A failing marriage, a caring man, and a new life.
by r a wallace. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Chapter 1: Intervention - Wendy Meets Robb.
Wendy
I sat sullen, depressed, on the park bench in the early evening watching a man playing catch with a boy, probably his son. I was fingering the pistol inside my shoulder bag, my finger on the trigger. I closed my eyes to start the silent count one…two…
Wham! I was startled, my fingers closed reflexively in response, including the finger on the trigger. I heard a loud bang inside my shoulder bag. I looked down and saw the bullet hole just above the brown leather bottom. I pulled my hand out of the bag and found it was trembling, my heart pounding in my ears.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I hope you weren't hit?"
I looked up to see the man standing in front of me, his image hazy as tears formed in my eyes again. I couldn't even end my life without screwing it up. I heard his voice again, but not his words. I sat my bag on the bench next to me and looked up when he spoke again, his face showing concern.
"No, it didn't hit me," I replied dumbly.
"You don't look so good, your eyes are red as if you've been crying. Is there anything I can do to help, do you want to talk?"
"Uncle Robb, Dad's here to pick me up. Thanks for playing catch with me for a while," came a voice from behind me. I watched as he tossed the baseball in the general direction of the voice.
"Any time Ted, tell your father I'll talk with him later."
I watched as the boy ran past us, got into a car, waved, and was gone. Numbed by it all, nothing in my mind made sense, it seemed I wasn't worth anything to anyone.
"Mind if I sit with you?"
"Look, I appreciate your kindness, but I'm not likely to be good company. I just found my husband with another woman. Not that I haven't suspected it for a while, but I thought our trial separation was working out. I just need to be alone."
"You weren't thinking of doing something stupid were you?"
I looked at him, then my eyes went to the round hole in my bag. Stupid? It was a way out. My own husband hadn't slept with me in six months and he was getting off on another woman. Stupid?
There was a reason I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. I didn't want to be found dead wearing something the bastard had given me.
Robb
I'd tried to catch the ball, jumping up to snag it when it sailed above my head. I had hit it just enough to send it toward the attractive woman sitting on the bench not far away. I thought I heard it hit the bench, not her, but a muffled sound seemed to have made her jump, and I felt an apology was in order.
When I stopped in front of her I saw the teary eyes, at first thinking it had hit her. Then I noticed her eyes were puffy red, she'd been crying for a while. Her dark curly hair hung below her shoulders, her brown eyes placed below nicely trimmed eyebrows. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse, her exposed legs shapely, like the rest of her.
She was obviously distressed, then I saw a small hole in her cloth shoulder bag as her eyes shifted to look at it. The slightly ragged hole seemed entirely out of place at that location. It was then I knew, the sound I'd heard wasn't the baseball hitting the bench–this woman needed help now.
Wendy
He sat down next to me even though I hadn't replied. Shit, did it matter? Another few minutes in my miserable life wasn't going to change anything. I hadn't even been able to kill myself and I realized I was pointing the pistol at the wrong person if I did. I knew I could never kill anyone, apparently not even myself.
Then it popped into my head. If I were to do something now to get back at my husband I'd do what he had done to me. I would throw it in his face, telling him it was better than anything he had ever given me in all the years we'd been together.
He hadn't been physically abusive to me, the fact he wouldn't touch me was painful enough; far worse in a way. What better way to get back at him by than by making him look like a man I now merely tolerated? That I had accepted his lack of performance, that I had loved him enough to accept it, but now I wouldn't.
At first, I thought his lack of interest was due to the extra pounds I had put on made me unattractive to him. I lost the pounds, and it made no difference. Though the men at work made it evident they had noticed. I'd turned down several offers, thinking I would be true to our marriage vows–I wasn't that kind of woman. Now, maybe I needed to be. I would show him in a way he couldn't ignore. Brought back to the moment, I heard the man speak again, his hand on my shoulder as I looked at him with a blank expression.
"Look, I'm not comfortable leaving you here alone by yourself. Too many things can happen to a woman in this park late in the day. Hell, even I'm leery of staying here too late. How about I take you for a coffee and you can tell me what you need."
