The End of Something

Then we were thrown together as husband and wife without any prior history - except the experience of losing that loving feeling through treachery. Meanwhile, we had evolved into different people. Two years of unadulterated alienation can do that to you.

So the first six months was a "getting to know you" period that lacked any of the romantic fog-of-war that clouds the perceptions of new lovers. It was interesting in that both of us were forced to learn about the other in a manner that usually only happens when you begin to date.

Normally you start out learning about the foibles of this strange new person - and then you decide whether you are a match. It is only AFTER you make that decision that you become comfortable enough to get married.

While I - on the other hand - was married to somebody who I had known so intimately that we were almost one soul. But who - following our exile from the Garden of Eden - might as well have been a complete stranger to me.

I knew that I didn't understand Sasha's thought patterns anymore. And whatever she had morphed into wasn't the Sasha that I had grown up with.

She had undertaken a long period of soul searching and she was nowhere near as light-hearted as she had been prior to her fall. She had child care responsibilities now, which she performed with fierce motherly devotion. And although we did the usual things together. The easy going sense of happiness and camaraderie that we had the first time around was gone and we didn't joke and tease much - which was a profound symptom of disaffection.

The fact was that the two of us pretty-much did our own thing. I still spent a lot of time in the lab and she and her mother spent their time fussing with Kat. The lack of joy was wearing both of us down. And it looked like we were heading for the inevitable end of the line. Then Sasha mustered the courage to bring our troubles to a head.

One beautiful English summer evening we were sitting at the Head of the River enjoying dinner and a pint. Sasha had on one of those classic spaghetti strap sun dresses that showed off her beautiful shoulders, her luscious breasts and her incredible muscled legs. With her perfectly proportioned features and her hair down her back in a thick braid she looked like a woman who had just stepped off the cover of Vogue - or maybe Playboy.

The Thames was flowing past and the swans were out in force. It was a perfect warm evening as only that part of England can produce in the summer. And the odd light goes a long way toward explaining the mysticism in Midsummer Night's Dream. To say the least, every male on that extensive terrace was checking Sasha out and some were actually leering.

I went in to get us a refill - she drinks gin and tonics and I drink good old English Bitter. When I came back there was a man sitting at the table.

He was O'Leary all over again, self-assured, handsome - almost beautiful, expensively dressed and totally arrogant.

I didn't like anything about what I saw. He was intent and she was flirtatious.

When I got to the table I handed the drink to her and sat down. She turned to me with mischief in her eyes and said dryly, "This is Graham dear. And he wants to take me punting. Should I go with him?"

In my mind punts are good for only three things; tourists, transporting duck hunters and fucking under cover of riverbank willows. I could only read that as a taunt.

I said with menace in my voice, "You should do whatever you think is right my dear."

This marriage wasn't going to work out. I was wondering if I could get my rooms back at Keble.

She rose gracefully.

He rose eagerly.

My heart plummeted like a dropped anvil.

She took his hand in hers and said, "Thank you for the offer Graham but I'm afraid I must decline. My husband and I have a lot of things to talk about tonight."

He looked totally nonplussed and stood there for a second, like he didn't know what to do next. Maybe he had never been rejected before? Then he turned and beat a hasty and ignominious retreat.

She sat back down, took a sly sip of her drink, and then turned those fathomless ice blue eyes on me and said, "That was an object lesson. This all ends here tonight."

I might have interpreted that statement as an ultimatum. But it was clear that she wanted to make a stand with me. She was telling me that we would either overcome our problem - or figuratively die together trying.

She said, "What you just witnessed happens to me every time I go anywhere. Sometimes they even hit on me when I am with my mother and Katerina. And I consider every one of them pests. There is only one man in my life. I made that choice fifteen years ago. And I have never regretted it."

She stopped and looked pensive. Then she added, "But we can't keep living like this. I know that I failed you. But I can't un-ring that bell. We have worked very hard to get a lot of what we lost back. We are a couple now. I can feel it. Day-to-day we are more-and-more at ease with each other and you are the world's best dad."

I interjected lovingly, "Only trying to live up to the example you set."

She went on, "But I want it all. I want you to be my husband in every sense of the word. My body aches for you. And until we can lead a normal sex life we are never going to be fully together as husband and wife. So that is my opening volley. What do you have to say about that?"

I said, "It's simple really. When you and I are intimate I see you willingly sharing that exact same intimacy with Tom O'Leary. And it puts too many thoughts in my head."

