What Was I Thinking?

We showered together; Janice gave me little reason to feel jealous, she spent as much, if not more time, kissing me as she did Robert. We decided to spend the night in his king size bed. Janice told me Robert took her in the middle of the night, just a slow missionary fuck, that I slept through. But I did watch when he fucked her in the kitchen, Janice sitting on Robert's lap, right after we had breakfast in the nude.

That was the first of several weekends with Robert. Catherine came home in late July during a college break and we cooled it for a month. Catherine noticed a change in her mother and complimented her on her stylish clothes and youthful appearance; it was easy to see Janice was very pleased by her daughter's comments, but wasn't about to share the reason for the changes.

After Catherine returned to school, we started back up with Robert. It wasn't an every weekend thing like before, we took time out to spend a couple weekends on private one-on-one dates and even spent one weekend alone down in Portland visiting a nude beach we had heard about.

But there were enough weekends with Robert that we became very comfortable with the arrangement. Too comfortable in fact because when I ended up having to spend the first and the last weeks during October out of town, Janice asked if I would mind if she spent some time with Robert alone. I mistakenly agreed, thinking by this time that Robert was a friend.

Unbeknownst by me, Robert took this time to undermine my relationship with Janice. What I failed to remember and what Robert seemed to understand was that Janice was essentially a one-man woman. I had seduced her into doing things that went against her morals and who she was. Robert listened to her and used this information against me.

The bottom dropped out the first week of November. I came home after the second week of travel, Janice was acting very strange and finally gave me the news.

"Jeffery, I want a separation and probably a divorce. I'm moving in with Robert."

I won't bore you with the whys, the hows, the tears and the bit of shouting that went on after her statement. You probably should know that Robert promised Janice that if she were his wife, he would never share her with another man. She would be his wife, they would lead a monogamous life together and Janice would be able to put this chapter of her life behind her.

Janice did move into his home; we spent a couple of afternoons together discussing our marriage at neutral locations. I promised Janice the same things – monogamy, a reset, etc. but I had damaged our marriage too much with my actions and Janice didn't think I could so quickly get over my desires to share her. Before the end of the year she filed for divorce.

The divorce would be final on April 2nd and I spent the first quarter of the year living alone in our home waiting to see if Janice changed her mind. The hardest part was telling Catherine; I took complete blame for what happened and Catherine reacted more strongly than I anticipated, yelling at me for "pimping mom out." We only spoke two times during that first quarter and she barely agreed to meeting me in DC in August.

Janice didn't change her mind; the divorce was final and on April 3rd I put the house on the market. I gave my two weeks' notice at work and gave power of attorney to the one good friend that had stuck by me throughout the ordeal. It was his idea that I take a trip out of town to clear my head, I don't think he imagined I'd take it to such an extreme.

So with my most personal possessions in a storage locker, I loaded up my motorcycle and on April 25th started this journey.

Chapter 3 – The Journey

I snap out of my dark thoughts just as I see the sign for the Bend turn off. This is one of those towns that outgrew itself. What was once one of the quaint ski and hiking could now be confused with a Seattle suburb on steroids. I'm only here to crash for a night, get a decent meal with a good pint and I'll be gone in the early morning. One of the great Northwest brewpubs, the Deschutes Brewery, is headquartered here and I walked over there as soon as I checked into a motel and showered. Janice and I learned years ago that the best places to eat while traveling are the numerous brewpubs that have sprung up throughout the West. We always traveled with the Northwest and Southwest Brewing News, bi-monthly publications that contain maps of each state and where the brewpubs are located. A great meal, two great pints of ale and a good night's sleep ended my first day.

The next morning I headed south toward north-central California and from there planned to hit the coast. I made the mistake of stopping in Klamath Falls for lunch at another brewery where Janice and I had eaten on a past road trip. My intention was to have one pint, always my limit when riding, with lunch.