I looked at him, "What I need is a good hard fuck. Can you do that?"
I watched his face show a shocked expression. He didn't reply and I felt it just proved perhaps my husband was right– I wasn't even good for that anymore. I felt a sense of despair and desperation–I had been good for that at one time in my life.
"Well, can you?" I pressed.
"Yes, if you promise not to do anything more stupid than that," looking at my bag.
"You mean like take the pistol in my bag and shoot myself?" I replied facetiously.
"That's what I had in mind, yes. I'll fuck you silly if you give me the gun."
He was looking right into my eyes, he wasn't looking at my boobs, or my legs. His eyes showed a genuine concern, his expression sympathetic, caring. I knew what the look of lust was in a man's eyes because I had been there before–it wasn't present in his.
I reached for my bag and handed it to him, "You take it out."
I watched while he peered into my bag, inserted his hand, and pulled the pistol out. He flipped the safety on, removed the clip, took the bullets out, then placed it back inside with the clip inserted.
He handed the bag to me while I looked at him with an earnest expectant expression. "Okay, coffee and a hard fuck, agreed."
He took my hand and held it gently, then looked into my eyes, "How about coffee, and a good fuck at my place if I can't talk you out of it. By the way my name is Robb."
"Agreed, I'm Wendy."
I walked beside Robb towards a nice looking car, glancing down at his left hand, I found he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Though I knew it really didn't mean a dam thing to man if he didn't want it to. I still had revenge on my mind, thinking why put a bullet into my brain when I could go home, and shoot my husband right in the nuts, ending his ability to have sex with another woman. That is, right after I told him I'd been screwed all night long with a huge cock and loved every minute of it.
I smiled to myself, thinking of the horror I'd see on his face when the pistol moved from his face down to his crotch. He would probably shit his pants before I pulled the trigger. Then he would dance around in agony as I turned and walked away–his penis and balls splattered on the floor around him.
Robb opened the door of his car for me and I slid in thinking I was an idiot for marrying my husband in the first place. Two goddamned years of my life wasted trying to be a good wife while he flirted with most of my friends. They thought it was cute for a while, but when he propositioned one of them their attitude changed. I should have seen it, but I was still too love struck to recognize it for what it was. He really wanted me, not them, he was trying to make me jealous was what I had told myself over and over. Then it dawned on me one day when he didn't come home for an entire night–he didn't want me and wasn't man enough tell me to my face.
I felt the car come to a stop and realized I hadn't said a word to Robb the entire time. I looked at him feeling like I was the lowest scum of the earth, a woman brought so low to want a man she had never met to screw her like a whore, but not charge for it. I wanted revenge and this was one way to get it.
He looked at me while he placed his hand on my arm. "I'm buying the coffee and anything you want to eat, you talk, and I'll listen."
"Okay, but then we go to your place and you fuck me."
"That was what we agreed on," he replied without any indication he was judging me.
Why should he judge? He was getting a piece of ass for the price of a coffee and a donut. I watched when he passed in front of the car and came to open the door for me. Shit, what did I have to lose? Nothing. Robb was more attractive than my husband and he didn't have a gut that hung over his belt.
We walked into the small diner, and I followed him to a table next to the window and sat down across from him. The waitress walked up with a menu and started to hand them to us with a smile.
"We won't need a menu thank you. Two coffees, I'll take mine black, with a Danish, and whatever the lady would like."
The expression on the waitress's face was something I could appreciate. This wasn't going to result in much of a return to her for the effort she was going to put in–it was kind of like me and my marriage.
"I'll have the same thank you."
I watched while she walked away and I turned my gaze to Robb, surprised to see he was studying something other than the cleave showing in my blouse–he was looking at my face.
"You're an attractive woman when you don't have tears in your eyes. I'll bet you have a beautiful smile."
I moved in my seat, and looked away, feeling my face go red. When I looked back I couldn't help but give him a small smile.
"Wendy, you talk. I'll listen, that was our agreement, well that and the other thing."
"If you think I'll talk and change my mind about the other thing, I won't."
"Fair enough, I'll keep my promise."
