3 Recycling
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2007 by Onagerian Surmise

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Many things can be recycled. Shapes may change, compositions altered; purpose can be found or formed anew. But... can an old love be recycled? Or... can true love be salvaged?

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic  

I don't know how long I had been standing in the garage that fateful recycling night, thinking back to college while staring at the letter that Jen had put into her office trash can. I must have been there a while to cause Jen to leave our bedroom and come down to see if I was alright.

She appeared in the doorway into the house, and my heart jumped up into my throat. No one else could ever evoke the depth of feelings that woman causes inside me. She was wearing a translucent black night gown that her lush body transformed into an erotic sculpture.

But seeing her breathtaking beauty now was just heart breaking. How could she have done this? How could I look at her, ever again, without seeing Larry on top of her? Thinking of how tears had filled her eyes as she thought of having to forgo her secret lover... for me?

Jen's smile faded as she saw me staring at her, straining to keep my expression calm and neutral. I tried to be as casual as I could as I folded the letter and put it in my back pocket. Before she could speak, I preempted her with a stumbling apology.

"Hey, babe, I'm sorry... but after that nap I'm pretty wide awake now. I'll come join you in a little bit, okay?"

She looked at me in concern. She came to me and wrapped her arms around me. I hoped she didn't detect my recoil from her touch. She pulled back to look at me from arms length.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly. "You look like something's upset you."

"I'll be fine." I did my best to come up with a cover story. "I guess I've got more things from work going through my head than I realized."

"Are you sure you don't want to come up now?" she asked softly. "I'm sure we could come up with something to take your mind off your troubles."

I tried to chuckle convincingly.

"No... I think I'd be too... distracted. Why don't you go on up, and I'll join you in a bit."

She looked at me carefully. I hadn't lied to her about anything in decades, other than what she was getting for her birthday. It felt like she was reading every thought going through my head.

"Okay," she said finally. "Just be sure to wake me up when you do."

She gave me a kiss that I ended somewhat abruptly, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. After another probing look, she turned and went back into the house.


After Jen went back upstairs, I spent some time driving myself nuts, thinking insanely about divorce and private investigators.

I finally came up with something I could do (I mean, besides trying not to throw up) that wasn't guaranteed to immediately ruin my marriage. It was partly crazy and definitely stupid, but it was something.

I went to Jen's office and found Debbie's number in her rolodex. I knew that she and Jen had caught up at last week's sorority reunion in Seattle. After college she had remained close friends with Jen, but I thought that if I caught her by surprise I might be able to tell if she was covering for her.

Like I said, it was stupid.

She answered the phone after only a couple rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Debbie! It's me, Gerry. I hope I'm not waking you up, am I?"

"Hey, Gerry! No, I'm up... Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, we're fine. Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was sitting here thinking about the fun you girls had getting together last week, and it reminded me I hadn't talked to Larry in long time."

This is where I craftily paused, hoping to tell from her tone of voice whether Larry had been seen at the reunion.

But Debbie didn't miss a beat.

"Oh? I don't have his number, if that's what you're asking about. I haven't seen him in years."

"Oh, that's too bad. I thought there might have been guys at the reunion from the fraternity that your sorority hooked up with a lot."

She snorted. "I couldn't make the first night dance. Jen said there were a few guys there that were single or had white lines where their wedding rings usually were. She said they were kind of creepy. I didn't ask who they were, though. I'm sure she would have told me if Larry had been there."

"Alright, well, I knew it was a long shot. I'm not very good at Google searching, so I thought I'd take the lazy man's way. So was it party party party last week? I know all about you sorority girls."

She laughed. "No, us old broads don't stay up that late any more. The closest we got to wild was the one night we had too much wine. But I'm sure Jen told you about that."

"Yes, she told me how you got her so drunk she had to sleep at your house."

Debbie giggled. "That girl never could keep a secret. Like at the sorority we used to say 'telephone, ' 'telegraph, ' or tell-a-Jen."

"You're making that up."

"See, I can't keep secrets from you either."

"I suppose not. Well, thanks, Deb. I'm glad I didn't wake you."

"Uh... sure. That's... that's all you called for, was to ask about Larry?"

"Yeah, I know, it's stupid I guess."

"Hey, no problem. Have you asked Jen about that first night? She would have seen him if he'd been there."

I quickly had to make up something. Why wouldn't I have asked Jen before asking Debbie?

"She said she hadn't seen him, but she said there were a lot of people there, so she might have missed him."

Debbie paused for a long moment. "Yeah... I'm sure that could've happened. Sorry I can't help."

"No problem. Well, thanks again, Deb."

"Any time, Gerry. Take care."

"You too, Deb. Bye."

"Bye."


After talking to Debbie, I became mentally and physically inert. I sat on the couch watching the late night TV talk shows, a glass of whiskey on ice in my hand, the bottle on the end table at my elbow.

I still didn't know what to do. Given the letter in my hand and what Debbie had said, I had to conclude that Jen had been with Larry that first night of the reunion. I didn't know what else to do; calling Debbie was about as far as my nerves could take me.

