Sundown

Hi Literotica people,

In response to some of the posts about this story (only the 2nd thing I've ever written)

This is a repost of Sundown after being edited by DB448

I truly must admit that he did a masterful job of smoothing out my many rough edges, but doing it in such an unobtrusive way that it didn't change any of the story's flow.

Several (well actually more than that) of you have expressed discontent over the fact that the story's ending was vague. The conclusion with all of the answers will be posted shortly it is being edited as we speak. To all of you who offered constructive or positive criticisms and e-mails thanks, for all of you who just spit hate, well the world needs you too. Lastly several (again it's more than that) have talked about the fact that I mention Mustang's in all of my stories or the Dream Cruise, well it is coming up next week in Michigan and I will be there in one of my Mustangs.

Sundown

edited by DB448

I could see her lying back in a satin dress, in a room where you do what you don't confess.

Sundown you'd better take care, if I find you've been creepin' round my back stairs

Gordon Lightfoot.

The PI looked away as I watched the small TV screen in his cramped office. He pretended to busy himself doing anything but watching the screen or watching me watch it.

The images on the screen tore my heart out, and ended my life as I knew it that day. On the screen, almost as if it was a cheap porno movie, a woman was lying on a bed in a cheap motel room. A man came in and she started taking off her satiny dress. There was nothing remarkable about the man or the room. As a matter of fact there was nothing even vaguely remarkable about the sex they engaged in. He stood there kind of awkwardly while she disrobed in front of him. She was kind of shy about it, which was unusual for a whore. But she was kind of remarkable. She was beautiful, at least I thought so. Her face had a few too many lines in it, and the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes were beginning to become almost noticeable if you looked closely enough. And she didn't smile, which was a relief. Her breasts were large and when she revealed them the man instantly became aroused. She pulled off her plain white granny panties and turned to pull the cheap blanket off the bed, which showed her big round ass and increased the man's arousal. The only thing that wasn't above average size on the woman's body was her waist line as it was still tight and trim, despite her years. She was obviously closer to 45 than 25 but you couldn't tell by the man's reaction to her.

She turned to the man and pulled his boxers down then lay back and spread her legs.

The man looked confused, as if this wasn't going the way he'd imagined it.

"I was hoping for...." He began.

"Honey, foreplay is not required or recommended but it's your time so you can do what you want" she said in a soft voice with more than a hint of her Texas drawl, "But I will not suck your dick for any amount of money"

"I wanted to do you" the man said in a voice that was almost whiny.

The woman shrugged her shoulders and lay back on the bed spreading her legs even further. The little man leaned down between them and began softly licking the rose colored folds of her vagina. If he'd been expecting the woman's demeanor to change he was disappointed. Perhaps the sex books he'd read had been wrong. He redoubled his efforts to no avail, she just lay there with her legs spread and let him lick her. He added a finger to his tongue and gently worked it into her lightly furred pussy. After a few minutes of this he was able to get another finger in. He looked at her intently trying to gage her reaction. All of the other whores he'd been with were usually a puddle on the floor by this time, or were good enough actresses that he couldn't tell. So for that reason alone he didn't think he was doing anything wrong. She looked at the clock on the desk by the bed, and reached over and got a tube of lube.

"You're probably going to want this if you do intend to fuck me" she said with about as much emotion as if she'd been telling someone they'd need a new bag for the garbage can when they emptied the trash. Nothing about her signaled arousal, or even interest in the act they were participating in. But he was paying for sex, not entertainment.

The man squeezed some of the fluid onto the tip of his member and smeared an equal amount onto the surface of the woman's vagina. Then he placed his dick gently at her opening and pushed. The woman exhaled as he entered her mostly due to the fact that the lube hadn't yet gotten inside her, so there was some pain involved. But she didn't ask him to slow down, or wait for her vagina to adjust, she just took it. It was as if she wanted the pain as payment for some secret sin she'd committed. The man just sawed away at her for about 3 minutes and then tensed up. The woman moved as quickly as a snake and pushed him off of her.

