Islands in the Stream

by D.T. Iverson

Copyright© 2016 by D.T. Iverson

Romantic Sex Story: You wanted to see me smite the two sinners from A Sea Change. So here it is. I had to make some changes to ensure continuity so the the initial story is the first section of this. If you REALLY don't want to read it again, just skip to the section titled, "In the Land of Nod. Also, you may think that the black-hat stuff is exaggerated. But let me assure you that everything I have written, is entirely possible, happens every day and could happen to you tomorrow. Sleep well. DT

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual   Romantic   .

East of Eden

The Devil’s name was “Vanity.” And my wife was far too easily seduced.

All her life Heather had been cute, but a little chubby. So, after the kids left home she started exercising. It was just to kill time at first. Then things changed – drastically! The more she worked out, the shapelier she got. Her body became her obsession. And she was reborn a goddess.

That was when the flirting began. For the first twenty-two years of our marriage, we were a companionable and loving couple. We stood together at social events. We danced with each other at parties. Now, there was such a wide disparity, between my smoking-hot wife and her out of shape, middle-aged husband, that we went in opposite directions.

Heather had her pick of attractive men. It was never just one guy. She talked and danced with ALL of them. At the same time, she rarely graced her former friends with her presence. The friends went from being insulted, to cutting me pitying looks.

But seriously - what could I do? Her behavior wasn’t overtly disloyal. She might dance with guys who were younger, fitter and more attractive than me. But there was never any real romance. She just looked like she was having fun. Needless to say, she was also happier than I ever remembered.

I was willing to ride it out. I had heard of middle-aged-crazy. And I hoped that this too would soon pass. Nonetheless, it eventually became clear that Heather’s newfound empowerment had changed her in fundamental ways. First there was the narcissism. Heather couldn’t stop looking at herself – and playing with her body. Then there was the ego. She was a trophy now, and she knew it. She just radiated, “I can get any man I want.”

Notwithstanding the serious disrespect that showed me, the other wives hated her. Heather didn’t deign to notice

Heather’s sudden, dramatic trip off the rails was easy to understand. One moment she was an average American housewife. The next, she was an object of lust for a pack of alpha-males. The radical transition from homemaker to love goddess would skew anybody’s perception of themselves vis-à-vis the world. All the same, this new reality started to impact her decision making. And that invited the Serpent into the Garden.

She appeared downstairs one auspicious Friday morning. I was enjoying a breakfast bagel. Her hair was tousled and she was wearing her ratty old robe. She got a cup of coffee and sat down opposite me. I recognized the stubborn look. I thought, “Oh-oh!!! This can’t be good!!” She said, “Tom, there is something I need to talk to you about.” Those words are not anything that a husband wants to hear. So I put my bagel down and looked attentive.

She said, “I have never had my own identity. I have always been Tommy Jr. and Suzie’s mom and your wife. But now, I have transformed myself I am my own woman.” She stopped and waited for the obvious question. I said, “And exactly what does THAT mean?”

She said, “I was a wallflower when we met. I had boyfriends. But I was just middling. In fact, I think it was our mutual lack of personal charisma that made us so compatible. And we have led an utterly unremarkable life for the past twenty-two years.”

She stood up and opened her robe. She was naked underneath. Her toned thighs, tight flanks, hard stomach, and big firm tits were extraordinary. She ran her hands down her superb body and said with pride, “I’m not a wallflower anymore.” She closed her robe and sat down again.

She looked at me like she was willing me to understand. She said, “Men hit on me all the time. I ignore them because I love you. But one special man has offered to take me to an extraordinary place.” She paused, dropped her head and said in a whisper, “And God forgive me, but I am going to take him up on his offer.”

I had already guessed where this conversation was headed. And I was angry. But I put a lid on my temper and said, “So what does THAT mean?” She looked at me pleadingly and said, “You don’t know him. We met at the club. And since then we have had several lunches together. During that time, he has been a perfect gentleman.”

