a nine AM flight to Phoenix. I barely made the gate, but I did. My body was caught in a vacuum of confusion. I was happy to be engaged to such a beautiful woman, one that I was not about to let slip away. But there was that gut-wrenching pain of leaving her behind.

Mear hours before, we had agreed on a date and location. She would fly out to Phoenix to checkout my condo (excuse me...OUR condo) and I would make a list of locations for the wedding to take place. It was a short list, Vegas, Vegas and of course Vegas. However, she picked a quaint location where a giant tower of water shoots into the sky. She said the pictures with the water would be so cool.

You don't disagree with those beautiful blue eyes.

It's like waiting for your sixteenth birthday, so you can get your driver's license. Those days pass so slowly. When the time finally comes and you open the garage to a brand new, slightly used Cadillac, you just shut your mouth and hang on for the ride of your life.

There were so many people from the New York office, I wondered why we didn't just tie the knot in Central Park...It would have been a lot cheaper. But by the time things were done and the last drunk left the party, we were both ready for some time alone.

Now my new wife, had made a comment under the influence of some very expensive alcohol that she could "suck-start a Mac-Truck." Before the sun came up in the valley the next morning.... I was a believer. We made love in so many positions, the author of the Kama Sutra would have been proud. I don't know how many times she came, but I know I came in every hole in her body. And yes, if our lives depended on getting a Mac-Truck started, I think she could do it.

We spent two weeks exploring the islands of Japan. Up early in the morning and racing to see if we could cum together at the end of the day. We were getting pretty good at picking up the signals when we were in the mood to tear off a piece of each other. But two weeks is not long enough to learn everything about your new spouse.

If I heard the word "congratulations," one more time I was going to slit my throat. I should have done it anyway.... but I didn't.

We were able to spend the first three months of married life with me not climbing around a dirty copper mine someplace. Amy seemed to enjoy having me home for dinner every night. Then after I started visiting the mines and smelters to get a better feel for the ore coming out of the ground, Amy started getting bored. I knew it would happen eventually, so it was no surprise when she said she was going back to work for the company. She had talked to her old boss in New York, and he put in a good word....and voila... she was working in the HR department in Arizona.

I didn't mind that much, because I knew I would be traveling, so this way she would be busy. Oh, she had her group of friends. She and the neighbor women were constantly running somewhere, doing this and planning that. It just wasn't enough to keep her mind busy.

Every night, if I was on the road, I would call, and we would talk sometimes for hours. Then while I was in Australia, about three weeks into a month and a half long trip, I was talking with Amy and as normal, I told her how many days it would be till I was home. That's when she said. "Boy, do I have a surprise for you."

Immediately, I thought she was pregnant. "How far along are you?"

There was mocking laughter coming through the phone. "No dummy, I'm not pregnant. A surprise for you popped up after you left, and you'll be very happy when you get home."

I made several more guesses then, since it was late in her day, I gave up. We said our, "I love you, and I miss you" and the call ended.

Working the rest of the day was irritating as hell. What could it be that would make her think I would be surprised. The only thing I wanted was some time away from the job to be with her. I truly missed her...truly.

Lying in bed that night, staring up at a humming fan trying to move air around to make it a little more livable, it dawned on me...It's a promotion! Of course, she works in HR and she would be one of the first to know if I was getting a promotion. Maybe to the head office in New York, and Amy and I wouldn't be apart anymore.

Counting the days till I was back in Arizona was pure torture. I was wide awake when the wheels of the plane screeched against the runway at Sky Harbor in Phoenix. The only thing I carried on the flight with me was a laptop and my briefcase. My clothes had been shipped UPS, and I was ready to run into the arms of my wife waiting at the passenger pick-up area. Trying to peer through the crowd of people deplaning I saw my surprise waiting for me. It wasn't a promotion. She wasn't pregnant. We didn't hit the lottery. My surprise was my old roommate from grad-school... Tony Lucca.

Talk about something or someone that brings back old memories... terrible memories. Tony Lucca was the guy. The only surprise that could have been worse would have been my younger brother.

I stopped and pressed myself against the wall of the corridor. They hadn't seen me yet, but it wouldn't be long before the crowd passed. I looked at their faces, and I could see them straining to pick me out of the crowd. But what I saw was my wife with her hand holding onto Tony's arm. They looked at each other as they spoke, and I witnessed my wife's face reflect that signal in her eyes she gave me on many occasions. The look that tells me she wanted to run off someplace and have sex. I couldn't help but think there was love in her eyes for Tony. I went into the men's room and vomited.