"You know you can't finish inside me, only my hu..."

"I'm sorry" whined the man, cutting her off, "It just felt so good"

The man got quickly off the bed, threw his clothes on, and left flinging another "Sorry" over his shoulder as he closed the door.

As the man's footsteps echoed down the hallway, tears rolled down the woman's face.

I continued to watch the scene on the screen unfold, hoping to find some clue to why my wife was fucking other men in a motel. For the life of me I just couldn't see it.

I loved her with all of my heart and I thought she felt the same. I was obviously wrong though from what I was watching on the closed circuit TV. Then as she dressed, I saw the reason.

He walked into the room like he owned it. And he probably did. A ruddy faced guy with a greasy 80's porn-star mustache, and tattoos all over his arms. Though I couldn't hear him clearly you could tell something was wrong with him. Why else would a white guy, talk like some black gang member from the ghetto. The bastard had been in and out of jail his whole life, and now he was trying to be some kind of pimp, and using my Mary as his whore. Folks around here called him Sundown, because you never saw the mother fucker until evening. During the day when most of the honest people in town were working this asshole was holed up somewhere, asleep or hiding. He'd never been known to do an honest days work, but had broken up several marriages and families, due to gambling, or drinking, or his loan sharking, or drugs, if you could name it, he steal it, do it or sell it. Obviously my marriage was his latest project and he'd stolen Mary from me, had probably done her, and was now selling her.

"I've seen enough," I said to the PI," make a copy of the tape for my lawyer and send me the bill"

"Wait a minute John" he said. "This is not and open and shut case, he could be coercing her somehow. She clearly does not want to do this, she isn't enjoying it, she's not doing this for pleasure, this is not a clear cut case of cheating no matter how you see it"

"How I see it is that my wife of the past 10 years is no longer faithful to me, though I've always been so to her, which means I can no longer trust her, and without trust, what is there?"

I left the small storefront office with an extremely heavy heart. Even the sight of my pride and joy, an 06 Mustang GT, failed to lift my spirits. God I loved that car, from the first Christmas when Mary had given it to me, it had never seen snow or even rain. I never did figure out where she got the money for the down payment, since we weren't anywhere near rich, but I had faithfully made sure to keep up the rest of the payments.

The bank would take that car away from me and re-sell it in a heartbeat, since everybody in town wanted my car.

It's a funny thing, but whenever I saw that car I thought of Mary even though she didn't actually like it. She said it was too loud, too raw, and the ride was too rough. She said it was more of a man's car and it was just not refined enough for a woman. It was also pretty bad on gas.

Getting me that car had made me sure that Mary reciprocated my feelings for her, but maybe it was just a way to make me so sure of us that I wouldn't notice her cheating.

Sometimes I think It's a shame, that I get feeling better when I'm feeling no pain.

I felt too bad to go home so I stopped for a while in one of the hole in the wall bars that dotted the neighborhood. I got a shot of Jack and told the bartender to leave the bottle. He looked at me kind of strangely, but he left it and moved on. Bartenders have a kind of psychic ability, they seem to always know whether someone wants to talk or just be left alone.

I just felt like shit, I'd put everything I had into my relationship with Mary. All my heart, all my soul, I lived ate and breathed Mary, she was all I ever thought of and I just couldn't understand what had led us to this situation. It wasn't a case where I'd neglected her, or beat her; hell I'd never even said a cross word to her in all of our years together.

I thought our sex life was great too, we were always all over each other. After making love with her just last night she'd held onto me the whole night, and I remember her whispering into my ear that she would love only me for the rest of her life, after she thought I had gone to sleep.

So why would a woman who said something like that to a man, spread her legs for someone else less than 24 hours later?

Maybe she was like those women who just needed some strange dick every once in a while, or even more often. Maybe our sex life wasn't as good as I thought it was. Maybe she was just bored with me and with us, and she'd gone to Sundown to liven up her boring existence. It no longer mattered to me, my marriage was over. I just needed to plan it out, and handle it. Tonight would be the last time I ever saw the cheating slut if I had anything to do with it. I already had the lawyer and the evidence so all that was left was to get my stuff and file for the divorce. Luckily we had no kids since Mary couldn't conceive.