I said bitterly, “Meaning he hasn’t tried to fuck you yet.” She looked disgusted and said, “There is no need to be vulgar. It isn’t like that. He’s older and very rich and worldly. All he wants is my companionship.” I looked incredulous. So she quickly added, “He asked me to accompany him to Paris next week. And I am going to go with him. It would just be this one time. He’s married.”

I said, “Let me get this straight. You know that he’s married. And perhaps you’ll recall that you’re married too? Isn’t that the textbook definition of adultery?” She looked exasperated and said, “It isn’t like that. I am only going to be with him on this single occasion. It’s a once in a lifetime chance. After that I will be yours forever. And I will make it up to you. You’ll see.”

She added earnestly, “But I have to have one, extraordinary memory to paste in my scrapbook - before time takes this away from me.” And she gestured down her body again. Her tone told me that she had been obsessing about aging. I said, “That’s bullshit Heather. This guy isn’t a gentleman and what he’s proposing isn’t romantic. All he wants to do is fuck you. And all YOU are going to get out of this are some great orgasms and a few souvenirs of Paris.” I stopped and added, trying to sound more resolute than I felt, “Because I won’t be around when you return.”

She looked scornful and said, “Don’t say that Tom. You love me. I know you do. And you will let me do this because we love each other. It isn’t like I am sneaking behind your back. Just let me have this one starry-eyed fling and you will never regret it.”

She was wrong. I already regretted it. I took her left hand in both of mine and played meaningfully with her wedding ring. I said with sincerity, “I love you. Counting the courtship, we have had twenty-four fantastic years together. And we have two wonderful kids. So all I can do is beg you. Please don’t do this.”

She looked sad and said, “I will always love you Tom. And we are going to grow old together spoiling our grandchildren. But I am leaving for Paris on Monday.” That shot a thunderbolt of pure angst through me. I said imploringly, “Is there any way I can talk you out of this?” She gave me the kind of patronizing look that a mother might give a naïve child and said with resolve, “It IS going to happen. The arrangements have already been made.”

I stood up without another word and walked out the front door. She called “Tommmm.” It was the same whiny tone that teenagers use when a parent is being unreasonable. I kept going. I drove to the county park. I am not a crier. But my stomach was doing flip-flops. I opened the car door and deposited the bagel in the parking lot. I wiped my mouth and sat there looking across the same green lawn that I had watched my kids play on eons ago.

You never think it will happen to you. So you never have a plan.

I considered my situation. I had nowhere to go. Where would I stay? I make decent money. But with two kids in college and an upper middle class lifestyle, we barely scrape by. We had very little savings and our credit cards were close to maxed. I have no family, no close friends. In short it was either remain in the house, or sleep in the car.

Heather knew our financial situation. I think that was one of the reasons why she was so sure that she could pull-off this little stunt. Hopelessness, alienation and a sense of utter loneliness descended on me like a cloud of mustard gas. I said to myself, “I invested my emotional life in this woman. And now she is holding me for ransom???!!!”

That realization brought me back from the brink, and stiffened my spine. I am not a person who will gracefully accept victimhood. And I am decisive in my business dealings. So if Heather could make unilateral decisions, I could too. But first I wanted to get some free legal advice.

I called Jim Edgerton. He is a friend and a lawyer. I said, “Jim! Tommy Meissner here.” There was a short pause. He said, “What’s up Tom?” I laughed and said, “I was calling to see if you knew a good lawyer?” He said, “Need divorce advice?” It was a statement, not a question. I said, “It sounds like you expected this.” Jim said, “Regrettably yes ... Heather has been seen around town with Charlie Wilkins. You know him.”

Of course I knew him. Everybody in town knew HIM. He was CEO at the area’s main employer. He was sixtyish, tall, distinguished, a pillar of the community and a well-known dirty old man. His wife was Maeve Wilkins. Her blessing made your reputation. And her disapproval turned you into a social pariah. I thought to myself, “Heather, what have you gotten yourself into?”

