My Parents Warned Me Ch. 02

"Dude call me. Melody is cheating on you."

The déjà vu feelings of anger, hate, and sadness filled my heart and mind as I speed dialed Frank who answered on the first ring.

"Dude, you gotta get to McNally's Pub like now...I was driving down Main and saw your wife hugging some guy and kissing him on the cheek. Then they went inside. I swung back around, and they're sitting down just now. They look really friendly with each other. You need to get your ass down here now!"

A minute later, my red Corvette sped out of the parking lot. I was filled with rage over being cuckolded again. My counselor said that even though I suspected that Darcy was cheating on me, I didn't do anything about it because my ego and blind faith wouldn't let me.

Well, this time I was going to take direct physical action. I didn't care about the consequences. My dad had put two-thirds of my assets and our mansion into the family trust and overseas accounts so lawsuits would not hurt me that much. As for criminal action, I'm glad my family and friends have influence.

I parked and did a fast and furious walk into the restaurant blowing past the hostess. I immediately saw Melody and some guy sitting in a booth on the far side. His right side rear was all I could see of him and Melody had both of her hands holding his. I strode angrily towards them picking up a dinner knife along the way.

Melody spotted me when I was half-way across the room. She smiled and waved at me. Was she about to flout her affair in my face? Then she saw the look of rage that I had, and her happy greeting turned into fright. She got out of her chair and took a few steps towards me.

"Henry, calm down. It's not what you think. He is my..." she said quickly in fear. She put her hands on my chest.

"That's a common cheater cliché," I roared as I tried to go around her. Her lover was getting out of the booth. Good!

Then I stopped in shock. The man was wearing a Marine t-shirt and his body appearance was horrible. The left side of his face was badly scarred and was missing most of his ear. There was a prosthetic arm attached to his left elbow. His left eye didn't seem to track well.

"Henry dear, this is my cousin Lieutenant Paul Henson, U.S. Marine Corps. He came back from Afghanistan ten months ago. Paul, this is my loving husband Henry," Melody said with barely contained anger at me.

I felt so ashamed at my actions. I doubted the fidelity of my wife, and I almost assaulted a real American hero.

"Hi Paul, I am very glad to meet you," I said as earnestly as I could. Paul took his time like he was trying to formulate what he was going to say.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hitman. I am a big fan of yours," he said slowly while slurring his words a bit.

"Thank you. I am a big fan of our service men and women who are the real heroes," I said sincerely.

"Thanks. You must really be hungry since you brought your own fork," he said with a twinkle in his right eye.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," I mumbled. It was fortunate that I had picked up the fork by accident. Was that a sub-conscious act or divine intervention?

We sat down and ordered food. We had a good time, except for the fact that my wife was barely speaking to me. Paul and I had much in common. He played some football and baseball in high school and college. We also both liked sports cars and argued about Corvettes versus Mustangs. After a couple of hours, Melody noticed that Paul was getting tired and said she would take him back to the hospital. We did some selfies, and then we helped him to her van. I promised him that I would get him two tickets to each of my team's games whenever he wanted to come. That made his day.

My wife hugged me and whispered into my ear, "This isn't over yet, you jerk!'

Then she got into the van and drove off. Damn, I was in big trouble.

When Melody got home, I was sitting on my favorite chair in the living room and drinking a Long Island. She sat across from me and took a sip out of the Martini I had already made for her. We just sat there for a while, not looking at each other.

Then she spoke first.

"We can't go on like this. I love you, but...," she said softly.

"I know we need help. I have trust issues, and you have anxiety over my job. I love you too and am willing to do anything to keep us together," I said.

"I know that, darling. Let's forgive each other starting now."

"Agreed," I said with a smile.

I went over to her and kissed her. We shared a hot passionate kiss. I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. We laid there in each other's arms and fell asleep.

My mom recommended a husband and wife team of counselors which was very unusual. We met separately and together. I think we both got a lot out of these sessions. It helped relieve the tension between Melody and me. The counseling went on once every two weeks for almost a year even though we really didn't need them after four months. We both felt that the additional sessions enhanced our marriage.

To help relieve her anxiety, I agreed to play for three more years only. That gave Melody a finite number to look forward to. I also said I would talk to coach and tell him that I didn't want to do punt returns and kick-offs any more. Coach didn't have problem with it as we had a talented second-year player who wanted the jobs.