It was late by then, and I knew I should go to bed. But since Jennifer had sex on her mind, I didn't think I could. She'd be able to tell that something was wrong, and I wasn't ready for that kind of confrontation.

But what would I say in the morning? I couldn't hide from her forever. But I couldn't bear the thought of losing her, either.

So I did the brave thing.

I got completely drunk and fell asleep on the couch.


"Honey?"

I barely heard the gentle voice. I kept my eyes shut tight.

"Wake up, Gerry. Please?"

I tried to roll away from her, but she grasped my shoulder firmly to stop me.

"Let's go get you in the shower, baby. Please? Honey? Come with me," she cooed gently.

I opened my eyes to see Jen on her knees, her hand on my shoulder, with a concerned look on her face. I grunted, and with her help managed to get to a sitting position.

It was then that I saw the letter clutched in her hand. I gasped, and an overwhelming feeling of nausea rose up inside me. I saw her eyes widen with recognition, and then I was up and stumbling towards the downstairs bathroom propped up by Jennifer, my other hand clamped over my mouth trying to keep the bile inside.

We turned at the bathroom doorway, and I dropped to my knees just in time to empty my stomach into the toilet in a wrenching sequence of prolonged contractions. They kept coming, even when there was nothing left inside, serving no purpose other than to cause more pain.

I eventually was able to fall back and sit against the wall. Jen gave me a damp washcloth to wipe my face, and I felt the faint beginnings of normalcy.

When I was finally able to look at my wife, I tried to read her as well as she could read me.

Was as it guilt I saw? No, it was sadness. No, it was... understanding. Or was it sympathy? Finally, I came to feel it was best described as a look of... determination.

Studying her expressions was only adding to my misery, so I closed my eyes tight again, tight against the pain. If I kept staring at her beautiful face, I knew I'd be lost. I knew that I'd accept anything to keep her. I'd happily believe anything she said. I'd willingly dissolve myself, from being a man, to being... her fool.

Eventually, I reluctantly opened my eyes to see her concerned face, patiently waiting for me to revive. She reached down to take my hand, and pulled to help me stand.

"Come on," she said, and tugged on my hand, pulling me up the stairs, and on into our bedroom and its master bath. She got the water going in the shower, helped me get out of my clothes, and pushed me in.

And I still didn't know what to say to her.


When I eventually emerged, I felt almost like a human being again. Jen had set out a big fluffy towel and my bathrobe next to the sink, where I found a toothbrush with toothpaste already on it waiting for me. I could smell coffee from somewhere, and after brushing I ventured out into our bedroom.

Jennifer was there, sitting on the bed, a tray with a coffee pot and cups on the adjacent dresser. She smiled and patted the space next to her. I stumbled out and sat, gratefully taking the cup she poured for me.

I had absolutely no idea where to begin. But before I could come up with another stupid idea, Jennifer sucked in a big breath of air, and began.

"Honey... I didn't want to tell you about this; and there's a reason for that. But... well, we need to talk."

I mentally braced myself, fearing the worst. Was this where my life veered off course and slammed into a bridge abutment, leaving me in constant pain until the end of my days?

Jen squared her shoulders as if resolving to make a leap into the unknown.

"I've been in love with you from the first week we met," she said firmly.

I blinked in surprise. That was a good thing... but... I was still waiting for the hammer to fall.

"I liked everything I saw in that first week, and they're the reasons why I still love you today. Like the way you can always make me smile. How smart you are. How you've always respected me and my opinions. How gorgeous you are. And that... you love me, too."

She stopped and looked away. "But when we first met... I was with Larry."

She felt me flinch at the mention of his name. She tried to smile, but it didn't come across very well. I realized she was just as anxious as I was.

"I couldn't just drop him for you out of the blue... I did have feelings for him. It would have been cruel. And besides," she said, in a nervous rush, "if you saw me be mean like that to Larry, you might not have gone out with me.

"Then, before I could get the nerve to start letting Larry down gently, you started dating Debbie! That just about drove me nuts. And, well, this is where I... I'm going to try to tell you something that I've never told anyone before. I'm not very proud of it."

Her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. She took another deep breath. "You know how Larry and I kind of... separated a lot? But I kept coming back to him?"

I nodded cautiously.

"Well, the main reason I did that, was because... that way I could... stay close to you," she said, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "Keeping him and me in the study group, going on double dates with you and Debbie... I pushed Larry and Debbie to do those things, to stay near you."

The moisture in her eyes spilled over into tears and she sniffled softly, but her expression remained determined.

"I really didn't like myself for that, for using Larry like that. I mean, neither of us was ready to settle down and get married back then. But... but what if he missed out on meeting the love of his life, because he thought he had me?"

Her sniffles continued, and I could feel her gently shaking next to me. I couldn't help myself. When I reached over and gently rubbed her back, her head rose up to look at me with startled gratitude.

When her crying finally shuddered to a stop, she jumped up to get some tissues to dry her eyes. Then she sat down on the bed next to me again, and continued her story.

 
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