Ever since I read Albert Camus' 'The Stranger' in college the randomness of life has intrigued me. Many decisions in life such as the decision I made to seduce Janice into becoming a hotwife and the subsequent possible fallout seem quite obvious. But what about all those minor decisions, all those (figuratively speaking) minor 'forks' in the road? You take the right branch and your life is long and happy, you take the left branch and a truck crosses the median and you're dead.

Had I kept going through Klamath Falls, and I was tempted, I never would have met Woody. And meeting Woody led me through an adventure I could not foresee when this trip started.

Woody was another biker, rode a Fat Boy, he was a veteran of the war in Iraq and he was on his way to Texas, but we'll get to that later. As I sat at the bar eating my sandwich and drinking my Pale Ale, Woody sat next to me, ordered a pint and after introducing himself asked, "Where ya headed?"

"Eventually meeting a buddy in Chicago, but that's not for a couple months. In the meantime, thought I'd head south and find some warmer weather. You?"

"Eventually Texas, going to see the widow of an old Army buddy."

I told him I was sorry, thanked him for his service and bought him a pint. We chatted comfortably, staying away from the more serious topics. I've always thought it's rude to ask a serviceman or servicewoman about their war time experience. They've earned the right to share or not share, it's their choice; I'll listen, but won't probe.

Woody didn't share much that first afternoon, but we did sit at that bar, each one of us buying a couple rounds, and by the time we walked out to our bikes we were too toasted to ride any longer. Luckily there was an old inn down the street we could get to without endangering ourselves or anyone else. We each got a room and planned to meet for dinner later. At dinner we decided to ride together for a while, as long as it worked out and we didn't start bitching at each other.

He turned out to be a great traveling companion. Woody liked to ride long distances at a time, liked to eat good food and drink good beer, didn't get into too many hassles with the locals wherever we stopped and could hold his own at the pool tables. He stood about 6'3", weighed a good 240 and looked like the proverbial mountain man with his long hair and beard. We spent six days meandering throughout Northern and Central California. At the end of the first week of riding we were at the coast in Half Moon Bay and by now comfortable enough with each other that we decided we could share a hotel room, as long as it had two beds.

That night, after a couple pints and splitting a pint of Jack Daniels, Woody told me one of the two reasons he was traveling. Like me it had to do with a woman, but unlike me, this was not his doing.

Chapter 4 - Woody's Story (told in the first person)

After my first tour in Iraq I was home for six months. There was a girl back home that helped keep me sane and grounded while I was over there; she'd write me at least twice a week. When I got back she and I got real serious and married after a couple months. Her name was Theresa and she was a beautiful lady; long brown hair, big brown eyes and big beautiful breasts. An ass to die for. Anyway, I thought she was perfect; hell, she wrote me religiously for the six months I was overseas.

The two months we were together before my second tour were perfect. And the entire time I was gone she wrote me even more often. I was the envy of my squad, getting a letter almost every other day.

When I came back Theresa was insatiable. It was as if she was trying to make up for lost time. It seemed like we were making love at least two times a day. But even with all the sex I was having trouble sleeping at night. I don't know you well enough to get into that right now, but some day maybe I'll tell you.

The docs had me on Ambien as a sleep aid. That stuff would knock me out, but after a couple months I was afraid of getting addicted, so every third night or so I'd stop taking it. I didn't want to worry Theresa so she didn't know I was just lying there awake most of every third night.

One night as I lay awake I noticed a dim light from her side of the bed. At first I thought she was just checking her phone, but it became obvious she was texting, she must have assumed I was zonked from the Ambien. I checked her phone when she went into the shower the next morning, but it was locked. That night I took her out for drinks and asked to use her phone so I could make a call. She unlocked the phone and I pretended to be looking away, but out of the corner of my eye I watched her fingers on the number pad; it's amazing the skills you pick up while riding a convoy through the desert.

That night I brought her a last glass of wine when we got home, this one had one of my sleeping pills crushed in it, she was too woozy from the previous drinks to notice. Once she fell asleep I had all night to review her texts. And it took almost all night. She and some scumbag named Gordon Knight had been texting for months; at least five of the months of my tour and even since I got home. Dirty shit, too. I'm not going to repeat it now because I'll just get pissed, use your imagination.

