Dear John
Chapter 14

Copyright© 2017 by Matt Moreau

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 14 - He's a soldier overseas. She send him the letter: bad news.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Tear Jerker   Cheating   Slow  

It had only been a week since seeing her, smelling her, being around her, listening to her—wishing it was me in bed with her. I needed the woman, but, as I kept having to remind myself, I would never have her again, probably not any woman ever again. Even prostitutes would be avoiding me, making excuses to not be with me because I was so ugly. And now the woman, the one that used to be my woman was coming to pick me up, so I could be with our children. It would be a two hour drive if we didn’t stop to get coffee or anything. And now I was scared.

Could I do this? And what if I couldn’t. I didn’t have the money to get home by cab if it turned out that I could not do it. I was going to be trapped. But maybe it would be all right. God I hoped it would be all right.

I looked across the room to where my little clock radio announced that it was 10:00 a.m. She would be here shortly. Butterflies in my stomach ran riot in their fleshy cage. I felt like I was going to be sick. I wheeled myself fast, very fast to the bathroom. I leaned over the commode and lost the previous night’s TV dinner.

I wiped my mouth and tried to relax for a moment in my chair. I heard her knock. Talk about bad timing. I didn’t even flush the toilet as I half way raced to answer the door. It was locked; I had forgotten to unlock it and leave it slightly ajar: something I always did anymore when I knew I would be having a visitor.

“Hi,” I said, opening the door for her. She gave me a look. I must have still looked pale or upset or something.

“Uh-hi,” she said. Boy she sure did look pretty, the absolute opposite of me. I turned and wheeled back inside.

“Sam, are you okay?” she said, concern evident in her tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. She nodded, but did not look convinced.

“I need to use the bathroom, okay?” she said.

“Uh—it doesn’t smell too good, why don’t you let me flush again,” I said.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll flush it if it needs it.” She was already striding down the short hall to the bathroom.

“She was in there for what seemed a long time, but in reality was actually only a very few minutes. And she had flushed; I’d heard it.

“Sam, that was vomit in the toilet are you all right?” she said.

“Yeah, just something I ate last night,” I said. Her look was dubious.

“Sam...” she said.

“I’m fine, Abigail, okay?”

“Sam, I’m nervous too, probably more than you,” she said. She’d found me out.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, “or maybe not.” She was eyeing me and looking—suspicioous.

“Sam, last week when I visited you; well, I did it to kind of clear the decks so that we could go forward and begin doing things rightly. Know what I mean?” she said.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “But can I ask, what does your husband think of all of this? He and I didn’t talk a lot at the barbecue. And you didn’t say anything that was actually meaningful regarding him last week.”

She seemed to squirm in the seat she’d taken at my little utility table. “Look you got any coffee in there?” She nodded in the direction of the kitchenette.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. I started to wheel myself to get her the coffee, but she raised her hand to short shank me.

“I’ll get it; I’m desperate,” she said. I nodded for her to go ahead.

“You can pour me one too,” I said, to her retreating backside.

“Okay,” she said. She was back and handing me my cup in a little under a minute and a half.

“I bought them,” I said, in answer to her questioning look relating to the Denny’s cups I’d gotten for three bucks each at my favorite local diner. She nodded and smiled.

“Well good. I was afraid you’d stolen them,” she said. She was clearly kidding; well, I thought that she was kidding.

“To answer your question, Sam, he’s even more nervous than I am. Sam, we, he and I, are well aware that you feel screwed over by me. And, Sam, I will own that I did screw you over. But it’s done, and I can’t take it back nor would I. I love the man. I still have feelings for you too, but they are not the same ones I had when we were kids. I need you to know that and accept it so that we can go forward like I said, and maybe begin to feel good about each other again,” she said.

She seemed to get it that she’d stung me. The truth that I agreed with her on most everything she’d said notwithstanding.

“You still haven’t answered me,” I said.

“Sam I didn’t mean to hurt you just now, but I did need to get out into the open what my feelings are and what I think that we need to do,” she said, ignoring my last attempt to get an answer to my question about the other man position on things.

“You gonna answer me or do we just break this up right now and you go your way and I go mine,” I said. She looked taken aback at my strident insistence that she answer me.

“Sam, okay, you’re right. But, I wasn’t trying to change the subject. I was just...” She started.

“Now or never!” I said.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “So what are my husband’s thoughts in all of this? He’s worried and afraid and nervous that you will take his place, or try to, with the girls,” she said.

“Or try to? You mean that if I tried to he’d steamroll me?” I said.

“No!” she blurted. “You got that all wrong!”

“Okay then, just what is his place with the girls?” I said. I could feel my eyes narrowing. She sensed my feelings and was about to lie to me to ameliorate them.

“The truth, Abigail, the real truth. Do not try to snow a snowman,” I said. She sighed.

“The truth is he’s their daddy too. He’s been there for them since the beginning, you not so much,” she said. Her tone was strident, determined, and hurtful.

“And as relates to me? Is he the main daddy? Is that what you’re trying oh so delicately to impart to me?” I said. I wasn’t quite snarling, oh hell, yes I was.

“It’s a matter of perspective. But yes, that’s how he sees himself. He knows that you have a right to be in the babies’ lives. But he loves them too. So...”

“So I get lip service and he gets to be the real daddy, not me, right?” I said.

“It’s not like that. He will not get in the way of your relationships with the children. He will not nor would I allow that to be the case, not ever. But, he does feel that he has rights too. And he gets it Sam, he does,” she said. “He gets it that you are in tough with your disabilities, he does. But he feels that the question of fatherhood, or fatherhoods in this case, is not related to any of that.

“You’ll allow, he’ll allow or not allow. I’m just some loser who has no hope of competing with his majesty. Well, fuck him and fuck you Abigail. I get it, and I don’t like it and we’re done here!” I said.

“Sam, no! Owen’s willing to make your life as easy as it is possible to make it, and yes I do mean with a major money settlement. He’s got money, a lot of money and he can make you rich. And, he wants to. He’s sees it, I mean helping you out, as making the playing field even. But, he is also quite certain, having heard all about you, and having met you though briefly, that you would not take the money regardless of your need. So he’s in a tough spot too,” she said.

“He’s in a tough spot too? You’re kidding right? He’s got my wife. He’s got my kids. He’s got millions of dollars. He’s got powerful big money friends and influence. And he’s in a tough spot? Excuse me, but no he’s not,” I said. “I cannot believe you actually said that to me. And with me sitting right across from you; you can see what I’ve got, what I am. You see my cheap ass apartment. You’re not even trying to conceal your contempt for me. He’s in tough? Give me a fucking break!”

 
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