Young & Divorced Ch. 01 - New Hope

He thought back to the last time he'd had sex, actual good sex, not just going through the motions, with Jamie. Because in the past year, after everything had fallen apart, it just hadn't happened with her or anyone else.

It had been a lazy summer Sunday. He and Jamie had been out in their pool, evening falling, after a long day of lounging and drinking. She'd looked amazing in her floral print bikini, long hair swept back from her head and matted to her back as she got out of the pool, oversized sunglasses obscuring her face, but not the coquettish smile she shot at him as she raised a finger and beckoned him over.

"I need you now," she'd whispered as he came up behind her, putting his arms around her and kissing her neck, faintly tasting chlorine as pool water continued to run down from her hair.

He'd taken her to the shade of the gazebo where she'd bent forward, hands on the railing, and spread her legs, shaking that perfect ass as he untied the strings of her bikini bottoms, exposing her shaved pussy. He'd dropped his swimsuit and knelt down behind her.

He'd brought his tongue to the silky skin of her labia and run it up and down a few times. She dropped a hand to her clit and started rubbing as she bent forward, giving him better access and smashing herself against his face. His cock growing rock-hard, he'd stood quickly, wetted the tip by rubbing it around her pussy, and eased inside her.

Her gasp still rang audible in his ear, the tensing of her butt cheeks as he slid home inside her, burying all eight inches in her hot wetness, then the flexing as she gripped him and he started thrusting in, pulling out, thrusting in again.

He'd grabbed her breasts, yanking the bikini aside as he felt her nipples harden and he kept thrusting, not caring if the neighbors could see over the fence.

Her sunglasses fell off as she threw her head back, skittering across the planks of the gazebo that was fast getting wet with water from the pool and even possibly their combined wetness as he plowed into her, gripping her hair and tugging lightly for added measure.

They came almost simultaneously, her ass shuddering against his pelvis as he drained himself inside her, holding it for several seconds as she writhed in his arms and he put all his weight on her, savoring every last twinge of pleasure.

When he'd pulled out, thick globs of cum dropped from her pussy and splatted onto the gazebo floor even as he spun her around and kissed her heavily on the lips, their breathing returning to normal amid panting and gasping for air.

Thinking back on it now, he felt a sudden sadness, like he'd been stabbed in the gut by the betrayal that he hadn't known at the time was coming, maybe even already happening.

Why did that time stick in his mind so much more than other encounters? He mulled it over as he turned onto his street, and he decided it was because it had been so carefree and comfortable. There was no anxiety, just the ease of her desire meeting his, and a quick, passionate fuck that left him feeling truly attached to her without sex having to be a big deal. Just two people who loved each other making each other happy.

"Fuuuuck!" he shouted, pounding a fist on a nearby light post.

When he got home, he lay down on his bed without even taking off his shoes. The apartment was nice, but he missed having his house. Hated sharing a wall with someone else, even if they never heard each other. His life had been on track. Until it wasn't.

He pulled out his phone and typed out a text. "Hey, it's Brian. Hope you made it home safe. Thanks again for tonight." He sent it.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed. "You're sweet. Home just fine. Can't wait to see you Sunday. Xoxo."

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The next day sucked. It didn't help that it started with a raging headache. It also didn't help that he'd been awoken by a string of texts from his now-ex wife.

"I can't believe it's over. I can't believe you just gave up on us," read the first one. It filled him with rage.

"When we took vows, it said for better or worse. Now at the first sign of trouble you just end it. Asshole," read the second. He rolled his eyes. They'd be through this many times in the past, and he'd thought they were past it. He guessed the finalization was just bringing it to the surface one last time.

"Whatever. I hope you're happy. Thanks for fucking up our lives when I made one little mistake."

He threw his phone aside. He wasn't about to play these games with her. "One little mistake" would have been a drunken kiss at a club. Meeting a guy for a drink and then thinking better of it. But an affair that went at least six months, and probably longer? That was a fucking relationship. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn't caught her. How long would it have gone on?

Brian scrambled eggs and sat down, flicking on the TV to a sitcom rerun.