I downloaded all this crap unto my laptop and shut it down. The last text gave me their plans for meeting up on Saturday when I was supposed to pull weekend duty. I told my captain what was going on and he said he'd give me the time off, but only if he could go with me so I wouldn't do anything stupid.

So Saturday evening we head over to my house together. What a stupid cunt! She's fucking this son of a bitch in my bed. We quietly go in and I can hear her grunting, "fuck me" over and over. Cap's got the video going as we walk through the bedroom door. Theresa doesn't even know we're there cause she riding him cowgirl until I pull her off him by her hair. Cap stops video taping long enough for me to shove my fist into the asshole's balls, then I grab him by the dick, pull him up off the bed and throw his ass out the front door buck naked. Theresa is screaming the entire time it takes me to get him down the hall and out the door.

I don't touch Theresa, Cap made certain I knew that would mean prison time. I just grabbed her suitcase out of the closet and said, "You have fifteen minutes to pack and clear out."

Theresa did the usual dance. She loves me, it didn't mean anything, she was lonely, she was stressed, on and on. The killer is we had just started to talk about having kids. Boy, did I dodge a bullet there.

I filed and had her served at her folks' house where she was living. Her dad probably gave her more grief than I did. He was old school Marine and called me to apologize for his daughter. Even said he didn't blame me for turning her loose.

The Gordon asshole was her supervisor at work, so I went to her work with the video and he got fired, she got a severe reprimand. I told them not to fire her otherwise I'd be stuck paying the cheating bitch alimony. The owner agreed since I agreed not to take his company to court.

Theresa tried to spin it; during court mandated counseling she said she had only been with asshole twice. I pulled out the print outs of her phone texts and you could hear a pin drop. The counselor sent a note to the judge saying it was his opinion further counseling was a waste of time. The last court hearing tore my heart out. Theresa collapsed into her mother's arms balling. That was over a year ago and damn, I really loved that woman so it still hurts.

I got my discharge papers four months later and here I am in some cheap hotel with a guy I don't know on my way to settle one last score.

When Woody finished his story I knew better than to pry. I poured him another shot of Jack Daniels into the cheap plastic hotel cup, poured one for me, and silently toasted him. Woody drained the cup, turned off his light and closed his eyes.

Chapter 5 – The Journey Continues

We got up the next morning, drank some coffee in the lobby, loaded the bikes and headed south on Route 1 along the coast down to Monterey. We lucked out because they were racing Gran Prix autos at Laguna Seca that weekend so we headed out to the track to watch. For my mind auto racing isn't as thrilling as the motorcycle races that Janice and I watched there in the past, but these Gran Prix autos put on a great show. Lots of excitement and tension as the cars made their way around the curves, especially coming down on the 'Corkscrew'.

We had to sleep in our tents in the campground that night because every hotel room within a hundred miles was booked. In the morning we continued south on Route 1/US 101 and made it to Ventura. That night I told Woody the story of my failed marriage. I was reluctant to tell him about my perversion given how his marriage ended; and he reacted just how I suspected he would.

"Man, you are fucked! One of the guys in our squad used to get Penthouse Letters magazine over in Iraq and they used to run those stories about guys watching their wives with other men and I got to tell you, I just never could get it. I mean, how does a man stand watching his woman get fucked by another guy? You have to be wired differently to be into that shit."

I tried to explain the appeal to Woody, but after an hour he was still shaking his head.

"Stop, stop. I've heard enough. What are you going to do if you ever find a woman to replace your ex; you going to go back to that shit?"

"Never, even if I have to get psychiatric help, I'm done. It was the stupidest thing I ever did in my life. I tried to make it with a girl back in Seattle a couple months after my separation; she was bent over ready with a perfect ass and a beautiful pussy staring at me. Just before I could sink my cock in that pussy, the pornographic image of my wife with her boyfriend in that same position filled my head; my cock just wilted like a dried up prune. That's the last time I even tried to make love to a woman."

"Well, I'm sorry buddy, but it's your own damn fault messing with that perverted shit."