The house was empty when I arrived home. Heather was either at the club, or having “lunch.” I assumed that it was still JUST lunch. Wilkins was far too visible for an afternoon-delight. That was the whole point of the Paris trip. She was already starting to pack. The nighties and sexy underthings were a revelation. I had never seen anything like THAT before. It cemented the reality. I had to sit down for a second.

I was pretending to read a book when she breezed in. She was stunning in her fancy work-out gear. I would probably look that good too, if corporate America didn’t keep me chained to a desk for forty hours a week. She walked toward the stairs, humming a happy little ditty. Then she saw me. She looked delighted. She came over, stood in front of me and said, “Let me get a shower and you can join me.”

It was obvious that her motor was running. I glanced up - like she had interrupted me - and said, “I’d love to. But I’m at a really exciting part in this novel so I’m afraid that I am going to have to take a pass.” She got it. She said, “Don’t be such a pouty puss!!! This is STILL all yours.” Her body was amazing in her tight workout clothes. I looked at her with what I hoped was neutral interest and said, “Seriously!! I’ll pass.” For a second she was angry and maybe a little hurt. Then she got a look of determination. She said, “Fine!! Act that way!!! It isn’t going to change anything!!” And she stomped upstairs.

The weekend was agonizing. Heather kept up the pretense that the following week was no big deal. And she treated me like I was a naughty little boy for attempting to spoil her fun. Worse she acted like her “fling” wouldn’t change things. I avoided the delusional bitch as much as I could. She was literally a different person now. And that individual had no soul.

She tried to give me a pity fuck. She even trotted out a few of the items that she was reserving for Dickbreath. It didn’t have the slightest effect. I rationalized my bizarre lack of feeling as the consequence of shock. The circumstance was unthinkable. And it would take me a while to process the reality of it. THEN I would experience the pain.

Pride is the deadliest sin. Heather knew that her body was gorgeous. But it also had an expiration date. So in her particular version of the fairy-tale, Prince Charming would whisk her away for a passionate week of romance. THAT would prove once-and-for-all that she was the fairest in the land. THEN she could return triumphantly to her husband, feeling validated. And of course my state of mind didn’t factor into her narrative...

Heather’s self-involved behavior might have been triggered by the kids moving out. An empty nest marks the end of an era for a woman. Especially for a devoted mother like she was. Maybe she inventoried her life and felt like it was her turn. Or maybe she just went nuts. Whatever the reason, the Heather that I loved would never be so spectacularly selfish.

Her hazy grasp of reality wasn’t the scariest part. She honestly believed that I would accept her “little indiscretion.” And that we would immediately move past it because we “loved each other.” She was dead wrong in that respect. Plain and simple I couldn’t love a woman who thought that adultery was an integral part of her personal growth process.

Heather tried to talk about it on Sunday night. I think she just wanted to get me on-board with the idea before she left. But I had reached the end of talking. I said, “There is no excuse for what you are doing.” I looked at her intently and asked, “Do you realize how utterly out of character this is? And how drastically life-changing this step is for both of us? You are throwing away twenty-two years of marriage, two kids and a happy home for a one-week fling.”

She looked at me like I was being unreasonably cruel. Then she said with affection in her voice, “You don’t really mean THAT. Your male ego is just a little bruised. But you’ll get over it. When I get back I am going to make you the happiest man on earth. You’ll see. This beautiful body will be all yours. And I’ll love you all the more for letting me do this.”

Whew!!! Talk about full of yourself. I am not the kind of guy whose first thought is violence. But I could get in touch with the fellows who shoot the wife and her lover.

On the big morning, I was sitting at the breakfast table drinking my coffee. Heather came downstairs very excited. I didn’t say a word. She was dressed to kill. She had on a modest skirt and three inch heels for travel. But she had her magnificent girls hoisted on display in a deeply scooped silk blouse with a light blazer over the top. The cleavage was spectacular.

She came bustling over to me. I think she was planning on an ardent send-off. It would fit her narrative. This was the part in the story where the adoring husband is so thrilled that the beautiful wife is going off to sow her wild oats, that he gives her a loving kiss goodbye. I didn’t bother to stand up. So she had to settle for a peck on the cheek. Her anger at my spoilsport behavior was clearly evident.

