Clark Kent or Superman? - Cover

Clark Kent or Superman?

Copyright© 2005 by RPSuch

Ending

Erotica Sex Story: Ending - When he catches his wife cheating, will he be the mild-mannered reporter or the man of steel?

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Humor   Cheating   Slow  

Responding to the large number of requests I wrote this ending to Clark Kent or Superman? It is one of several possible endings I envisioned, one of the more likely ones to me. I hope it satisfies the readers looking for an extension to the original. If not, imagine your own ending - it's fun.


Barry returned shortly with Linda. Damn! Each one was better looking than the last. How could somebody like Barry attract all these incredible women? Ouch. Stupid question! I had been marginalizing Barry because of our situation. He was actually very good looking, model quality. He was very bright, good job, well read, interesting and pretty amusing if he would give up that damn sarcasm. He was what most women would consider a very good catch. That's why I married him.

I could see now that I had not given this whole thing quite as much thought as it required.

"Welcome to our home, Linda." Rudeness hadn't worked. Politeness couldn't do any worse.

Barry gave me a funny look but he didn't say anything.

"Thank you, Grace," she said. It wasn't quite a question, but there was a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

They ambled up the stairs. She looked back once. Barry looked back several times. At least I had succeeded in throwing him off his game for the moment, whatever that was. It was a start. I needed a good night's sleep.

I got it. They left before I even got up. Oh, yeah, that early meeting.

I wasn't worth much at work. I don't know that anybody noticed, but I was distracted. When I got home, I decided to get some help.

"Hello?"

"Hi mom."

"Grace, it's nice to hear from you. What do you want? I can hear it in your voice."

"Well, I'm having a problem with Barry."

"What did you do?"

"Why do you always assume it's me?"

"I know you and I know Barry. What did you do?"

"He's treating me terribly. He tells me I'm a lousy cook. He says I'm not that interesting. He even took some other woman to the opera because he said she knows more about it than me."

"He what?" I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "That makes no sense. Why would he do something like that?"

Damn. Once again I hadn't thought it out. What the hell kind of reason could I give her? I couldn't think of a thing. I was taking too long to answer.

"What did you do, Grace?" She knew. Not the details, but she knew.

"He caught me cheating on him." This was unflattering enough. I didn't want to confess the whole story.

"He's angry. He has a right to be. Grace, how could you?"

"He's not, he isn't there for me enough, physically. I thought I was entitled to more. And he wouldn't miss it since he's not that interested."

"He's not interested or he doesn't do it as much as you want? Grace, how did you get so selfish?"

"You guys made me selfish. You spoiled me. Anything I wanted I got. How could I turn out any other way?"

"So it's my fault you cheated on Barry? I thought it was his fault. Make up your mind. You know, you've become the American ideal. You have no responsibility for anything you do. It's always somebody else's fault."

Why did everybody have to give me such a hard time? They made me selfish. You'd think she would understand. "You always take his side. Why can't you support me for a change?"

"You come and tell me he cheated on you and I'll tell you he's a rotten bastard. Do you really expect me to condone what you've done? I can't even think of enough adjectives to describe what an awful thing that was to do. At least he hasn't left you."

"He still could."

"It would serve you right."

"Mother! How about some support? I can't talk about this with you. I'm getting off." Shouldn't your own parents take your side once in a while? Why couldn't anybody understand my side? Small wonder I turned out like I did.

The afternoon passed very slowly. Finally, I heard him at the door. He was alone.

"Barry, we have to talk."

"Because that's what you want, Grace?"

"All married couples have problems, Barry."

"So this is just a typical marital problem? You want me to leave the toilet seat down?"

"You know what I mean." I hope. I don't know what I mean, but I wanted to talk. I wanted him to understand.

"I'm afraid I do. The world revolves around what Grace wants."

"Am I that self-centered, Barry?"

"You cheated on me and you plan to keep doing it no matter what I say or do. Where would you put that on the scale of self-centeredness?"

"Maybe I wouldn't be this way if you didn't let me get my way all the time." Oh, God, did I say that?

Barry had a funny look on his face. Was it the "last straw" look? "Am I responsible for the good things you do too? Or is this one of the good things? Is there ever anything at all you do that is your responsibility?" He headed for the stairs.

"Barry. We still have things to talk about."

He turned. "We've talked."

I could hear him rummaging around upstairs. I couldn't tell if he was trying to make noise or if that was what it took for whatever he was doing. He came down carrying an overnight bag.

"Going out to fuck your girlfriend?" I was not in friendly, gracious mode.

"I shouldn't tell you this. I'm following your rules, but I think it's wrong to cheat so I don't think I'm going to do it. I am staying out though. I'll see you tomorrow after work."

"Can't even stay here anymore? Why don't you move out? You're obviously going to dump me." Why can't I keep my fucking mouth shut? I started this whole thing and I keep making it worse. Why do I have to come back at every challenge?

"We're close to that. I need to get away from you if we're even going to have a chance. You think about nobody but yourself. You're toxic right now and I don't want it affecting my thinking."

"You're going to..." Finally I managed to shut my mouth before I said something stupid instead of after. I looked at him, but it wasn't the challenging look I usually have. It was accepting. He didn't even say goodbye.

I didn't know what I wanted, and I didn't know what to do to get it even if I could figure it out. I wasn't able to figure it out so I wallowed in self-pity. Why not? If everything is about me, then self-pity should be the best kind of suffering I could experience.

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