Guess Who?

by StangStar06

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Cheating, Slut Wife, .

Desc: Sex Story: Guess who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner?

Hi folks, this is just intended as a relatively short, fun peace for Thanksgiving so don't take it too seriously. This year I have a lot to be thankful for. I have my beautiful wife and daughter. My wonderful best friend and editor. StoriesOnline for letting me post stories. All of you great people who read them and of course Ford for making Mustangs. I hope you all have as much. SS06

A light rain had started to fall as we all gathered around the final resting place of a woman who meant something to all of us. I can't exactly say what that something was because it would be different in each case. Some of us had our eyes brimming with hot, salty tears and hearts full of sadness and sorrow over her passing. Others really weren't that concerned, but were here to support a loved one who was attending. I was here because I had to be, but on the other hand, I wanted to make sure the bitch wasn't pulling a trick. I wanted to see her in that box, see them at least close it, if not nail it shut. And I really wanted to see them lower her withered ass into the ground so I could put an end to that aspect of my life.

I also needed to be here for my kids. I really don't believe that either my son or my daughters really cared that much anymore. It's strange but we're among the most dry eyed of all of the attendees. I guess we're the ones who knew Heidi the best. As I look over the moderate sized grouping that is gathered around the open grave, I see some of the people who meet my gaze and smile or wave. I can feel their sympathy and I smile in response to their projected condolences.

I also see others, mostly men, but a few women who are afraid to meet my gaze and furtively look in any other direction other than towards me. I wish there was some way for me to let them know that my enmity towards them died with Heidi. I figure out how to do that at nearly the last moment. A small tanned hand slips inside of mine and gives me a reassuring squeeze. I'm in the front of the gathering so everyone can see what I do. I kneel down before the woman next to me squeezing my hand to reassure me of her love and press my head against her bulbous nearly eight and a half months pregnant stomach.

My daughters smile and happy, yet surprised murmurs go through the crowd. My simple gesture resonates through everyone there, reminding them of all of that shit we learned about the circle of life from that fucking Lion King movie. Whenever one goes out, another one comes in. I can't help but smile myself. Everyone else here is smiling, because they're thinking about death and new life being opposites.

I'm smiling because I didn't realize it at the time, but Heidi would have hated what I'd just done. The bitch is probably just inside the gates of hell, screaming for a chance to come back because for once, I took all of the attention off of her. This is supposed to be her day. It's supposed to be her last performance here on this earthly plane and now everyone is more interested in my baby than in Heidi's crusty dead ass.

I'm a mature adult. This baby will be my fourth. I had, as I've said, three children while I was married to Heidi. The others are all fully grown and out in the world. David stands next to me. My daughter Sarah is on his other side. And my daughter Sasha is further to my right.

I'm almost sixty years old, so over my lifespan, I've learned that you have to let some things go. By the time of her death, I no longer hated Heidi or resented her for making most of my life a waste. As I look at the three wonderful people that she and I brought into the world, I know I could never truly resent her because I love them with all of my heart and soul. I also understand that without Heidi, none of them would be the way they are.

So I let go all of my hatred and anger towards Heidi more than three years ago. Hatred and anger poison a person's life. Heidi is a non-factor in mine, so there was simply no reason to let any ill will towards her color my existence. I still wanted to see her serving as kibble to a giant three headed dog as she slowly roasted for all of eternity, but I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it.

The last time I saw Heidi alive was five months ago. We'd all gathered or in my case been summoned to a big family Thanksgiving dinner at my son David's house. I think back on that day and the events that led up to it as the minister begins his calming words.

It had been at sunset on a surprisingly warm November evening in Florida. That day and that night were nearly summer-like. It had been sunny and warm all week but not oppressively so. A solitary figure trudged purposefully down the beach. His shoulders were hunched, carrying a lot of tension. He was headed for two beach chairs which were the only feature breaking the pristine beauty of nature on a stretch of private beach.

