Tough Love


That Friday night dinner turned into a weekend long fuck fest. We did go out of the hotel, and to the exercise room and swimming pool, for part of the time on Saturday and Sunday, and I drove back to my house to get some more clothes. But all Saturday night, and most of the day on Sunday, we fucked like minks on speed. When we dragged our asses out of bed Monday morning to go to work we were so sore that we couldn't even touch our private parts. I walked bowlegged the entire day, every once in a while having to go to the bathroom to wipe cum off my thigh because he had injected so much into me.

The Wednesday night dinner with a forty four year old didn't go anywhere because we didn't click, but the Friday night dinner with a forty three year old turned into an excellent one night stand. He fucked me hard and ejaculated into my pussy on three occasions before the next morning, and I climaxed at least six times.

Saturday's "date" was a nice change from the night before. The distinguished fifty one year old, alias "Max," was a true gentleman, very charming and actually made love to me. Gentle, long-lasting love, a sharp contrast to the hard fucking I got the night before. I liked both approaches, maybe the hard fucking a little better because I got my vagina scrubbed three times instead of just once (though with some nice oral) from the gentle Max.

I was averaging three dates a week and almost every one was turning into sex. I found out that the guys liked my pussy as much as my ass and thighs. Amber told me that a lot of the guys were asking for repeats, and I was eventually going to oblige them – especially Chris – but I wanted to experiment some more before recycling them. The second to last guy set me back a little on my schedule, though.

The second of the thirty year olds, alias Buster, was a guy no taller than I was and maybe only ten-fifteen pounds heavier. He had a slim body, more like a swimmer's build. He had a "Clark Kent" look to him, but based upon Amber's giggles when she set me up with him I thought he might change into Superman.

I've often heard that there is no such thing as a dick that is "too big." Not so! Buster had the biggest cock I'd ever seen, which looked even bigger in contrast to his relatively lithe frame. It was not only long but thick. At first I was excited, and wanted that thing up my cunt as quickly as possible. Buster knew from experience that I needed to slow down.

We sixty-nined for a while. As I was sucking his thick prick, almost too big around to fit in my mouth, and fondling his heavy balls, I started to wonder if it really would fit.

When I started getting frantic and begged to be probed he turned me on my back, got out some lube – which I thought strange considering how wet my pussy was – and then slowly started to penetrate. It took five minutes before he was balls deep, and by then I was surprised he ever could get balls deep. It hurt as much as it pleasured when he started slowly pumping. If he had ever started jack hammering I probably would have passed out from the pain, but he kept up a slow steady pace until he filled me with so much cream that I thought for sure that it would overflow even with my pussy lips tightly sealing his cock in my cunt.

There was no way that I could let Buster fuck me a second time. I did, however, give him a blowjob which he – based on his groans and what he said afterward – really loved, and which I found interesting since his cum seemed to shoot straight into my stomach, without ever touching my esophagus.

I actually had to cancel my date the next night because my pussy was too sore from one fuck with that monster cock (I would NOT be seeing Buster again). That really disappointed me because the next date was with the twenty eight year old, alias Luke.

I made it up to Luke as soon as my pussy recovered, about three days later. I paid for dinner and the hotel. With the exception of Max, Luke was the most polite of the guys I had dated – that is until we got into the hotel room, where he turned into an animal. He didn't do anything violent or gross, but he was hyper, loved to talk dirty (something I wasn't particularly fond of), and had unbelievable stamina. He fucked me three times that night, and the third fuck had to have lasted half an hour. During the third fuck alone I had half a dozen orgasms since he not only was moving his dick in an erotic manner, but he tickled my clit, pinched my nipples, and stuck fingers in my ass, at one time or another, each activity triggering another orgasm.

After the first six weeks of my separation from Brian my sexual cravings had been satisfied. On the second round with some of my fuck buddies I took it a little easier. There were no more three fuck nights, or another long weekend like the one with Chris. I started to nostalgically think back about Brian and how much fun our sex life had been.


