Wasted Years

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Twelve years destroyed by 5 minutes of lust.
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KingBandor
KingBandor
2,101 Followers

Harumi and I had been married for twelve years. We had met and married in Japan in the early 90's, then moved the States the following year. We had our only child, a boy named Andy, 9-months later. Ironically, we conceived him the night we arrived in America.

It was 2005, and we were living just north of Raleigh, North Carolina. Harumi was a stay-at-home mother, and I worked for a small technology startup in Research Triangle Park, designing video streaming technology.

In the early years of our marriage and back before that when we were dating, my wife and I had a very active and adventurous sex life. We had sex practically every day, sometimes two or three times. We would do it everywhere and anywhere, including in public locations. She would dress sexily and liked to show off her body, even flashing people now and then. She had expressed a long list of sexual fantasies, and we had tried out many of the tamer ones. We'd even attended some swinger parties, but never really did much, just watched, got horny and fucked at home.

Then she got pregnant. That put a major damper on things, but she was still the horny, dirty little minx I had fallen in love with. That all changed, the day she gave birth. It was literally like she flipped a switch and went from being a sexpot to a teapot. She was in major "mom" mode, and that would last until our divorce ten-years-later.

She didn't want to have sex at all after the birth of our son. It literally took about a year before she would even allow me to touch her that way. After that, it was always one excuse after another. If I were lucky, I'd get to have sex with her once a month.

Handjobs and blowjobs were out of the question. I was allowed to kiss her, feel her tits, suck on them, rub her pussy, lick it, and fuck her. Anything else would result in her getting mad and ending the session. It also got to the point where the only position allowed was her on top.

She claimed my cock was too big for her tiny Asian body. It hurt to have sex. She didn't even really want to be fingered, as that hurt too, so she said. Then an alarming trend started for a while. We would make out; she'd get horny. I'd go down on her and she would cum. Then she'd say, "Ok, I'm done. Good night." No boom boom for Bam Bam.

Over time, it got less and less frequent. I would try to touch her, or made advances, and she would push me away and say, "No!". If I tried to romance her, she'd say, "You only try to be romantic so I will fuck you." So, I quit trying. Instead of a month between fucks, it became three, then six, then a year... then three years, then it just stopped. I would try, but she never would do it.

So, for a long time, I thought it was temporary. It was her hormones or something. Then, I thought maybe it was me. I changed my behavior, my attitude, my level of presence with her. She didn't want me to pay attention to her, hang out with her or be attentive. She would watch TV in the bedroom, and I would watch in the family room. In spite of all this, I was home almost always. I didn't go out with friends or fool around. I was home with her; we just weren't really together.

Oh, and we fought a lot. That's an understatement. We fought all the time. She was always moody and looking to pick fights over the dumbest shit. I didn't know better, and I would take the bait, and we'd start yelling and screaming. Usually, we'd get pissed and go to our separate rooms, but about once a month, she wouldn't quit. She'd just get angrier and angrier, driving up her level of bitch until she was foaming at the mouth.

Her eyes would bug out, she'd scream with veins popping out in her face and neck and cry as she hurled insult after insult, all in Japanese. Quite often she would get violent and attack me, slapping me, kicking me. I never retaliated. I would just let her vent and then she'd storm off to her room, or worse, get in her car and take off to a hotel. Well, maybe not worse, at least when she did that I could just sleep.

Afterward, she would calm down and seem embarrassed, maybe even remorseful. She would become a sweet, gentle cuddle bunny, but again without sex. This would last about a day, and then the cycle would begin all over again. I knew she had issues. I figured she was bi-polar, but looking into her childhood and early years before we met revealed things that were maybe even darker, like borderline personality, possible schizophrenia and at least one attempted suicide.

I tried to get her to see a doctor. She refused. I tried to get her to see a therapist. She refused. I tried to get her to attend couples counseling with me. She refused.

It wasn't all bad. In her manic moods, she was a lot of fun and great to be around. She loved to party with our friends and neighbors but tended to over drink, which didn't take much. Many times, we would go out to dinner with friends, and after two glasses of wine, she would be lit. After three, she would be close to a blackout.

Nobody else ever really saw it or figured it out. I did. I knew. I could tell. Then, when we would come home, the instant she was inside the house, she would lose her shit. I don't mean get angry. I mean she would show the effects of the alcohol... stagger, fall down, crawl, pee on the floor, puke and pass out.

Yes, I said pee on the floor. The first time she did it, I thought it was funny. We had been out and had a few drinks. We came home, fairly uneventful. This was in the early days, while still in Japan. I didn't know what to expect, so she was "happy," is what I thought. We got home, closed the door and "pow." She was hammered. I had to carry her, dead weight, to bed and get her undressed.

No sooner had I got her in the bed that she declared, "Oshiko-shtai!" [I need to pee!]. She got out of bed, staggered, leaning sideways, across the room to the bathroom. The bathroom was inside the master suite, with a large open entrance. You just walked in, turned left to reach the toilet. If you stopped short and turned left, you would go into the walk-in closet. Well, I was watching her and... yep... she went into the closet.

I laughed and got up to go help her. When I got to the closet, she was squatting in exactly the place where the toilet would have been, if she had gone into the bathroom instead of the closet. She was directly over an expensive cashmere sweater that was folded up and laying on the floor. I yelled, "Dame dayo! Soko de Oshiko shinai de!" [Don't do it! Don't pee there!"]

Too late.

Well, so much for that sweater.

We joked about that for years. But, then she did it again. And again. And again.

It stopped being funny the second time.

