Skepticism

As always, thanks to my team. They are, Norafares, Girlinthemoon, Hal, Pixel the Cat and GeorgeAnderson. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a prepost read. I thank you all. I'll borrow a page from Bebop3 and thank all the good people at Sports Illustrated.

Author's note: This is a short story. It isn't meant to be a novel or even give any closure to the lives of the characters. Please feel free to supply your own ending. I know how I think it ends, you make up your own mind. If you demand a life history, this won't be your cup of tea, Randi.

*****

It was one week after my seventh wedding anniversary. There wouldn't be an eighth. I talked to my attorney that morning and my loving wife would be served with divorce papers the next day. We had quite a conversation that night. It began calmly enough.

"Seneca, I don't want to lose you," she told me. Seneca, that's my name: thirty-two years old, hotshot troubleshooter for a major banking software company, clueless idiot. Simone, that's my wife, thirty-one, a total babe, as sweet as honey, tax attorney and a cheater. She doesn't want to lose me, she says.

"Well, you know how that happened," I said.

"No, I don't," she insisted. "I have no idea why you'd throw me away like this."

"Well, there's the little matter of fucking strange men that may have slipped your mind," I told her.

"No, I understand about that," she said. "The thing is, it wasn't men, it was a man, and he was a stranger. I'm not having a love affair and I never will. I was out of town. You weren't there or I'd have fucked you. I'd much rather fuck you. I didn't sleep with someone we know or are ever going to encounter again. I only did it once. Tell me, has there ever been a time in your life when you asked me for sex and I turned you down? Hell, I hit on you more than you do me."

"No, you've never turned me down," I said. "So your position is that as long as it's rare, we don't know the person you're fucking, and you're not having a love affair with them, it's okay?"

"Exactly," she said. "How does that harm you, Seneca? I love you, only you and I'll never love anyone else. I have a very high horny factor, okay? I'm going nuts after a week of not having you. It's not as if I'm in love with the guy I fucked. It was just a fuck. I didn't make love to him. He was like a human dildo to me."

"Why not use a non-human dildo?" I asked.

She gave me a look. "Please," she said. "I'm not some seventeen year old girl, getting herself off in her bedroom and hiding from her parents. Seneca, I love you and you're just tossing me aside like a piece of trash over something that doesn't harm you and you weren't there to use anyway."

"Well, I love you, too," I said. "It does harm me. If we weren't married, it would be different. If we were just people that dated now and again, I would agree with you. We're not those people. You married me. I asked you, and you said yes. We made promises. You made the same promises I did. If you didn't like them, you should have said so at the time. No one made us get married. We volunteered for that. Now, seven years down the road, you tell me you didn't like those promises we made and you want different ones. You should have told me before you broke the first ones. I'd have said, 'Fine. We'll get a divorce and you can fuck anyone you want. You don't get to change the rules for me, Sim. If you wanted to change the rules for you, you knew what to do. That would have been right and honorable. This is just a chicken shit thing to do. The difference is; it looks to me like you're the one tossing me and our marriage aside like a piece of trash. We make love every day when we're home. I know you can go more times than me. That's just biology, but do you think I don't get horny when we're not together? I don't fuck other women."

"Why not?" she asked. "I sort of expected you to. What do you do?"

"Simone, don't you think we should have had this conversation before you decided to fuck around?" I asked.

"Yes I do. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it before," she said. "I didn't plan for it to happen. It was a spur of the moment thing. I feel really bad about that, Seneca. I'm very sorry. It will never happen again. It's my fault and I should have communicated with you better. The situation just came up when you were gone for a week and then I was gone for two weeks. I did tell you about it as soon as I had a chance to talk to you in person. It just pissed you off and you ran off in a huff and didn't talk to me for two weeks. I had to hire people to find you, track you down and spend three days on the floor outside that shithole of an apartment door before you'd talk to me again."

"I may still regret that," I told her. "I'm still pissed off at you, Sim. I may be pissed off at you for the rest of my life. I don't see any way past this."

"I do," she said. "Just let me love you, the same as before. Love me back. I'm going to love you anyway, whether you do or not. What do I have to do to prove I love you and only you?"

