When We Were Married Ch. 01

"He's a nice boy, but that's all. I'm more than 10 years older than him, for God's sake. And I have never kissed him."

"Is he a good friend?"

"Bill! He's a friend. We talk sometimes and we've worked on projects together. But he's no more of a friend than a half dozen other male and female professors on the staff. Are you going to start obsessing about Doug now?"

"No, not if you say he's a casual friend. But why did you wear that blouse that shows off your tits and a skirt so short he had to see your pubic hairs – sorry he could if you still had any – to the meeting that night? Not really professor type nightwear, is it?"

Another long silence.

"You – okay, it was a little revealing. But, Bill, I'm not 75. Only 39. I'm still a young woman. It's not – not that I want men to ogle me, but...dammit, I've got a great set of boobs and great legs, according to most guys, and once in a while I like to show them off. I don't flash guys. I don't have affairs. But I'm not dead."

"You've never worn that outfit to any event I attended."

"Oh, God, Bill, do we have to talk about this?"

"Why not, Debbie? Don't all the self help books say couples have to be honest with each other? That they should talk out their problems. If I'm paranoid and obsessively jealous with no reason in reality, why can't you answer a simple question? Why do you wear revealing clothes that show off that great body of yours – when I'm not around?"

"Can't we talk about this when you come home?"

"I'm not sure I will be coming home."

A very long silence.

"Why the hell am I bending over backwards trying to hold you when you obviously don't care if we continue as a marriage and a couple. You want to know the truth about why I dress up for other men and not for my loving husband? Because unless you're naked and rubbing my tits, I might as well be part of the furniture.

"You don't notice what I wear, or when I change my hair style, or get a new bra. You don't kiss me on the back of the neck when you come in from work and try to feel my tits. You don't grab me in the middle of the day when the kids are gone and try to seduce me. You haven't taken me out and got me drunk to get into my pants in ten years. You haven't worked to get a piece of ass from me since we were first married.

" I wear those clothes for other men because I want to remember what it was like to be desired by men, or any man. Is that honest enough for you?"

This time, for the first time in days, I thought she was being honest. And what did that say about me? Suddenly, I had nothing to say.

"I'm sorry, Deb. I'm sorry for everything. "

I know she didn't understand what I was saying because she didn't know I'd had a secret look into her heart and soul and the secrets she was keeping from me. She didn't know I was apologizing for letting myself get old before my time, for not retaining the passion of our early years, for letting myself become more involved in my work than my wife's life. I was apologizing for letting her love slip away until she now belonged more to another man than she belonged to me.

"So, are you coming home?"

Why wouldn't I? Because she was still more in love with another man than she was in love with me? Because I still had no chance in a competition with Lance to win her love, or sexual devotion?

"No, Deb. I'm not. I'm not – it's not that I'm angry with you. But, I just feel like, maybe, we need some time apart."

After a long time, she said, "Alright, Bill. But someday, someday, you are going to regret this. You will hate yourself for what you're doing right now."

"Maybe. Kiss the kids for me."

"They're a little too old for that, but you probably haven't noticed that. And it should be you."

She hung up.

I turned off the TV and lay back looking at the ceiling bathed in moonlight from a picture window on a balcony looking out over the St. Johns. She might never know it, but I already regretted the hell out of everything that had happened in the last week. But, I corrected myself. It hadn't been going on for a week. This shit, this rot in my life and our marriage had been going on for six months according to the emails I'd read, and if I was honest, the decay went back a lot further than that.

Monday came as it always did. There were no big cases. Just cases; murder, manslaughter; and a Navy guy from the Jax Navy base who had in a fit of rage at his wife taken their little eight month old daughter who wouldn't stop crying and shaken her until her brain hemorrhaged in her skull. But his parents were loaded and they had spent money to buy a cracker jack legal whiz kid from New York to teach the hicks down in North Florida a few new legal tricks.

There was a separated first-of-three trials of scum bag drug dealing brothers who had been trying to teach a competitor to stay off their turf by spraying his Northside home with bullets and managed to kill an eight-year-old boy who had thrown himself down on his two younger siblings to save them and gotten a bullet in the brain for his bravery.

