Skepticism

"God, Sim, I'm going to come!" I warned her.

She drew back and bobbed her head over the first few inches, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head, one hand pumping what wasn't in her mouth as the other gripped and caressed my balls. I erupted and she gulped, audibly swallowing as she struggled to cope with the flow. I felt like my soul was being sucked out into her heat and I shot rope after rope into her hungry mouth. I felt drained and she allowed me to slip free, sliding up over me to lie with her cheek pillowed on my chest. She continued to stroke me gently as we caught our breath.

"You'll never find anyone who loves you as much as I do," she whispered. "You're an amazing lover, Seneca."

"So are you," I said. "You're probably right."

We rested for about ten minutes, just whispering and holding each other. My eyes were closed and I felt her slide back down, taking my limp cock inside her mouth and exerting a powerful suction. After a minute of that exquisite torture I felt a stirring, and in another two minutes she had me as hard as a steel spike.

"Take me, Seneca," she whispered, rolling onto her back and pulling me on top. "I need you in me. Take your pussy."

I slid into her tightness and she groaned. "God, I'd forgotten how big you are! Easy, Seneca."

I slid slowly into her molten heat, pushing down in one long, slow push until I felt the head of my cock against the back of her pussy. I gave it a little bump and she gasped. "Sooo deep, baby. It feels so deep, so big. Do me baby, fuck your pussy!"

I drew back and slowly reclaimed the territory I had just vacated, moving faster as she became accustomed to me. We found a rhythm and moved like a well-oiled machine. She made a little mewing sound like a kitten each time I bottomed out inside her. It took on a deeper note and became a groan as her excitement increased. I held at the bottom, made a circular motion and she went off like a rocket. I held deep and let her come, just pressing into her with short motions and stirring her heat. When she began to relax I pushed up on my knees and began to plow her with long strokes, pounding into her. She screeched and began to babble incoherently as she came again and then again, her orgasms rolling together and leaving her breathless.

I pulled out and she clutched at me, "No, stay in me," she gasped.

I flipped her over and mounted her from behind, stuffing a pillow under her hips and elevating her ass. She gasped as I plunged back inside. "Oh, no, oh my God! Fuck me Seneca! It feels so good!"

I squirmed around until I could reach under her with one hand and began to manipulate her clit as I pounded into her. "Oh God, oh fuck, you're going to make me come some more!"

I fucked her hard for about a minute before she was coming again. She screamed and began to sob. "Oh, my God, Seneca..." her voice trailed off into sobs of ecstasy as she continued to come, her orgasms strung together like pearls. The sight of her face, slack with prolonged sexual excitement, and the sound of her giving tongue to her pleasure sent me over the edge and I came inside her with a shout, driving in and feeling the overwhelming agony of my orgasm flowing into her. I collapsed on top of her and nuzzled her ear.

"Are you ready to give up that ass?" I whispered.

She shivered. "Now? Fuck, Seneca, I'm worn, baby. Please, let me rest for a while!"

I chuckled. "I was just kidding, Sim. I couldn't get it up for a million dollars."

She giggled. "I meant it, though. I'll let you have it. I need to rest now, though. You're squishing me, baby. I can't breathe."

I laughed and rolled onto my back. She climbed up until she was half over me, her wet pussy against my thigh. We rested for a minute and she went into the bathroom, returning with a warm wet washcloth, cleaning me up before taking up her position again. I pulled the covers over us and we slept, cuddled together for comfort against the night.

The divorce papers came at ten the next morning. She took them and sat beside me on the sofa, crying brokenly while she read and signed them. "I'm so sorry, Seneca," she sobbed. "I won't fight it if this is what you want. I could, you know. I could drag this out for a long time. I'm an attorney. I won't do that because I'm proving that I love you and only you. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to look for an apartment," I said.

"Wait for me," she said. "I'll fix up so I don't look like a witch and go with you."

It was weird, but she did go with me. We looked at a dozen apartments and she really got into it. She wanted to go back to the next to the last one we looked at and I kind of liked that one, too. "This is it," she said. "I like this one. We'll take it," she said to the somewhat confused property manager.

I moved in two weeks later. She had been trying to fuck me into an early grave the whole two weeks. After the first few days, she quit trying to change my mind. I packed up my stuff and got movers to help me. I had just placed my stuff all over the apartment in the right place, boxes in every room, when the doorbell rang. I opened it and Simone and a cab driver were outside. He had four suitcases and she had pizza. She swept in, dragging one of the suitcases and paid the cab driver. He dragged the other suitcases in and she carried them into the bedroom.

"What are you doing, Sim?" I asked her.

"I need some stuff here," she said. "I've replaced all your personal stuff at our house and I've gotten you a wardrobe. If you won't stay at our house, I'm going to stay with you. I'm hoping we'll stay here some and at our house some."

My mouth must have been hanging open. "What..." I began.

She laughed. "I understand, Seneca. You can't live with yourself without making me understand how much I hurt you. I do understand. You're divorcing me. That hurts me more than anything I've ever felt in my life. I deserve it for what I did to you. I can't live with myself if I let you get away. I told you I was going to move on with you. I have a plan. I want you to give me six months, Seneca. Give me six months to make this work. You've given me seven years and they are the best years of my life. Have you been happy for the last seven years?"

"Well, except for the last month, I was blissful," I said.

"Give me six more months," she begged. "Let me try to make it blissful again. I owe you, Seneca. I owe you for those seven years. I'll never be able to pay you back for that, but I can offer you something. It's going to take me a while to figure it out, but I'm working on it. In the meantime, I'm going to keep you and prove how much I love you. Now, I brought pizza and we're going to eat and then I'm going to help you get situated."