"How about not fuck other people?" I said.

"Okay, I won't fuck other people," she said. "That means that when I call you, you have to be available. If I'm in St. Louis or San Francisco or Houston and you're in Boston, how is that going to work?"

"Jesus Christ, Simone!" I was getting angry now. "Are you telling me that any time we go off somewhere apart you get so horny that you have to either fuck me or some stranger? You just can't control yourself?"

"That's not it at all," she said. "I can control myself. Why should I have to? If you're there, I make love to my husband. If you aren't, do you imagine that I have any trouble finding someone to take care of me?"

"No, I don't imagine that," I said. "Any reasonably attractive woman could probably find some man to fuck her ten times a day, but that isn't the point. Millions of women, married women, manage to keep their legs closed every day until they get back to their husbands. Why can't you?"

"I realize that you're very unhappy about this," she said. "Don't lose your temper, Seneca. Just talk to me. We can work this out."

I took a deep breath. "I'm glad you're confident about that, Simone, because I'm highly skeptical. Why did you marry me?"

"Because I love you," she said. "How could you doubt that? I'd die for you."

"That's odd," I said. "You'd die for me but you won't stop fucking other men for me."

"No, I will do that," she said. "I told you how that can happen."

"So, I have to be at your beck and call, constantly? If you're feeling horny I have to drop everything and come running? What about my job? I work, you know." I said.

"I'm quite aware of that," she looked at me oddly. "You don't have to work, you know. I could support us quite easily."

"I like my job," I said. "I'm good at it. Why don't you quit your job?"

"Okay, I will," she answered. "See what I'm willing to do for you, Seneca?"

"Okay, let's suppose one of us quits," I mused. "There's still this little thing about you going behind my back, being a slut for strange men and breaking the promise you made me when we got married. There's the fact that I don't trust you worth a damn. Do you have some magic wand for that?"

Tears filled her big green eyes. "No, I don't know what to do about that," she admitted. "I know I was an asshole about that. I'm very sorry about all of that. I know me saying that doesn't mean anything, but I am sorry. I'll regret that the rest of my life. Can you think of some way for me to fix that? Is there some punishment you think would be appropriate? I deserve it. I'll do anything that doesn't permanently harm me."

"Jesus Christ, Simone!" I exploded. "What are you, two years old? Am I your father? I'm supposed to ground you or something?"

"Calm down," she said. "It was just an idea. I don't know what to do, Seneca. I'm desperate here. I don't want to lose you. I'm floundering. I thought maybe if you fucked other women or something; maybe you could do something to me, spank me or something. You've always wanted to have my ass. I know I'll hate it, but I'll give it to you."

I took another deep breath. "No, fucking other women won't work. You don't seem to mind that, although for the life of me I can't see why not. That wouldn't cause you the pain you caused me. That other is just trivial shit. I think the only thing I can do is divorce you, Simone. That seems to be the only thing you care about."

"Please don't do that, Seneca," she pleaded. "I'm afraid you'll find someone else and replace me."

"Like you did me," I countered.

"No, it's not like that at all," she protested. "I never replaced you. I never will. If you divorce me, I won't ever replace you. You're the only man I've ever loved or ever will love. I didn't replace you. I did something stupid. I should have talked to you, but I didn't replace you. That will never happen."

"So what's going to happen?" I asked. "You should know, Simone, you're going to be served with divorce papers tomorrow."

She broke down, falling over to the side, curling up in a little ball and sobbing into the sofa cushion. She was pitiful and I'm not a monster. I went over and pulled her up, wrapping my arms around her and she clung to me, burying her face in my chest and weeping uncontrollably.

She finally composed herself enough to sit up and look at me, though she didn't release her clinging hold on me. Her beautiful face looked so pitiful and she was obviously in great pain.

"What have I done?" she whispered. "Seneca, what can I do?"