At that point a horn blew. She looked delighted and squealed, “He’s here.” At least she had the decency to keep the son-of-a-bitch out of the house. She grabbed her roller-bag and rushed excitedly out the front door, leaving it ajar. I went over to close it.

She had just reached the limo. He was waiting there, looking handsome, tall, and distinguished. She put both hands on his chest and stood on tip toes to kiss him. It was the sort of loving greeting that a woman would give her long-time husband.

Except her husband was standing in the doorway behind her. Wilkins looked up at me. And then his eyes crinkled. He had done this before - a LOT. And he found it amusing. Heather turned and waved gaily as she got in the back. I didn’t wave in return. Instead I shut the door on twenty-two years of marriage. That was not without significant pain.

As they say - today was the first day of the rest of my life; which was total bullshit. As far as I was concerned, the road ahead ended in nothing but a wasteland of betrayed expectations. Yet, strangely I managed to work effectively. The part of me that wasn’t invested in Heather was devoted to my job. And it was soothing to wallow in the familiar rhythms of an ordinary workday.

I had made a conscious decision to shut Heather out of my thinking. Which was successful right up to the point where she sent me a breezy text telling me that they had gotten off okay. It was a stunning tribute to how out of touch she was. I was afraid that she might continue to send me pictures. So, I took myself over to the local Apple dealer and bought myself a new phone. I backed over my old one as I left the parking lot. Then I combed the local want-ads for a place that I could get into – immediately!!!

In the larger picture, I was probably headed for bankruptcy. But in the short term I had plenty of cash. That’s because, I make lots of money and I had decided to stop paying for anything that was associated with my old life. As the song goes, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

In fact, I was feeling so liberated that I invested in a double-wide. You can stuff all of your jokes about trailer parks. My new place was close to work. It had excellent parking, a nice deck and it was three times bigger than any of the apartments that I had looked into. The furnishings were brand new – if not a little tacky. And my neighbors were the social security set, not a biker gang. So it was quiet as a grave – in some respects, close to literally if you catch my drift.

On Tuesday I moved all of my portable stuff into my new residence. My last night in our McMansion was ghastly. Every ghost and haunting memory of happier days paraded through my dreams. The pain was excruciating. Then, in the morning I cast off my married chains and I was reborn – exactly like my faithless wife.

There was a front-page story in the Tribune the following Monday. It was under a banner headline that read, “Playtime in Paris!!” There was even a picture of the two adulterers looking ambushed, as they cleared Customs. The gory details were plastered all over a three-day news cycle. The coverage included a raft of rumor and innuendo about Wilkins’s other “alleged” affairs. The whole sordid mess made for fascinating reading. And it even got some national coverage.

I don’t know what Wilkins thought was going to happen. Maybe he just assumed I would be honored to have the horns hung on me. Or perhaps he thought that he was too powerful to be affected by a nonentity like me. Either way, he had a lot to learn about the price of hubris. He had forgotten about the “gottcha” vibe that permeates the Fourth Estate. The media craves red meat. And, there is nothing like a juicy scandal to sell papers. So I leveraged Wilkins’s OWN community prominence, to release the baying hounds of the press. It just took a couple of phone calls and some straightforward facts.

I don’t move in Charlie and Heather’s circles. So I don’t know the gory details. Wilkins stayed married. But, I also heard that his wife took a lover, at least that was what the tabloids said. I knew for CERTAIN that Wilkins Board of Directors, forthwith shipped him to the pasture; since he had become a very inconvenient presence as the man in charge. There was the usual golden handshake and Charlie Wilkins was consigned to the ranks of the idle rich. I had conflicting thoughts. His future was ruined. I had caused that. But the fucker could still afford trips to Paris.

Heather started calling me at the opening of business on Tuesday. She must have tried to get in tough with me on Monday. But that phone had tire tracks on it. I knew that I would have to talk to her sooner or later. So I bit the bullet and answered. I said in my most professional tone, “Tommy Meissner, how may I help you?” Her anger was barely contained. She said, “Where have you been!!!??? I called all day yesterday and you didn’t answer your phone?!!!”

