Author's Note: Now David is talking.
Emily and I had a lengthy conversation a couple weeks after our separation.
She and I met up at our home, and tried to speak on why she cheated, and what led me to subsequently doing the same.
It was simple.
"You're great in bed," she told me, but that's where it stops.
"So why cheat," I asked.
"Sherman was good, too, but he came with so much more."
She put that out there and didn't flinch, confident on where she stood with our incompatibility. I didn't dare speak on real tryst at the gym, only stating I was "locked in" with a lady from our church.
"You sent Anna off with a bang, literally," she said as she assumed it was one of our deacons she suspected.
She couldn't know I liked to bottom and so I felt more comfortable leaving the lie where it was, protecting the both of us. She would however correct herself to say that I was a great listener, and I in exchange gave her kudos for her baked ziti before we burst into laughter.
"So this marriage was based off of small things, vice substance," I asked.
"I guess so," she said, and we nodded in agreement that we needed to go our separate ways.
That same evening we laid out finances between us, from vehicles, to our two rental properties down in Florida, and tried to decide final disposition.
"The houses to be honest, you can have completely, for I don't want any proceeds from them," she said.
I pledged silently that she would still get a cut, for I might've purchased the Treasure Island houses with my own money, but she took the time solely maintaining the properties on her own, guiding renovations and maintenance, or just flying down to inspect. We shook hands, kissed and hugged as we made it official that we would part, and six months later we were in front of a judge with all settled documentation between us, allowing the lady to smack her gavel for finalization. A week later, our home was sold, and a couple days after I would fly down to Tampa International to seal the deal on the other properties for a lucrative pay day.
We both would make out quite well, but I still had some damage control to tend to.
"Hey, I know its been awhile, but how are you," I texted to Adrian.
After the first encounter between us, we had a fuck and suck ritual every Wednesday or Friday as he would tamper with me until he filled me up (orally or anally). We did it for maybe three months, then the divorce made me scarce, as did his job for him as he had an uptick in clients.
"I'm wasn't neglecting you," I told him.
"I know. But we've all been busy," he messaged back as he, too, missed our flings.
"Not too busy to suck that cock of yours," I added. "I want it when I touchdown."
He didn't respond, as it was late evening and I was naked in my hotel, stroking myself to the thought of him. Adrian was my son-in-law, for by society's standards he was beyond sexually off-limits, but he performed double duty as my lover as he gave me what I'd been desiring. The "gym buddy" might've inducted me into bottomhood, but Adrian kept me there with his hurricane tongue and deadly stroke of that fat cock. It was even more absurd to think I once thought of Adrian as a derelict, someone who fell well short of what my daughter needed in a partner, and here I was, savoring the flavor of his cum and the deep vibration of his cock. For sure I was the negative aspect in our dealings, as he handled his responsibilities and loved on his family, but made specific time to properly punch near my sphincter. I pumped out a good load that evening to the thought of this man, and the next morning, just 24 hours before my return I would text him again, as I was more horny than before.
"Will you pick me up from the airport," I asked him.
"I can do that, or I'll have Mel get you before she leaves," he told me.
I'd forgotten Melanie was going to D.C. for a work-related conference.
"The kids are with my parents for the week as they're giving me a break," he told me as he added to my jolly.
I shouldn't have been as excited as I was, but that meant the house would be completely empty, and I could give him butt whenever he required.
"Mel can grab you and we see her off together. The kids are already gone," he added.
I could admit I loved my grands, but "paw paw's" needs were far greater than me baking two racks of my infamous chocolate chip cookies. The only dessert I wanted to deal with was Adrian's curved pickle, for I wanted to taste it and feel it ricocheting off my prostate to make my hole drool. I'd bust another load before carrying on with the beautiful day, just going down to the beach for a swim, and gathering a good breakfast at Foxy's after. I finished all that before my retreat to the hotel, and I began to feel frisky again before I remained naked the remainder of the day, into night. The next morning in the wee hours I was texting both my daughter and son-in-law to remind them of my pick up.
"Mel's got you. She's gonna do a drive by of picking you up, then dropping you off before she hits the road," he told me.
I took a hot shower, and cleaned up thoroughly before bidding adieu to the Gulf town three hours later, wheels up with me having a twitching hole en route to Norfolk International. Two hours later the plane landed on a wet tarmac as rain blanketed Hampton Roads, increasing my mood to "dance" with Adrian.