Our coffees arrived and I found myself spilling my guts as if someone had spoken an incantation to open my soul. I only stopped when the waitress returned, refilled our cups, and then I went on. He listened, never saying a word, just nodding his acknowledgement a few times.
"You know, I'd like to kill that asshole. He's made my life, me, feel worthless for almost a year. I haven't told anyone about it until now, not even my parents, though I think they know things haven't been going well."
"Parents usually know even if you don't tell them. Mine always seemed to know if the woman I was dating didn't fit me before I discovered it for myself."
His expression didn't suggest much of anything–it seemed a simple acknowledgement he had endured a few failed relationships. I studied his face as he took another sip of coffee, his brown eyes and hair looked attractive to me, even his day-old stubble made him look manly. He didn't have those cute dimples, or a strong jaw line like I'd read in romance novels. Still, he was handsome in an understated way. Perhaps it was his calm demeanor and confidence that made him appealing.
He called for the check and I watched as the waitress placed it in front of him. He looked at it as I read the amount of the bill, looking at it upside down. Reaching for the wallet in his back pocket he pulled out a ten and a five. The waitress returned a minute later, picking up the receipt and money, not smiling.
"I'll be back with your change."
"Keep the change, you've earned it."
The last look I had of her showed a broad smile. The tip exceeded the amount of the bill by more than five dollars. He stood, waited for me to stand, then followed me out to the car and opened the door for me, closing it after I was inside. I pulled the sun visor down and looked in the mirror–at least my eyes weren't puffy and I was glad I hadn't used mascara, only eyeliner, though I hardly looked radiant.
I looked at the clock on the dashboard, I'd talked for over two hours, and it was past seven, almost eight.
"Ready to go home now?" he asked evenly.
I knew my husband would be gone, it was a Saturday night, and he hadn't spent one with me in so long I couldn't remember the last time he had. It was one of the things I thought would change when we agreed to separate–that he would take me out like we were dating. We lived in the same house, I worked days, he worked the afternoon shift. It had been stressful, but we had made it work–sort of.
"You mean to my house?"
"Yes, I thought perhaps you might have changed your mind. Just checking to make sure."
I looked into his eyes. "I haven't. Take me home and do what we agreed to do."
Chapter 2: A Promise Delivered
Robb
I listened while she talked, letting her life unfold in front of me. She relaxed after a while, and the details she revealed told me she was a decent person. She had been raised a Catholic, left her faith to marry her husband, who was a Baptist, and found afterward his idea of marriage didn't quite jive with her own. It was more than a shock when she learned he was seeing one of their close friends from their congregation while she was at work–spending most of his day with her two, or three times a week. He had essentially left her by herself, not offering affection, or love even after she begged him to act as a husband.
Yes, I felt pity for her, but pity somehow seemed less than what she really deserved. Frankly, more than once, I thought her husband was screwed up in the head. Her husband wanted her to be entirely obedient to his demands, and when she resisted even a little, decided she was not a worthy wife. Christian my ass, he was sinning while his wife sought to be loyal to him.
She had concluded at the end of our talk she was glad she had remained on birth control despite his wanting her to become pregnant. She was honest about it with him, saying they should make sure they were financially secure before starting a family. He hadn't minded her birth control before they were married despite his religious teaching, but he had changed his tune afterward. His parents had asked her frequently if she were expecting, adding additional stress.
I was eager to do something for her, but I was torn given the circumstances. If I didn't have sex with her what was the take away for her? I was sure it would only add to her miserable emotional state–if a stranger was unwilling to take her to bed her husband must be right. She would leave and find a bridge to jump off of.
I had committed to having sex with her and she hadn't changed her mind. She was a very attractive woman, in that respect, I found the prospect acceptable. It was what would happen afterward that concerned me most. I had made the promise and I would keep it to best of my ability. I felt like an idiot for thinking letting her talk would change things. I knew I would have to be convincing when the time came–I had to be all in, or it was unlikely to work.
Wendy
It was a twenty minute drive to his apartment and when we started walking to the door I didn't feel anything other than excitement. He had treated me with dignity and respect the entire evening and never once was there a hint he considered me flawed, and unworthy of his attention. When he unlocked the door of his apartment I took a deep breath, it was time. Despite the fact I'd never done anything like this before, I was ready.