I grimaced and said, "So rather than just doing what comes naturally I start thinking about every noise and movement you make. Then that questioning builds to a critical mass and rather than enjoying your amazing sexuality it is almost like I am standing by the side of the bed and taking notes on your performance."

She looked both understanding and determined and said, "Thank you for that. I know how I feel when we try to make love. I know that you are thinking about me with another man. And my dominant emotions are self-consciousness and guilt - not sexual hunger and desire."

She looked at me with an intensity I could almost touch and said, "We are both very smart. I know we can overcome this if we set our minds to it. That's why I wanted to go back tonight, turn off our brains and just fuck. Sometimes we just think too much."

And that is exactly what we did.

Our bedroom has a double ensuite, one for her and one for me. I nervously scrubbed my teeth, and even splashed on a little cologne. I felt like a virgin on his wedding night.

I was lying on the bed in my pajama bottoms when she emerged from her bathroom. She was wearing nothing but an enigmatic smile. She was heart-stoppingly beautiful.

You could see the power in her lower body. Sasha has exceptional muscular hips, flanks and legs. Her torso and arms are less powerful but they are perfectly proportioned in relation to those womanly hips. And they radiate grace and exquisite balance - like the ballerina that she once was. Her breasts are full and round and without the slightest droop, even in her late 30s. Her pink nipples are puffy, like little acorns.

But her glory is her exceptional face framed by that wealth of hair. At present that face had the same approximate expression as a hungry Bengal tigress. And then in one explosive burst she became one.

She ran across the space between us - and did a feline pounce - frantically kissing my neck and shoulders as she landed.

I actually went "whooomph!!" It was a brilliant move on her part. And characteristic of her exceptional intelligence. It took me by surprise. And so I didn't have the time to think.

She was kissing and nipping and moaning frantically. I could feel her hunger as she writhed on top of me. And in that instant the proverbial dam burst. I wasn't thinking I was feeling. And my lizard brain knew that whatever she had done with O'Leary was a drop in the bucket compared to her everlasting hunger for me.

The pent up pain, regret and anger just drained out of me like the water the dam had been holding back and I lost myself in her infinite passion.

She was on top of me moaning loudly and frantically humping the bulge that was restrained in my jammies.

I rolled her violently over on her back as I slid my Pajama pants down - wondering why I had EVER worn them in the first place.

She was gazing at me with the most intense "Fuck Me!!" look. Staring into those huge luminous eyes I could see that they were wild with her need for me. It was like she was willing me to knock down every psychic barrier between us.

Then they rolled totally up in her head and stayed there. The heat and the smell just overwhelmed me. The instant I got the decks cleared I was a thoroughly crazed beast.

I grabbed each of her ankles and spread her wide. She gave a deep-throated growl of sheer satisfaction. That changed to a groan that came from the depths of her soul as I plunged old Lucifer into the hottest wettest three centimeters of heaven that mortal man has ever visited.

Then she began to shriek. It was an animal sound that was equal parts sensation and redemption. Her hips turned into a blur and her breathing sounded like she was hyperventilating. She was clearly building to a once in a lifetime orgasm - one that had been almost 28 months in the making.

When it hit her she shot her legs straight up in the air and as wide as she could get them. Then she began to cum, clamping on me with violent vaginal flutters and quivers that were accompanied by a sense that a river of red-hot lava was also running down there somewhere.

And she didn't even break stride. She was communicating that she was totally spent on one level and utterly aroused on another. She started fucking back as hard as she could. She threw her arms around my neck, opened her eyes and just stared fascinated into mine. She was totally and completely there in the moment with me.

Our driving together sounded like applause and it should have been. This was one for the ages.

She abruptly rolled out from underneath me - turned and presented those magnificent muscled hips. She looked back over her shoulder with a smolderingly visceral female challenge. I plunged back in her and she shrieked again.

Then she started wildly rotating her ass- head hanging down, face hidden by her hair, and her shoulders working with effort as she pushed back against me. I grabbed the nipple of her right breast rolled it and pulled.

She began a frantic play-by-play, "Oh God - So Good - It's been so long - oh Fuck me don't-stop-don't-stop-don't-EVER stop - AHHHHHHHH!!" And she collapsed face first onto the bed with me still pounding her ass.

It was like I was a man possessed but I couldn't cum. I think it was because I didn't want it to end.

But the inevitable eventually happened. She was making weak little grunts now as she tried to elevate her ass. She was exhausted, her face was buried in the pillow and drool was running out of the corner of her mouth. But she was offering herself nonetheless.

Her last valiant effort pushed me over the edge and words like "came like the midnight express" do not begin to describe what happened. I must have shot two full years of pent-up desire into her. She made deep satisfied moans as that happened, weakly moving the cheeks of her ass - like she had given it all to me.

