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After 25 Years

Just a short little story that was running around in my head. Thank you to my editors PapaKilo14 and Hal who clean up the mess I make. I'm an English teacher and they're better than me. Thanks to my beta readers Denny and Black Phoenix who keep me from making plot blunders and catch mistakes. I'm grateful.

*****

When you've been married twenty-five years there's very little that surprises you about your spouse. In many ways, Joey was the perfect wife. She's absolutely gorgeous. Tall, almost six feet, flame red hair that's just gotten streaks of blonde in it the last few years. That's going to be her grey, I guess. She's got amazing legs, big breasts that while not as firm as they were when she was twenty are still something out of fever dreams. Her ass is still round and curvy if just a tad flatter than it once was.

She does yoga and workout classes four days a week and her face is just incredible. She has big blue eyes, a little turned up nose and full, pouty lips. Her high cheekbones make her look like she should be on a runway somewhere and I think she could have if that's what she wanted to do. She didn't want that. She wanted to be married to me and be the mother of our two boys. I have no idea why. I guess she loves me. That's the only explanation that makes sense. I love her desperately.

I'm Benedict Corey, by the way; pastor of a large church in a small town in the Midwest. I met Joey when I was in seminary after I graduated from college. I was invited to speak at a local church and her father was a deacon there. I was 23 and she was 21. She worked in an office with a bunch of engineers and architects. All the young people from the church invited me to go to a haunted house downtown. It was Halloween and we had a blast. She hung out with me and we went through that spook house together and she squealed and squeezed up against me when one of the ghastly surprises would pop out. It felt very good to have that lush body up against me and I was happy to be the recipient of that attention.

I asked her out two weeks later and we never looked back. We dated for two years and I asked her to marry me. After being engaged for a year we had a big wedding in a rose garden and a whirlwind honeymoon. I got a position at a small church in a big city and over the next ten years I turned it into a big church in a big city. We waited ten years to have kids.

We struggled financially in those early years but we made it work. I became pretty popular as a speaker and we spent a lot of time on the road. The fifth year we were married we were home 29 days the whole year. We spent a lot of time in hotels and life was good. We drove everywhere we went and took our time coming and going, making mini-vacations out of every journey.

When Mason was born things slowed down some. We still traveled, but not as much. I should tell you that we weren't the typical pastor and his wife. We had a public persona and we kept that up. By ourselves, we were a very liberal couple and our sex life was incredible. We made love constantly and couldn't get enough of each other. We never involved other people, never even thought about it. We didn't do kinky stuff and only tried anal once. She hated it and I was perfectly happy with her hot little pussy and amazing mouth.

We drank when we wanted to, always at home and smoked a little weed every now and again. Don't get me wrong, we believed what I preached and I wasn't one of those sleazy scumbags you see on TV begging for money. We were as sincere as we could be; we just had some different ideas about what the good book said than other people did. I saw no need to advertise that fact. To me, Christianity was about love, not lemons and that's the way we lived our lives.

I wasn't a virgin when we got married. I was no Hugh Heffner, but I had slept with half a dozen women. I was under the impression she was a virgin. She was certainly tight enough to make that claim but I don't remember her bleeding or any hymen. Of course, I wasn't paying all that much attention.

I'm now 51, she's 49 and our kids are nearly adults. They take after her father. I'm six-four and 210 pounds. I played basketball in high school and college. Our boys are huge, thick and strong. Both of them are over 250 and taller than me. Football coaches drool over them.

Life was perfect and it all came crashing down. Maybe it was my fault but I was having a hard time handling what I learned. We were at her parents' house for Thanksgiving. Her mom took us shopping and she wanted to go to this thrift store in the neighborhood where Joey grew up. The boys and I were having a blast looking at the games they had for sale. They love those party games and we were getting a kick out of looking at "Scene It, Sex in the City edition."