We walked inside and when the lights came on I found myself in a nicely furnished apartment. It was mostly clean, with attractive colors, pictures on the walls. It was better than my own home in one respect, there wasn't a single religious saying, or picture– the Lord Jesus was not at hand here.
I heard the door close and latch behind me with a click, then the padlock go home–I was alone with him and no one knew of my whereabouts. If this were a den of inequity, it felt right to me. I had come here for a specific reason and despite my slight apprehension, I wanted it to happen. I was wondering how hesitant he was going to be based upon his checking to see if I had changed my mind. I didn't have a chance to turn all the way around to face him when my feet left the floor, and I was in his arms.
I gave a small shriek of surprise, then saw his face turn to look at me while my ass hung down; he held my legs at the knees with one arm, my back with the other.
"Here on the floor, or in bed?"
My mind raced. Oh shit, this is going to happen, oh shit. "I… I… don't… bed, on the bed."
We walked into the dark hallway and turned into a bedroom as I held onto him. The room was dim, a nightlight casting light onto the bed from the bathroom. My heart was beating so damn hard it felt like a beating bass drum was in my chest, pounding in my ears, my face felt flushed. He lay me down on the bed, then moved onto it next to me.
"Robb… I…"
His lips came hard onto mine and my response was swift and sure as I returned it with all I had. I sent my hand out to his back and pulled him to me as we wrestled together in a frenzied tangle. I broke our kiss, took a breath, and pushed onto him again. My body felt hot, as if it were being baked slowly, some parts warming faster than others. I ran my fingers through his hair and rolled on top of him, pressing my pelvis hard against his leg. We kissed, I rubbed hard, then harder, my pussy responding with soft, warm, pleasure. I pulled away and half sat up, cursing to myself–too much coffee. Damn, this was no time to have to take a pee.
"Robb, I need to use the bathroom, I'm sorry, but I can't wait."'
"I'm not going to run away," he said.
I couldn't help but smile. Damn, he wanted to fuck me so badly he could hardly stand it. The thought thrilled me,–I was sure I could see it in his expression. Who was I kidding? I wanted it more. I don't know what I was thinking as I washed my hands after pulling my panties back up under my skirt.
I was thinking I had ruined the moment. I had botched shooting myself, and now this. I was wrong as he pulled me down onto the bed and started to unbutton my blouse, his lips came to my chest, then moved to my neck. My arousal quickly shot through the roof as my hands went down to his crotch to find him firm and erect–it had been so long.
I was breathing heavily as he pulled me up to a sitting position, removing my blouse and bra in what seemed mere seconds. His lips and tongue came to one breast, while the fingers of his other hand squeezed my nipple making my pussy ache. His passion consumed me, he wasn't like an animal clawing at me, but he was aggressive, confident, and knew what to do. His hand pulled my skirt up, the heel of his hand pressing firmly onto at the top of my slit, his fingers massaging my folds. I gasped and closed my eyes as the pleasure grew from each hard caress through my panties–I spread my legs wider and writhed with the stimulation I was feeling.
I wanted more, that was my only thought as our lips met again, his lips sweet, moist, placed upon mine–it was as if they were specially made to be there. His kisses added to my arousal as my hands hungrily sought to touch him. It was as if a map of his body were imprinted in my mind–my hands found the buttons of his shirt, then the button of his pants. He sat up and I almost ripped the shirt off him, then reached down to yank his pants down and away. My hand dove into his briefs where I felt the firm, warm flesh of his erect member in my hand–the sensation added to my frenzy.
I heard him growl into my ear as he brought his head next to mine, pushing me down onto the bed pinning me with his arms, his legs between mine, his hardness impossible to ignore. "I hope you're ready as I can't wait."
The words I needed thrilled me. I was a prize, lusted after,– his animal desires unmasked, directed only to me. Now, it was my lust combined with his and I wanted it to be hot, torrid.