That was almost a waste. They were all going to the gas chamber, sometimes called the death chamber because Florida had never had a real gas chamber. We used lethal injection after the old faithful electric chair was retired.

All three scumbags knew they were going to die in the death chamber; we knew it, their attorneys knew it, the little boy's family knew it, their own scumbag family knew it, but we had to go through the motions three times to make sure the little boy

got a small measure of justice.

Not really that unusual a week. But motions had to be made, jury selection had to begin, witnesses had to be coddled or have their spines stiffened. As usual, the days would be endless and the nights brief pit stops to get enough rest to keep going the next day. I didn't do a lot of courtroom theatrics. My job was to make sure everything ran smoothly.

Sometime during the day, between two crises of earth shattering importance which would be completely forgotten by the next day, Cheryl trapped me in my office.

"They tell me you're staying on the River? You moved out on Debbie? And your kids?"

"Shit happens."

She closed the door behind me.

"Bill, what is going on?"

"Too much to tell you about in the middle of a busy day, and there's a lot of stuff I couldn't tell you anyway. There's no separation. I just wanted – some time away. Give us both a chance to get a chance to breath."

"You know that a lot of times when you move out, you never move back?"

"I don't know if that will happen."

"You should have said, that will never happen to us."

When I didn't answer she just shook her head.

"God, I hate seeing another marriage go down the tubes. Don't do this, Bill. I don't know what you're thinking, but don't walk out on your marriage without fighting for it. Jesus, you're a fucking pit bull in the courtroom. I've never seen you give up on anything. Don't let her go, don't let them go, without a fight."

"You can't have a marriage without two people who want to stay married. And that's all, Cheryl. Open the door and get out of here."

We got into initial jury selections in all three trials. The New York whiz kid played enough tricks to please Mom and Dad paying the freight for their son's defense. I thought it was money wasted, but hey, he was their son. If I'd raised a scumbag like him, I'd probably fight just as hard.

It was just another Monday full of surprises and unexpected problems and unhappy witnesses and irritable judges who really did need to keep rolls of toilet paper, as Somerset Maugham once suggested, beside them to remind themselves that they weren't really little tin gods, only men and women who had a temporary powerful position.

At 7 p.m. I was getting ready to call it a day when my cell rang. I keep it on buzz during the day, but I've got a loud buzz so I always know when it's ringing.

"Bill, what in the ever loving hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm not sure I know how to answer that question, Roy. In what regard?"

"Debbie called this morning and said you've moved out of the house. And left your wedding ring behind. How can you see to walk around with your head stuck so far up your ass?"

I couldn't help laughing.

"That's a great mental image Roy. Thanks, I needed a laugh about now. If you're serious with your question, I haven't moved out. I just took some things so I could spend a few days away from Debbie. Things have been getting...too tense. I'm afraid I might say something I don't want to say to her. You know, the kind of thing you can't take back or get past. So I'm just giving us some breathing space."

He was quiet for a moment and then in a calmer tone, he said, "Bill, I've known you for 20 years. I'll admit, I haven't thought you were the best husband or father in the world. You've let yourself go physically, and when you're married to a woman that looks like Debbie, that's a stupid thing to do. I've thought plenty of times that you spend too much time in that damned office and too little time with Deb or the kids.

"A marriage isn't a house where you stop off from time to time to eat meals or get your clothes washed, or ....spend time in bed. You can't set a marriage on auto pilot and forget about it. I'm older than you, Bill, and I know what I'm talking about. You have to WORK to make a marriage last. That's the only real problem I have with you. I think you gave up on your marriage years ago."

Now it was my turn to be quiet. Finally I said, "I can't deny there's some truth to what you're saying. Part of it is my fault. I know that now. But, there's other stuff..."

"What, what the hell are you talking about? Something happened last week and its blown things up in your house? What was it?"

"I- I'm sorry. It's.... can't talk about it. It just – kind of brought things to a head. And made me realize I have to think about things."