The chairs weren't arranged in the manner one would expect. Although they were side to side and parallel and only inches apart, one faced east and the other west. In one chair, a gray haired but still hard bodied old man sat watching the waves. He occasionally got up and threw rocks at the ocean. He also looked dreamy eyed at a car in the driveway of a house only a few yards away from the chair he sometimes occupied.

The other chair was occupied by a woman. At twenty nine years old she was exactly half of his age. Their birthdays were within a day of each other as well. The man, me, was steely eyed although my eyes had faded during my long life to the point where they seem to be more gray than their former blue.

The woman's soulful brown eyes and calm disposition seemed to be the exact opposite of mine. Her large breasts and long legs surrounded a formerly flat tummy that was just to the point where someone with a sharp eye could tell something was going on there.

Her tanned skin came from her Mexican heritage more than any amount of sun. Her long, rich brown hair was tied back in a single pony-tail that if she were standing, would have just kissed the top of her luscious ass.

She was every bit as composed and motionless as I was frenetic and animated. Neither of us had noticed the figure dragging his feet angrily through the sand as he trudged towards us.

"James, we're supposed to be resting," she said in unaccented English.

"We are resting," I said. "We're not even doing anything."

"No, Honey. I'm not doing anything. You're doing laps back and forth between the water and your chair. You're throwing every piece of drift wood, rock and any other debris you find into the water where the tide just sweeps it back onto the beach. I'm getting tired just watching you."

I sat back down in my chair and the reason she'd arranged the chairs that way made sense. With us facing in opposite directions, we could look directly in each other's eyes from very close and kiss each other without moving very much.

With her concentrating on looking at me and at the book she was reading on her iPad, she didn't see the man until it was too late.

He, like me, was just shy of six feet tall. He was well muscled and probably twenty years younger than me. In fact, I knew for a fact that he was exactly twenty years, three months and fourteen days younger. I was calculating the exact date as his fist streaked towards my face.

It's a God damned shame to see some late thirties ruffian trying to hand out a beat down on a guy who's almost legally a senior citizen ... Hold that thought.

I had a second disadvantage because I was sitting while he was standing over me. I easily caught his flashing fist and hooked my leg behind his knees and spilled him to the beach. I immediately rolled on top of him and started wrestling with him. His rage and youth seemed to be stalemated by my superior strength, energy and experience. A battle like this would be determined only by the stamina of the combatants, normally.

The sound of a metallic click and words hissed through clenched teeth took all of the fight out of him.

"Eeeef ju move I weel put you brains in thees fucking sand," said Samantha angrily, as she pressed her gun into the side of his head. Just the sound of her gun, a custom .450 Automag, was frightening.

The man, my son, David, whom I hadn't seen in three years, went still immediately. Samantha bit one of her luscious lips and pressed the long barrel even more firmly against his head. David flinched as he saw nothing but death in her eyes.

Sam let out a string of curse words in pure Spanish and I started laughing. "Sam, don't shoot him," I said. "Besides having to clean up the beach and hide the body, we'd only have to go to a funeral. And the funeral would probably be in Michigan; it's cold as hell there now. I wouldn't want to even have my Mustang there now, let alone the three of us."

She looked at me strangely.

"Dave, did you notice that the more pissed off she gets, the more her language goes backwards? Before you showed up, she was speaking perfect English. Once you got her pissed, her Spanish accent got so thick it was crazy. At this rate, she'll be speaking Aztec in the next few minutes."

"Thees is ... This is David?" she asked. "Your son David?"

I nodded and smiled. "And you were going to shoot him."

"I still might," she said. But she moved the gun away from his head.

"So David," I said calmly. "Why'd you travel almost twelve hundred miles to take a poke at me? And how'd you find me anyway?"

"I got a really good PI. A lot of people say that she's the best. She's a friend of Uncle Chance and his girlfriend," he said. "Her name is..."

"Sarah Price," I finished for him. "She works for the Rios Agency, right."

.... There is more of this story ...

The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account

Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Cheating / Slut Wife /