Joey was wandering around and her mom was looking at dolls. She has a thing about old dolls. The clientele at that thrift store was a little sketchy. I saw this tall black guy sidle up to Joey and I started that way in time to catch some of the conversation.

"Joey, is that you?" he asked.

She looked at him and I could tell she didn't recognize him. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Damn, girl, you don't remember?" he said. "Bobby Johnson, you remember me. You sure looking good Joey. Last time I saw you was at that party. You was laying there naked on that bed with my load running out of you, high as a kite and waiting for the next guy."

She went as white as a ghost and I moved around behind a rack of coats. I could see her between the hangers as she looked around to see where I was. She saw the boys and her mom but not me.

"Bobby, I'm here with my husband," she said. "I remember who you are. Just go away and leave me alone."

"I still got that old video tape," he told her. "You want me to send it to you?"

"No, I just want you to leave me alone," she said. "Don't ever speak to me again."

She walked over to the boys and he followed her. That was a mistake. Mason looked up when she took his arm and saw Bobby following her.

"Mom, is this guy bothering you?" he asked. Lane stepped up on the other side of her and there were these two NFL sized young men glaring at him. He decided he didn't want any of that and left the store. I walked to the window and he got into an old white van. I punched the license number into my phone and went back to my family. Joey was looking shaken but I didn't say anything. We browsed around for a while longer and she kept shooting glances in my direction. I acted as normally as I could and we went back to her parents' place after a bit.

We were staying until Sunday evening. I was going to speak at her Dad's church so we had a few days. I called Jim Davis. Jim is a policeman I went to college with and we had stayed in touch down through the years. I got his daughter out of a nasty situation involving drugs, pregnancy and an abusive boyfriend and he told me if I ever needed anything I only had to ask.

I did ask and he ran that license plate for me. He gave me the address and insisted that he was going to help me. I really didn't have a plan other than I was going to get a certain video tape. He knew how to do this sort of thing, I didn't. I've been in two fights in my life. My record was 0-2. I was willing, but lacked the science. I don't lack the science now. I've tried martial arts but most of them seem like aerobic dancing to me, totally useless in a real fight. Judo seemed a little more useful and I was pretty good at it. The boys both wrestled and I was their test dummy so I knew a good bit about Greco/Roman wrestling too. I worked out at a gym with boxers and I've done a lot of work on the bags. I felt pretty good about winning a fight now. Not that I ever intended to get in one. I thought I'd be happy to kick Bobby Johnson's ass though.

I told the family I was going to the bookstore. I really was. I met Jim there and he told me how we were going to do the deed. He had black ski masks and leather gloves for us to wear. He was fuming when he heard the story. I knew he loved Joey for taking his daughter under her wing and helping her and he couldn't believe the story. He told me that if a tape existed we would get it.

He drove his patrol car and we parked outside the apartment building Johnson lived it. The van was there so it looked like he was home. When we got to the door there was music playing inside and Jim told me to put on the ski mask. He put his on and kicked in the door. Johnson was sitting on an old, dilapidated couch smoking a cigarette and watching TV. He jumped up when the door crashed in and Jim hit him with his Taser. He went down and flopped around a little on the floor. I closed the door and we used plastic zip ties to immobilize Johnson.

We put him on the couch with his hands behind him and he woke up in a few minutes. Jim slapped him a few times to get his attention.

"Where's the tape with Joey Branigan on it," I asked him.

"Don't know nothing about no tape," he mumbled.

I buried my fist in his gut. He choked and wheezed around for a while and I asked him again.

"I've been nice so far," I snarled. "I'm losing my patience. Where's the tape?"

"I ain't got it," he gasped. "I give it to my neighbor. He wanted to see that fine white pussy getting pumped."

I broke both little fingers and he screamed.

"You've got lots more fingers," I told him. "I'll start on other things when we run out."

"It's in that drawer," he was sobbing now.

I opened the drawer and there was an old VCR tape in there. I didn't even have a VCR but I knew there was an old one at my church.