"Please Woody, don't sugar coat it; tell me what you think."

We laughed before I laid back on my bed thinking about how I did fuck up my marriage and my life. I'm not a praying kind of man, but my thoughts that night were fairly close to prayers that I'd get at least one chance to love another woman like I loved Janice.

We spent Tuesday going our separate ways for the day. Woody went riding while I headed down to the beach to get some sun on my pasty Seattle winter body. When we met back up at the motel Woody was excited.

"Jeff, pack your bag and let's check out of here. I met a beautiful lady this afternoon and she's willing to give us a couple rooms in her beach house while we're in town. I'm fairly certain she has the hots for me and I'm going to pursue it. What'd ya say?"

"Well, OK, but promise me if you two get it together no loud noises; it's been almost six months since I've had sex with anything other than my hand and I don't think I could stand it. And if you two do become an item, just let me know and I'll be on my way."

"Deal."

So we checked out and rode down to the address Woody was given. I was hoping this wasn't going to be a joke some woman played on my new friend and kept my fingers crossed until we pulled into the drive and knocked on the door. A gorgeous blonde about thirty years old answered the door. We did introductions, she led us out to the patio, gave us each a beer, then surprised us by asking for our drivers' licenses. She took both licenses and went back inside. A half hour later Melody came back out and handed our licenses back to us.

"Sorry, but after I invited you to stay here I realized what an idiot I was inviting two strangers into my house. I mean I just took Woody at his word that he was a vet and that his friend was a nice guy. So I just did a quick background check on you two. Let me show you around the house and your rooms."

"So we're your first 'stranger' house guests?" I asked.

"Friends crash here from time to time, but never had strangers before. Don't know what got into me, but my brother was in the Air Force and when Woody was telling me about himself, the invitation just came out." Melody looked at Woody while she was saying this and you could see the attraction in her eyes. She obviously had a thing for the big fellow; "Good for him." I thought.

I looked around the house and out the window at the ocean and just asked, "Please don't answer this if you don't want to or I'm being too nosey, but how does a woman in her twenties own a house like this?"

Melody laughed. "What a compliment! Actually, I'm 33 years old and manage a rather successful marketing business; that brewery where I met Woody this afternoon is one of my clients. But really, my grandfather owned this house and left it to my brother and me when he died. I stayed in Ventura and my brother is in New York, so he's letting me buy him out on a contract."

Woody filled in some blanks. "I didn't tell you Jeff, but Melody has a sweet ride. Check out her Ducati 1098, it must be in the garage. She rode out to the Hollister Brewery up the coast to meet with them, I was sitting in the place enjoying a burger and looking at this fine lady in her riding leathers. I took a chance and we started talking about bikes, rides and life."

Now I'm watching Woody and I'm seeing the same look in his eyes while he's talking about how he met Melody. Talk about feeling like a third wheel!

Melody took a few days off and we spent most of those days riding the back roads throughout Ventura County. Melody even let me ride the Duc for a couple hours through some twisties; what a thrill! I'll have to think about getting a second bike when I settle back down.

Most evenings Melody's house was biker central. Lots of friends would show up at night and we'd spend a few hours grilling out on the patio overlooking the ocean. The second night we stayed at Melody's was the first night those two slept together. "Way to hold out." I thought to myself.

Saturday night I got lucky and hooked up with a lovely lady. We had flirted a few nights earlier and Shelly spent Saturday afternoon riding with us. When everyone cleared out that evening, Shelly was still sitting on the patio lounge. We spent another half hour chatting until she stood up and took my hand.

We walked into my room before I kissed her. She kissed me back and we started to undress each other. Shelly was pretty with an nice body. I played with her nipples and one hand roamed down to her slit. She was already wet when I rubbed her clit with my thumb and put a finger inside to tickle her g spot. When I thought she was ready I needed to find a condom.

Shelly laughed while I dug through my T-bag looking for my stash of condoms. "Sorry, but this is coming as a surprise and I'm not being either suave or debonair. I know I packed them, don't lose that mood."