When a Man Loves a Woman

"What...what...uh...hell...uh...are...talking...you...about" he stammered, not able to put an intelligent sentence together.

"Also, clean up the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher -- I had a hard exercise session this afternoon and am too tired. Finally, you're sleeping in the guest room tonight," I snickered.

"You can't tell me what to do," he said when he seemed to get his courage back."

"I just did, asshole, and unless you want our talk tomorrow to go off the rails you'll do as told," I snapped staring him down.

I got a good night's sleep; apparently Jim didn't because the next morning he had bags under his eyes when I sat down with him at the kitchen table. He had cleaned the table of the dinner dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

"What's this about," he nervously asked.

"It's about your affair with Stephanie Crowell, about how she and her fuck buddy Warren Bates -- maybe you're getting his sloppy seconds -- are playing you, and about how you forged my signature on a 2nd mortgage document and gave the money to the bitch, that's what this is about," I snarled.

I was proud of myself for throwing the "sloppy seconds" in there; his reaction led me to believe that he didn't know about Bates.

I then very deliberately and harshly slapped down in front of him, in order, photos of his indiscretions, a statement about his withdrawals from his retirement account, a photo of Stephanie and Bates kissing, and the 2nd mortgage document with my forged signature. As the coup de grace I then played for him a snippet of a conversation that Sam had recorded between Stephanie and Bates where they were talking about fleecing him for another $50,000 and then taking off after their bank con was completed.

I thought that Jim might pass out, but he somehow held it together. After shifting his gaze between the documents on the table, space, and me, for a good ten minutes he finally spoke. "I don't know what to say..."

"No I guess not. What you are going to do, however, is to call Detective Morton yourself," I said, flipping Morton's card that Sam had given me on top of the documents on the table, "tell him the whole story, and work with him on a sting to have the love of your life thrown into jail. If you do that you can probably make a deal so that you don't go to prison for forging my signature; if you don't I'll press charges myself against you."

"Stephanie isn't the love my life, you are darling..." he started to say.

Unpleasantly for him, his lie was interrupted by my laughter. When I regained my composure I said "Do you really think that I'm stupid enough to believe that considering how you've treated me the last two years? I'll give you until Monday at 5 p. m. to call Morton; after that I'll call him, and you don't want that."

I got up to leave to go to exercise but I just couldn't help myself so before I left I said "Hey Siri -- play 'When A Man Loves A Woman.'"

As I was walking with my gym bag out the door the part of the song that was playing was

"She can bring him such misery

If she is playing him for a fool

He's the last one to know..."

I wondered to myself if the words were registering with Jim.

*************

Jim did get a lucky break when he talked to the cops. Although I told Jim that he could get probation I didn't really believe it, but it turns out that the other con that Crowell and Bates were pulling was a really significant one so the cops wanted them badly.

Over the next six weeks with Jim's help the cops did pull a sting on Crowell and Bates and from raiding their condo were able to get incriminating evidence about the high profile bank con. Therefore, after pleading guilty to one count of fraud for the 2nd mortgage document, Jim was given two years' probation for his cooperation and agreement to testify against Crowell and Bates.

As I knew it would, and had planned with the divorce attorney that Phil set me up with, the guilty plea to defrauding me made my divorce from Jim a slam dunk. He didn't fare well in the asset-split since apparently family law judges don't look kindly on husbands who defraud their wives while having an affair. Any money that Jim got as a result of our split was used to pay off the fraudulent 2nd mortgage, and the roughly $10,000 that he came up short the prosecutor was able to cover with some of the money seized from Crowell and Bates.

I got essentially the entire proceeds from the sale of our house -- minus the amount of the first mortgage -- and along with the money I had kept separate from Jim I did OK financially, and immediately got a short term rented condo near the downtown Planet Fitness.

Because I had so much to keep me busy with work, my divorce, and the proceedings against Crowell and Bates, it took me almost two months from my first dinner with Phil before I got down to 130 pounds, but the extra time was worth it. During that time my ego was consistently inflated by the looks I got during my 90 minute exercise routines, and how often I got hit on while doing even mundane tasks like shopping or strolling through a park. My enhanced notice by horny males wasn't just because I now had a body that was even better than my 21 year old self had, but also because of the confidence I exuded and the ubiquitous smile on my face.

The only drawbacks were that Phil seemed to be miffed by the extra attention I was getting, and because he seemed to be reticent to approach me romantically because of my new-found confidence. I had plans for him, however.

When my quickie divorce was all but granted and I had been in my new condo a week with my most revealing workout clothes on and my outfit soaked with sweat I walked into Phil's office at the downtown Planet Fitness where I now worked out. His eyes got big as saucers. He was on the phone but quickly got off.

"Sorry to disturb you, Phil," I said as soon as the receiver hit the cradle, "but I was hoping that you could come to my condo for a dinner party this Saturday night. You've been such a great help to me and I want you to know that I appreciate it."

"Uh...sure, Lisa; what time?"

"How about 6:30; here's my address," I continued, handing him a piece of paper.

"What can I bring?" he asked.

"Nothing except your appetites," I smiled as I sauntered out, wondering if he would pick up on the "s" after "appetite."

************

Phil seemed surprised that he was the only guest at the dinner party. He seemed even more surprised when he didn't smell anything cooking. I don't know if it was surprise or lust on his face when he saw the skimpy outfit that I had on.