"Listen, asshole," I was in his face. "If I hear you've ever talked to her again I'll come back and kill you. Do you understand? You're going to forget her name and that you ever heard of her."

He nodded vigorously. I had Jim hold his legs apart and I kicked him twice in the nuts. Jim jumped back as Johnson puked violently, his mouth open in a rictus of agony but no sound came out. We left him there and Jim drove me back to the bookstore. I hugged him and thanked him for everything. He patted my shoulder.

"It's me that owes you," he said. "I'll never forget what you did for Gwen and me. You need anything else you give me a call."

I put the tape in the spare tire compartment and went back to my family. I had no idea what I was going to do now. I fretted about it all weekend and I was pretty quiet on the way home. Joey could tell something was wrong but she didn't say anything in front of the boys.

They were just like they always were, arguing about music, sports, girls and movies. We laughed and talked for the whole three hour trip. Joey doesn't like to argue but it was the boy's favorite indoor sport. They'd make great debaters.

When we got home they went off to do things and it was come to Jesus time.

Joey sat me down on the sofa and curled that long, lovely body up against me. This was going to really suck. "Ben, I know something's bothering you," she said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

What the hell was I going to say? It was 25 years ago. More than that now, but I felt like I had been deceived for 25 years. I hadn't asked her about any of her life before we got married. It really didn't matter to me but this seemed like a pretty big deal. This seemed like something that I should have known about. I had told her all about my life. I hadn't gone into embarrassing detail but she knew all about me. I understood why she wouldn't want to talk about something like that but didn't I deserve to know? I doubt it would have changed anything if she had told me, but it might have. Didn't I have the right to know and make my decisions based on being given all the information? Then again, I loved my wife. I loved everything about her. Did it really matter what had happened 25 years ago before I met her? I didn't know. Did I really even want to know?

"Something is bothering me, Joey," I said. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it."

"Is it something I did?" she asked. "I don't remember anything, but if I did something to upset you I'm sorry."

"No, you didn't do anything," I told her. "It's me. I'm in a terrible quandary and I don't know what to do."

"Well, you have a wife that loves you and would die for you. You have two wonderful boys that love you and thousands of parishioners that would do anything for you. You're not alone."

I squeezed her luscious form up against me. "I know. I love you too, baby."

"Would making love to a hot woman help?" she pressed her breasts against my arm.

How could I turn that down? She was certainly a hot woman. She led me off to the bedroom and I slid down her zipper on the way. She let the little sun dress she was wearing slip to the floor and she lost the bra before she turned around. It had been nearly a week since we had an opportunity to make love and that was a long time for us. She lay back on the bed and she took my breath away. I knelt at the foot of the bed and pulled her down until my head was between her firm thighs. I nipped at the crotch of her panties and they were wet. She squirmed and I slid my fingers under the waistband and slid them off. There her pussy was, pink and beautiful. The scent of her musk told me she was very aroused. I nibbled on the inside of her thighs and she began a slow writhe.

She raised up to me as my tongue slipped inside her, tasting the nectar she was leaking and tickling her inner lips. They opened up like flower petals and I caressed and teased them before plunging inside her tight little hole. I tongue fucked her for a while and her inner thighs were beginning to tremble. I moved up to the little button of her clitoris and nuzzled it with my lips and tongue. The trembling became more pronounced and when I sucked it inside and lashed it with my tongue she exploded. She gave a short little scream and clamped her thighs against my ears, thrusting at me and moaning my name over and over. As she began to come down I eased off on her clit and plunged one finger inside her. She was dripping wet and I gave her another finger, using my tongue all over that little pussy. I curled one of my fingers up inside her, finding that bundle of nerve endings and rubbing it vigorously as she blew up again.

I attacked her clit again as she started to come down and she groaned and strained against me, every muscle in her body going tight until she screamed, convulsing and bucking until I couldn't maintain contact with my tongue and lips.

