Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, BiSexual, TransGender, Paranormal, Group Sex, Harem, Pregnancy, Transformation, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Henry Lyle. Professor, Husband, and according to his ex-wife, Lesbian. One death later, and he discovers that sometimes you don't have to believe to be affected.
Even a stopped clock is right twice a day. Unless of course it's a digital, and then it's only right once a day. And then there's that whole thing about the twenty four hour clock and whether your clock shows four zeros, or a one, a two and two zeros while it's blinking.
But no matter how you use or interpret that old expression, the fact remains that my ex-wife was right. Just a little right, and not in the way she was certain of on that day that she left me.
Jess, well, was a beautiful woman. I'm not going to pretend otherwise and try to make myself feel better. She had that gorgeous shade of red gold hair that I'm certain was evolved for the sole purpose of turning me on. Her face was a round study in gentle slopes, enchanting in the way that it drew your gaze to her exquisite green eyes. To add even more pain to my loss, she had a body that drew the eye of every man who saw her.
But she was crazy. Not frothing at the mouth, voices in her head, evil monkey in the closet crazy, but emotionally not right. She latched on to things, wouldn't let them go for anything, and then a month later, some new obsession. She called it being a "dilettante", but after the thirtieth oath of fealty to some new trend, I just gave up trying to understand.
I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when she told me that our marriage didn't count.
"Not really," Jess continued, brushing a bit of her hair out of her face.
I looked around the beach that we were walking along, and tried to stay calm. It was a deeply overcast day, typical for Monterey in the late fall. Jess had been on a fitness kick, and as a result our early mornings had been spent walking up and down a long stretch of sand that lay only a mile from our apartment.
"Jess, I have no Idea what you're talking about," I began, totally bewildered by the topic. We had been discussing history, one of the only subjects that we both enjoyed. The fact that it was the subject I taught also made it one of our frequent issues.
"Our relationship is lesbian," Jess said flatly. It was eerie how calmly she had said it. It was almost as if she had asked for a glass of water.
"Wait, that makes absolutely no..." I blurted, before she cut me off.
"We've always been lesbian lovers." Jess continued, "In all of our incarnations throughout our relationship."
"What are you talking about?" I still was having trouble wrapping my head around her first comment, and this was rapidly progressing into the crazy zone.
"My high priest says that it's the reason we can't have children."
That one hurt. Yeah, we were an infertile couple. Hell, we'd been together for seven years, off the pill for four and still no success. We'd seen a doctor, and the problem was with Jess. For far too many reasons, her body wasn't interested in reproducing with me. Not that we'd done it very much in the last year. For a lot of reasons we hadn't been close physically as often as I'd have liked. And why the fuck was she talking to her "priest" about us? I admit I don't understand a whole lot about her religion, but I never criticized her for it. Being a Wiccan was her choice, and I respected it.
"Look honey, this is a little..."
"And I think he's right. You're not male in your manner." Jess smiled at me with one of those infuriating condescending smiles that only a woman who thinks she knows a secret can give.
"How do you mean?" I asked, not trying to contradict her. I'd been with my wife long enough to know that arguing with her was counterproductive. Occasionally, if she talked something out long enough, she'd get my point, but trying to get her there via direct action was pointless.
"You know that past life regression that I was planning on getting?" She explained, as we continued to walk along the beach. The crashing waves on the pale sand were a perfect reflection of the knots that coursed through my stomach as she talked. I merely nodded at her, concentrating on her words.
"Well, the thing is, we've never been together as man and wife before. We've been together about four times, but every time we were both women." The words were just bizarre to me. I knew that she was talking about reincarnation, but it was just another of her phases. At least that's what I was hoping.
"And I've always been wife to my priest." She concluded, looking at me with a fond, but definitely chilly smile.
"So," I paused for a moment before continuing. Was she leaving me? "You're saying our marriage doesn't count."
"And I want to be with my soul mate."
