Dear readers: The current work has been reviewed by a few. Most agree it has flaws. It is a second half to the story “When.” You know my sick version of a love story. People objected that it was no romance. Further, it was also almost universally agreed that it could only go one of two ways. But this is fiction, right?
Thank you Vickie and all the others who helped. I am only posting it here for those who needed to see how things turned out. Forgive me but I realized that Greg would face the same life changing developments that all we fathers are faced with. Once that little person is put into your arm all that you were is lost and a whole new life begins. I think those of you who have experience this will enjoy the story.
She wrapped her fingers around my cock and gave a possessive squeeze.
“Mine,” she said
I leaned over, cupped her between the legs with my right palm.
“So this is mine?” I said.
Patty-Ann gave a laugh.
“Of course not, that’s mine as well, you silly man.”
“Doesn’t seem quite fair.”
“What’s fair got to do with it? We’re married. It wasn’t easy for me, and you sure didn’t help. The simple act of walking down that long aisle in the Cathedral was physically daunting. Have you any idea, what a sixty-thousand-dollar French lace dress with an eight-foot train is like to walk in?
“The fitting takes forever, and you have to lose weight so you can wear it. You’re required to be at least ten pounds underweight. Really, why not put up an obstacle course and make the bride wear a thirty-pound pack. Only if she gets to the altar does the groom marry her.”
She shook her head and squeezed my cock tighter.
“No mister, I jumped through all the loops now I have earned my prize. Your days of having any say over this, are done,” she said giving my genitals a good slap for emphasis.
“And don’t you dare turn those lovely blue eyes on me, Mister. I will let you have anything I have, but you belong to me,” she said and planted a passionate kiss on my lips.
Her name is Patty-Ann Shelley now, but it was Patty-Ann Tobler as in Tobler GM, Ford, Volkswagen, Honda, Subaru, and Kia. Her Dad’s that guy that makes an ass of himself on TV. However, he is very smart. She gets her brains from dad and her looks from mom. Her parents are rich. She’s the youngest of four children and the only girl, Daddy’s little princess.
I’m Greg Shelley like the Poet. Which is interesting, because I met her at University in an advanced English course on the Romantic Poets. I’m not bad looking and on the large size, but clumsy as hell. Patty-Ann says I have the sweetest baritone voice. But I’m very shy and socially awkward like all nerds. Oh, I guess I should have said that right off. I’m what is commonly referred to as a computer geek. Yet, beneath the tech exterior is buried a romantic hero. At least, that is what my new wife tells me.
“Yes, I know the wedding was hard my love, but whose fault was that? I would have married you at the Courthouse – remember, I offered,” I said.
I could immediately see her dissatisfaction and frustration with me. She is smart, as well as beautiful, and has little patience for what she sees as male stupidity.
“Marriage involves three things. First, there is love. I keep telling you that I love you. Second, there is a sacred union of two souls. It’s a sacrament for a reason—so a church is a necessity. And finally, there is the practical, social, and economic union. As in, I need a father for my children. My parents needed and wanted a big wedding, and that is the least I owed them. You are now my property. I earned you with my work and sweat.”
“Ok, but why do I belong to you but not vice versa?” I asked.
“God you are such a ninny. Look we’ve been married a week, spent near the entire time in this hotel room, and you have yet to fuck me once,” she said.
“What!? We did it four times the first night and never less than three times a day since!” I said, beginning to lose it.
She smiled like the Cheshire Cat, “No my sweet virgin. What you do is make love. Take my word for it. Fucking is something foreign to you. We had intercourse the first night four times, but you came only twice. I have way too much experience to be fooled. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and it’s beautiful and oh, so romantic. No one ever made love to me before. You were the first to take my heart and my body at the same time. I will love you till the day, I die.”
She looked at me with those deep green eyes of hers. A man could lose his soul in those eyes. I needed to be careful. My wife is the kind of woman every man wants. Sexually, she has a lot of experience. I think most women today with her looks and opportunities have significant experience.
What most men fail to see is that my wife is not like other women. Her body is soft and welcoming, but her soul is hard as diamond. She will not belong to you. Her man must belong to her, and she does not share. It is so odd to discover that a beautiful woman has the same emotions as any. She is just as possessive of her mate, and she can be jealous.
“I don’t know what you see in nerdy me,” I said.
She laughed and stroked my face, “You are beautiful my love and not just on the outside. ‘There was a rich man on finding a pearl of great price sold all he had and purchased it.’ You, my love, are my pearl of great price,” she said
Patty-Ann wrapped her arms around me, and the kiss she gave me would have melted iron, but it turned my cock to steel. We made love four times that day, but that only hid the problem.
I didn’t trust my wife. If I truly gave her all my love, would she break my heart? Was not she the pearl, and how was a man like me to keep her love. I felt like I was living next to a volcano that was sending out plumes of smoke. I was just waiting for the eruption that would kill me.
We returned from our honeymoon in time for Patty-Ann to begin her first year teaching physical education at Central High. She was also coaching the Cheer Squad. Coaching was her passion. Everything in Patty-Ann’s life orbited around the Cheerleading. That first year was good. It was just the two of us, and the fears I had coming into the marriage dissipated like fog over the ocean on a summer’s morning. But like fog, they returned when the conditions were right.
Patty-Ann was amazingly attentive. Calling me several times a day to ask where I was and what I was doing. Even on her busiest days, she took the time to check up. The unkind would say, “your wife is a bit too watchful even jealous to a fault.”
So what, we were happy. Whatever my wife took, she gave back ten fold. Every time she checked on me, I made sure to ask where and who she was with. Maybe not a perfect arrangement, but I was not complaining.
“I’m going off the pill this month,” Patty-Ann said one day.
It was the first of June. We had been married about ten months. The school year was ending. They’d renewed Patty-Ann’s contract for the next school year. She’s a planner, so I knew she’d worked it all out.
“Do I get a say?”
She gave me that look that said something like, “Just how dumb are you?”
I was getting accustomed to her raising her eyebrows at my male stupidity. I am not a wimp. I’m not. It’s just that she’s in charge, and no place more than the bedroom. From the beginning, she let me know that she’d had enough of guys getting what they wanted from her. I was there to give her pleasure.
“Look, I know what you want and need in bed, but this is new to you, so I will teach you what I need and want,” she said. “Fair is fair. You get yours, and I get mine.”
At first, I feared we might be sexually incompatible. She was so much more experienced. All those jocks had had her.
“Greg, please enough. I have to teach tomorrow.”
“I’m just trying to make you happy.”
“I don’t have to orgasm a dozen times a night to be happy. Half a dozen is more than adequate. Stop trying to compete with the whole football team. The backfield is quite enough.”
The sex was good. I was happy, and she said she was happy. So everything was great. Oh, I sometimes felt a bit challenged in the ego department. A man should rule his home or, at least, have a say. But you need to face facts. My wife was beautiful, and she earned the money. What she didn’t earn her parents gave us, our house, her Mercedes, my overpowered Ford.
We live in a modest three-bedroom in a well-established development about twenty minutes from her parents McMansion of a home. Patty picked the house. She consulted with me, but what did I know of houses.
“I want you to be happy living here,” she said.
“I will be happy as long as we are together. No matter where we live,” I said.
“But what do you think? It has three bedrooms, The master bedroom is a bit small, but there is two good size rooms for the children. They will have the space they need,” she said.
“We have no children,” I said.
“It’s for when we do,” she said beginning to get frustrated.
“Well, I love it then. It’s perfect.”
Her parents put down half the purchase price. They would have paid it all, but she wouldn’t let them.
“We need to be independent,” she said, but the We — was really only her.
.... There is more of this story ...