The day he'd found out was a Wednesday. The power had gone out at work, and crews said it would be off for the rest of the day, so everyone had been sent home. Brian, elated, fired off a text to Jamie to brag about his good fortune, and not gotten a response.

When he'd gotten home, her car was in the driveway. Puzzled, he opened the door and was just about to call out when he heard the unmistakable noises from the bedroom. His bedroom. The one where he spent every night. One of his favorite places in the house. The place he and Jamie most often spent their most intimate moments and had their deepest conversations.

His blood ran cold, and he marched down the hallway, dropping his lunch bag on the way. He threw open the door, and there she was, splayed flat on her stomach, gripping the sides of the mattress as some asshole pounded her from behind, banging the headboard against the wall.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he'd shouted. He ran forward, swung a fist, landed it on the man's shoulder, spinning him off Jamie and...out of her ass? Fuck! She'd always told him no when it came to that.

He'd rounded on the man and thrown a flurry of punches, missing with most, as he ran out of the bedroom and down the hall before sprinting, buck naked, away through the sleepy neighborhood.

Jamie hadn't even wanted to talk to him. She didn't say sorry, didn't act contrite, and just glared daggers at him as she threw on a shirt and jeans, then went outside, got in her car and drove off.

Brian had moved out over the next several days, first to his friend's house, then found the apartment. He'd never touched the bed again, and Jamie hadn't bothered contacting him until two days later. At that point, his only response had been, "Fuck you. I want a divorce."

Because before he left, he'd picked up the other man's phone. Gone through the text history and social media accounts. Countless messages arranging afternoon trysts. Even a weekend getaway in Monterey that Jamie had told Brian was a girls' trip. He could never have trusted her again.

Brian had found everything he wanted to know about the other man. Even considered taking a bat to his house one night and crushing his skull. But that had been short-lived. In the end, Brian just used the saved credit card info on the phone's web browser to buy subscriptions to gay porn magazines as gifts for anyone in the phone he could find an address for. Parents, pastor, son's school principal, boss.

It was pathetic, and it had felt good at the time, but it solved nothing and was probably illegal. For what it was worth, the guy had refused to testify that it had ever happened during the divorce proceedings. At least one of them had had a semblance of remorse.

"Fuck this," Brian thought, staring at the ceiling.

He closed his eyes and pictured Carla. The way the shimmering satin fabric hung around her breasts, the sparkle in her eyes as she laughed at something he'd said, how soft her full lips felt when he'd kissed her, so different than it had been to kiss Jamie. Then he smiled, proud of himself for the way he'd handled the previous night. Even with hindsight, he wouldn't have changed anything. A rare thing.

His phone buzzed from across the room, where he'd tossed it.

"Fuck you, Jamie," he muttered as he reached it, not wanting to think about her, but also unable to quash his curiosity at what outrageous bullshit she would be prattling on with now.

"Carla" read the name on his phone, and his heart skipped a beat. He opened the text.

"Hey Brian, hope you slept well. I'm just thinking about tomorrow. Anything you don't eat? I'm making a reservation. Can't wait to see you ;)"

"I'll eat anything. Really looking forward to it," he replied.

"Text me your address. I'm picking you up at 6."

Brian smiled and sent her the address, momentarily ashamed that it was an apartment and not the spacious house he'd once called home. But that was stupid, and he knew it.

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The next night, the doorbell rang at six sharp, and Brian jumped. For some reason, he'd expected her to text an "I'm here" when she arrived, and he'd just go out and get into the car with her.

He opened the door, and his heart nearly stopped. She had one hand planted high on the doorframe, leaning against it, and in the other she clutched a gift bag, but his eyes were drawn to the shapely curve of her hips, jutting out to one side, then upward, taking in the jacket she'd worn two nights earlier, until his eyes found her face. Some makeup, but just enough to let her natural beauty shine in her eyes and smile.

"C-c-come in," he stuttered, standing aside and holding out his arm. She stepped across the threshold, and they embraced with a quick kiss and a tight hug.

"Happy birthday," she whispered into his ear as she pulled back. "I didn't know what to get you, but I know you like this."

He took the proffered gift bag and said, "You really didn't have to."

"Oh, it's stupid, just open it. And yes I did. It's your birthday!"