"But you said we were together." I argued, breaking my "don't argue with your wife, because you won't win" rule.
"As lovers. Not permanent, baby." Jess sighed. "And I think we've been together long enough."
"So, that's it?" I asked, stopping to look at her. The sound of the waves behind us echoed in my ears, and my breath came slowly and raggedly. Seven years. The two words rolled around my mind.
"You were a beautiful woman, Henry." The smile on her face was loving, but regretful. "I've always been a little jealous of you that way."
"Oh not in this life." Jess laughed, "In the past. I always wished I could be like you. That's why we became lovers, after all."
"Jess, I love you." I said the words that I truly wasn't sure of anymore. I had never really been sure about it, but I was willing to stick with it. Hell, we'd married far too young. Two eighteen year olds and virgins at that.
"It was when I slept with him the first time that I realized it." Jess said flatly. She didn't even try to blunt the edge.
Her verbal knife struck me in the guts, twisted, and then proceeded to puree my intestines. I hadn't even suspected, hadn't even thought about the possibility of her ... cheating. Ice ran up and down my nervous system, causing a shudder to flow through me. I felt the pinpricks of moisture behind my eyelids as I looked at my wife, standing there confidently.
"You've never been my husband, and I don't love you as a male." Jess shrugged her shoulders.
"You can't be serious about this."
"Henry, I was afraid that you'd be like this. I respected you when you insisted on staying with that patriarchal religion, but you never were willing..."
"We're MARRIED." I blurted out, unable to contain the pain any longer. "Ok, fine, you cheated on me. We survived worse. We'll move on and..."
"You're not listening to me. We're not married." Jess interrupted me angrily. The calm that she had worn like a mask had vanished, and her words bore caustic venom. "I filed for divorce last year."
"Wait, you..." I boggled, looking at a small envelope that she had produced from her pocket.
"Here." She handed me the small package.
I tore the small envelope open, revealing a legal document. As I began to read she continued.
"I knew that you'd never agree to a divorce, so I forged your signature on the notification and settlement agreement."
"Those are felonies." I pointed out as I rapidly read over the decree. No alimony, shared property already divided to mutual satisfaction...
"Only if you press charges, and can prove it." Jess smirked. "You're free, and I'm free. That's what we swore to each other when we were lovers before."
"But..." I looked around at the beach. There was no one in sight, and the normally comforting beach seemed hostile.
"Live for today, Henry. Our love was sweet, but it's not supposed to happen in this life." Jess looked at me, and her anger seemed to cool somewhat.
"So, just like that it's over?" I goggled. "Just because you get convinced that there's some magical reason that you can go sleep with uh ... what's his name..."
"Raven and I are meant to be together."
"Right, right. You and bird-boy are meant to be together, so you just dump seven years of marriage."
"He's a MAN." She stated. She left out the "and you're not..."
"Jess, look," I swallowed my pride and took a deep breath. "I love you, and I'm willing to let this go. But if you..."
"Then let me go." She looked at me with a challenge in her eyes.
There was a moment of pain. It was over, and I knew it. My heart throbbed, not only at her betrayal, but at her confidence. She knew I'd never want to hurt her, even if she deserved it. She knew I'd never deny her anything. And the worst part of all was, she knew I'd have to let her go.
"Just ... just go." I nodded. Well, time to be the responsible adult and give her some time. "I'll work late tonight, and I don't expect..."
"Actually, you're leaving. Raven's moving in and I expect you to be gone."
"Fuck you." I snarled with an impulsive anger. She'd pushed me as far as I was willing to go for the love I still had for her, or at least thought I had. "My name on the lease. You leave."
"Our names are on the lease, and..." Jess smiled again, and I knew she was going to try something.
"Wrong." I interrupted her. "Ten months ago we renewed the lease. Oh, let's see, where were you?"
"I was there."
"Not last time." I grinned at her. "If I recall you had a meeting to go to."