I said conversationally, “So how was Paris? You looked really good in the pictures.” She said furiously, “Where are you? Where are your things? Why aren’t you home?” I laughed merrily and said, “What part of I won’t be there when you get back didn’t you understand?” There was a long pause. She said somewhat chastened, “I didn’t think you meant it. There is no way you would just walk away from twenty-two years of happy marriage.”

I chuckled and said, “Oh but I HAVE Heather and I have a brand new life now. Better yet, it’s completely without YOU” There was an even longer pause. Her tone became seductive, “But lover. I can’t live without you. You know that.” She probably didn’t realize how true her words really were. I had left what remained in the savings and checking accounts. That is, after I had finished paying for my move. But that money would run out in a couple of weeks. And she had nothing to replenish it.

I said matter of fact, “You’ll have to get used to it Heather. I am completely out of your life. Now I really have to get back to work.” She blurted, “Wait!!! Don’t hang up!!! I really need to talk to you!!?” All of the bravado was gone. She sounded desperate.

I wanted to get this over with. I said, “Let’s meet at Jhonny’s and we can work out the details of the separation.” She said pleadingly, “Can’t you come here? I can fix dinner?” I said direly, “I am never going into that house again - especially with YOU in it!!” She said hesitantly, “Okay ... Jhonny’s ... What time?” I said, “Seven o’clock.” That would give me a little time to build up my defenses for the coming onslaught.

And Heather didn’t disappoint. All conversation halted as she glided in the door. Jhonny’s is a neighborhood hang-out. Having a goddess like her suddenly appear in the place had the local yokels staring. She was indeed a spectacular woman. She had her long muscular legs on full display in a very tight scooped little-black-dress. The dress ended four inches above her knees.

She has a cute but unexceptional face. Nevertheless, with all of the beauty tricks that she picked-up over the prior year she could make herself into a movie star. Of course, there was also her full and stunningly supple body. When she had burned off the baby fat she discovered that she had a lithe and very long waist. The contrast with her super-taut flanks and jutting ass made her seem even more voluptuous than she actually was.

Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Hate implies feelings for the other person. The absence of love is total indifference. That was what I felt as she approached the table. She had shown me nothing but blatant disrespect. And her condescending attitude prior to her departure had made any residual feelings moot. Now, all I felt was a desire to get this unpleasant chore out of the way.

She actually tried to slide into the booth next to me. I said, “Heather, we can’t talk sitting side-by-side and there are a number of serious issues we need to iron out.” She gave me a look like I didn’t know what I was missing and sat in the opposite seat. It was clear that she thought that she still held all the cards.

I said to be polite, “How are you?” She was going to tell me about her trip. I could see it in her eyes. What she saw in MY eyes changed her mind. Instead she said, like she was trying to reason with me, “Stop pouting baby and come home to the woman who loves you. I told you that you wouldn’t regret it. And I am going to work very hard to make it up to you.”

Still not getting it...

I had known the woman in sickness and in health, in boring day-to-day household routine and in the throes of passion. And I had loved her for twenty-two long years, without reservation. Now I had nothing left. She had blown-away all of my certainties. I believed in her. I believed in our marriage. I had believed that she loved me. And what I got was a bitch who thought that her spectacular body was a solution to every problem.

I said, “You are just going to have to accept that I am never coming back. So what we need to do is arrange the terms of the separation.” She looked skeptical and said, “That’s ridiculous. We might have had a little disagreement. But the whole thing is behind us now. I am yours and yours only. And I will be yours forever.”

Who was this person???!!!

I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice as I said, “You call getting fucked for a week a disagreement? That was a carefully planned and barefaced act of betrayal. The Heather I knew was loving and kind. She would never do something like that.” I looked somberly at her and said in my most neutral tone, “As far as I’m concerned, the Heather I married doesn’t exist. You killed her. And the selfish, vain and manipulative bitch that you replaced her with is no love interest of mine.”