He heard the clank of bottles as he set it down on the table and laughed, pulling out a six-pack of the same amber ale they'd shared two nights earlier.

"It's already cold," he said with a grin.

"Let's wait on the beers for now. We've got a dinner to get to," she said, and he put the beers in the fridge, liking the way she'd said "for now." Did that mean she planned on coming back up after dinner?

Brian took Carla's hand as they made their way to her car, and even though his nerves were frayed and he still felt that stupid twinge of guilt, he was actually enjoying himself already.

The restaurant was a short drive away. A seafood place he'd wanted to try but never quite made it to.

"This is fancy," he said as they walked through the door and the hostess led them to their table. "Thank you for this, really."

"You're welcome," Carla said. "I'd normally wait until the fourth or fifth date to take a guy out, but you skipped the line since it's your dirty thirty."

Brian smiled. "I'm usually a rule-follower, but I'll take it. Maybe I'll be bad in my thirties."

"I hear women can go for that sort of thing," she replied with a wink. "Just don't get carried away."

"Of course not."

She took off the jacket, and Brian got his first look at what she was wearing under it. A strapless burgundy dress clung to the curves of her body, leaving enough to the imagination to be intriguing and leave him wanting more. She caught him appraising her and smiled, sitting ramrod-straight in the chair in a way that accentuated her breasts.

The waiter broke the spell as he took their orders and came back with a bottle of chardonnay, letting Brian taste it and give his approval before pouring them each a glass and leaving the bottle in an ice bucket. The wine had a subtle oaky flavor that was really to his liking.

"Cheers," he said, holding his glass up.

"Cheers to the birthday boy," she said, clinking his glass before taking a sip.

Salads arrived, and the waiter then set down a plate of oysters.

"Oh, I don't think we ordered those," Brian said.

The waiter, a different one than the guy who'd taken their order, looked confused, and Carla spoke up. "We didn't, but I did. It's right."

"I didn't even catch that," Brian said. "When did you do that."

Carla just smiled, took one into her hand and knocked it back. Brian followed suit, moaning an mmhmm and raising his eyebrows approvingly.

"Good, birthdays should have fun surprises," she said.

"Any more surprises I should be ready for?"

"That's a surprise, dummy," she replied with a laugh.

The fish came — trout for him and mahi mahi for her — and they each dug in, agreeing the dishes were excellent. Carla reached across with a fork and stole a bite of his trout. He looked up, shocked, and an involuntary "Hey!" came out of his mouth.

Carla shrugged. "That's me. It looked good and I really wanted to try it. I only steal food from guys I'm on a date with, so..."

"So I'm totally ok with it," he said, spearing a bite of her mahi mahi before she could move her fork in to block it. "And that's what we call evening the score."

"Nicely done," she said with a grin.

They continued to flirt as the meal wore on, and before Brian knew it, both their plates were empty, and he leaned back, satisfied, as he saw the waiter heading their direction.

"By the way, I'm super shy about being sung to, so you'd better not tell them it's my birthday."

"Oh, I won't tell them," she said. Too fast.

"Shit," he replied, seeing more waiters headed over. "Did you already?"

"Surprise," she mouthed as the server made an announcement to the restaurant and set down a piece of chocolate mousse in front of him with a candle burning atop it.

Once the singing was done, Carla blew him a kiss, and they each picked up a fork.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Brian asked. "This is my dessert."

"Good thing you love sharing," she replied. "I'll let you have first bite, but after that, it's on."

Carla took the tip of the slice on her fork and held it across the table toward Brian, who opened his mouth and leaned forward, the chocolatey taste melting on his tongue as the airy texture came to rest upon it. Carla pulled the fork out of his mouth, but smeared whipped cream in the corner.

"Oops," she said, reaching across and wiping it onto the tip of her forefinger. She then licked it off and raised an eyebrow at his expression.

"That was hot," he said as she took a bite.

"Total distraction," she said with a mouth full of mousse. "You gotta move faster if you want more of your dessert."

With that, it wasn't long before dessert was gone, and the bill was on the table. Carla snatched it and waved away Brian's offer to pay.

"I'm not telling you again — it's your birthday, and I want to treat you," she said. "I'm not a traditional woman, so you get to put up with the occasional stubbornness."

