The events take place 5 years after Matron of Honor ended. Thanks as always to JuanaSalsa for her coaching/editing.
For reference, here’s the original Matron of Honor story: https://www.literotica.com/s/the-convertible-matron-of-honor
All characters engaged in sex are over 18.
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You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips
And there’s no tenderness like before in your fingertips
You’re trying hard not to show it, but baby, baby I know it
You lost that lovin’ feelin’…
– The Righteous Brothers
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Five years after I’d met, accidentally impregnated and married my wife Andrea, life was good!
I had a great job as a realtor, working at the same real estate brokerage as my wife Andrea. Royce Real Estate specialized in luxury residential real estate, the sweet spot being the Palo Alto/Los Altos Hills area.
At 6’3″, Andrea was not only an amazingly beautiful woman, but she was also one of the best realtors in the Palo Alto area. We had one child together, Chloe Jean, who’ll start first grade next year. She’s the spitting image of her mother, even in stature. At four feet tall, our daughter ranked in the 97th percentile in height for 5-year old girls.
Andrea had a 22-year-old son from her first marriage, Anthony, who was starting a career as a physical therapist. Initially my stepson had a few anger issues and hated me, but over time we’d built a good rapport.
I met Andrea at a wedding; she was the matron of honor and I was the best man. I fell hard for her at the rehersal dinner, and couldn’t take my eyes off her during the ceremony. At the reception following the wedding I was somehow able to convince her it would be fun to spend the night together in the hotel. It most definitely was fun, but because of a birth-control slip-up, Andrea ended up pregnant.
When I found out about the pregnancy I was over the moon, but Andrea wasn’t so sure how she felt. (Her son Anthony, on the other hand, knew exactly how he felt, punching me in the face for knocking up his mom.) In the end I was able to make peace with Anthony and convince Andrea that I was indeed husband material despite our 18-year age gap. Andrea married me; even now, 5 years later, sometimes in bed after she’s fallen asleep I still stare at her in disbelief that this wondrous woman was really my wife. Me, Daniel Parrish, 31 years old and living the dream, baby!
Andrea is of Persian ancestry, tall and gorgeous with olive skin and jet-black hair; I’m 5’10”, with brown hair, pale skin, and a little stocky. I weigh in at 210 pounds, most of my bulk being in my back, shoulders, and thighs from being a collegiate swimmer. I still don’t hit the gym, instead preferring to keep in shape by swimming laps regularly at the local YMCA pool.
Now that Andrea was 49, she’d acquired a few wrinkles around her eyes, but still looked fantastic to me. Her one acquiescence to vanity was a dye job to hide the silver strands that had begun to show themselves in her shoulder-length jet-black hair. I didn’t think it was necessary; I thought her silver-streaked hair was hot, but if it made her happy, so be it.
Thanks to our age and height differences, we were not what people expect in a couple. That was not the case with Andrea’s first husband, the 6’4″ former NFL wide receiver and current ESPN football commentator, Dwight “Lightning” Wilson.
Even at 58, Dwight’s an impressive physical specimen, damn him and his chiseled good looks. When he and Andrea were married they appeared to be a perfect couple, but in reality Dwight was a prolific cheater. This led to divorce not long after their son Anthony was born. Because of Anthony, Dwight would still contact Andrea every now and then, but I thought nothing of it. Yes, Dwight was bigger and far richer than me, but after all, our marriage was solid. At least I thought so.
As I came home that Thursday, I was in the mood to celebrate; It had been a great day for me in the office. Did I say day? Hell, it had been a great month! I’d booked over $12 million in residential sales, making me Royce’s top realtor for September. For the first time, I’d outsold every other realtor in the office. The taste of victory is sweet, I assure you.
This personal best was a great accomplishment, but I didn’t kid myself; I owed my success all to Andrea. When we met, I was selling entertainment systems in a big-box electronics store. After our wedding, Andrea encouraged me to become a realtor. I busted my ass studying, and passed the real estate licensing exam.
By the time Chloe Jean was born, I’d become a licensed agent at Royce, usually partnering with Andrea to sell homes and assist in the closing process. As time went on, Andrea stepped away from selling to care for our daughter, while I doubled down on selling solo. I had a family to provide for, and I was not going to let them down!
I stopped by a florist and picked up a dozen roses for Andrea, as well as a nice bottle of champagne. I also stopped at the drug store to buy a romantic card, writing in it, “To Andrea, the world’s most perfect wife. Everything I achieve, I achieve because of you. Love, Daniel.”
As I drove up the curved driveway, my joy was dimmed by the sight of a brand-new Lexus LC convertible with the personalized license plate “LISASRD”. I scoffed to myself, ‘Lisa’s Ride,’ indeed. Andrea had recently started going to a gym, and Lisa Martin was her personal trainer. They’d become fast friends, although for the life of me I couldn’t understand why. Personally, the horrible woman made my skin crawl. She was a polar opposite of Andrea, snobbish and arrogant, basically a 30-something high school mean girl.
Since Lisa’s car was blocking the entrance to the garage, I parked in the driveway and entered the house through the front door. Going into the kitchen, I put the champagne in the refrigerator and, setting the card on the counter, I looked for a vase to put the roses in.
The kitchen windows were open, and I could hear the two women talking. I looked out the window; they were seated on the deck, their chairs facing the back yard, which was fine. Since Andrea hadn’t heard the garage door opening, it would just add to the surprise when I gave her the flowers.
As I found a vase and began arranging the roses, I started listening more closely to the conversation. What I heard turned my blood cold.
I heard Lisa ask, “So have you decided about going to St. Helena yet?” I found this odd. Andrea had told me weeks ago that she was planning to go to St. Helena the following weekend with her best friend Terri, for a girls’ spa outing. As far as I knew, the decision had already been made!
Then my wife responded, “I’m still on the fence. I love Daniel, it doesn’t feel right.” My body froze, as something was clearly not what it seemed. Terri was her best friend, why would it not feel right? Unless…