Her face registered shock and disbelief. It must have looked a lot like mine when she dropped her Paris adventure on me. She seemed truly confused. I was wandering off script. We were supposed to live happily ever after now. That was what happens in all of the fairy tales. She said, “Look at me. I’m the same person you married - just vastly improved. Haven’t you enjoyed the new body that I built for you?”

I said, “I DID until you willingly gave it to somebody else. You fucked Wilkins’s brains out last week – didn’t you?” She was about to tell me that it didn’t matter, that it was just sex. And she loved me, and only me. But there must have been a shred of sanity left in her, because she just stared at me shamefaced and guilty.

I said wearily, “It really doesn’t matter. You can fuck whoever you want now. I have no further claim on you. I just need to settle up our account. Then we can go our separate ways.” She looked appalled. It was like it had just begun to dawn on her that I was actually serious. She said hastily and with real emotion, “I was faithful to you for twenty-two years. And I will be for the rest of our lives. We share two wonderful kids. How does a week change that?”

Amazing!!! There was not one word of apology, or remorse. Heather I hardly knew ye...

Now it was my turn to be condescending. I said, “Really???!! You were willing to be another man’s fuck toy for an entire week and you thought I’d just wipe the slate clean?” The discussion was getting pointless ... She simply didn’t get it.

I said, “Look Heather, I really have to be going. You will need money to live on. So here is how it is going to play-out. I am going to have Jim Edgerton present you with the most equitable separation agreement that we can come up with. I owe it to you for the FIRST twenty-two years.”

I added, “It’s all spelled out in the agreement. We share equally in all respects. The kids might need student loans to finish. And you are going to have to tone down your lifestyle. But I’m sure that you’ll be able to live on what I’m giving you until you get a job.” Regrettably, that offer didn’t include health club dues...

I looked at her just to ensure that she was listening carefully. I said, “More importantly, we are going to have to sell the house and split the profits from the sale. Neither of us can afford to live there anymore. But fortunately we have a lot of equity. So we can move it at a rock bottom price. And I already have an offer. That will keep us BOTH out of bankruptcy court”

It was beginning to sink in. You could see it. First there was bewilderment. And then there was panic. She looked like she was going to cry as she said, “This can’t be happening!!! How could you just leave me after so many happy years together? What am I going to do?”

I said, “You are a beautiful woman Heather. I am going to give you the quickest divorce possible. You will have your pick of men. And I know that it won’t be long before you hook your next sucker.” I wanted her off my books and onto somebody else’s – FAST!!!

She got herself under control and said, “You make it sound like a business deal. I give some man my body and he takes care of me. Is that what you are suggesting? That sounds a lot like prostitution?” I said, “Ahem ... You’ve already been there and done that. What was Paris after all? You might call it romance. But I call it a sale. So if the shoe fits you might as well put it on.”

I stood up. She stood with me. She looked at me pleadingly. And said with true longing in her voice, “Come home Tommy. I miss our happy life together.” That was more like the Heather I used to know. And I almost folded. But I remembered what the new and improved version was like. So instead, I said, “You’ll get the papers tomorrow.” And I walked out of her life.


The divorce was as tranquil as the scenic coast of Normandy; on the 6th of June, 1944. There was no actual loss of life. But Heather’s pet Berserker, who Wilkins had personally paid for, did his best raping and pillaging shtick in court. Heather had finally come to the realization that her gravy train had hit a landmine. And she was absolutely desperate to get as much out of me as she could.

On my side, my buddy Jim was an extremely competent advocate. And my offer was very generous; given that there WAS a highly publicized trip to Paris hanging over the whole proceeding. As far as I was concerned, there was no love for Heather, only a steaming pile of nada. And nada is exactly how I felt - NOTHING. I didn’t want to bury her in the back yard. That would have given her far too much of what the Japanese call “face.” Instead I just wanted to get the bitch out of my life. I had loved her once. But whoever was inhabiting her body now, was no love interest of mine.