"If insisting on buying me dinner is how you're stubborn, I'll take it."

"Don't get too used to it," she said.

They stood to leave, walking hand in hand until they got to her car. Brian gave her a quick kiss before going around to the passenger side.

Back at his place, he didn't have to lead. She parked the car and shut off the engine, so it was no surprise when she accepted his offer to share the beers she'd brought.

At the door, he took her jacket from her, delighting in the feel of her skin as he brushed her bare shoulders.

"You know how to pick out a dress," he said, kissing the side of her neck.

"And you're not too bad at knowing what to wear, either," she said, taking in the fit of the dark blue jeans, fashionable leather shoes, freshly pressed shirt and sport coat.

"I didn't want to show up underdressed," he deflected, taking off his jacket.

He poured the beers, and she remarked on the frosted glasses he pulled from the freezer.

"Bachelor life, I guess," he shrugged.

"Well, it's a nice touch."

He took her hand, feeling invincible, and led her to the couch, where he sat beside her.

"Cheers again," he said, touching glasses and taking a sip of the beer.

"Ah," she sighed. "It's better than at the bar. Must be the frosted glass."

Halfway through the first beer, he put his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in close to him, once again wearing the vanilla scent that had enchanted him the other night.

"I really want to thank you for this," Brian said. "I honestly wasn't looking forward to my birthday at all, but this is just really nice."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," she said, then leaned in and kissed him on the lips, holding contact for a long moment before gently opening her mouth. He responded in kind and felt the welcome sensation of the tip of her tongue exploring, so he parted his lips farther and met her in the middle.

Tentative at first, the kiss morphed into something else entirely. Her tongue probed deeper, and he pushed back, feeling the smoothness of the side of her tongue as he roamed into her mouth, intoxicated by the contact.

He set his beer down without breaking the kiss, and managed to take hers and do the same, turning his shoulders to face her and leaning forward into the kiss.

She broke away and gasped for air, and he ducked his head to her neck, kissing her lightly as she gasped.

"That's perfect," she muttered, shuddering.

He continued kissing her, working his way across her bare collarbone to her shoulder, then turned her face to him, brushed her hair aside and kissed her lips again, savagely probing her tongue with his, feeling her respond just as ferociously.

Reaching around with his left hand, he stroked her back, drawing her closer and feeling her arm wrap around his back and her fingers tease the hair at the base of his skull. He dropped his hand to her ass, held it there for a second, gave a soft squeeze, and when she gave no sign of resistance, pulled her on top of him so she was straddling him on the couch, her knees bent and her feet hanging off the edge.

"Ooh," she said, pulling back in shock.

"You're not the only one with surprises tonight." he said.

She gave a radiant smile and leaned past his face, kissing his neck and flicking her tongue at his earlobe, then took it in her mouth and nibbled on it.

He groped her ass with his hands, feeling the firm cheeks as he squeezed and pulled her harder onto him. She responded, grinding against him, and he felt his cock responding, growing and pushing painfully against the confines of his jeans.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, gyrating in a side-to-side motion as he started going crazy with desire.

She gripped his shoulder and leaned back slightly, biting her lip and gazing into his eyes as her hair fell about her face and her breath caught.

He ran his hands up her sides, slid them over her shoulders, then around behind her, finding the clasp of her dress, fumbling with it slightly, cursing at himself, then felt it slip free. Finding the pull tab on the zipper, he slid it down, and then worked his hands upward, pulling her to him as he buried his face in her cleavage, kissing her wetly between her breasts while his hands found the edges of the fabric of her dress.

Sliding the fabric down, her breasts sprung free, and he kissed her long and hard before leaning back to get the full visual. He guessed they were B cups, and they fit her tight, toned body to a T. Her skin seemed to glow, and her chest was flushed. He let his eyes roam over her breasts, taking in the quarter-sized aureola and the small pink nipples at the tip of each.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he breathed as he took one in his mouth and cupped the other with his left hand. He tongued her nipple, feeling it harden under the onslaught, and he sucked it into his mouth nibbling slightly as she gave a sharp cry of satisfaction.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tight, and he worked his hands under her thighs then stood, hoisting her and carrying her to the bedroom.