Already Gone

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i was ready to leave my husband for a younger man.
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StangStar06
StangStar06
5,803 Followers

Hey folks, as those of you who read my blog already know, I was almost finished with the story I was going to put out this week, but last week's news about Glenn Frey from the eagles hit me pretty hard. I put that story away to write this one instead. A lot of you guys out there know what it's like trying to convince your wife, especially when she likes a different kind of music how great the music you grew up with is. So just this past summer, I took my girls to see the history of the Eagles concert at the Joe Louis Arena. All three of them came out of that show loving the eagles as much as I do.

I did one Eagles song, (Lyin' Eyes) a couple of years ago and had plans to do more. So this is the first of at least a couple I'll be doing this year. I only had three days to get this out, so forgive me if it's not perfect. Everyone who wants to complain about my grammar and comma usage can email me for a refund. Think about the Eagles while you read this or better off just listen to the song. They really don't make them like this anymore. SS06

* * * * * *

I woke up to a sinking feeling in my stomach. There was also a hand on my ass and another trying to push its way between my legs. I had a really bad headache that I knew hadn't come from the liquor we'd drank the night before.

"Ceej, Honey, I'm not much of a morning person," I mumbled.

"Oh! ... Sorry," he mumbled. "But what about all of those stories you told me about you and Mark fucking all night and then half of the next day?"

"I was twenty then," I grumbled. "When you're twenty years old and madly in love you can live on sex."

"Oh ..." he said sadly.

He looked like a hurt puppy and I wondered again if I wasn't making a mistake. On paper it seemed like everything would be perfect for me. I was trading in a forty year old man who worked all day long and then came home and worked on his car, for a thirty year old man who worshipped the ground I walked on.

Mark was dedicated to his fucking job and to stacking dollars for what he thought was going to be our future. CJ was dedicated to me. Mark, while not controlling or anywhere near abusive, seemed to always argue with me. If I put my foot down and stood firm, drawing a line in the sand, he just looked at me with a peculiar little smile on his face and walked away.

Things were not supposed to work that way. When my mother put her foot down, my father toed the line the way he was supposed to. Eventually he realized that as has been said too many times to recount, "Happy wife, happy life."

But not Mr. Mark Clayton. Mr. Mark Clayton looked at me with a look that seemed to say, "Bitch, you're crazy!"

If I brought out the big guns and withheld sex, he shrugged his shoulders and worked on his car more. I hated that fucking Mustang with a passion. And it was the weirdest thing ... Not getting any sex was supposed to render him a gibbering idiot. That was what my mom told me. But a couple of days after I started holding out in him, he developed this weird habit of looking at his watch.

It's a really good thing that women are smarter than men, or I wouldn't have figured it out. I noticed a calendar in our kitchen with a big red circle around the very next weekend. There were also several days leading up to it, including that day crossed off. It made no sense until I went into his sock drawer and found a brochure for a high end brothel in Las Fucking Vegas.

Right on the cover of the brochure was a picture of several different women who all looked like they'd be eager to suck my husband's Dick for free and would kill me for the chance to do it for money. They were all pretty, well built, very young women too. I almost went into shock.

I think the thing that pissed me off the most was that he'd already crossed that day off and it wasn't even lunch time yet. I wasn't stupid. And there was no way I was going to let him go off and screw a bunch of professional whores. I knew what would come after that. He'd try to put my ass out to pasture in less time than it takes his Mustang to reach thirty miles an hour and his zero to sixty time was less than five seconds.

So that night, knowing where my fucking bread was buttered, I offered to have sex with him. I was pissed beyond belief. And I ended up with my feelings hurt.

"Nah," he said. He said it so quickly that it was like an afterthought. Like something that was so minor in importance that it didn't even rate consideration.

I was sure that steam was coming out of my ears as the tables turned.

"Oh come on Mark, it's been a week!" I heard myself whining.

"I'm just not in the mood," he said.

"I could suck your dick," I smiled trying to make myself seem sexy. It was a struggle. Especially when my fondest dream would have been to bite it off and spit it into the fireplace. "Please baby let me suck your dick," I begged.