"But it's been OUR name on the lease every time." She complained with a hurt sound in her voice.
"Landlord wouldn't put a non-signer on the lease. He's kinda a stickler about legality." I emphasized the last word, drawing a slight cringe from her.
"You're free, Jess. It's what you wanted. "I smirked right back at her, imitating her earlier expression.
"You know that I need..." Jess began, turning on her superior attitude once again.
"What? You win, Jess. You want out of the marriage, you got it. You didn't want me to know, fine. You don't want me to nail your ass for perjury and forgery, you got it. You want me to hunt for an apartment with no notice, pack up everything, try to explain to the college why I need to have somebody else teach my classes and deal with finding a date for the faculty party this weekend, well fuck you." I rambled, trying to collect myself.
Jess stared at me for a long moment. She breathed deeply, a flash of anger crossing her features.
"You always were a bitch, Henry." She turned, and walked away from me, not even sparing me a backwards glance as she walked along the beach.
I stood there for a long time, watching her as she faded into a blur in the distance. I didn't know where she was going, and at that moment, I truly didn't care. I kept thinking about what she had said to me. The knot in my stomach lessened slightly as I finally lost sight of her. It lingered throughout the day: through every lecture, every paper I graded, and every email I answered. I kept visualizing my apartment, and removing every snippet that reminded me of Jess.
It was almost impossible to do. So much of what we had created in that apartment was caught up in the identity of "us." Hell, even our glasses had been a joint purchase. All I kept seeing was a void in my life where my wife once stood.
It was very late when I finally made the turn onto our street, and parked my not quite gracefully aging Studebaker into the small parking alcove. I ascended the concrete steps to our apartment, noting the dark windows. I easily opened my door and looked into the main room.
Jess had taken a lot. She hadn't taken everything, but there was more than enough missing to make the place look like someone had just moved in. No notes, no messages. It wasn't like her, but then I was starting to wonder if I ever really understood Jess. We had met in high school, been the couple that everybody expected to marry right out of high school, and ended up meeting everyone's expectations. Even during college, neither one of us had strayed, living in a little apartment, scraping by.
And now it was over, my mind sniggered. Somewhere in my brain a viscous little imp hammered away at me, reminding me of every sexual and emotional fuck-up I ever had. Remember that time you popped one second after getting inside Jess? Remember when you forgot her birthday that one year after you got that professorship? Oh wait, that was last year, wasn't it? Remember when you tried to get Jess into a three-way with that girlfriend of hers, oh let's see Henry-boyo, about three years ago? She sure wasn't happy about that.
It was relentless as I stumbled through the apartment, dropping my laptop case on the couch, one of the only things remaining in the apartment. I remembered that we had put the damn thing together inside, since we had to disassemble it to get it in the door. Another memory of my marriage.
She was sure beautiful that time, Henry. And wasn't it nice when she told you how she wanted to break in the couch. Wanted to try for a baby, didn't she. Good times. My, my, maybe you should have gone to that circle, or whatever the hell she called it. Maybe if you'd been there...
I willed the self reproach to the back of my mind, trying to get myself past the horrid feelings. She should have TOLD me. I would have forgiven her. I would have done ... anything for her.
I opened the refrigerator, noting that Jess hadn't taken any of the food. I wasn't hungry, but the thought of making something was pleasant. I noted that my weekend six-pack was still there, and for a moment, I was tempted. The urge to drink, and lose my sorrow in oblivion was strong.
And you DO drink too much, buddy. Didn't Jess always tell you that? Oh yeah, so many great leaders and professors drink. That's the lie you always tell yourself. Well, you and your beer will have plenty of time now.
I winced, yanking my hand back from the refrigerator. I knew I wasn't an alcoholic, and I could prove it very easily. I just wouldn't have a drink. No problem. It was an easy thing to close the door and walk out of the small kitchen.
