When I woke up several hours later, the spot next to me was empty and I was afraid that once again Micki had left. Then I smelled the delicate aroma of a fresh pot of tea wafting in from the kitchen. An image of her standing by the stove, dressed in only an apron was all the incentive I needed to roll out of bed and make my way to the kitchen in seconds … but she wasn’t there. Once again, my fears took over until I heard her call out from the porch.
“Out here.”
I, quickly, poured myself a cup of tea and followed the sound of her voice. The sight that awaited me was enough to make even a dying man’s cock harden.
She was sitting on the porch dressed in nothing but one of my XXL shirts and a pair of moccasins. Her jade-green eyes seemed to twinkle when she looked at me.
“Hey handsome.”
“Hey, yourself,” I replied as my eyes traveled up and down the sight before me. The evening sunlight reflected off her auburn hair as it hung over her shoulders and the shirt she was wearing was unbuttoned except for the lowest button revealing the deep cleavage of her 32DDD breasts. A thin strip of cream-white skin, from her bikini, contrasted with the tawny shade of the rest of her suntanned body and it was obvious she wasn’t wearing anything else except the moccasins that seemed to highlight her long, tones legs.
“Arrrgghhhh,”
“What’s wrong?” she asked innocently.
“Nothing … not a damn thing,” I replied as I sat down next to her and enjoyed the sunset.
And so the first six months slid by.
At first, everything was great. Our life was filled with joy, sex, happiness, sex, chores, sex, and the occasionally argument, followed by make-up sex. We even took time to get married by the local Justice of the Peace. But, slowly, reality got its ugly claws into our dream world as bills increased. After almost a year, I had to start going back into town every day, including Saturday, to work at the repair shop. Cars, trucks, boat engines, tractors, even a riding lawnmower were all waiting for my attention but each night when I got home she was waiting.
It wasn’t until we’d been together for almost a year and a half that I realized something was wrong. I came home early on a Saturday afternoon because a part hadn’t arrived to find a black Porsche parked in the driveway.
When I entered, the house was silent until I got closer to one of the guest bedrooms. That was when I began to hear sounds that I normally didn’t hear unless Micki and I were making love.
What I saw when I stepped into the doorway will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. Micki was stretched out on the bed, nude. A stranger was standing at the side of the bed, his pants and briefs down around his ankles. His cock stood out straight in front of him, pointing at Micki’s tits, as his hand ran up and down its length. At the same time, Micki was plunging a dildo in and out of her pussy.
“That’s it, stud. Play with your cock. Mmmmmmm … so nice. Show me what you can do with it. Yessss … faster … faster. Give me a load of your man-cream all over my tits.”
My world went red in rage but turned to an almost blinding white when I saw the video camera set up across the room taping it all.
“WHAT THE FUCK!!!” I exploded as I grabbed the guy by his jacket and threw him to the ground all the while screaming at her. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”
I didn’t even wait for her to answer before I spun on my heels and stomped across the room, grabbing the camera. When I was done, it was laying in dozens of little pieces on the floor.
The guy ran, the screeching of his tires the only evidence he’d been there. Micki jumped from the bed, still nude, “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!” she yelled.
Shocked by her statement, I froze for a second before snarling, “Get out. Pack your fucking shit and get out!” I left her in the room as I went to the kitchen, filled a large glass of ‘shine’, and then walked out to the patio.
She showed up 15 minutes later by which time the ‘shine’ had helped calm my temper to the point that I could listen to what she had to say without wanting to strangle her.
“Before I go, I think you need to understand what it was that you just saw,” she paused. “I’ve been doing things like that for years. It wasn’t until I came to live with you that I stopped. It was the only way I could afford the things I wanted in life and in this case it was the only way I knew of to help with the finances here on the ranch. I hated seeing you working so hard while all I did was stay at home,” she continued, tears now running down her cheeks. “I’ll admit this isn’t the first time I’ve met with a client, though it s the first time I’ve ever had them here to the house, BUT I’ve never allowed them to touch me. I only allowed them to watch me and them cum on my tits. For an extra fee I’d record the ‘session’ so they could take it with them afterwards. Otherwise, I’d post it on an exclusive website so others can pay to watch it.”