"You should have done it long ago," I told her. "I'll tell you what you've done; you've fucked away seven years of marriage, seven years of love I had for you and whatever might have been. Lies and betrayal have consequences, Simone. Maybe in some sick fantasy world you get to do what you did. Maybe you get to go out and fuck studs with foot-long dicks and come home to a loving husband who worships you. Maybe that man is out there somewhere. I hear there are some twisted fucks like that. They get their jollies on that. I'm not that man, Simone. I have absolutely no respect for that man. He's a sick caricature of a real person. Real people have pride, self-respect and a sense of self-worth that won't allow them to live with themselves in a situation like that. I won't be able to live with myself and stay married to you, Simone."

She bowed her head. "I understand. I had hoped you loved me enough to understand, to forgive me and know that I only love you. I hoped that having me would be enough to get us through."

"Why didn't you have this conversation with me before we got married?" I asked.

"You wouldn't have married me," she said softly.

"No, you're right about that, I wouldn't. So you just thought you'd trick me? You'd hide this and I'd just be blissfully ignorant until you hit me with it?"

"For seven years, we've been building our relationship," she said. "I thought at some point our relationship would be strong enough to survive us having sex with other people. I hoped that we could have a strong enough relationship that you could accept me wanting that excitement. You'd realize that I'm totally committed to you. I thought you were open-minded enough to accept it. You've never been narrow-minded. I've never done anything like this until now. I thought what we had was strong enough to survive anything. I guess I was wrong. You just don't love me as much as I do you, Seneca, or you'd be happy for me."

"You're wrong," I told her. "This has nothing to do with being 'open or narrow minded,' or 'having a strong enough relationship.' Accepting the fact that your wife lies to you about important things just means you have no integrity, yourself, and neither does she. A strong relationship means that you stick together when you have financial troubles or health issues, not that you are fine with your wife fucking strange men. That just means you didn't have much of a relationship to begin with or she wouldn't have done it. That means you have a very weak relationship, especially if she thinks it's okay to lie about it to you and trick you for years while you 'build' this fucked-up relationship. I happen to believe that when you make promises, you should keep them. If you don't want to keep them, tell the person you made them to and give them a chance to decide if they want to continue the relationship. I won't be in a relationship that demands I sacrifice my integrity or be with a person that doesn't have any. I love you a hell of a lot more than you love me. I save it all for you. I don't give away little bits and pieces that belong to you. I owed you every bit of me. That's how much I loved you. You thought you could give away the bits you didn't think mattered or I couldn't use. Well, they mattered to me."

"I never gave away a shred of love to anyone but you," she said bitterly.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking I don't understand you," I told her. "I get what you're saying. You just love me. You aren't in love with anyone else. I just think you're wrong. I believe you love me. I just think you love yourself more. You were willing to hurt me, possibly destroy our marriage, to do something you knew, by your own admission, I would hate, for what? Suppose he, or they, made you come a hundred times? Is that worth throwing away everything you say we've been building? What kind of a wife are you? What kind of a friend are you, even? I don't treat my friends the way you've treated me. I don't trick them, deceive them and stab them in the back. Hell, I don't even do that to my enemies. I face them and kick their ass. This was just sneaky and cowardly, Simone. I don't even like you right now. What kind of a selfish bitch are you?"

She dissolved into tears again. "I didn't mean it to be like that," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it to be like you said. Seneca, when I'm with you, you have me. You have all of me. When we're apart like that, you don't. You still have my heart. Would you be upset if I masturbated while we were apart?"

"Not at all," I said. "I do it myself."

"What if I used a toy," she said. "Would you hate that?"

"Not if you let me use it on you, too," I grinned at her. She smiled back at me through her tears.

"Why can't you see that man was just a toy to me?" she choked a little.

"Because he wasn't a toy," I said. "He was a man. You know the difference, Simone. This is sophistry and I won't put up with it."

"I'm sorry; I won't say that again," she said.

She got up and went to the kitchen. She brought us both back a bottle of water. When she sat back down, she curled up against me.

"Seneca, after we're divorced, will you still love me?" she asked.

"I think I'll always love you," I told her. "It's not a voluntary thing for me. I can't help it. That doesn't mean I like you."

That made her cry a little bit. "Will you make love to me?" she asked.