The main goal of the separation was to snap Brian out of his sexual malaise, and for that to happen I was sure that he needed to get laid. From the reports of the P. I. that I still had observing him, while at least he was taking time to exercise he wasn't seeing anyone. Amber helped me with that.

One of Amber's twenty-something escorts, stage name "Amy," looked a lot like the bimbo Brian had the affair with. According to Amber, Amy was irresistible if she talked to a guy. I met with Amy; Amber was right. With her looks, sultry voice, and the sexy way that she handled herself, no hetero guy could possibly deny her anything.

Amy was cool with accepting my assurance that Brian had no STDs, and was willing to take a flat fee of $1000 per encounter regardless of the amount of time. Amber waived her normal cut. I paid Amy in cash and didn't run it through Amber's books.

Amber, Amy and I hatched a great plan. I knew that Brian was in town one Thursday and when by remotely monitoring our front door alarm I found out that he was home I called Amy's cell. She knocked on Brian's door a half hour later with a sad story about her car conking out on her, and her cell phone dead – even getting Brian to play with it to confirm it. She left three hours later, her car miraculously "healed."

Amy reported to me four encounters with Brian before the start of the fourth month of our separation. In the first one she said that the sex was mediocre, the second good, the third very good, and the fourth fabulous. She left him happy each time. Both the third and fourth times he fucked her twice and called out my name each time. She never corrected him. He cut off further contact after the fourth encounter telling her that he was going to make a big effort to get back with his wife.

Three weeks into the third month of our separation, especially after the reports from Amy, I started to really hope that Brian could get aroused for me again. As wonderful as the sex had been for me during the separation it was almost all physical, with no emotional component. Also, only with Chris and Luke was the sex physically better than with Brian even up to six years ago, and overall, because I loved him, the sex with Brian was better than with any fuck buddy.

At the start of the first week of the fourth month of my legal separation Amber called me and said that "Max" had moved to a city 1500 miles away, taking a new job, but that he desperately wanted to come to town specifically to see me again. He had been so nice, was willing to travel 1500 miles, and the only one to make love to me, so I agreed.

Max got into town during the afternoon on a Thursday. I told him to meet me at a hotel that I had reserved a room in and that we could "talk" and then either order room service or go out; and that I could spend the night with him. That afternoon our "talk" involved him giving me two nice oral orgasms and then making love to me again. We decided to go out for dinner, and then a moonlight walk. During the walk I saw him surreptitiously pop a little blue pill.

When we got back to our hotel room Max held me by the arms and with great embarrassment said "Sybil, I need to ask for a favor. If you refuse, that's fine – but I would never forgive myself if I didn't ask."

"Well, then, ask away," I chuckled.

Avoiding eye contact and talking so softly that I almost couldn't hear him he said "Sybil, I've never had anal sex, and you have the best ass I've ever seen; is it possible we could try anal?"

"You mean me use a strap-on on you?" I asked with a serious tone. My question had the desired effect as his jaw dropped before I started laughing hysterically. He playfully tickled me until I agreed, "as long as you use plenty of lube," I told him.

Max ate me to another orgasm then started to lube my pucker hole. I was going to suck him hard, but the combination of his excitement and the little blue pill had him harder than during our previous two fucks. After a one finger penetration, then two, he stuck his lubed dick in. I was glad he was the size he was (average) and not bigger since despite the turgidity of his cock it was somewhat painful when he pushed in. Once he popped past my sphincter, however, it was heavenly.

Max didn't make love to my ass, like he had to my pussy. He vigorously fucked it and ejaculated a river into me when he came. It generated only a mild orgasm in me, but it was a pleasurable experience, especially given how grateful Max was afterward when he nicely massaged my thighs and tits until I fell asleep.


Brian and I talked regularly during our separation, at least three times a week. He really seemed to be making an effort, as his conversation with Amy after their last encounter showed. I didn't really want to meet with him during the separation but two weeks into the fourth, and last, month, when I was down to two "dates" a week, he weaseled his way into coming to my house on a weeknight. I thought because there was work the next morning I was pretty safe.

Brian was as pleasant as he could be when he came over, and insisted on making me dinner, something he hadn't done in six-seven years. He looked good too, in a Polo shirt and shorts. "Have you been working out?" I asked, having already been informed by the P I that he was.

