Bless This Broken Road


Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, True Story, Tear Jerker, Cheating, Cuckold, Slow, Caution, .

Desc: Drama Sex Story: Sometimes even broken roads can lead to somewhere good. Story of cheating and betrayal; domestic abuse and alcoholism; loss and recovery.

Author's Note: Just a short tale of betrayal, broken lives and learning to live with the scars that come from it. This would probably be considered a BTB (bitches & bastards) type of story. If those types of stories ain't your thing then I'd skip this one. Why waste your time?

My thanks to WindySwimming and Mostera1. WindySwimming for his editing and Mostera1 for his input. They made this story a whole lot better than when it started.

Bless This Broken Road - Written by Marcus Hummon, Bobby Boyd and Jeff Hanna Performed by multiple artists including the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Rascal Flatts

I loved just lying in bed on a Sunday morning. I admired the way the N'awlins dawn slowly began to peek over the horizon and shine through our bedroom window. Of course the fact the early morning light was gradually revealing a naked woman sleeping next to me had a lot to do with my mood.

She lay on her stomach, her head turned away from me, face buried in her pillow. But I knew she was awake, I could hear her soft, shallow breathing. I smiled realizing we were watching the same sunrise.

I gazed upon my wife's long, lean form. Her 150 pounds barely made her six foot frame look healthy. I grinned knowing now that she was finally healthy, crushed beneath her where two beautiful breasts that she frequently reminded me were 'nearly C's'. When I'd met her she was not even 130 pounds and they were 'barely A's'.

Gently I began caressing her pale skin, carefully brushing her dark curls from her shoulder. Softly I touched a small circular scar on her arm and felt her body tense. I leaned over and kissed the back of her neck.

"Shhh," I whispered into her hair.

She reached up and gently stroked my hand, her permission for me to continue. It was a ritual we'd performed many times over the past five years. Thankfully it was needed less and less. It had taken years for my wife to finally come to the place where she'd only flinch when I touched her scars.

"I love you, beanpole," I said kissing her bare skin and referring to one of her few cherished childhood memories. Beanpole had been her mother's nickname for her.

She sighed and I could barely make out her hushed words.

"I love you too, sugah ... please, please never leave me."

Carefully I traced the circular ridges that dotted her arms. They weren't as noticeable as the angry scars on her back. My beautiful, marred angel had survived a nightmarish past that had tried to crush her spirit. It had succeeded for a time but over the past eight years, she had slowly regathered her life. Jordan still struggled with her self-esteem but she continued getting stronger and more confident each month.

I studied the long, ugly scars that crisscrossed her back. They reminded me of a road map and the words of a song flashed in my head. They spoke of past relationships as being broken, jagged roads that finally lead us to our true love.

"Every long lost dream," I whispered in her ear as she softly sighed, recognizing the song. "Led me to where you are."

We all have life changing events in our past. Fate throws out all kinds of twists and turns, dip and potholes in our road of life. I guess how we deal with those times determines what kind of lives we have.

Even with her frailties and vulnerabilities my wife had an incredible strength deep inside that was only matched by her passion. It had been that strength in the midst of her weakness that had saved me. It had brought me back to life.

I was in awe of the way my wife was overcoming her past. I'd like to say I'd dealt with mine as well ... I hadn't. I'd let my worst times drive me over the edge and into the bottom of a bottle of tequila.

What put me there? That's easy. It was being betrayed by those closest to me, including my ex-wife Britney.

We got married too young. I guess that's as good is any excuse. There were lots of other things that factored in but basically we were just too immature, too stupid and confused lust for love. Well, at least one of us did anyway.

I was living in Texas at the time. I can't say a lot about my upbringing. My family consisted of my aunt and uncle, who raised me as one of their litter, along with my five cousins on a west Texas ranch.

I can't complain too much since I was fortunate not to have gone through the foster care system. Mom got knocked up by some guy and then dumped me on her sister's ranch when I was two. I never saw her again. My aunt and uncle are good enough people but I never fit in with the rest of their herd.