"Maybe," I said. "You're a beautiful woman, Simone. Any man would want you. I'm not going to be one of your lovers. If you want to date, I'll go out with you. I might have sex with you, but I won't be married to you and I'll see other women. If you want to fuck, I guess I will if I get horny and I'm sure I won't catch some disease. I'm not sure it will be the same. Will I just be one of those toys?"

"No!" she shot up and glared at me. "There is no one else like you. You're the other half of my soul, Seneca. You're my man and you'll always be my man. I made him use a condom and we never exchanged any body fluids. Will we still live together?"

"I don't think that will work," I told her. "I'm going to be moving on with my life, Simone. I don't have what I thought I had, so I'm going to be looking for that. I want kids, a family and all those things we always talked about having. I want to go to ballgames, have family movie nights and go camping. You know what I want."

"Why can't you have that with me?" she asked.

"Well, have you forgotten that you have a high horny factor?" I mentioned.

"I'll just have to deal with it," she said. "Just so you know; I'm going to be moving on with you, Seneca. You can't stop me. I'm always going to be in your life. I can't stop you from divorcing me. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you get rid of me."

"I don't think you can stop that either," I said.

"Yes, I'm going to stalk you," she said. "I'm going to show you. You said you'd still make love to me. Will you do that now?"

She stood up and pulled her dress over her head. That fabulous body was on full display and I was erect in two seconds. There was never any doubt that Simone was one of the world's sexiest women. She was a walking wet dream.

She had on a red lace bra and panty set and they were a contrast against her creamy skin. The hint of pink areolae and the bullets of her nipples peeked out at me. The red lace covering her mound revealed the small, arrowhead shaped patch of flaming curls underneath. She pulled a comb out of her hair and all that flame came tumbling down, hanging around her like a curtain down to just below the firm, round cheeks of her amazing ass.

It undulated away to the bedroom and I couldn't take my eyes off it. She posed in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. "Coming, stud?" she asked. Her voice was low and sultry, her green eyes smoldering pools.

I followed that irresistible body into the bedroom and across to the bed. She lost the bra on the way and I was stripping off clothes like a quick change artist on steroids.

She pushed me back on the bed and moved up over me on her knees. "This is your body, Seneca," she said. "Show me. Claim me. Make me know I'm yours."

I jerked on her knees, pulling her forward until I could slip my tongue into that beautiful little pink pussy. Simone had the cutest little love button I'd ever seen and I gave it a swipe with my tongue. She shivered and thrust herself forward, wanting more contact. I teased her, just gently licking at her labia, grazing her clit and making her jump with each contact. Her scent filled my senses, clean and sweet with just a hint of musk.

I increased the pressure, lapping up her nectar and pressing firmly with my tongue flat against her clit. She thrust forward, and I rolled her over, cupping her hard little butt and burying my face in her fragrance. I tongue fucked her little hole until I felt her begin to tremble before I moved back up to her clit, sucking it inside my lips and flicking it up and down. I gave it a little side to side motion, too, and her thighs clasped my head as she bridged up off the bed, her body stiffening and then going into spasms as she came. She groaned deeply and called my name, again and again.

I kept her at the peak for a long moment before relenting and inserting a finger into her. I licked at those swollen pink lips and wiggled the finger inside her, adding another as she began to tremble again. I tapped on the upper wall of her pussy, finding that little rough spot and caressing it until she went off again. She came explosively, drenching me with honey and winding up like a spring. When the tension burst and she began to shake in orgasm, I continued to stroke her g-spot and attacked her clit again. She came again, almost instantly, and began to try to escape.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God!" she was practically sobbing now. "Coming! Oh God, I'm coming so hard, Seneca! Stop, baby, you're killing me!"

She struggled against me and under me until she scrambled frantically away. "Jesus, Christ, Seneca! You picked up some new tricks!"

"Well, this old dog can learn," I chuckled.

"Your turn," she said, grinning mischievously at me. She pounced on me, engulfing my aching cock in the incredible heat of her mouth. I felt the head of my cock bump against the back of her throat and she gagged a little, the pools of her eyes glittering with unshed tears at her effort. I felt her swallow; then again, as she pressed down over my cock and the incredible feeling of sliding into her throat brought me over the edge as her cute little nose touched my belly.