"I don't know," he said as if considering it. "You're not very good at it. It just seems like you're just trying to get it over with. Maybe week after next ..."

A shock went through me. And that was the way things always went with us. I tried all of the shit I learned on TV, in magazines and from my mother, to come out on top, but Mark always seemed to get the upper hand.

CJ, on the other hand, worshipped me. I was his Goddess. All I had to do was say jump and he was in the air. Why hadn't I left Mark for CJ before now?

Two reasons. The first is that deep down inside I love Mark. I hate his work ethic. I hate the shit out of his sense of RE-sponsi-fucking-bility and I loathe the fact that he simply won't take any shit off of anybody.

The second reason is even more practical. CJ, for all of his intense worship and suckery ... Lord I love having him kiss my ass ... Makes minimum wage or something like that working in a bar. He's fun to be around, and he does everything I tell him to, but there is no way he can support me.

Mark, the asshole I married, has a salary in the low six figures. Maybe that's why he's such ... Okay; it wasn't always this way between us. When we first got together, we were very much in love. But twenty years and about a million arguments have both of us raising our defenses against the other.

As I tried to remember what it was exactly that changed our everlasting love into never ending ennui and then transformed that into soul searing hatred, CJ intruded on my thoughts.

He was rubbing my legs ever so gently hoping to get me into the mood without getting me pissed off at him. That gentle leg rubbing thing always turned me on soooo fucking much when Mark did it. CJ on the other hand was just annoying me.

"CJ, move over here and suck my titty," I told him.

"Seriously?" he gushed. I nodded at him. And he quickly scurried towards me.

I hated to tell him that his rubbing my legs annoyed me because I could feel it and it took me away from my thoughts. On the other hand my big old titties were as fake as my blond hair. After the surgery, I noticed that I had lost most of the feeling in my nipples. Mark could always make me feel sensations there but no one else seemed to be able to.

That was another thing I hated about that bastard. He was really good in bed. And his dick was definitely bigger than CJ's. Mark could always leave me trembling like a puddle of goop on the floor. It was hard for me to believe that he had never cheated on me. Even harder to believe that he really loved me and still does to this day. This is going to be really hard on him. But that's a good thing because it means that I can always come back to him if need be.

In fact there'd be no need for me to leave Mark at all if he didn't have to win every fucking argument. If he would just let me control things the way it was supposed to be, we'd be a lot fucking happier. In fact if I was in control, I'd be a much happier wife and I'd make him the happiest bastard on the planet. But he's pissed me off one time too many.

It had actually been CJ who made me realize that I really was the one in control. He told me that in a divorce, the woman always gets everything and the husband ends up living in his mom's basement, eating tuna straight out of the can. CJ himself was living with a woman who wanted to marry him, but she wasn't really what he was looking for. They weren't married, so walking away from her would be no problem.

"So ... Sluuuuurrrp ... Don't ... Sluurp slurp ... Forget. Today's the day you call him," said CJ between slurps on my breast.

I remembered then. The plan. We'd been planning it for weeks. We had waited for the perfect time. And this week was perfect. It was perfect because Mark was out of town. It was perfect because both CJ and I were cowards. Neither of us had the balls to tell my husband face to face that I was leaving him and pursuing a divorce.

I almost threw up just thinking about it. I mean, I do have a small sense of wrong and right. And it just seemed heinous for me to call the man when he was out of town on business, busting his ass to pay for the house I just had to have and my car and all of my clothes and jewelry and even the food I ate.

Mark deserved more. He deserved for me to sit down with him and talk about our relationship and how we were both feeling. If we agreed that there was no way to save our marriage, then we should have discussed all of the options open to us. Then and only then, should we discuss a divorce. And after the divorce, we would both be free to move on to other relationships.

That was the honorable way to do it. But we were doing it this way. In over twenty years together, Mark had never hit me. He barely even raised his voice to me. When we couldn't agree on something, he would try to compromise. That was one of my biggest problems with him. He was too easy going. He was always ready to settle for less than everything. But if we couldn't compromise, he just got that funny little smirk on his face and walked away.