"Alright, you don't want to talk about it. I love Debbie and the kids. I even like you, although I think you're being an asshole right now. I'm asking you as a personal favor, Bill, go home. Go home tonight. Living in two places can't make anything better. Can you do that for me? I can't remember ever asking you for any kind of favor."

I thought about it. I still had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that we had passed some point of no return and there was no going back. But I still found myself at 8:30 p.m. walking back into the home I'd left with no intention of ever returning.

I could hear Bill Jr.'s stereo blasting out of his room and as usual Kelly was probably still out. As I walked past the den Debbie came to the door. . She wore shorts and a light blouse over a bra. From the look on her face she wasn't expecting me. She took one look at the briefcase I held and another expression crossed her face.

"Is this just a pit stop? You're leaving everything at the River?"

"I wanted to come home for a night. Is that alright?"

"Why? Why do you want to spend the night with a slut who's cheating on you and showing herself off to other men? I didn't think you'd have any use for me or the kids anymore."

"This is my house as much as yours, but I'll ask you again. Is it all right if I spend the night here? In our bed?"

She turned and walked back into the den. Over her shoulder she said, "Like you said, it's your house too. You want to spend the night, knock yourself out. I don't know if I'll be in the bed, but you're welcome to it. Oh, and there's no food for you. I didn't expect you."

To her back I said, "I'll find something in the fridge. No big deal."

I put the briefcase up by our bed and found my wedding ring sitting on the table beside the bed. I tried to get it back on and had a hard time, even with Vaseline, getting it on but eventually I slid it over the knuckle. Then I went down and found a half package of kosher franks, fried them in a frying pan and put three of them between bread along with a lot of hot mustard. I ate in the kitchen.

I went back upstairs and instead of taking a short, utilitarian shower, luxuriated in a long, long hot shower. I leaned against the wall of the shower and rested my head on the tile as the hot water streamed down around me. In my mind I tried to see myself as I had been, a flat bellied 18-year-old with a full head of hair. I'd never been God's gift to women, but I hadn't been that bad.

"Are you going to leave me any hot water?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her standing just outside the sunken shower stall. I should have shrunk from the look on her face, seen myself as the flabby husband she saw. I should have been so hurt by her emotional betrayal that I couldn't stand to be naked in front of her.

But for some reason, I felt free. I didn't think she loved me any more, or as much as Lance, so what the hell did it matter to me what she thought about my naked body.

"We could share. Save some cash."

A look of surprise flashed across her face, followed by...what, disappointment, disdain. That should have hurt, but it didn't.

"That's okay, you fin-"

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the shower stall. She stumbled and I caught her under her ribs, my left hand rising to grip one of those huge soft titties so she didn't fall.

"What- Bill, what the hell, let me –"

I had to stand up a little on my tiptoes, but I shut her up with my mouth. She tried to push me away but I kept her under the shower's blast as her hair fell around her face and the blouse and shorts melded to her skin. She fought to keep my tongue out, but I caught hers and sucked on it until she gasped and sucked back. With my left hand I pushed and squeezed and milked the soft breast flesh until I felt the nipple harden under my fingers.

I had gotten hard and was pushing up against the wet fabric of her shorts at the groin. She managed to push me away. She talked as water ran into her mouth.

'No, you bastard. You think you can come in here – accuse me to cheating..and"

I kissed her again and as she pushed me away I saw the anger growing on her face and then she slapped me hard. For a second I thought she might have busted my lip. I grabbed her hand, pushed it back against the shower stall and planted my lips on hers again and wouldn't let her free.

I pushed her shorts down with the hand I had been milking her with. The wet shorts and panties slid right down and off. She wasn't helping me, but it didn't seem like she was fighting that hard either.

She broke free again.

"No, Bill stop it. This isn't funny, or romantic. Damn you."

I'd started milking one soft titty, but stopped and yanked on the blouse. A second yank sent buttons flying and another tug pulled it down one arm and onto the floor of the shower. The bra resisted for a moment and then snapped at the back and I threw it away.