As for my trust issues, Melody always gave me her schedule and who she would be with. She got a bookkeeping job at the church where she worked in an office full of women. Since we were enrolling the kids in the church's K-8 school, this made sense too.

When our counseling session ended, Melody and I celebrated by going to Hawaii for five days and four nights. When we were packing, I saw her put one of her twirling batons into her big suitcase. When I asked if she planned on putting on a show there, she responded by asking me to use my imagination.

On our first night, she came out of the bathroom naked with a lot of sluttish make-up. She normally kept her pubes trimmed, but this night she was shaved and smooth. She began doing her twirling routine about five feet away from me. I never knew a naked performance by a drum majorette could be so hot. My man rod was hard, and I wanted to grab her and throw her on the bed. She pushed me back and began to rub the baton's rubber tip into her pussy like it was a dildo.

She turned so that I could see her, in the mirror, rubbing her pussy with her baton. Then she ordered to spank her ass. I quickly complied, but I was shocked that my bride was suddenly so naughty. She and I began to shout at each other with me calling her Slut and her calling me Master. After a minute, the white rubber tip disappeared into her love tunnel. It took only a few minutes of this before I couldn't take it anymore.

After pulling her baton out, I picked her up and threw her on the bed. Before she could regain her senses, I landed between her legs and shoved my rod into her. Usually I have to try a few times before I was fully in her, but this time I went in with one power thrust. She was dripping wet and wider than normal. Then as I pounded her cervix, she wrapped her legs around me and raked my back with her claws. This was animalistic sex, yet I felt more love between the two of us than I ever did with Darcy.

"I'm cumming! Take it all, Slut! I'm gonna knock you up!" I roared as she screamed out her fourth orgasm.

"I hope so, you stud! Come on! Give me a baby!" she yelled back.

The 'knock you up' comment turned out to be quite prophetic, as we both agreed that was when our daughter Rebecca was conceived.

Finally, we collapsed and were motionless, sweaty, and panting. I rolled over while pulling her in to cuddle. We kissed as we held each other, then we fell asleep. In the morning, she was quite sore so I helped her to the toilet, and she later cleansed my claw mark wounds and put anti-bacterial ointment on them. Even with the pain killers, she didn't want to leave the room so I ordered in both breakfast and lunch.

Just before lunch, I stripped her naked and pressed her body against the window. I handed her the baton which she used immediately. I lubed up my cock and her ass, and then I slowly inserted my manhood into her. She moaned in pain, but after a few minutes we were fucking in sync with my hands on her melons, with her feet leaving the floor on each thrust.

She kept telling me, "Harder! Faster!"

It wasn't long before we both came. She began to slump down so I picked her up. As I helped her, I looked down, and there were some college kids down at the beach looking up at us and cheering us. I gave a manly roar and carried my bride to the shower. We washed each other and were decently dressed when lunch arrived.

At some point in time, we have to return to the world of reality. We had talked a lot, and we achieved a mutual sense of love and devotion that we had never had before. We felt better prepared to rejoin our lives as spouses and parents.

Rebecca was born nine months after our Hawaii trip. It was a long and difficult delivery. The doctor recommended against having any more children. It didn't matter that much to us. Little Becky was a beautiful gift to us.

We became a closer family, and I enjoyed every minute of it. We took family trips including trips to Wyoming and Texas to visit Wild Bill, Bobby, and Bree. While the kids went crazy happy with horseback riding and playing with the farm animals, Melody didn't particularly like Bobby and Wild Bill's lifestyles. Melody did not care for men who had sex slaves, and she let me know about that opinion.

The mistake I made was making a bad joke when I said that she was my sex slave. I got an immediate slap, and I was denied pussy privileges for three days. Never again with the bad jokes!

I started law school after the season was over, specializing in Sports and Entertainment. It was difficult doing something cerebral when I made my living doing a violent sport, but Mel said I thrived on adversity. Her words were prophetic for I was about to face the darkest moments of my life.

When I graduated in the top 10% of my law school class, it was another moment in the greatest year of my life. We had just won the Super Bowl. My wife and three kids were doing fantastic. We had a pile of money in the bank. Melody and I were about to celebrate our 5^th wedding anniversary next year. I was set to retire at the end of this season. Our lives were perfect, and our family and friends agreed with me!