"Almost every day for the past three months. The doctor said that exercise is the best thing to stimulate the libido, and I needed to lose a few pounds anyway," he cheerfully replied.

I smiled at him. He smiled back, then swatted my ass and said "your ass and thighs are as fantastic as the first time I saw you. Plus, you really are a beautiful and sexy woman."

Hearing him volunteer that was more important to me than hearing the same thing from the dozens of guys I had come across the last two years combined.

"Thank you," I said with a big grin, genuinely pleased.

When after dinner he pulled a bottle of cognac from the gym bag he had brought in I knew for sure what his intention was. He knew that though I could normally hold liquor well that I was strangely amorously affected by cognac.

"Brian, I don't know if we should have sex until the separation time is up?" I said weakly, as he poured me a wine glass portion of cognac.

"Who said anything about sex?" he replied with a devilish grin.

By the time that I had consumed six ounces of cognac he was fucking me doggy on my living room floor, by far the best he had fucked me in six years, and on a par with the sex with any of my fuck buddies. He then carried my big ass up to my bedroom – "You really have been working out, haven't you," I cooed while stroking a bicep as he lumbered up the stairs. In bed he gave me an oral orgasm then gently made love to me. I fell asleep on his shoulder.

Once Brian was back in the game I told Amber to cancel all future dates – at least until I had his final answer on the post-nuptial agreement.

In a serious attempt to cut down on work Brian had interviewed a number of CEO candidates so that he could delegate more than half of his responsibilities. He emailed me the resume and recorded interview of Brendon Nance, the guy he wanted to hire. I was impressed with both the resume and interview but wanted to meet him myself so Brian took Brendon and me to dinner one night near the end of our separation.

After an hour of conversation I thought that Brendon was perfect and gave Brian a "thumbs up." "To come aboard Brendon wants 10% of the stock in Cherub if he meets performance requirements after two years, and 10% more if he meets further requirements after four years," Brian said.

"No problem," was my reply, "I'd gladly give him part of my stock both times if it would get my marriage back!" All three of us smiled, and Brian offered and Brendon accepted the job during desert.

I was so encouraged by Brian's efforts that after dinner I let him spend the night with me. His mojo was clearly working once more since he fucked me twice again, and this time with two oral orgasms.

The day the separation was up was a Saturday, and Brian was at my rented house by 6:30 a.m., banging on the door until I groggily opened it.

"Why are you all sweaty?" I asked him with my eyes half closed and my bathrobe barely covering my pussy.

"I jogged over here," he proudly proclaimed. I smiled the best that I could at such an early hour.

After some coffee I returned to awareness and we started discussing the post-nuptial contract. I thought the provision that he could work no more than forty five hours a week, with the exception of two specified weeks of the year, might kill the deal, but he readily agreed to that. The provision that was causing him grief was very different.

"Cheryl, I don't know if I can agree with paragraph 6," he moaned.

That paragraph read "Brian agrees that – absent illness, injury, or family emergency – if in a seven day period he does not have intercourse with Cheryl at least twice a breach occurs. For purposes of this section if Cheryl turns down Brian for sex that counts as a time having sex. If Brian breaches this section then the week after the breach, by giving at least 48 hours' notice, Cheryl is free to do anything she wants one day that week without answering to Brian in any way, and without breach of paragraph 5 of this agreement." Paragraph 5 said that neither party would have sex outside of marriage, sex being defined as any one of "oral, anal, and vaginal."

I held Brian's hand and softly but firmly responded "that tough love provision is the only thing that will keep you in line. My shrink says that I have to have it, my lawyer agrees, and the marriage counselor agrees. Even if they didn't tell me that I'd insist upon it. If I know you, the only reason you're back here is because you can't stand the idea of me fucking someone else, correct?"

After a long pause he replied, "That's second; number one is that I love you."

"And I love you too, Brian, which is why I didn't just haul off and divorce you when you made our marriage empty and miserable. If I don't have this, you'll relapse."