“Get out. Go back to your Internet sex. I don’t ever wanna see you again.” I could tell from the look on her face that I’d hurt her almost as much as she’d hurt me
She, quietly, loaded her bags into her car and was gone in almost no time.
Afterwards, I went back into the house. It suddenly felt empty. Every trace of her was gone. Her clothes … gone. Her make-up … gone. Everything was gone with the exception of the lingering scent of her perfume on the pillowcase in our bedroom. She’d even cleaned up the disaster that I’ve caused in the guest bedroom.
By the next day, the ‘shine’ had worn off and my anger had evaporated. I felt dead inside. My mind was in a swirl. One side of my brain kept telling me I was right in what I’d done while the other side kept replaying her explanation. The day was sunny and warm yet I felt ‘gray’ and cold inside. I delved into work to keep from thinking about what had happened.
A week went by and then a month. I didn’t hear a thing from her. I got a divorce in absentia because I didn’t know where to send the paperwork.
More than a year went by and then I found a small note stuffed in my mailbox one afternoon. “Can we have a cup of coffee together?” was all it said. I knew instantly who it was from as well as where and when to be there. The following Friday, I hesitated until the last moment before jumping in my new truck and starting the 90 minute drive to the diner where she wanted to meet. The whole time, I battled within myself, going back and forth, “Idiot, what are you doing? I don’t care, I love her. She was fucking around on you. Actually, she wasn’t ‘fucking’. You’re going to get hurt again. Can it be any worse than I feel without her?” Time flew by until I pulled into the roadside diner where we’d gone on several of our get-away weekends.
Her car was there, looking much older than I’d remembered.
I felt suddenly afraid. “Do I really want to do this? What did she want? Did anything she want really matter after what she’d done?”, the questions spun through me head. If nothing else at least by meeting her I could get some closure, I decided as I got out of my truck.
Then I saw her, sitting in ‘our booth’ by the window. The sunlight was reflecting off her auburn hair and even at a distance it was if the sun had also broken through to all those ‘gray’ spots within me.
I watched as she turned towards me, almost as if in slow-motion. I saw her smile briefly before tears ran down her cheeks.
I never even got inside the diner before she burst through the door and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me.
“I’m so sorry. I … I fucked up. I need you … your help.”
My emotions plunged at her last words and I pushed her away. “What do you need? To have your car fixed again?” I asked, my voice thick with sarcasm.
She looked shocked by what I’d said. Then, slowly, a glimmer of understanding seemed to fill her eyes “What I mean is … shit … I fucked up again, didn’t I?” she muttered as she looked down at the ground. We stood there not saying a word until she looked back up, a small smile on her face.
“How about we get some coffee and then go someplace and talk?”
“I thought you wanted to meet here?”
“Yeah, well. I kinda made an ass of myself just now when I came running out here. Can we go somewhere else?”
I thought about it and then decided it might be worth it to at least find out what she’d been up to. “Hop in the truck,” I instructed. “I’ll go inside and get us a couple of coffees.”
When I came back out, I slid into the driver’s seat and drove to a lake I’d once fished at in the area. We didn’t say a word the whole trip. When we got to the lake, I threw a blanket in the back of the truck and took a seat, my back against the tailgate. She climbed into the other side and sat with her back against the cab.
“So what do you need?” I asked once again, my voice still filled with sarcasm and barely hidden pain.
“Your forgiveness,” she whispered.
“My what?”
“Your forgiveness,” she repeated. “Look, I fucked up and I know it. I wanted to be part of something … something real, and I was with you. The ranch, the chickens, you and me. It was all real but I saw it slowly melting away because of the money. You know I never went to college or anything like that. This,” he ran a hand up and down her body, “is all I’ve ever had going for me. So, I used it to get what I wanted. I’ve worked as a stripper, and in a soft-core ‘titty’ movie, but I’ve only fucked one guy for money and that was because he insisted on paying me. I became a slut to get everything I wanted. Money, jobs, and before you ask … boyfriends,” she hesitated, “but with you it was ‘different’. Yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard that one before. With you I could get what I wanted just by being me, by sharing what’s inside of me not just the outside. I fell for you and I mean hard. That’s why I wanted to find some way to help financially. I saw you working so hard and you came home so tired some nights I’m surprised you didn’t fall asleep and get in a wreck driving home.”
“I almost did,” I muttered.