I looked into his eyes. "Do it," as I reached down, grasping the tip of his cock. I ran his tip up and down over my slick slit, then placed it at my opening. I had my eyes open and watched as I felt him push inside me a few inches. On the exterior I must have looked somewhat calm, but inside I was on fire. His entrance was incredible–I was so damn sensitive. I grabbed his hips and pulled him toward me. "Damn it, do it," I ordered forcefully.
That was the last thing I had to say as he took me hard, then softer, than hard again until the ache in my pussy flared white hot as I closed my eyes and pushed my head back onto the mattress. I clawed at his shoulders with my fingertips as I held my breath, my orgasm strong, but short. I let my breath out not knowing if he had climaxed with me or not. My gaze had gone to the digital clock as I closed my eyes when we started–only four minutes had passed since he had pushed into me.
I expected a pause, thinking he would be completely spent, unable to continue for a while. I waited for him to pull out knowing he had kept his promise. I sought to keep him as long as I could, placing my hands on his lower back, pushing myself against him repeatedly to keep him inside. To my surprise he moved his mouth to my ear. "You were quick, do you want more?"
"More," I whispered not believing it was even possible, though thrilled he found me sensual enough to take me again.
"Then get on top, you want a hard fuck, then show me what you mean."
His words emboldened me, we disengaged, and he went onto his back. I moved into position over him. I was so sloppy wet he went into me in a single push without my having to place him with my hand. This time, I pushed my lips onto his, kissing him as I as I rested with my arms on his chest, hardly moving my pelvis, pressing down firmly so my clit felt good. Then the urge to move grew and I couldn't resist. I shifted my position and started rocking my pelvis over his hard cock with abandon.
I was like a wild woman as I slid him over and within me, hitting my clit with the shaft of his dick, gasping as I took him to my full satisfaction. I was getting close and lay down fully on top of him, hands on his shoulders, moving only my pelvis until I felt him grow large inside me. Within seconds a huge orgasm took me that made my first one look puny by comparison. I slowed down, heard him groan, his hands came to my buttocks, pulling me onto him as he drove deep and held still. I felt his first strong pulses and felt them fade away as his hands came to caress my buns.
After a minute, I slowly moved off and gave him a smile. Damn, it felt good to sin this way. My husband had never been this kind to me, finishing most times before I had even come close. I didn't know what to expect now. Was I good enough for more? Was he? Would he take me home?
He took me into his arms and as we lay there caressing each other I closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about my husband, about what I had almost decided to do before I met Robb. I had been laid as I wanted. I was still living and my problems hadn't gone away. Regardless, I felt damn good for the first time in almost a year and he had proven I was a woman worth craving.
I watched as Robb got up and walked into the bathroom, emerging a few seconds later with towels in his hand. He handed one to me, wrapped one over his crotch, slide back into bed, and reached for me after I put my towel in place.
"Wendy, what do you want to do? It's almost twelve."
"Are you sorry you agreed to this?" I asked in a whisper.
"Kiss me."
I sat up and looked at him. "You just screwed me two times, and you want me to kiss you?"
"Yes, but for the record, you screwed me the second time."
For the first time in a long time I laughed–a real laugh. I felt so damned good. I had fucked Robb good and hard giving both of us pleasure. Who the hell was my piss-ant husband to tell me I wasn't a woman worth keeping? I had just proven I was to a man I had met hours ago.
I leaned down and gave him a passionate kiss worthy of an award. I sat back up and looked at him with a stupid grin. "Well?"
"It's a long walk to where you live, it's late, and I don't want to drive."
"Which means?"
"You're not a stupid woman and anyone who treats you as if you are isn't worth having in your life."
"I don't have anything to wear?"
He looked at me. "So far, that doesn't seem to be a big problem."
I realized the absurdity of my words and started to laugh. The hint of anxiety I had been feeling evaporated when his hand came to caress my breast, then grasped my shoulder pulling me down to lay on him."
"You aren't afraid I'll do something stupid are you?"
"No. You have a pistol without any bullets. So, if you want another stupid, hard fuck to make things better and not think of another way to harm yourself I'll give it to you."
- to be continued..
By R A Wallace for Literotica