Over the years, I came to know exactly how he thought. I knew exactly what that look meant. It meant, "Fuck you, bitch. If you won't settle for half, you get nothing. It meant who needs to fuck your forty year old pussy when I can go to Vegas and ..."

So over the years, I got angrier and angrier. And I was at a time in my life when I just needed it all. So in the divorce, I'd get all of it. I'd get my house, all of my stuff and a big chunk of his money. And then when it was time for him to retire, I'd get half of his pension too.

I had spoken to a lawyer. I had him drawing up the divorce papers. I'd spoken to my mother. And I'd spoken to a lot of my friends. All of them were sure that it would work, but they were also all in agreement that I shouldn't do it.

What galled me was when my mother, who'd always hated Mark, told me that I was out of my fucking mind to even think about divorcing him. But their opinions only served to piss me off and make me even more determined.

My lawyer, who was only interested in making money, was the one who came up with the reason for the divorce. I was going to claim mental cruelty and abandonment. The basis for our divorce was that Mark, by working all the damned time had abandoned me emotionally.

It was a lie and a stupid one, but it would get me the freedom and the control over my life that I wanted. Deep down, I hated blindsiding him like this. But it's a tough world and he's a big boy. He'll get over it in time.

Besides, if I took my time and talked to him about things, he'd probably try to compromise. Or he'd talk me out of it. And sometimes you just have to hit a motherfucker over the head with a two by four to get his attention. I felt like I was at one of those, "Do unto others BEFORE they do unto you," points in my life.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone. CJ redoubled his attention to my unfeeling left nipple as if to stir me onwards.

From outside of the house I heard the sounds of trucks. It was probably one of our neighbors having furniture delivered. I dialed a number that over the years I had learned far too well.

It rang once and then was connected in the middle of the second ring. It had to be a coincidence. It seemed almost as if he'd expected me to call him.

"Mark," I said tentatively.

"Who else would be answering my phone?" he asked. His flip manner made me hate what I was doing just a little bit less.

"Why the hell are you calling ME?" he asked. He sounded as if for me to call him was something strange or unexpected. As I thought about it, I realized that he was right. I hadn't called him unless it was to get something for myself in years. The man busted his ass to make a life for us and I had pretty much ignored him for a very long time. Maybe what I wanted would be good for both of us. Maybe I could let him keep a little bit more of the money.

I mean, I didn't need to hurt him; I just needed to be free.

"I AM your wife," I said.

* * * * * *

Mark

I was so close. I was driving my way to the Promised Land and in the home stretch. There was sweat streaming down my forehead and dripping onto the pale skinned creature beneath me.

She made a little keening sound and yanked my head back down to hers. She planted my lips firmly onto hers and somehow managed to squeeze my dick even tighter in the velvet lined vice of her vagina.

"Ohhhhhhh fuck," I gasped. She giggled and kissed me again.

"Shannon ... Baby, I can't hold it ... I've gotta ..." I gasped.

"You've gotta wait a little bit longer, Honey," she hissed. "It'll be so much better ... IF YOU waaaaiiit! Ooooooh ... Oh Jeezus ... Do me baby." Each syllable was punctuated with her slamming her crotch against me. I was trying to hold back with all of my might. Shannon had the ability to make me cum so hard I was cross eyed after it.

It was hard to believe that I had known her for only three months. "It's too tight, when you squeeze it like that. I'm gonna cum. Besides you said it was mine and I want it now."

"I also told you that you could have me any way you wanted me, anytime you wanted me, now fuck me!" she cooed. "But don't cum!"

The jangling sound of my phone caused me to lose all control. Sperm shot out of me so hard that I nearly lost consciousness. I looked down to see Shannon's reaction and she was in the midst of spasms. Her eyes had rolled back in her head and her legs were splayed out and shaking violently.

"Hoooo baby, that was good," she mumbled. "I swear to God that was it."

"What the hell are you trying to do to me, Shannon?" I asked as my phone continued to ring.

"I'm trying to make you happy, Mark," she said mischievously.

"I've been happy since I met you," I said.

"You'll be even happier, when we're done," she smirked. "Answer your phone. It might be her."