We also had no substantial assets. We had the house; she could have it. I'd take my car. Case closed, divorce granted, then she could fuck Sundown until Sun up if she wanted to, but they could no longer make a fool out of me while they did it.

As I drank everything got clearer. I wasn't a big drinker, so 3 shots was all it took to get me to the point where I gave the bartender my keys and told him I'd be back for my Mustang in the morning. Everything all of a sudden seemed simpler and I actually felt better, but it was just the alcoholic stupor masking my pain, emotional and physical.

She's been looking like a Queen in a sailor's dream and she don't always say what she really means

It took me the better part of an hour to walk the 6 blocks to our house in my condition. Actually the walk was good for me because I wasn't nearly as drunk when I got there. Before I even got the door open Mary was on me, hugging me and kissing me and wondering where I'd been. She still had a lot of fucking make up on. When we first got together she never wore any and in fact it was only recently that she'd started wearing anything other than lipstick. Now it was so thick she looked like something out of a drunken sailor's fantasy. Of course my new knowledge of her activities made me a little more suspicious and a little less naïve about her motivation. Was she really worried about where I'd been, or just establishing the fact that she'd been here all night, which I now knew wasn't likely.

She smelled really good fresh from the shower and she'd put on some of that perfume that she knew I loved, and washed and brushed out her long pretty hair. Did she really do all of that for me or was it to wash the scents of her lovers off so I wouldn't suspect anything?

"Have you been drinking? Did you stop off at some bar after work?" she asked.

Who did this bitch think she was fooling with the June Cleaver act?

"You supper is ready Hon" she said "I waited for you so we could eat together"

"Not really hungry" I told her.

Her face fell a little as I said it, but I couldn't tell anymore if it was a real reaction or just more of her God damned acting skills.

"Well do you want to watch some TV, or just sit outside on the deck and watch the sky?" she asked taking hold of my arm.

Had she always been this fucking needy? Or was I the one who was different? Perhaps finding out what she really did while I was out working had made me see things more clearly. I guess maybe my love for her had always prevented me from truly seeing how funny people who supposedly love each other are. How they accept seemingly retarded behavior and even participate in it because they love someone so much. There was also the possibility that the bitch's guilt over what she'd done had her starved for forgiveness and affection. Well if that was what she was hoping for she could just go shit in her hat, because there was no forgiveness here, and even less affection.

"I'm really tired so I think I'll just go to bed"

"Well you're not getting any unless you take a shower" she said.

Apparently I wasn't as drunk as I thought I was, that or her words must've fully sobered me up, but I was smart enough not to say any of the thoughts that went through my mind. I just turned on my heel and headed into the bathroom. What I was really thinking was that I wouldn't touch her with someone else's dick. I was also thinking that it was strange that she insisted on her own husband having to take a shower to get into bed with her, but she'd had no similar scruples about some guy whose name she probably didn't know just shucking down and fucking her. Also her assumption that I even wanted any of her mercy or guilt fucks was just too much for me.

Though it seemed like I was taking a long relaxing shower, some of the time that the shower was running I was packing most of my essential toiletries and personal items. I put them into one small travel case so that when I left in the morning I wouldn't have to pack anything. I was just planning on leaving most of my clothes and buying more. I would try and gather together work clothes and a few outfits while she slept tonight. Hopefully I could convince her to sleep in tomorrow morning, so I could get what I was taking into my car without her noticing. The thought did occur to me that if I gave her a good hard fuck either tonight or tomorrow morning it would do 3 things for me. One it would tire her out enough that she might sleep in. Secondly, it would keep her convinced that everything between us was fine until I could get the fuck away from her cheating ass. And lastly, she really was a good fuck, despite the way she'd been on the screen, and I didn't know when I'd get any again. I wasn't even thinking about meeting another woman for a long ass time if ever. But despite all of the reasons for me to do it, the thought of fucking her turned my stomach. The crazy part about it was that I still loved her as much as ever, maybe more because I knew I was about to lose her and it just made what we shared seem all the more precious.