After a chatty greeting I asked him to sit next to me on the couch in my living room. "When are the other guests coming?" he asked.

"You're my only guest," I smiled. "Before the evening progresses, however, I need to talk to you about something."

"OK..." he apprehensively replied.

"Why have you been so nice to me the last seven months? Why have you helped me turn my life completely around? Were you expecting me to turn my depression into happiness?" I rattled those questions, and several others, off in quick succession without giving him a chance to respond.

When all Phil could do was open and close his mouth like a beached fish, with no words coming out, I picked my High School yearbook off the coffee table and read the note he had written in it our senior year. "To the greatest girl at Redmond High; good luck in the future, Fondly Phil." Then I stared into his eyes and asked "Was it because you had a crush on me in High School and were too shy to ask me out, and you hoped that if you helped me you might have another shot?"

He did that landed fish imitation for a few more seconds before I put him out of his misery. "If that was your plan, Phil, then it worked," I said as I stood up and removed my sundress, the only article of clothing -- besides my four inch heels -- that I had on.

He still did the fish imitation until I sat my naked body on his lap -- hard to do considering the condition of his male member -- and planted soft kisses on his lips. After about the fourth kiss he seemed to snap out of his trance. "Where's your bedroom?" he snarled.

"Top of the stairs first door on the left," I purred before planting another kiss on his lips.

With a strength undoubtedly fueled by adrenaline and testosterone he stood up with me in his arms and carried me up the stairs while I planted kisses on his face and neck. When he got me to my bed he tossed me on it and had his pants and shirt off within seconds as I smiled at him and parted my legs to display my trimmed pussy.

Sucking my clit and fingering my twat he brought me to and through three orgasms in record time. When he buried his girthy cock in my tight pussy in one stroke I came again, from penetration alone for the first time in my life. When he ejaculated a few fire hose bursts of cum into my pulsating vagina it was my fifth orgasm in quick succession, and I felt as excited and serene as I ever had in my entire life.

I had lots of treats for Phil that weekend. Sunday morning was my most dramatic one. I had never tried it before but since I was now very fit and flexible -- as was he -- and I wanted to give him something unusual since he had been so great to me, I sprung my surprise on him

"Phil, have you ever had a 63 before?" I asked.

"What the hell is a 63?" he cackled.

"First I'll give you the Urban Dictionary definition then I'll initiate it," I smiled. "According to the Urban Dictionary 'A 63 is a sexual position similar to 69. In 63, the girl is on top, and instead of giving the guy head while he eats her out, she lets him titty fuck her. The outline of her boobs is like the number 3.'"

His eyes got as big as baseballs, we slowly got into position and after a few laughing aborted attempts it actually worked. In fact it worked so well that I came from him aggressively sucking my clit at the same time that he shot his load between my tits onto my chest and neck. We both actually shivered in orgasm from the intensity of it. When we separated he had a grin as wide as the Mississippi River. "Not only do I love you, but you're the sexiest woman in the world!"

That was the first time he actually said the "L" word. I smiled at him and said "I love you too, and based upon your 63 performance you're the sexiest guy in the world."

We kissed passionately with his cum still on my chest.

To make a long story shorter, he stayed until Monday morning. We never ate a fancy meal but we did keep up our strength by eating occasionally, sleeping some, and regularly showering together.

As, still naked, I served Phil breakfast on Monday morning with my crotch and nipples seemingly on fire from over-use, when he was almost finished he grabbed me and pulled m onto his lap. We hadn't really had any serious discussions (other than the brief exchange of "I love yous" after the 63) over the weekend. It seemed that we were more interested in finding all of each other's erogenous zones than in a serious talk.

"OK, Lisa, spill. What does this weekend mean?"

I smiled a smile as coquettish as I muster and said "Why it means that since you're my savior I'm yours to do with as you wish."

"What if I just want to fuck your brains out every weekend?"

"Then that's what we'll do; like I said I'm yours to do with as you wish."

"What if I want to get you pregnant?"

"Then I'll stop taking my Depo-Provera shots?"

"What if I want to keep you barefoot in the winter and pregnant in the summer?"

"Then I'll save money on footwear but have to buy a lot of maternity clothes."

"What if I want to marry you?"

"Then I guess that I'll have to love and cherish you until death do us part."

He stared at me for a good two minutes with an evil grin on his face. Then he pinched one of my nipples and said "You know that you have me wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

I smiled "Maybe around something a little more sexual than my little finger, but -- yeah, I hope so."

With that he stood up with me in his arms, with one hand cleared everything off the kitchen table, plates smashing and utensils skidding as he did so, laid me on the table, inserted his over-worked cock into my over-used pussy, and proceeded to bring me through another two orgasms before he ejaculated some more jism, that I didn't think that he had left, into me.

*************

That kitchen table fuck was now six years ago. Phil and I found out that we were as compatible outside the bedroom as in it. Tomorrow we're taking our four year old son and three year old daughter to the zoo for the first time, and Phil and I, extremely happy in our wedded bliss, seem even more excited than the kids.

I sure am glad that the mistress who was the love of Jim's life, to paraphrase Michael Bolton, "brought him such misery, played him for a fool, and he was the last one to know!" leaving me free to be with Phil.