Tuesday 30th April 2019, early evening
Three cars parked on our driveway. That didn’t bode well, not exactly the start to a nice quiet evening with my recently estranged wife that I had been hoping for. Jill’s car – tick. The red 74 Firebird and Malcolm’s dark SVU – both unexpected and deeply unwelcome. That oh so familiar feeling of dread firing up in my gut like a six-point-two-liter V8 on steroids. Was this some kind of sick style cuckold-hotwife-bull intervention to which my invitation had gotten lost in the post?
I sat in my car, hands tightly gripping the wheel, for a good five or ten minutes before I could finally summon enough courage to prise myself out of the car and into the house. That courage just about sufficient to give me a mask of courtesy to greet my unexpected guests.
“Callan, Malcolm. How are you both? I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said through tight-lipped nerves, looking across from them as my eyes finally met with Jill’s, our eyes lingering as Jill got my message of disapproval.
“Dave,” two deep male voices echoed back.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” was as polite as I could keep it.
Not surprisingly, it was Jill rather than the guys who answered. Or should I say started answering?
“Honey, you know we’ve pretty much decided we’re going to go along with your company’s request, confirm in a few days that we’ll up sticks so you can be in L.A. full-time like Oasis want?”
“Yeah, that’s what we agreed. Less travel, closer to John, Becky, and our granddaughter,” my tone to Jill letting her know I was suspicious of where this conversation was headed.
“And you know how I’ve been sticking to our agreed plan to spend more time with you and less time with the boys?”
“Yesss,” I’m not sure I agreed with her calling them ‘boys’, but I sensed this was the least of my worries.
“Well, being as I’m not going to be seeing them anymore, and being as I’ve never hidden from you the feelings we have for each other, I was wondering if we could come to some kind of agreement, honey?”
I definitely didn’t like where this was headed. “Go on, what exactly do you have in mind, Jill?”
Jill took a deep breath and prepared to tell me the worst of it. “Well, honey, L.A.’s a real long way from Miami. So, when we move, me and the boys won’t even be able to see each other, even just as friends. So, I was wondering if, for the last few days before we start moving, if I could maybe spend a little more time with them. As a kind of going away thing. A sort of farewell end to our relationship.”
And there it was. Out in the open. Like a big fat toad, sat in the middle of the room. Four people sat looking at it – three of them wanting to say something but smart enough not to. One person sat looking, wondering what the hell had just happened and not wanting to say anything for fear he might just explode.
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Friday 3rd May
The upshot of that strange four-way non-conversation was that I was sitting on our matrimonial bed watching Jill packing for her farewell mini-vacation with the two men she was about to break it off with.
It was only three days since Jill had aired the topic, with the aid of her two silent accomplices. They’d not remained much longer that evening, as with a restrained civility that I thought beyond me, I politely asked them to leave so that Jill and I could talk.
I’ll not waste your time with all of the conversations between me and Jill that evening and the next couple of days. But the edited highlights showed that Jill would have made an excellent courtroom lawyer or corporate negotiator. Bit-by-bit she made her case, mixing charm with persuasion with the odd tickle to my recently reenergized cuck gland.
She reminded me again how she’d kept to her word and was now down to just one night a week each with Callan and Malcolm – keeping her word, even though it had been hard. When we were talking about this, she let slip that she knew that during our three-week separation I’d not kept my word to stay away from Veronica, using this to make me feel guilty.
Having made this tiniest of cracks in my defenses, Jill emphasized over and over that this was a final farewell, that she’d not see the boys after the next few days. Over Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, we talked about it for hours and hours and when she could tell that my resistance was starting to weaken, she hit me with her three closing arguments.
She talked about how I sort of owed it to Callan, bearing in mind what I’d done to him all those years ago – the way I’d not acted with honor when I’d hidden his final letter to her.
While I was still thinking about this, she hit me from the other flank – reminding me that not only was this her last chance to see the boys, but it was my last chance to enjoy my kinky cuckold pleasures before we returned to a more normal lifestyle.
And when my head was still mulling this over, she hit me with point number three. Adding a dash of sugar, that if I allowed her this time with the boys, then it would only be right and proper that I could have similar visitation rights with Veronica.
And that’s how it came to be that, despite my initial resistance and better judgment, I was sitting watching Jill pack a very large suitcase for her farewell time with her soon to be ex-boyfriends. With Jill’s happy mood as she packed a marked contrast to my own feelings – six parts fear for every four parts cuckold anticipation and excitement.