I walked out of the shower in my robe and put on fresh boxers. I turned off the light in the bedroom and got into bed. She was immediately on me.

"Don't you need to take a shower too?" I asked, knowing that she already had.

"I did just before you got in" she said sweetly. "I've been waiting for this all day long"

Boy what a fucking liar, I thought, fortunately for me, my revulsion, and my low tolerance for alcohol conspired to relieve me of having to do anything as I turned my head to the side suddenly and just vomited into the trashcan we kept beside the bed.

"Oh honey, you're really sick" she said with what really appeared to be genuine concern.

She jumped naked out of the bed and ran across the room to get me a towel and clean me up. I was struck as usual by the bounty and beauty of her natural gifts. As hard as I was trying to be right now, the love I still felt for her was evident. She wiped my face and my mouth and emptied out and rinsed the trash can. Then she got back into bed with me and just lay down beside me.

"I'm not grossed out or anything, you can still hold me" she said.

She rolled over closer to me and wrapped my arm around her and spooned her ass into my frontal area. She was literally forcing me to spoon with her. Her need for affection due to guilt must be monumental because she was acting like a love crazed teenager. She turned her head around and kissed me right on the lips. Who would kiss someone who had just thrown up, unless they were trying to prove something?

She said "I love you" and I pretended I was already asleep.

I'm normally up at 6:30 a.m. for the early morning shift but my eyes clicked open at 5:30 and I started to ease my way out of bed. During the night I'd tried several times to pull away from her, but she would always instinctively roll back against me and start to wake up. I had to admit the bitch was good; she could even keep up her performance while she was asleep.

"Why are you getting up so early?" she asked groggily as she pushed back against me. "Ooh, looks like one part of you is already up".

Although she was right, and I wanted her so badly I could taste it, I got up out of bed anyway.

She was visibly disappointed, and I truly believe a little hurt. In all the time we'd been together, I had never turned her down if she wanted sex. This made twice in less than 12 hours. Last night was mitigated by the fact that I was sick enough to vomit. But this morning's refusal had no easy excuse and it clearly hurt her but the only thoughts going through my mind were "She must really be feeling guilty" and "Damn how much dick does this bitch need?"

"I get it" she said "My honey went to bed without dinner last night after working all day" She clearly needed to find a reason for my rejection of her advances. "You must be starving, Do you want me to make you breakfast?"

"No honey you stay in bed" I said "You've already put up with enough, with my vomiting and drinking and being tired. Tonight will be different" I lied, forcing myself to squeeze her breast. It struck me as funny how I had to force myself to do something that only 24 hours previously was one of my and her greatest pleasures.

"I'll just warm up the plate you made me for dinner last night" I told her.

I re-tucked the covers around her and kissed her on her forehead. Even though she hadn't kissed the last guy, I wasn't going anywhere near her lips. After all who knew where her lips had been. she probably refused to suck the customers dicks because she saved that for Sundown. I wasn't taking any chances on picking something up.

"I just like being with you, you're going to be away from me all day" she said, as if it was tearing her apart for me to go to work.

That was it, after work today, maybe on my way in, I had to buy this bitch an Oscar statue. Maybe I could present it to her when they served the divorce papers. "For best acting performance in the category of cheating slut pretending to love her husband, the award goes to....."

I went into the closet to grab my work clothes and actually fooled her by grabbing 2 shirts and 2 pairs of pants and taking them into the bathroom and then came back and got a couple more sets. I kissed her on her forehead again but she was really almost asleep.

"Love you honey" she mumbled. Yeah right!

She'd probably be up and plastering on her make-up before I was clear of the driveway. Before I got to I-Hop she'd probably have Sundown creeping up the stairs to the backdoor. (I meant the house's, not hers, but I could be wrong)