Life on a ranch in the middle of nowhere really is like living on another planet. I escaped when I went to college. Unfortunately after I left I had little contact with my relatives.

It was in college where I met Brit at an after game party. She was a junior and I was a sophomore and our football team had just beaten some no name school. It was as good as any other excuse for a party back then.

The kegger was held at a big, old house off-campus that had a bunch of girls living in it. My roommate had gotten an invite and I'd just tagged along. I drove since he was going to meet his girlfriend at the party and go home with her afterwards.

I fell in lust with Britney from the first moment I saw her. She was the kind of girl who looked drop-dead gorgeous when she was all dressed up. However, at the moment she wasn't the raving beauty she usually was. When I first saw her, she looked like she had been partying hard for several days. Still even with the now stringy hair and bloodshot eyes she looked hot in her skinny jeans and halter top.

She had a pretty, round face framed with bleached blonde ringlets and a nice figure. She'd gained her freshman fifteen and it looked like she carried it all in her butt. How could I tell? Well her bubble butt had the jeans she was wearing screaming to rip in places that weren't considered chic.

I felt the spark from across the crowded room when our eyes met. She tried to seductively sashay over to me. I say tried because she was obviously drunk and her sashay was more like an epileptic stagger.

After an agonizing and downright humorous thirty seconds, she finally made it over to me. She draped her arms around my neck and uttered those magic words. It's the male equivalent to 'you complete me'; a saying that has made countless female hearts beat faster.

She peered into my eyes with her big, green, unfocused eyes and then changed my life with only two words.

"Wanna fuck?" she growled.

OMG! A girl after my own nineteen-year-old heart! Tapping into my vast knowledge of the English language, I gave her my best and most romantic line in an attempt to forever win her heart to go along with that body.

"Uh, yeah."

Okay, the blood must've drained from my brain. I'm fairly intelligent, contrary to what many people may think, but I'd been drinking too!

Brit took me by the hand and led me upstairs. She took us to one of the bedrooms and opened the door. Inside was a girl riding atop some guy. As she bounced up and down on the guy, Brit stumbled into the room.

"What the fuck?" Brit yelled as she leaned against the door.

"Hey get a room!" the girl yelled back.

"This IS my room, bitch," Brit slurred. "And I think that's my ex, too! Bobby?"

"Oh shit, Brit?" the guy groaned. "Damn! That's why this room looks so familiar!" Brit pulled me back into the hallway and slammed the door.

"Assholes!" she screamed at the door.

Turning to me she tried to focus on my eyes.

"You got your own place?"

"An apartment," I replied.

"Your roommate gone?"

"He's downstairs. Probably already passed out or left with his girlfriend."

"You got a car?"

I nodded.

"How far away is your apartment?"

"About ten minutes."

"Good!" she said leading me back downstairs. "Let's see if you can get me there before I eat you!"


When we got downstairs she led me over to a blonde girl who was a few inches taller and had breasts larger than Brit's C-cups. The girl was also wasted but was obviously having a good time as she was teasing several guys and girls who were hovering around her. I wondered how long it would be before she'd probably flash them all her tits.

"Anna," Brit blurted out. "I'm going to go to umm ... what's your name?"

"Brad," I said chuckling.

Brit flashed a killer smile at me and turned back to Anna. "I'm going to Brad's apartment and fuck his brains out!"

Anna drunkenly glared at me while the group laughed. "Alright stud," she said, "let see the driver's license."

Confused I slowly pulled it out.

"Show it to me," Anna ordered.

I held it up as she dug something out of her purse. When she pulled her cellphone out I knew what she was doing. She took several pictures of my license.

"Alright, Brad Marshall, you take good care of our girl. Remember," she slurred, "we know where you live."

Brit squealed, grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the front door. "Don't wait up, Mom!" she yelled back over her shoulder.

"Mom?" I questioned.

"Yeah," Brit laughed. "She looks after me and rides my ass about things I should do. Of course she doesn't ride my ass like you're going to, right cowboy?"

.... There is more of this story ...

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