Too Close for Comfort


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Coercion, Tear Jerker, Cheating, Slut Wife, Revenge, Rough, Safe Sex, Anal Sex, Big Breasts, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: My wife went to Jamaica

Hi Folks, Don't read this story yet ... Go get a bowl of popcorn, or a beer, or both. whatever your favorite snack is go get it. Now settle down and relax. This is a long one. Those of you who are just looking for a quick story to jack off to should probably skip this one. This is the A version of this story, I believe it is the better one. The other version had the second scene in Jamaica removed and certain parts of the story make less sense without it. It has been edited with great patience and skill by Barney-R (please read his latest stories-they're great as usual) I also want to warn you that there is some violence in this story- I know we're all adults and this is an adult site but there are some sites out there that seem to have forgotten this. Anyway here we go-SS06

I fidgeted on the chair as the old woman sitting across from me wrote mysterious things down on a legal pad. Occasionally she looked over at me. Once or twice our eyes locked as I caught her watching me. I was fairly sure that she was recording her observations of my behavior.

Across the room another woman, the one I was married to for twenty two years, paced the floor as if she was upset.

I looked at my watch again. The old woman noticed and made another note.

"Okay," she said. "Let's get started. Yours is a very unusual case. Mrs. Matthews, can you take a seat?"

I spread my legs to take up more space. I turned at an angle to take up more space too. It didn't matter. She walked right over to the large comfortable chair and looked at me, as if to ask me to move over so she could sit next to me.

"Dahlia, there's a huge sofa right there," I said, pointing at the sofa.

"So, I want to sit next to you," she said.

"I don't want to sit by you Dahlia," I said. "Could you please just give me a little space?" She refused to budge. She even tried to move my legs over.

"Okay, Dahlia, you can have the chair. I'll take the sofa," I said. She immediately turned and jumped on the sofa, smiling at me. I didn't move.

"That's what I have to deal with every time we're around each other," I said.

I noticed the doctor writing things down.

"Mr. Matthews, why don't you start," said the old woman. "This is an unusual case. I'd like to have the two of you just tell me what happened, first. Before we do any exercises or have any type of treatment, let's just talk about what happened to ruin your marriage."

"Our marriage wasn't ruined," spat Dahlia. "Grant just insists that everyone and everything around him is perfect. I made a mistake after eighteen years of marriage and he just wanted to throw everything away. It's just..."

Dahlia stopped talking when she noticed that the doctor had her hand up.

"Mrs. Matthews, you will have your turn, I promise you," said the woman. "But in order for us to work more effectively, we need to respect each other's turns, okay. You do want this to work, don't you?" Dahlia nodded.

The woman looked at me and I began talking.

"As Dahlia said," I began. "We were married. We were more, far more than a married couple. Dahlia was my best friend. She was my soulmate. I know that sounds corny, but it's really true in our case. We were so close that we completed each other's sentences. We were together twenty three hours a day most of the time and had been for about eighteen years when things went to shit.

We lived together, we ate together, and we slept together..."

"When we actually slept," Dahlia inserted.

"Anyway," I continued. "We also worked together. We worked in the same office for the same company on the same shift, doing the same thing. I have to admit that it was fun and I really enjoyed working with her. Scratch that, in order for this to work, I have to be totally honest, right?" Dahlia screwed up her face and the therapist nodded.

"I'll be honest then," I said. "I loved Dahlia. She was so much more than just a wife. She was a part of me. She was my heartbeat. I loved spending every possible second with her. Both times when our daughters were born, I took vacation time to stay home from the time they were born until I ran out of time.

As much as I love my daughters, I was stupid about Dahlia. It was almost painful for me to be away from her. She was the most beautiful woman I knew. Every day the first thing I did when I woke up was to thank my lucky stars that she had married me. And..."

"And the second thing he'd do was pull my legs apart and fuck me until ... Sorry, I won't interrupt again," said Dahlia.

"Well, we had a pretty active sex life," I began again. "And as I said all the way until my oldest daughter, Rose, turned eighteen and my baby, Lilly, turned fourteen our lives were heavenly.