She reached down and grasped my hand between her thighs, pulling my fingers out of her and then dragging me up while she scooted back up on the bed. "What were you doing?" she gasped. "You were killing me, Ben. Oh, wow, I haven't cum like that ever. I need you in me, baby." She reached down and grabbed my cock, pulling me up and placing me at her entrance. She groaned as I sank into her tight wetness. "Easy, baby, it's been a while. Oh, oh, I always forget how big you are."

I buried myself in her grasping sheath, reveling in the feel of her walls expanding around me until my pelvic bone was grinding on hers. We made slow, gentle love, kissing often and with her moaning breath in my ear. As our pace increased she was cumming constantly and it drove me over the edge and I pumped my soul inside her, spurting again and again until I couldn't move another muscle. We rolled onto our sides, still joined, and she panted for a minute. She moved until I slipped free and she spun around, taking me in her mouth and working on me until I was rock hard again. She mounted me and rode me to another amazing explosion of passion, falling forward to lie on top of me, her face tucked into my neck and her breath hot and heavy. We drifted in that limbo for maybe fifteen minutes and I felt her stir.

"Can you tell me now, Ben?" she whispered.

I gathered my courage. "Tell me about Bobby Johnson," I said.

She went completely still, not even breathing for half a minute. I felt her begin to shudder and then she was sobbing brokenly, weeping out the anguish of her heart and my heart was breaking too. She was unable to speak as her naked body shook and shuddered in my arms.

She couldn't recover. I held her and whispered love words in her ear until I felt her relax. I glanced down and she was asleep, her emotional and physical exhaustion claiming her. I just held her and thought my own private, deep thoughts. She slept for maybe thirty minutes, an occasional sob causing her to shudder, even in her sleep. I felt her begin to stir and I held her tightly.

She looked up at me and I could see an infinite sadness in the pools of her eyes. "I'm having a nightmare," she gasped. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I never wanted you to know. I'm so ashamed, so embarrassed, so full of regret and remorse right now that I don't even know what to say. I thought it was gone. It took me years to get over. I met you and it all just seemed like a bad dream. Your love made me forget. Then we went to that awful store and the nightmare began all over again. I'm so sorry, Ben. How do you know?"

"I heard him talking to you," I said quietly.

"How much did you hear?" she asked.

"Why do you want to know that?" I asked her. "Are you planning to lie to me, Joey? Are you trying to figure out how much you cannot tell me?"

She began to sob again. "No! I'm just so humiliated, Ben. You asked me about Bobby Johnson. Let me tell you. Bobby Johnson is about a very stupid, eighteen-year-old girl, a lot of drugs and alcohol, some very bad decisions and a lifetime of regret. It's about stupid ideas and naiveté and ignorance and shame, mostly it's about shame, Ben."

"I have a video tape, Joey," I told her.

She rolled off of me and sat up with a jerk. "Oh God no, Ben! Tell me you didn't watch that tape! How did you get it? What... oh, my God, Ben. Please tell me you didn't watch it."

"I didn't watch it, Joey. I got it from Bobby Johnson. He very much regrets having it. You'll never hear from him again."

"What have I done?" she wailed. "You didn't kill him? Please tell me you didn't kill him! Please God, don't let my husband be destroyed because of me!" she was hysterical.

I pulled her back down and held her close. "I didn't kill him, Joey. I hurt him until he gave me the tape. I hurt him some afterward too. He's nothing to us. What did you do, Joey that is so horrible you don't want me to see that tape?"

"I can't tell you," she wept. "You'll hate me. You'll never want to be with me again. It will destroy our family. I'm so afraid, Ben. Please don't divorce me. Please don't watch that tape."

"Joey, I've loved you for 25 years," I told her. "I love you today more than I ever have. The only thing that's between us is this terrible secret you've concealed from me. Don't you trust me, baby?"

"Yes, and I love you with all my heart," she cried out in anguish. "Please don't make me tell you."