Somehow the agreement I’d finally given for an unspecified length of time with her two beaus had morphed into a nine-day stretch split between the two other men in her life. A four-day trip to L.A. with Malcolm, a mini-vacation to meet his extended family and for Jill to see our new granddaughter, followed by a return to Miami and the final five days with Callan.
I must have been mad to agree to this – but then again, I’d done more than my fair share of mad things these last eighteen months. Another mad thing being that I’d not made up my mind yet whether or not I’d take Jill up on her offer that she’d be fine if I saw Veronica while she was away with her men.
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The last I saw of Jill for those nine days was when I watched with a semi-hard cock and an ache in my groin and heart wearing the sexiest of tight jeans and low-cut top as my beautiful wife wheeled her suitcase towards Callan’s waiting car. I didn’t really get the dynamic between Callan and Malcolm. Even now I guessed they hadn’t really given up all hope of stealing Jill away from me, so maybe they were working in cahoots, thinking two was better than one, each pulling at different parts of Jill’s heartstrings.
Anyway, whatever the reasons were, even though Jill was flying away to spend the next four days with Malcolm in L.A., it was Callan’s 74 Firebird that was waiting on our driveway, not Malcolm’s SUV.
She’d been singing quietly and happily to herself as she’d been doing her make-up and then picking out clothes and packing her suitcase. And now as she gave me a final hug and blew me a final kiss the look of excitement on Jill’s face was palpable. I guess I couldn’t blame her. We’d played a game like this on our four-person trip to England, and the four of us had loved the experience and survived okay. So how was this any different?
That was the thought I comforted myself with as Jill waved from the passenger window of Callan’s car and I realized I’d not see her now until she returned on Sunday week.
For the rest of that day, two sets of equal and opposite thoughts occupied my head. The negative thought – had my mix of optimism and need for a last cuckold fix just led me to roll the dice one time too often? My heart and mind full of angst and gut-stabbing fear at the thought of all the conversations and experiences Jill would go through over the next nine days. As not one but two guys, who she loved, both persuaded her that her future would be both more exciting and more fulfilling if she spent her future with them, not with her old and unexciting and less macho husband.
The only thing that kept me sane was the other set of thoughts – the thoughts that slowly propelled me through the rest of that Friday until finally, at the end of the day, I picked up the phone and texted Veronica.
Hi V,
I have no right to do this, because I know I broke your heart. Jill’s away for a while and I was wondering if you’d like to talk.
D x
As I hesitated and then finally pressed send, I felt ashamed and totally selfish as I saw the message disappear into the ether. I’d grown used to various moments of self-loathing in the cuckold, wife-sharing lifestyle we’d grown into. But in some ways, this was worse, selfishly reaching out to a woman who I’d badly hurt once before, my selfless needs for companionship and deep insecurities about Jill obliterating any remaining morality in my heart.
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It was an hour later that the reply came back.
What do you want? Haven’t you done enough damage already? Or maybe you want to break my heart some more?
I winced at the tone and words, the guilt which was never far away surging back to slosh around in my heart. But even as I winced, I recognized the signs that Veronica wanted to talk, feeling relieved that she’d finally responded. I’d reckoned my chance of getting a response at fifty-fifty at best. I knew Veronica still had feelings for me, but I also knew how much she was hurting. The response she finally sent making me wonder if, despite everything, she still deep down had hopes that the two of us might have a future together. A hope that wasn’t altogether unreasonable, given the cliff-edge that had been my marriage in recent times.
The total hour-long silence after she’d received my text – that was V boiling over with anger at me, her anger dominating all else. Then the angry, vituperative one-liner. The words themselves telling me she was still incredibly angry at me and hurt. But the mere fact she’d decided to reply after an hour stewing in her emotions told me she now wanted to talk. Her words may have still been angry, but her action spoke louder than those words in telling me where her mind was at. The words she’d used were her coded way of retaining self-respect, letting me know I was in for a tongue-lashing for all the ages, but also clearly signaling she wanted to talk.
“Hi Veronica,” I opened with, knowing that any term of endearment would have been a bullet that would have ricocheted right back into my chest. “Is it okay to talk?” I asked, something nice and neutral and an obvious question as I could hear from the background noise that Veronica was at the club working.
“What’s there to talk about? You heartless pig. You made your decision. Broke my heart. Chose Jill over me. And now you’re coming back around, stomping all over my heart again,” her boiling anger at me understandable as I’d opened up fresh wounds.