We would start most days, with a run in the park together..."

"The run came after the morning sex," said Dahlia. "I fucking hated running. I just did it because I didn't want to be away from him and he loved it ... I did it again didn't I?" She shrugged her shoulders and pinched her lips together.

"Yep, I love to run," I continued. "I still do. I ran a lot slower back then, so I could look at Dahlia. I'm not saying anything negative about her now, but back then she looked incredible. I'm not just talking about her pretty face and pretty hair. Dahlia was about the same height she is now, but she only weighed about a hundred and fifteen pounds soaking wet. Her legs were amazing. Her butt was a work of art, and on her chest were the two most perfect..." I stopped.

The therapist looked at me and so did Dahlia. "I apologize, ladies," I said. "I was inappropriate."

"Actually we're all adults here and I want your honest opinion and feelings," said the therapist.

"Okay, I was one of the luckiest men in the world. I not only loved my wife, I lusted after her. Even after the births of our children, she was my dream woman, my fantasy girl. At thirty eight years old Dahlia was hotter than any Victoria's Secret model. And for eighteen years, she'd fooled me into believing that she felt the same way about me ... But it was too good to be true, because..."

"Fuck you, Stupid," hissed Dahlia. "If it was up to me, we'd still be married. You were the one who wanted the God damned divorce. I would marry you again right now if you asked me ... this isn't working, Doctor. Grant is telling the story from his view point only. He's distorting the facts to fit his version of the story. Whatever happened to Ladies first anyway? Can I go first?"

The therapist looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders and nodded.

"Sure, why not," she said. "Mrs., you go first."


"As Grant said, we were very much in love. Notice that I said "WE." I love Grant at least as much as he loved me. Notice I said "LOVE." I didn't say "LOVED," like he does.

And as he said, we were always together. Our desks at work were right beside each other. And we also ate lunch together. Grant and I have tiny little differences in our personalities. I am basically a free spirit. I'm artistic and creative and I guess I might have been considered a bit wild or just unpredictable.

Grant on the other hand was the most organized man I have ever met. Everything with him was scheduled and regular. He was steady and very dependable.

Together, we were the perfect team. We tempered each other's excesses. Grant kept me from being too wild and possibly getting hurt. I kept him from being too boring.

Anyway, one day I was talking with a couple of the women in the office. We started out the usual way. We talked about men. I noticed that the two of them were always looking at Grant, so I made sure to remind them that he was exclusively my property. They talked about how lucky I was and how I had what they both wanted.

We ended up talking about what they did with their nights and we also talked about how Grant and I were never apart.

"Not even every once in a while?" asked Glenda Stevens. "Everyone needs a little time to themselves once in a while."

"Grant and I have never been apart for more than an hour or two for the past eighteen years," I said. "And even then, it just seems wrong for me to be without him."

"Honey, too much togetherness isn't a good thing," said Mary Richards.

"Yeah," agreed Glenda. "After a while, he'll start taking you for granted."

"Hey," said Mary. "Why don't you go on vacation with us? We're taking a seven day trip to Jamaica. The break would do you good. It could breathe new life in your marriage."

I wasn't sure that it was a good idea at first. But the more we talked, the more they convinced me that I really had to go with them. Finally I decided to talk to Grant about it. When I mentioned it to him, he looked like a balloon that someone had let all of the air out of.

But he agreed. He told me it was no big deal. Our girls at eighteen and fourteen were pretty much old enough to care for themselves. He was sure that everything would be fine.

I didn't find out until much later that he was all torn up inside about me going. He didn't want me to go, but he also didn't want to keep me from doing something that I wanted to do. He'd always supported any and every silly thing I wanted to try. So even though he was literally sick about it, he just said sure.

Thinking back on it, I missed a lot of things. As the day we would leave drew closer, I got more excited. Glenda, Mary, and I chatted constantly about things we would do on our trip. But what I failed to notice was what was going on right under my nose.

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

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