She swept all my protest aside and ensconced herself like a barnacle. She went to work every day and to the house in the evening before coming over to the apartment. She called me five times a day with a report of where she was, whom she was with and what she was doing. She told me what time she would be there and she was never one minute late.

She talked and argued with me until I agreed to spend the weekends at the house. When I checked, my drawers and closet were full of new clothes and I had toiletries there, just like I had never left. They were all even my favorite brands. Our sex life heated up to incandescent. I was worn out and she blew me at least once a day. I took vitamins by the handful and she dressed so provocatively when we were alone that one look at her was enough to make a dead man rise up and stand to attention.

After a couple of months, we had an agreement ironed out. I told her that if I even suspected that she was fucking around we were done. There would be no excuses; I'd just never speak to her again. She cried a lot. The oddest things set her off and I wondered if she could be happy, living like this. I asked her about it.

"No, I'm not at all happy," she said. "I'm happier than I would be if I couldn't see you. Every day brings us closer to you divorcing me. I don't want that, Seneca. It makes me as miserable as hell, but I caused it and I'll live with the consequences. Are you happy?"

"Not as happy as I would have been if you hadn't done this," I said. "Listen, Sim, I respect the fact that you confessed. You probably could have hidden it from me. That's all that's gotten you as much rope as you have. I think it would have eaten you up emotionally, but you're tough and you have a strong will. When is this plan of yours going to come together?"

"It's coming together now," she said. "I'm doing things that you don't know about." She got a panicked look on her face. "Not sex stuff, business stuff!"

I laughed. "I believe you. I don't know when you'd have time for anything else between calling me and trying to wear my dick down to a nub."

"It's certainly not a nub," she giggled. "You have a very nice nub, Seneca. I'm making some arrangements. Have you noticed that I haven't once gone out of town?"

"Yeah, I was wondering how you've been pulling that off," I said.

"I can't, forever," she said. "I'm going to have to go somewhere and stay sooner or later. I'm making some arrangements. I think you'll like them. I'm praying that you will. If I'm successful, it will mean that we don't ever have to go anywhere without the other one being along. I don't know how long it will be before you trust me again. That makes me really sad, Seneca. I know it's my fault, but I see what being untrustworthy has cost me. I'll never make that mistake again. I'm not ready to give you the details yet. Can you be patient?"

"I don't have anywhere to be," I told her. "I love you, Sim. I'm angry with you, and what you did hurt me, and us, more than you'll ever know. I don't know if I'll ever trust you again, Simone."

Tears filled her eyes and she clung to me. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Do you think you'll ever forgive me?"

"I already have," I told her. "I don't think I'll ever forget."

She wiped her eyes with my sleeve. "No I don't suppose you will. Neither will I."

"Your sense of right and wrong is fucked up, Sim," I told her. "Somehow you managed to rationalize in your mind that what you did was right. It was okay. It wasn't any big deal. When did you get like that? Were you always like that, or is it something recent?"

"I think always, Seneca. Maybe I need therapy or counseling. Do you think I'm a sociopath or something?" She looked crushed.

"I don't know what you are," I said. "I can't understand how you thought this was okay. You knew I would hate it and you did it anyway. Why?"

"I thought you wouldn't like it," she sniffled. "I thought you loved me so much you would let me do nearly anything."

"I do," I told her. "The thing is; it doesn't seem like you love me very much. How about this: you're supposed to love me so much you would NOT do nearly anything."

She looked at me, startled. "I never thought about it like that. God, I'm such a selfish bitch, Seneca! I do love you that much. I just didn't think about it that way. Maybe something is wrong with me. I'm smart, Seneca. You know that. Maybe I just don't think right. I'm going to change that. I'm going to start right now."

"Well, I guess better late than never," I said. "Those cows are kind of out of the barn."

"Help me put them back," she said. "I want them back so bad. I'm going to work very hard, Seneca. You'll see. I'm going to make you like me again."

That took three months. She was seeing a mental health professional twice a week. Three days after our divorce was final, she told me she had an appointment for us to see an attorney.. She said she had completed her arrangements, had everything worked out and she had a contract she wanted us to sign. I had no idea what it was about, but she thought it was the solution to all our problems. I was skeptical. We'd have to see what the day brought.

Epilogue:

"Daddy," Madrey, my oldest, called from the kitchen when I came through the door. "We're in here. Where the hell is Mom?" I put my laptop and briefcase on the table and kissed my girls.

"Look at the cake!" Katrina, my youngest, threw her arms around me. She was turning twelve and had all the enthusiasm that goes along with that age.

"Madrey, why do you find it necessary to speak like that?" I hugged her, too, holding my babies. "Mom is going to be here in about ten minutes. She had to wait for a fax to close that ARN contract.

"Is she going home first?" Katrina asked.

"No, she's coming straight here," I said. "Remember, this is our weekend to stay with her. Are you packed?"

They assured me they were. "Daddy, it would be so much easier if you just let her move in here with us," Madrey said for the 1000th time.

"That's not the deal," I told her for the 1000th time.

"You're the most infuriating man!" she said. "Do you know how difficult it is for us to explain to people that our parents are in love, but they're not married and they have separate houses but spend every night together?"

"No, I don't know how difficult that is," I said. "I just tell anyone that asks that it isn't any of their business."

That contract we signed sixteen years before? It formed the company of S&S Consulting; Seneca and Simone, software consultants and troubleshooters. She's the CEO, I'm the COO. We agreed to hold the company as community property. We agreed that we would attempt to start a family and that we would have joint custody in the event that we had any children. We agreed to make a good faith effort to always be in the same city. In the event of sexual contact between Simone and anyone other than me, total ownership of all community property would devolve completely on me. In such event, I would receive primary custody of the children; Simone would have visitation at my discretion. After 20 years and no violations of the contract, Simone is going to ask me a question. I think I know what it is. I also know what my answer is going to be.