He sucked in a deep breath, I got dressed, we found a notary that was open at a photocopy store, and we both signed the post-nuptial contract in front of the notary. Then Brian took me back to our house and fucked me twice each on Saturday and Sunday.

The post-nuptial worked very well, and I was ecstatic that our marriage would likely be restored. Brian nailed me three times a week on average, and the sex was almost as good as when we were first married, and much better than it had been in ten years. Then the first glitch occurred.

Although there was a "reason," albeit a poor one and certainly not "illness, injury, or family emergency," one week we had sex only once, and that was when I almost had to beg for it. When I called the breech of the post-nuptial to Brian's attention the first day of the next week he begged for forgiveness, promised it would never happen again, and fucked me twice that day alone to make amends. When for an even a poorer reason breach of paragraph happened again two weeks later, however, I knew that it was gut check time.

"Tough love doesn't mean wimpy love," my shrink told me. "If there are no consequences this second time you might as well forget about the post-nuptial," she said. I called Janet/Amber to get her take. She couldn't have agreed more.

Brian pretended – the operative word is "pretended" – to be oblivious to the second breach Monday and Tuesday of the week after the breach. However, that Wednesday night I told him that I wouldn't see him Saturday from 10 a.m. until midnight because of the breach.

Brian begged for forgiveness, promised it wouldn't happen again, and in general whined like a spoiled child. I was determined, however, although I was still thinking that I would just pretend to go get laid that day while spending it in museums and at the movies. Then he made a fatal error. "If you do this, Cheryl, then I'm divorcing you."

"You fucking bastard," I screamed. "You breach a contract that you signed which you knew you had to in order to save your marriage, and when you violate it for the second time you bring out the nuclear option? I guess the rekindling of our love over the last few months means nothing to you, and that you have every intention of going back to the unacceptable relationship we had before our separation."

I was so mad that I could feel steam coming out of my ears as he stood there with arms crossed but avoiding eye contact as I continued to rant. "Screw you! If you file for divorce because you can't keep your promises then all you need to do is show me where to sign to make it official."

I still had a month to go on my rental house lease, so I stormed back there until Friday night. I slept in our bed – with Brian – Friday night. He tried to initiate sex but I said "I decline; therefore you've fulfilled your obligations under paragraph 6 of the post-nuptial contract for this week so I won't be taking a 'free day' next week." He had a resigned look on his face as I hit the pillow and almost instantly fell asleep.

By 10 a. m. Saturday I was out the door with an overnight bag in my hand and tight jeans shorts accenting my ass and thighs. "Monday you need to fuck me or serve divorce papers – your choice," were my last words to him as I gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and then peeled rubber with my Mercedes 600 SL as I left the street we live on.


After Brian's divorce threat the Wednesday night after he breached the contract, on my way over to my rental house I had called Janet/Amber. After explaining the situation I asked "Can you get Chris to meet me sometime on Saturday?"

"Chris, huh – you like him, don't you?" Amber chuckled.

"Actually, I'm asking for Chris because he is completely commitment-phobic so I know that there will be no complications. Also, the sex with him is very good, though not as good as with Brian. I wish that bastard Brian would wise up and save our marriage!" I started quietly crying but Janet saved me from embarrassment by simply saying "I'll give him a call," and then quickly hung up.

About an hour later, as I was sitting on the living room couch in my rented house nursing a second white wine, my tears only recently dried, Janet called.

"Chris says that he would love to meet, although he is entertaining his twin eighteen year old nephews until about eight at night."

"Ask him where they'll be during the day and I'll join them and then we can ditch the twins that night," I said without thinking. "Text me."

The next day I had a text from Janet – "Meet Sat 10 am @ History Museum."

I had almost forgotten that Chris' nephews would be with him when I arrived at the History Museum about 10:15 on Saturday. I was taken aback when I saw them. They were identical twins, "Jack and Zack," that looked more like Brian the day that I first met him than any other people I had ever seen in my life, including Brian's older brother. They were virtually the same height, same blond hair and blue eyes, similar handsome face, and the same shy smile, as a young Brian. They inexplicably put on sunglasses after being introduced, and wore them inside – weird!

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