Can you say hubris?

The call came in while I was working out in the team weight room. Melody never picked up the kids from Vacation Bible School. I grabbed my stuff and ran out the door just as a police car pulled up. An officer got out and asked me if I was Henry Heller. I said yes with apprehension.

"Mr. Heller, I regret to inform you that your wife Melody was seriously injured in a traffic accident. I can give you a ride to the hospital, or you can follow me."

He rushed me to the hospital with lights and siren which made me think that her injuries were worse than serious, and she was unconscious. I was right, and I won't go into details, but the doctor said she wasn't going to make it. I held her hand as I cried and told her over and over again how much I loved her, and that she had to get well because the kids and me needed her. After 20 minutes, she squeezed my hand and passed away.

The funeral was a huge event in my small hometown with hundreds of people in attendance. There was no end to the love and sympathies that were given to the kids and me. The governor, my team, and a few Hollywood celebrity friends of mine showed up. A pregnant Bree, her husband-master Bobby, and Wild Bill also gave me a brief moment of happiness by their attendance. It was good to see them again.

Melody was laid to rest in the Heller family cemetery located about 40 yards behind our ancestral family mansion built a few years before the Civil War. Near her grave is an ancestor who was a Confederate general and his daughter who helped co-found the first women's college in the state. I had showed Melody the place two years ago. She remarked how lovely and peaceful it was to her. I had jokingly responded that we should plan to move in someday, but not too soon. Little did I know then that someday would become today.

After the service, we walked back to the mansion. A pregnant Bree had her arm around me while Wild Bill was carrying Rebecca and my mother-in-law held Kaycee. Eddie held my hand.

Later after the reception, I looked out my second floor bedroom window towards the cemetery. I saw a brunette-haired woman wearing black, a white hat, and sunglasses standing next to Melody's grave. She looked familiar, but I just turned away and took a nap.

Both of my grandmothers, my mom, Melody's mom, and even Bree offered to pitch in to help with our kids who were not taking their mom's death very well. They all took a week at a time, and their help was greatly appreciated.

Two weeks later, I was back on the field again. It was a mistake. I began to play out of control and with excessive brutality. With a minute and a half left in the fifth game and with us ahead by 17 points, I intercepted the ball. Instead of kneeling with the ball, I ran it back for almost 20 yards. Then I was tackled high and low. My right leg buckled, and I crashed to the ground. They put me on a gurney and took me to the hospital. The massive injury brought my pro-football career to a sudden end.

So to summarize my life to that point in time, I went from Mount Olympus to the dark depths. I was a 31-year old widower with three kids aged 11, 7, and 3. My career which I started at age eight was over. More importantly, I missed my wife every second of the days that followed her death. I had no purpose in life anymore, and even if I did Melody wasn't there to share it.

So I continued my descent to the Stygian depths. My leg was in a cast, so I had to use crutches. I began to drink heavily. I would shut myself up in my bedroom or in my den while ignoring the kids. My parents took my kids to counseling because they were also doing poorly. They needed me, yet I couldn't even help myself. My parents, grandparents, siblings, pastor, and friends all came to encourage me to no avail.

Another low point came days later. My mom threatened to take my kids away from me as she said that they should not see their father in a perpetual state of drunkenness. I told her I didn't care anymore.

The next morning, I woke up to find the kids and some of their toys and clothes were gone. My mom left a note saying they had taken my kids to go live with them. Good! I wasn't even taking care of them anyway. My parents had my general power of attorney. They were great parents and would be again.

After sticking a new bottle of Jack in robe pocket, I went to the gun safe and pulled out my great-grandfather's M1911A1 from WW2. Then I sat down in my recliner chair and began to drink heavily while looking at a picture of me when I was a 10-year old football player. The little punk never knew what bad shit was about to befall him years later. I racked a 45 caliber round in the pistol and resumed drinking.

My gaze was now on my wedding picture. Melody and I looked so happy. She saved me from doubt and depression, and I couldn't save her. I was crap.

"I love you Melody, now and forever! I'll see in a few seconds, honey!" I said softly as my pistol's muzzle came up and...

TO BE CONTINUED???????