My wife left me, not that it was unexpected. We had been cordial to one another, but our sex live was nil. What with our conflicting schedules, we saw little of one another. She would go to the gym three nights a week and often came home with a just-fucked glow. One night, I decided I'd check and see if she actually did go to the gym, or if she was perhaps engaged in other extracurricular activities. I knew a balcony overlooked the workout area and I could not be easily seen if she were to look. Of course, when I went to the gym, she wasn't there. I did this several times. About one time out of three she'd be there; the other nights, who knew where she was?
The thought of her with another man aroused me so much that one night when she came home with "that look," I just had to fuck her. I wouldn't take no for an answer this time. She said she had to shower first, that she was all sweaty from the gym. "Yeah, right," I thought. The man she'd been with had to be huge! I literally had to bang one side of her stretched pussy at a time to get any feeling. When I went down on her, I noticed the shower hadn't removed all of the cum. I had it all over my beard. It was shortly after this night that she left me.
I was in torture for weeks. One day at work I was confiding my feelings to a friend. She said her mother, Marcia, had recently gone through the same experience. Her husband had left her for a younger woman. She said her mother had always wanted to ride on a Harley—the one toy my wife left me in the divorce. So we made arrangements to get together the next Saturday. Our HOG Chapter was sponsoring a charity poker run for the local shelter. I invited her to go along. All day, her face literally glowed with excitement. She mentioned that she loved to go to Chicago, and had always wanted to go to a blues club. We decided to extend our day into the evening. Luckily, I had a change of clothes on the bike.
She said she'd like to shower first because it took her longer to get ready and she wanted to look nice for me. While she was in the shower, I noticed she'd left her clothes on the end of her bed—her panties were on top. I listened to see if the shower was still running. I carefully noted their position so I could return them correctly, then I picked them up and smelled them. Evidently, the vibrations from the Harley, the excitement of the day, the prospects for an evening on the town; combined with the fact that she hadn't had sex with anyone since her husband had left her, all combined to cause her to deposit huge amounts of pussy juice in her panties. Damn, they smelled and tasted so good. I heard the shower turn off so I returned them and scooted out of her room.
We took her car downtown because of the night chill and made our way to the blues club on the north side of the city. After a short wait outside, we were seated in a raised area with a good view of the stage. It was a small room with crowded ice-cream-parlor tables and uncomfortable chairs. The stage was raised from the main seating area, but was level with us.