Taking a deep breath, I put out there the words I’d carefully rehearsed. “Look, V, I know I hurt you, with the way everything ended. But I was wondering if we could get together, sit down and talk, spend time. It might help the healing process, and I’d love to see Haley and I’m sure she’d like to see me.”
“Don’t you dare to presume you know what’s right for my daughter, after everything you’ve done!” I guess I had that coming, although in many ways she was being very unfair.
“Anyway, surely what you actually meant to say was now that your wife is out of town, you’re lonely and want a shoulder to cry on, want someone to fill the empty hours in your life, until your first pick comes back, if she comes back!”
The anger in her voice had upped several levels, and her last comment was hurtful and unnecessary. But I sucked it up and tried again. “So, V, what do you say? I could come around Saturday early afternoon if you like. The three of us could go out and grab a meal and maybe take in a movie or go skating. I know Haley loves skating – and I know how the both of you love to watch me make a fool of myself. What do you say?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Veronica understandably weighing up all kinds of thoughts and emotions before finally replying.
“Alright, Dave. Yes, but on one condition, and by the way, don’t for a moment think you’re forgiven, because you’re not, not by a long way.”
“Okay, I understand, I really do. What’s the condition?” I asked.
“Simply this, and it’s not for me, it’s for Haley. She has to know that you still care about her. That’s the most important thing to me, she’s the most important thing. So, the condition is that as and when you visit back to Miami, that you make sure to drop by and see her, spend time with her, so she knows that even if you’re not here, she’s not forgotten and still loved. That’s my condition, take it, or leave it.”
All that it served to do was to make me want her all the more. Reminded me of why I loved her so much, what a kind and unselfish mother and person she was.
“Deal,” was all I needed to say.
“Okay,” her quivering voice replied. “Be at my place at three in the morning, that way we can talk before Haley wakes up. Okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, sure I could hear excitement in her voice, however much she tried to mask it, thinking that the hour she’d suggested that after a little more tongue-lashing, Veronica would invite me to her bed and into her body. A trapdoor that would almost certainly excite and re-hurt us all over again in equal measures.
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Forty-minutes after I arrived at Veronica’s, I was lying there grabbing deep gulps of oxygen as I looked up at the ceiling, Veronica’s soft dark body spread on my heaving chest, her fingers playing idly with my now limp and sticky cock.
“Don’t think that means that you’re forgiven, mister,” she intoned, something that I suspected I’d hear quite often over the next few days.
Veronica and I had just enjoyed a wonderful but too short sex session. It wasn’t lovemaking, it was too needy and frenetic to be called that. It was two people who loved each other but who’d only been together once in five weeks. Two people desperate to be physically re-bonded, two people thrashing around on a bed until finally, by some miraculous harmony, we both cried out in a shared orgasm.
And now we both lay naked and cuddled together, both tired given the very late hour, but neither ready to sleep just yet. Being back with Veronica felt wonderful on so many different levels. However much I loved Jill and had chosen her and my family, there was a simplicity and purity about what Veronica and I shared. We didn’t have the twenty-five years shared memories and foundation that Jill and I had, but we had other things. A man and a woman who loved each other, who both cared for a young child, and who loved the emotional and physical fulfillment of being together.
The pain, angst, and turbo-charged erotic thrill I experienced every time I was together with Jill was missing. Instead, Veronica and I together gave me a lower-key, less intense all-round contentment. The pleasure of rope fruit or a healthy single glass of red versus the sugar rush of a whole box of chocolates, hugely enjoyable at the time but guaranteed to make you feel sick afterward and to slowly erode your teeth and harden your arteries.
My aimless comparison of the two relationships in my life was quietly interrupted by Veronica’s quiet musings to herself. “Why are we doing this, hurting ourselves all over again?”
I don’t think she expected me to reply, but it seemed the loving thing to do.
“Because we love each other, and some time, any time, is better than no time. Because we’ll enjoy every moment we can snatch together, and we know that even if it hurts, we’ll survive and at least we’ll have had this time and the memories.”
Veronica moved to the side, propping her head on her elbow as she looked into my eyes.
“I know you’re right, but you’ll have Jill at the end of this, and I’ll have no-one, even though I know you love me. Life’s so unfair,” she said, little tears forming in the corners of her eyes and ever so slowly starting to run down her cheeks.