She pushed at me and I fell back but caught myself by grabbing her arm. She was turning and I caught her, carrying her down to the tile shower floor. I grabbed her under her arms and although it was a struggle I managed to pull her to her feet and push her against the wall of the shower. I squeezed her breasts, found her nipples between my fingers and rolled them. I think I heard a sharp intake of breath as I did. My dick felt as hard I can remember in years

I rubbed in up into the crack of her ass and down until I almost had it positioned over her wet pussy. She twisted away from me and managed to get out of the shower. She was turning when I caught her in a modified football tackle that carried her onto the bed. Her legs hung over the side as I dived into her pussy with my tongue.

She bucked and humped and tried to pull my head out by grabbing my hair but I pushed her hands away and kept burrowing deeper into her. The wetness of shower water was quickly succeeded by a tangier moisture and she started humping up into my tongue as well as trying to bounce me off her.

Oh, God....stop...stop it...you baaasstard...don't.."

Then she was whimpering, "stop it, ohhhhh stop stop....bill, the kids....they could walk in....stop please...."

I lifted my face from her pussy, stuck three fingers in and started rubbing and pushing them in and out, saying, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a shit. I want your pussy and I'm going to have it"

I worked her pussy and then stuck first one and then a second wet finger up an inch or so up her ass and felt the electric shock that galvanized her body. As she trembled, I got up from the bed, opened my briefcase on the dresser and pulled out the large black object I'd bought on the way home.

She had her eyes closed when I slipped the head of the big black vibrator into her pussy, turning the power on at the same time. Her eyes snapped open and she stared at me in disbelief, eyes growing wider as I pushed it further in.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

A third inch and a fourth and then six full inches followed, opening her up as the vibrator's width, that of a large cucumber, stretched her pussy wider. As I pushed in, I rolled it around to increase the sensations and she responded, rolling her ass and hips in the same motion.

"Oh, Bill...you are such a bastard, but don't stop, don't stop..."

"I'm not, Deb, not till you've got a full foot of syntho-cock up your pussy and then I'm going to take your ass and you're going to love it."

She shook her head.

"Oh yes. We may not have a future, but I'm going to fuck your brains out tonight, and that's a promise."

By and bye I got the whole 12 inches inside her and I began to believe what she had emailed Lance. When I sunk it all the way in and started twisting and turning, she practically levitated. She grabbed my by the ears and tried to swallow my tongue, reached down and if she could have gotten a good grip would have either pulled my dick off or crushed it into paste. God, she had a grip.

As she screamed, and I thanked God that Bill Jr. loved his music very, very loud, I slid over and placed my dick in front of her mouth. As she screamed away I plugged it with my dick and she swallowed it down to my balls and began sucking and licking at the same time. I was surprised, but she gagged enough to make me believe this was something a little new to her. She was good, but I don't think she had been practicing on anybody else's large dick. Anyway, the gagging made her let me go a few times to catch her breath, but she gamely went right back to deep throating.

It was more the expression on her face, and the wildness in her eyes that I hadn't seen in so many years, more than the ungodly sensations of her mouth and tongue and that sucking action that sent me over the edge. I let go of the vibrator and left it humming and grabbed her head with both my hands and held her steady and firmly planted on my cock as I felt the first rushing of the tide and then the squirting deep into her throat. I wouldn't let her go but I didn't feel her fighting me. I did feel her swallowing as I unloaded into her.

My first reaction was to sink down beside her, but I remember why I'd started fucking her and I went back to the vibrator. Before she could come down, I started working it back in and around and around and within moments she was thrusting back against its length and making little orgasmic noises.

I didn't know if it was possible to have a closing act, but as she kept cumming I rolled her over onto her side, got up to lock the bedroom door, and grabbed some Vaseline off the bathroom counter. She was working the vibrator in and out with her own hands as I played with myself to see if I could get a second erection, and somehow thank God, I got it up.

Lubing her ass with two fingers, I got her thrusting back against my fingers and then forward against the vibrator. A moment later I was slipping my dick into the small opening to her ass. She gasped and moaned for a second, but she must have been as excited as hell because it didn't take more than a few seconds until I felt the head of my dick popping through the anal sphincter and I was inside her.