"Then you don't trust me," I said.

"No, I do," she protested. "I'm so ashamed, Ben. I was young and stupid. I thought it was cool to have a black boyfriend. I was so proud that I was so liberal and enlightened. Then he told me if I really loved him I would want to experience drugs with him. You know how we feel about that. At first it was just weed, then it was coke. We did a lot of coke and I let him... I let him..." she broke down.

"He invited two of his friends. I was so high and so horny and so out of control that I let them... I... please Ben; don't make me say any more. I never saw him again. He tried to call me and talk to me but I wouldn't. I never saw him again until last week. I'm so sorry, Ben. I'm so ashamed and I was so stupid. Then I met you and it seemed like God had forgiven me and given me you. I hated what I did, Ben. I hated those men. It all seemed like it was going to be dramatic and exciting but it wasn't. It was just disgusting. They were disgusting. They were such racists! They talked so filthy about how my white pussy would love those big black cocks, but I didn't. They weren't either. Yours is way bigger. They were just pathetic and I was pathetic for thinking Bobby was anything but a loser. It's driving me mad, Ben. I can't talk any more about it."
"It's okay, baby," I told her. "You don't have to say any more."

She sat up again and looked at me. "Do you hate me, Ben? Are you going to divorce me? I know I deserve it. I won't make it hard for you. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not going to divorce you, Joey," I said. "We weren't married. I hadn't even met you then. You don't deserve to be divorced over this. That's ridiculous. I don't hate you. I love you. I'm disappointed you didn't feel like you could tell me, but I understand, I guess. I know how you must have felt. We'll get over it."

"What are you going to do with the tape?" she asked.

"Do you think we should watch it together?" I asked.

"I will if you want to," she sobbed. "I don't want to watch it and I don't want you to either.

"What do you want to do with it?" I asked her.

"I want to destroy it," she said. "Will you let me, Benedict? Please, I'm begging you."

"Wait here," I told her. I pulled on some sweats and went to the car. Did I trust her? Was there more on that tape than she was telling me? Did she enjoy it? Was that what she didn't want me to see? Those thoughts were rumbling around in my head. It was making me crazy. I had to decide. I thought about the last 25 years.

Joey had been my best friend. She was the most amazing woman I ever met. She had stood by me through financial struggles, through work struggles and through every difficulty in our lives. She was loyal and beautiful and a perfect mother. As far as I knew she had never lied to me in 25 years. She hadn't told me about this, but I'd never asked her about her love life before we were married. She had been by my side almost constantly for a quarter of a century. We were hardly ever apart. We argued from time to time, but she was never unreasonable or cruel. She made me happy, consciously tried to make me happy and I was. My life would be empty without her. I believed my wife. I made a decision and I trusted her. She'd earned that trust and I was going to give it to her. I didn't want to see what was on that tape. I didn't need those images in my head. I took the tape and walked into our bedroom.

One look at her, sadness and hope in every line of her face and every attitude of her body told me that I was doing the right thing. I pulled her to her feet and gave her the tape. I took her other hand and we walked into the living room and stood in front of the fireplace. Coals glowed from the fire we had enjoyed earlier and I looked at her, the firelight playing over her gorgeous naked body.

"Throw it in," I told her.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I want to, but if you need to watch it to believe me, I understand."

"No, I believe you," I said. "Throw it in, Joey."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she threw the tape into the bed of coals. A flame burst out almost immediately and the plastic was quickly consumed. We watched as it melted and burned and she took my hand.

"Thank you, Ben," she murmured. "Come back to bed."

I held her and she cried a little more. "I don't deserve you, Ben," she said. "I'm going to though. I'm the luckiest woman on the planet. I'm going to thank God for you every day and I'm going to thank you too."

She thanked me twice more that night and I was thankful too. Sometimes your spouse surprises you, even after 25 years.

after   years  

May 10, 2018 in romance

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