I leaned over and kissed her softly. “V, I honestly wish there were two of me – that could split myself in two,” instantly aware of the irony that I’d heard Jill use virtually identical words with Chris and more recently talking to Malcolm.
“And V, be honest with me, would you want to be the woman who split up a family? Who split a married couple with three kids and a granddaughter?”
She smiled the tiniest of smiles at me. “Screw you, David Foster. You know I don’t want to be that woman, but you know I want to be the woman that has that man. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”
Something in our exchange had changed V’s mood from philosophical reflection to needy lover and she lowered her head to mine and started a long series of kisses, starting as gentle and short and graduating into a series of long heartfelt kisses each of which required a short air resupply moment afterward.
Despite the late hour, we were soon back together, only this time it was making love rather than frenetic sex. Each of us taking it in turn to choose the position we wanted – the only one not used was doggy as we both wanted and needed to make eye contact.
For the next hour, we were a couple connected spiritually and physically, not caring about tomorrow or about a single other soul in the cosmos. We only had eyes, hearts, and bodies for each other. As I looked up at the wonderful woman smiling down at me as her hips slowly undulated, riding me, milking me, knowing just how good her pussy felt as it squeezed and enveloped my throbbing manhood. Knowing just how much I loved the fluid and rhythmic jiggling motion of her breasts as she moved up and down, side to side. Knowing how much I loved looking into the large and dark pools that were her soft brown eyes, the black of her pupils hardly discernable from the brown of her irises.
It was a magical time as we truly made love, our eyes always locked together, whatever place and pose we found ourselves in. Whether the staid but always special missionary. Whether I was sat up, head propped against the headboard, as Veronica sat on my lap hardly moving at all as her mouth and tongue did the work. Whether playing with one of the three or four other positions we tried. Until finally we were done, only another less intense but equally special climax bonding us together as we finally drifted off to sleep.
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We didn’t get much sleep that Saturday morning, awoken by an excited and very happy seven-year-old.
“Uncle Dave!” Two words that made my heart beat with happiness as the loving little girl wrapped her arms around me.
The next two hours were a mix of Veronica funneling me caffeine and food, in that order, to keep me going and energetic as Haley made up for lost time. Showing me the various silver and gold stars her teacher had awarded her for some of the stories she’d written. Getting me to read the closing chapters to her of the latest book she was reading. Quizzing me about how long I was here for, and after a sly look to and nod from her mother, planning out with her what we’d do as a trio for the next eight days.
Some rapid negotiation with my boss in L.A. and from Veronica with Luther meant I could stay in Miami for the next few days and that Veronica would take some extra paid leave gifted by a club owner who was still trying to persuade me he was my buddy and not the anti-Christ. These preparations meaning Veronica and I managed to spend nearly twenty-four hours a day together from that Saturday morning until Wednesday when Jill was due to return from L.A. after her short trip there with Malcolm.
Being together with Veronica and Haley helped hugely in keeping my mind off what Jill was likely doing in L.A. with Malcolm. What they were no doubt doing together in bed and the conversations they were no doubt having. The bed and sex side of things didn’t bother me unduly, I’d long ago given up trying to compete with Malcolm, or any of Jill’s other big-cocked lovers, in the purely physical and sexual stakes. So, I wasn’t worried by this, in fact, quite the opposite. My long-standing kinky enjoyment of the thought of Jill being bedded so well was fully alive and well and filling my veins with all kinds of happiness endorphins.
But the conversations I knew they’d be having was another matter entirely. Knowing how hard Malcolm would be trying to persuade Jill to change her mind – to pick him over me. I knew how much Jill loved him and would miss him, and I knew that although she’d promised to never leave me, one time before, she’d weakened and however short-lived they were, she’d made plans to leave me for Chris. Yes, she’d recanted, after even just a few shorts minutes of contemplating a life leaving me behind. But the worry glands in my brain shouted out ‘once a cheater, always a cheater … once a bolter, always a bolter.’ Maybe unfair to Jill, but there was a kernel of truth there and it played on my mind and fears.
These fears were always there in the background, and occasionally they’d bubble up with a full-throated roar, but most of the time, the way Veronica and Haley filled my mind and waking hours did enough to make the pain manageable.
But all that was about to change on Wednesday – Wednesday 8th May when Jill was due back in Miami. It changed when my reading of a bedtime story to Haley was interrupted by a loud rapping on Veronica’s front door.
(Thanks to cbears and kite for their kind help)