It wasn't. It was the movers. I had forgotten that they were supposed to call me when they arrived. The tiny white hand that was gripping my dick guided it between her cherry red lips. The lips and the head they were attached to were soon hidden behind a curtain of red curls.

A tingling came from my loins at about the same time as I heard the slurping sounds.

Suddenly my phone rang again. I could see from the number on the screen that it was her. I nodded at Shannon who was looking at me expectantly. The look that came across those huge green eyes was part mirth and part evil grin.

As Shannon flipped over and slid up next to me, I marveled again at the work of art her body was. Her legs are sculptured like the dancer she used to be. And her heart shaped ass could make a Kardashian jealous. Her tiny waist makes her ass seem larger than it is, but then that ass is so round that it seems to belong on a bigger woman. God was truly in his glory when he made that ass.

Shannon always says that God was so proud of the work he did on her ass that he was too busy patting himself on the back to give her any tits.

I was in love again. Yes ... again. It was only the second time for me, but this one just felt right. This love was like the Phoenix. It rose from the ashes of the one before it.

I guess I should start at the beginning. Three months ago, I was like a lot of poor schlubs out there. I was in love with a woman who hated me. I guess we were both phoning it in. But I loved her. I really did. And I stupidly thought that she loved me too.

Sure I knew there were problems in my marriage. We'd been arguing a lot back then. But I thought that all married couples went through that. My eyes were opened when my secretary came into my office and told me I had a visitor.

When Shannon walked into my office and sat down, I was confused.

"So ... What company do you represent?" I asked.

"I'm from the you and me getting back at the assholes corporation," she spat. "This is gonna be harder than I thought."

She shook her head as she looked at me. "Too bad too," she said.

"I don't understand," I said.

"I know you don't, Mark and from the look of things, this is gonna hit you really hard," she said. She shrugged her tiny shoulders and moved on. "Your wife is cheating on you."

I thought that I had misheard her, but when I looked at her she was so sure. She'd said it as casually and as factually as if she'd just told me the sky was blue. Somehow I knew she was telling the truth.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Sweat broke out on my forehead and my heart started pounding in my chest. My vision grew dim along the edges and my eyes began to water. I felt as if any second I was going to vomit. Images of a faceless man on top of Anne, pounding away at her while she screamed out her pleasure, dominated my psyche.

Then the dam broke and the water started. I put my head down on my desk because, as a man I didn't want that tiny little redhead to see me crying like some kind of baby.

Before I knew what was happening, the fragrance of fresh cherries engulfed me. I felt warm hands lifting my head from the desk and I was cradled in a warm place.

"I'm so sorry," she cooed. "I never expected this. I guess I expected that you would react the way that I did when I found out. I expected for you to get pissed and go over there and kick my boyfriend's ass."

She was perched on my desk with my head in her lap. She stroked my head, trying to calm me down as she spoke.

"You love her don't you?" she asked shaking her head. "Despite the fact that she cheats on you and never has a single good thing to say about you. You LOVE her. When they're in bed all she ever talks about is the way the two of you argue, and how you should be doing what she wants. I just don't get it. You work your ass off trying to support her and she doesn't appreciate you or the things you do for her. Why the hell do you care so God Damned much about her?"

She continued stroking my head and talking out loud. The sound of her voice was comforting and I began to wonder if she was trying to calm me down or just talking to herself.

"It's the blond hair and the big boobs isn't it?" she asked. "CJ is crazy about blond women with big tits, too. I guess I expected more from you."

I looked up at her suddenly. I don't know why I got so angry at HER.

"I loved her before she bleached her hair," I spat. "And I was the one who bought her those boobs." Her only response was a burst of laughter so musical that it stopped me in my tracks.

"What's so funny?" I asked. "I was telling the truth."

"I know you were, Honey," she said. "But my dumb-assed ex has no idea that his dream woman is mostly plastic. It's probably going to take a lot of your money to keep her looking like that."

I shook my head. It all seemed like a dream, but my anger was rising. Shannon told me all of it. She told me how they met. And what Anne's ultimate plan was. They'd been discussing options and thought they had figured out the best way to get rid of me, or at least to get me out of Anne's life, while keeping most of my money.

StangStar06
StangStar06
5,803 Followers