I collapsed on her muscular back and slid off in our mutual sweat onto the floor. She lay as she was when I pulled out of her, that gorgeous butt still slightly raised. Then it too slowly settled back down into a stillness that was like she had passed out.

I finally rose shakily and sat next to her on the bed - still coming back from my trip to Never-Never-Land. She was lying face-down in a puddle of drool but I could see one corner of her mouth turn up.

I said, "That exorcised a lot of ghosts." She sarcastically muttered, "You think?"

I wish I could say that night caused us to immediately start fucking like bunny rabbits. But this is the real world. We still had our moments. But we patiently worked through them because we loved each other. And no matter what ghost raised its ugly head we played whack-a-mole with it until it went away.

Ours was a mature love now. And the certainty of our togetherness made whatever we had sacrificed to get there seem worth the price. In the end maybe happiness just requires perseverance? I don't know.

But I DO know that our life is infinitely better because we were able to overcome the hardships that it tossed in front of us. It took work and dedication but we endured - together.

Epilog

She was still in her robes as she came breezing out of Inner London Crown Court. Her incredible ice blue eyes were a striking contrast to her dark auburn hair. Her mother and grandmother are stunning beauties but my beloved Katerina absolutely upped the ante.

She was in a cheerful mood as she approached us. Her partner was following close behind with the same look of delight on her face. Her partner was three years older and a great beauty in her own right. Her kind and intelligent grey eyes were a testament to her pedigree. The Lady Brooke Ashley-Barnes was a true homage to her parents.

You could almost sense the powerful combination of intelligence and sheer force of will that those two gorgeous young women radiated. They were nobody's person but their own. And they were already rising stars in the British legal firmament.

They were the two founding partners of Barnes and Schneider. The noble Brooke was a Barrister. My dear Kat was her partner and a Solicitor. Kat does the legal work and Brooke does the litigating. Together they are a force to be reckoned with.

They had been lifelong friends, going from little girl dolls to gaggles of men. And even though they went different routes - Brooke through the Inns of Court and Kat through the DPhil program at Oxford - they had always loved and supported each other.

Brooke is the master of courtroom presence and razor sharp wit. Kat is the deadliest legal mind in the entire profession. Her eye for detail is uncanny and she never misses a nuance. At least my darling little girl inherited one ability from me.

The rest of her is her mother personified - intense beauty and maybe sexuality. A father doesn't ever want to go there. And she has a lighthearted sense of humor that infuses every aspect of her life.

Her mother had lost that ability for a little while. But she got it back. And she was now a woman of great humanity.

The girl's faces were lit up by excitement. And they were carrying on the type of congratulatory conversation that a couple of teammates who had just won the Super Bowl - or the FA Cup - might have. Apparently they had made a lot of money for somebody today.

As the reached us Brooke was laughingly saying, "Did you see the look on his face when I skewered him with that little nugget you dug up?" Kat tittered and said, "You practically held up his severed balls for everybody in the Chamber to see..." Then she stopped and looked embarrassed. Apparently a daddy isn't supposed to know that his gorgeous twenty-five year old daughter is familiar with male genetalia.

Her mother smiled at that. At age sixty three she is still a luminescent beauty - at least as far as I'm concerned. And the life we have built together is a tribute to her intelligence and her profound feminine wisdom. She glanced at me and said, "Well we need to celebrate, How about the George Inn?" Her 89 year old mother was waiting for us all there. Still as stolid as the Kremlin.

The four of us turned and walked off down Borough High Street toward The George - the same place that the likes of Dickens used to hang out at when he was covering the London Courts.

Sasha was in front talking with Brooke about her parents. I couldn't help checking out those legs and swaying hips. For a sixty three year old woman my wife still has an amazing ass.

Kat was walking next to me. For somebody who had just had a smashing triumph she seemed strangely pensive. Finally she grabbed my hand with hers. And we walked along side by side in the London hustle and bustle. I looked over at her and a tear was running down her cheek.

I was suddenly very concerned. I said, "What's wrong my little Kitty Kat."

She said in an emotional tone, "I love you Daddy. Don't ever forget that. You have made me the person I am. And I will always be grateful. I will always try to make you proud and I will always be your little girl."

I looked into that perfect face. It was the one that I had fallen instantly in love with twenty five long years ago. And whatever the price I had paid it was all utterly and totally worthwhile. I said, "I know my sweet Kat. And that is the way it always will be." And we walked together, hand-and-hand into the bright future.