I sat down on the couch, and stared at the blank wall that until this morning had held our small entertainment center. There was a large outline on the wall, a lighter shade than the off white paint that surrounded it. I groaned, realizing that I had intended to lose myself in electronic oblivion, which was just as much of a cop-out as the alcohol.
I wanted to sob. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the couch out in the window in frustration. I had lost her.
You are an abject failure, Professor Lyle. What were those dreams you had? Dreamed about inspiring the world? Dreamed about a wife, kids. Faculty parties, heh, maybe a cute little coed or two on the side.
I bit my lip as that thought ran across my mind. Yes, I had fantasized about cheating on my wife. My first year teaching, and there had been opportunities to be a slimeball. There had been the students with "grade problems". There had been the chance. And I hadn't taken it.
And now she's with hippie boy. Isn't that great? Bet she's having some kind of wild sex orgy that you only dreamed about. Oh sure, she was the Virgin Mary when you met, but she's probably on her hands and knees, begging for...
I balled my hand into a tight fist, and slammed it down on my thigh. The sharp twinge of pain silenced the evil thoughts running through my head. She was GONE. I had to accept that. I had to, or I would drive myself insane.
I don't know how long I sat there. I found myself vacillating between intense self hatred, and constant thoughts about what Jess might be doing RIGHT NOW. I found myself replaying every conversation we had ever had, looking for the little clues, the little spots where I should have known. I should have known.
It was finally the alarm blaring from my room that pulled me out of my solitude. I turned, looking at the cracked door, and wondered what had possessed Jess to leave the alarm. The very next realization was that it was morning, and I had spent the entire night moping on the couch. I must have dozed at some point, but I couldn't recall it.
I grimaced, and pulled myself to my feet. My stomach grumbled softly, and I stumbled to the bathroom. The first thing that I noticed was that my wife had taken the shower curtain. I scavenged through the wasteland of clean countertops, finally locating a razor and a bar of soap.
Refreshed for the day, I slapped together a small breakfast, before grabbing my case off the couch and hurriedly exiting the apartment. It was a short drive to the college, and from there only a short walk to my office. I know for a fact I was distracted on my drive to work, since I heard many more horns than I am used to on my commute.
Once I was back in my office, I could think. I had classes to teach today. I flipped on the small CD player that lay on my filing cabinet, and glanced at the schedule. I knew my classes, but it helped to center me a bit. First class, let's see ... Rise and fall of the Crusader Kingdoms. A master's class. That would help a bit. Shouldn't have too much trouble turning off the emotional brain there.
I quickly ran a comb through my hair, since my wife had taken the liberty of removing the vast majority of our grooming implements from the house, and left my office, heading for my class.
It wasn't until my first freshman class that I ran into trouble. Normally, professors are able to pass off the kiddy classes to the master's students, but as a second year professor, I still enjoyed teaching. I talk too much when I hit a subject I like. It's a fact, and I've accepted it, but it makes an hour class go by very quickly.
I had just finished roll, and was about to begin my lecture, when I heard a loud coughing in the center of the lecture hall, accompanied by a wildly waving raised hand. My eyes drifted down the arm, taking in the shape of one of the SILF's in the class. Yes, I had Students I'd Like to Fuck. This one was a perky little brunette, who always wore tight t-shirts. Always.
"Professor Lyle?" She asked immediately after I acknowledged her, "Uhm, is it true?"
"Is what true, uh..." I glanced at the student roster, not wanting to accidentally call the student "tits" which is what I had nicknamed her in my internal monologue. " ... Trish?"
"About your wife and Raven?" Trish asked bluntly.
"Ok. Moving on," I ignored the question and flipped to the first PowerPoint slide. "Thomas Jefferson was not convinced that being the president of the United States was the height of his political career. In fact, on his tombstone..."
"Raven from high school?" A female voice spoke loudly, echoing in the quiet room.
" ... ahem. His Tombstone does not even mention..."