There were so many paranoid thoughts racing through my mind. All the assumptions of what had been going on during my absence. So, after splashing water on my face and rinsing out my mouth with what seemed like a gallon of water. I went out to face the music. That may sound like a dreaded event... in my case it was. Tony Lucca was one of the people from my past I had wanted to escape. He was the one that made sharing the right thing to do. We shared everything. We shared bathing suits, shorts, shirts, everything including girlfriends.

Once I stepped into the corridor, they were waving hands in the air, and Amy was pointing and smiling. Hugging and kissing was the big event of the next hour as Tony drove 'my' car to 'our' house as Amy and I sat in the back seat of my SUV and proclaimed over and over how much we had missed each other. She rubbed the back of her hand over my crotch while sucking my tongue into her mouth. Somewhere, somehow, doubt had invaded my thoughts. I knew it was my paranoia returning, but it was also dragging back old, unwanted memories.

When she wasn't trying to fuck me in the back seat of the car, she was regaling me with the story of how one day, out of the blue, Tony showed up looking for me. He had just accepted a job with the same mining company and got my address from his new boss. They both laughed and chided each other when Tony said that it was Amy who insisted he stay in the guest room of the house, till he could find a place to live. In the back of my mind a thought flashed that she should have been asking me if I had a problem with him staying with us. Was there something I wasn't being told?

Amy insisted Tony and I relax on the patio and revisit the "good old days of college." As she put it, "catch up on what we had been doing for the past few years." She wanted to clean up the kitchen before bed.

Later, with my paranoia taking over my brain, Amy and I made love once, and then with the help of her hand and lovely lips, we pounded each other's body till neither of us could move.

Once silence had overtaken her, I propped my head on my hand and arm. I looked at my wife and studied her face. I had not seen this vision of beauty this close in almost two months. I knew I was about to ruin our lives if I pressed on, but I felt I had no choice.

"Amy", I whispered to see if she was awake.

Her eyes opened and before she could say anything. "When did you start fucking Tony?"

She stuttered and I put my hand over her mouth.

"There is no use in you lying. I know Tony, and I know what a woman's pussy feels like after he has been inside her... so, just answer the question."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She lied.

"When Tony and I shared an apartment, we also shared our dates, our girlfriends and everything else. Tony's cock is a lot thicker than mine, and mine is a lot longer than his. So, I know you fucked him just before you picked me up at the airport, or when you were sleeping together last night." I paused to take a breath and then I watched her face appear to collapse in on itself. She covered her eyes with her hands and began sobbing. I could see the tears, but she made no effort to say she was sorry or to confess the truth.

Oh, she kept saying things like... "but I love you.....you're the one I love...." Her words fell on deaf ears.

When finally, she seemed to get control of herself, she started to speak... I stopped her.

"I think you should leave my bed right now. I want you to go to your lover and tell him you have been discovered. Tomorrow, the three of us will talk. But I want you to know... I will not be your cuckold husband. I will not be lied to, and I will not allow this to go on in my home." I nodded toward the bedroom door and watched as she got up and made her way, still sobbing, to the bed of her lover.

I don't think anyone got any sleep that night. Tony came to my bedroom door and asked if I was awake. I didn't move as I pretended to be sleeping. Finally, he gave up and went back to the guest room... and my wife. He probably knew I was awake, but I was not about to speak to him... and I may never speak to him.

The following morning, I was out running the trail I had missed so much while away in Australia. It took me no time at all to renew contact with my fellow runners. It was almost like I had never been away. Oh, how I wished that was true.

When I burst through the door to the kitchen, panting and praying for air to fill my lungs. Sitting at the bar was my wife dressed for a Saturday filled with chores.

The first words out of her mouth were... "I think you're wrong.... You don't understand.... I didn't mean to hurt you. It was all very innocent." And of course, the most famous of all excuses.... "It was just sex."

I sat on the stool beside her and said nothing. I just stared at her as if her mind was deluded in some way. Tired of the silence, "I had all night to think about this, and I can't come up with any logical understanding. Have you always been so horny and depraved you feel you have to jump on the first dick that comes up, or is there something else."

Her eyes were blank. There had to be something in her past that brought about this kind of behavior. Maye it was that Tony was just irresistible. Maybe his handsome face and his verbal charms just made women, both single and married, want to drop their panties for him. Maybe he sent dick-pics to all his conquests, and they wanted to see if they could take a fat one like Tony's (short as it was).

Staring at her with all the anger that filled every cell in my body. "I grew up sharing everything in my life. I shared toys, a mom, a bed and then after I left home, I shared my friends and lovers. I will never share anything, and that includes you ever again. I understand my working here has been a problem for you. I will say I understand, but that is a lie. I will never understand."