We were in a self-styled, “no-fault” State. But Judges have discretion and it was pretty clear that the guy overseeing our case hated Wilkins; possibly as much as I did. Maybe the esteemed magistrate had lost to the Douchebag in golf, or maybe Wilkins had fucked his wife? At any rate, every ruling that the Judge made came down in our favor. And as a result, Heather got the exact same alimony that I had originally offered.

The fact that we had sold the house simplified matters and probably kept us both out of Chapter-Seven. I had the mordant thought that I had gotten SOMETHING from my 22 years with the bitch. The equity covered all of our unsecured debt and stuck $30,000 in each of our pockets. I figured that would last Heather about three months at her current spend rate. Then she would have to join the rest of us peasants in that dull and boring domain called “reality.”

Tommy Jr. and Suzie were at Marquette. Tommy was in his senior year and Suzie was a junior. They were both supported by our college savings trust. So the $30K that I got from the house, added to some reasonably modest Federal grants, assured their completion. Heather had gotten to them first and spun the story in her favor. As a result, both were not pleased with me. Still, they were good kids and I knew that they would eventually come around.

We went our separate ways after the ruling, not without a small pang on my part. I felt a natural sense of loss, thinking about what used to be, and would never be again. Heather and I had been very close once. Nonetheless, I was not going to burn one more synapse trying to understand why my life had changed so radically.

The answer was obvious. Every one of us fights a lifelong battle with fleeting time. I’m human. I age, and I understand the inevitable sense that life is passing you by. Heather’s insecurities about getting older, had stomped her better angels into oblivion, and the inevitable outcome was our mutual ruin.

I also knew Heather. And I was convinced that she would have stayed on this side of the line if Wilkins hadn’t gone out of his way to drag her over it. Any ex-wallflower would have a hard time saying “no” when she was being hotly pursued by a guy like him. Especially when she contrasted rich, suntanned and suave with middle aged, pasty white and nerdy. So in my mind, Charlie Wilkins had a lot of sins to atone for.

The rest of Heather’s justifications were just that – an excuse to scratch the itch. Heather had made herself into a true object of lust. She would be an obvious target for any guy who was lacking in morals, personal integrity and a sense of honor. The fact that she so easily succumbed told me all that I needed to know about her, and the state of our marriage. So, I walked away without any recriminations. But loneliness is still an insidious condition.

Heather got married as soon as the divorce was final. It was something that I expected. She really had no other way of supporting herself. There was a twenty-three-year gap in their ages, she being two years younger than me – 42. Old Bud, her new husband, was 65 but he was cut from the same cloth as Charlie Wilkins. Maybe Heather had daddy issues? And now that Viagra is readily available I was sure that she had ways of working them out.

Her new husband was a player in the local political scene; currently holding down our District’s seat in Congress. He was also a crony of Wilkins. I learned from the local gossip mill that Old Bud had a reputation for classic political corruption. It probably didn’t matter to Heather. She had her sugar daddy and she was in the news a lot, standing by his side looking like the trophy wife that she was.

I nearly retched. That was NOT because I had any lingering feelings for the canoe. It was just such a drastic example of the corrosive influence of ego. My only consolation was the forced smile and the look of utter desperation in her eyes during TV interviews. It was the beaten look of an abused pet. It was delightful to think that there might be trouble in paradise.

She had made her bed and it was gratifying to think that she would be forced to spend the rest of her life lying in it. Maybe Wilkins and his buddy were trading her back and forth, since Old Charlie was definitely NOT getting it at home any more. Or perchance her new husband was using her favors as political capital. Maybe she even had some heartfelt regrets. Thinking about THAT was the gift that kept on giving.

She had indeed tried to reach out a couple of times, just to “see whether we could still be friends.” I had treated her calls like any other telemarketer spam and basically ignored them. But the stressed face that I was seeing on the news made me wonder if she was crazy enough to think that there might have been a chance of us getting back together. Like I said, the bitch had been delusional for some time.