"Yeah, I heard that he..." Another voice spoke up.
" ... She's only like seven years older ... I didn't sleep with him, but I heard ... he's running that circle up in ... heard that she just left him ... that's so sad ... heard that Professor Lyle's gay..." The voices circulated in the darkened lecture hall. I couldn't keep track, as my class degenerated into a gossip pit. I closed my eyes, swallowed, and then walked to the light switch.
I flipped the lights up and down repeatedly, and the class slowly quieted. I waited until the silence was total, before leaving the lights on and returning to the podium at the front of the room.
"Ok," I began, looking around at the curious faces of my students. "Yeah. My wife left me. Moving on. Jefferson."
"Professor Lyle?" Trish's hand was again raised, and I acknowledged her again with a quick gesture of my left hand. "Is it true about you being gay?"
That one shook me for a moment, before I realized that if whoever was telling the story had gotten it slightly wrong, it could be construed very badly.
"First of all, whether I am straight or gay has nothing to do with this class," I answered, watching my words carefully. "Secondly, I have been married for seven years, draw your own conclusions. Back to Jefferson."
I heard a few more whispers throughout the class, but they seemed to calm down a bit as I continued my lesson. Losing myself in my lectures was a simple feat, and I almost felt normal again as I finished up. It was only after I had dismissed the class, and began closing up my computer that I was again confronted with my situation.
"Uhm, Professor?" I turned to find my eyes drawn once again to a very tight t-shirt, and the luscious breasts contained therein. Forcefully, I dragged my gaze upwards to look into the face of Trish.
"Yes?" I asked, looking into her dark brown eyes. For a moment I was struck by how enchanting they were. They were like dark pools in a shining bright face, surrounded by more of the same in her lustrous mane of dark brown.
"You never answered my question." She smiled at me with an expression that seemed far too amused.
I was only twenty six. I was tempted. However, my mind went directly to my sexual harassment classes, mandatory for all professors.
"I'm not going to answer that question, Ti -Trish," I almost used the nickname. I had to stop doing that.
"Why not? It's just a question," Trish asked again. I noticed that most of the class had already exited the room. Why was she still here? Didn't she have another class to get to?
"It's an inappropriate question for a history class." I wet my lips with my tongue as I finished securing my laptop. I didn't have another class to teach for at least an hour...
"So ... class is over. Are you gay?" Trish was relentless. I found my gaze dropping again to her breasts, and down further towards her tight jeans. I found my cheeks beginning to burn softly as I looked at her. It had been so long since I'd had a good fuck.
"No." I spoke the word softly, looking right at her crotch. The jeans were tight too, and I found myself contemplating what sort of pussy she had. I wondered if she was one of those shaven girls, or she went with the landing strip...
"Cool. That's all." Trish spoke brightly, and turned to leave. My eyes roamed over her backside as she ascended the steps to the double doors at the top of the lecture hall. I realized that I had begun to get an erection as I looked at her. The doors slammed shut behind her and I was left alone in the room.
I inhaled deeply, and ran my hand over my face. As I did so, I realized that I was still wearing my wedding band. Sighing, I gripped it with three fingers, and began to pull it off. For a moment, the band didn't want to give, but slowly, it came free. For an instant there was pain as it crushed my knuckle, and then it was off. I felt the heavy gold circle in my palm for a moment, before closing my fist around the ring and slipping it into my pocket.
What the hell had I just been thinking? Was I just about to make a pass at a student? Was she flirting with me? I had been out of the whole game for so long I had no idea.
The rest of my classes that day were a blur. I did stop by my bank during lunch, and was unsurprised to see that my joint checking account was now both empty and closed. Fortunately, Jess and I had always maintained our "Fun" accounts, so I wasn't left with nothing. It would be hard moving ahead, but financially, I could do it. Emotionally, I think I could have made it.
I was still trying to convince myself of that when I drove home, and found out that my mom had died.