Heather’s marriage DID free me from the bonds of court enforced penury. And I never suffered from a lack of social life. Any 44-year-old guy who is still reasonably presentable, unmarried and not too gay, is outnumbered by the women in his age group by three-to-one. That’s because all of the age appropriate men are busy fucking 20-year-old hotties. So I had my pick of beautiful, elegant and I might add sexually accomplished older ladies.

The problem was that all of my long-term plans and assumptions had been blown up and I was just drifting. The life of the average guy should follow the same time-worn plot. You get a good education, meet the girl of your dreams, land a fulfilling job, work hard, have kids, and die in each other’s arms. All I had NOW was the job.

I had met Heather Smith my senior year at Michigan. I was swimming for them while getting a degree in computer engineering. Computer engineering isn’t the bulletin board technology four-year vacation that jocks usually take. And since I had to swim to keep my scholarship I had zero time to socialize.

But, Heather was on the women’s team and we crossed paths a lot. That was back in the days before Speedo and TYR took over the competitive swimsuit business. And the super-thin nylon suits that we wore clung to your body in interesting ways.

If you were a guy, the first thing you did when you got out of the water was pull on the front of the suit. Otherwise the crowd got a good idea what you were packing and whether it was circumcised or not. Same with the women and nipples. So, if we were doing any joint work with the women’s team most of us guys either stayed in the water, or left our sweats on. Since, walking around on the pool deck with a giant boner can be very embarrassing.

Therefore, I was in my usual position hanging on a lane marker when Heather stepped up on the blocks. I’d never seen her before. But she blew me away. She was medium height, perhaps a little thick in the body. But she had big boobs and man-crushing hips and legs. Her face was not beautiful but the smile she gave her coach was pure sunshine. I was in lust.

She was also my kind of dominant fast. So the University publicity types wanted to take a picture with the two of us together for their program cover. And that’s how we started talking. The rest was history. I asked her for coffee, which led to a date, which led to her showing me what a really powerful woman was like, in bed.

The first time we had sex was in my dorm room. My roommate was gone for the weekend and I smuggled her past the coach who occasionally patrolled the halls. She was wearing something that constituted coed chic at the time. I believe they called the look “grunge.” That style was a real bonus to the college male population because all of that baggy stuff was easy to remove.

I already knew everything there was to know about her body. Back in those days, it was impossible for a female swimmer to maintain much of her modesty thanks to those clingy suits. So, the only thing I didn’t know about Heather was the color of her aureoles. They turned out to be huge and a very light brown. She was lying back on my narrow dorm-room bed, totally naked, breathing raggedly and looking terrified. I wasn’t feeling any more confident. To say that I was inexperienced might be overstating my level of experience.

We kissed and she began to make little moans. I put my hand on one of those big soft pillows and found a nipple. It was hard to miss since it was sticking out about a quarter of an inch. I discovered that it was a darker shade of red-brown. I rolled it between two fingers and the moans turned to loud cries of sheer sensation. I had never been with a woman who made so much noise, and it startled me. So I backed off confused. Was I hurting her? But then I looked in her eyes, which were stoned with lust and realized that she was just that aroused.

So I went back to working my lips on that wonderful hot little nub, while my hand made its way down her rounded stomach toward a pot of boiling lava. I had also never encountered female lubrication like that. Every woman I had ever known to that point, and admittedly there were only a couple of them, required a lot of work to get as wet and hot as Heather already was.

Then I touched her little pink pearl and she let out a loud groan and began bucking frantically against my hand. I had also never witnessed a strong female orgasm and frankly I thought that she was having a seizure. Her eyes rolled up in her head her back arched and she began thrashing around next to me emitting a loud keening ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhhhhhh!! Then she collapsed into some kind of stupor. I truly believed that I should call 911.

I was dithering about what to do when she opened her eyes, fixed me with a gaze that I would later come to call her “fuck-me” stare and said, “Where’s the condom. I need you in me NOW!!!” I produced the little foil packet. She tore it open with her teeth like a Marine throwing a grenade, rolled it very decisively on me and violently jerked me on top of her. She was one strong girl.

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