My son came to me one day and said something very mature. He said, "Dad if you want to divorce Mom, I get it. She's crazy. She treats you really badly. I won't blame you if you do, but if you do, can I live with you?"

To be honest, I never considered divorce. I think a part of her was trying to push me to divorce her. She was deliberately sabotaging our relationship, pushing me as far as she could possibly push me. She either was wanting me to divorce her or as David Deida says in his book The Way of the Superior Man, which I had not read back then, that she was testing me to see if I would still love her in spite of her behavior.

So, I even thought, maybe it is me. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I suck at sex and don't know how to treat a woman or get one off. I had been extremely sexual my entire life and had many lovers before my wife. I got off on getting women off and remembered so many times having the most amazing sex, but even so, I started to think maybe I'd lost my touch.

So, I may as well come clean and confess my sins. So, between the constant rejection, the lack of sex for years, the constant fighting and attacks the peeing on the floor and the growing doubt of my sexual talents... I cheated. I cheated several times.

And I figured out; it wasn't me. I was still in good shape. I was still as handsome as ever. I still had game to seduce women, get them in bed and spend hours making them cum over and over. It helped my poor wilted ego immensely.

It didn't help my relationship.

So, one weekend we were having a "good day." She was in a reasonably good mood all day. We were invited to my boss' house for a wine-tasting / barbecue party. We'd been over to his once or twice over the past couple of years. His parties were always fun.

It started out well. I kept an eye on her and made sure she drank plenty of water between glasses of wine. We were not attached at the hip. She was often in one room, and I was in another. There were a lot of people there, many we knew, many we didn't. She was often in the kitchen with several of the wives, including my boss' wife. I was often outside on the patio with the men.

I would periodically go by and make sure she was ok. I mean, I loved her dearly, in spite of her... being her. She was handling the booze fine, not overdoing it.

It was summer and the days were long, so it was around eight in the evening. The sun was getting low, and I was outside on the patio, drinking whiskey with some of the guys. My boss Jake had been there, sharing cigars with us, but went inside to get more. When he didn't come back, I thought I'd go check on my wife.

I wandered around the outside, but she wasn't there. I drifted through the family room. There were lots of folks there, but not her. I meandered into the kitchen. Liz, Jake's wife, was there with several other wives. My wife was not there either.

"Hey Liz, have you seen Harumi?" I asked.

"She was here a while ago." she answered, "She went to get more punch from the dining room. Did you look for her in there?"

"Punch?" I asked, "I thought she was drinking wine."

"She had a couple of glasses of wine, but when I gave her a sip of the punch to taste, she liked it. She was sucking down the glasses."

"Oh shit," I thought. I needed to find her and find her fast.

I walked into the dining room, and she was not there. I looked through the downstairs. Nope. I went back outside, looked all around the patio. Nothing. That only left one more area that I'd not explored.

I went back in and headed up the stairs to the second floor. I looked in the media room. She wasn't there. To the left was the kids' rooms and to the right was the master suite. I turned right and approached the door. I tried the handle. It was locked. I figured that meant they'd locked it before the party to keep everybody out, so I backtracked and went down the hall to the kids' rooms. All three were open and empty.

So, now I was puzzled. Where the fuck was she? I looked at the top of the door frame above one of the kids' room and found the little metal tool for unlocking the doors and took it. I went back down to the master suite and put my ear to the double door. I could hear voices inside, but couldn't tell who or what they were saying. I tried to look through the gap, but couldn't.

I slowly inserted the metal into the little hole on the knob, found the right spot and turned the tool. There was a soft metallic click as the door unlocked. I waited a few seconds, and nobody came barging out of the door, so I assumed whoever it was hadn't heard it. I gripped the handle. I really had no idea what to expect. I figured she might have wandered in there drunk.

I turned the handle and pushed the door open a bit... the door opened into an outer room of the suite. It was like a sitting room or solarium. There was a large arched opening, and the sleeping area was beyond that. I could see part of the bed, and I could see the bottom half of her legs. She was laying on her side. The voices were actually coming from a television set that was on rather loud.

"Yep," I thought, "she came in and fell asleep."

I opened the door more and stepped quietly into the ante-room. I saw her up to mid-thigh. She was laying on her left side, facing kind of toward me. She pulled her right foot up along the top of the bed to stop around her knee, causing her knee to point at the ceiling and her legs to be parted wide.

I tiptoed closer and saw suddenly that her jeans were open and pulled down partially. A man's hand was inside her black panties. "What the fuck!" I thought. I was about to run in there and attack whoever it was when I heard her moan in that very high-pitched, Japanese schoolgirl way she did when she was having sex. I'd not heard her make that sound in years. I froze.

"Oh yes, Jake, that's it, baby!" she said.

Jake?

I inched around the corner of the arch and could see her fully. Jake was standing next to the bed with his back to me. He blocked her face so that she couldn't see me. He was naked. She was naked from her jeans up. He had one hand on her tits, squeezing and kneading them. The other was fingering her roughly. She had her right hand apparently jerking his cock, or playing with his balls. His hips were moving, and she was making those pornstar cock-sucking sounds, half slurp, half choking-grunt.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. She hated sucking cock! She hadn't sucked mine in close to eight years. She never wanted to be fingered as it hurt and here she was humping his hand as he rammed his fingers in and out hard. I could hear the wet sounds his fingers were making all the way over by the door.

Jake turned, and both of his hands moved to her jeans. "Shit," I thought. I had to hide. I stepped to the right and pushed the door almost shut. I moved to the side of the arch, back to the wall and waited. I slowly turned around and leaned just enough around the edge.

"Mmmm," I heard Harumi speaking, "you want to lick my pussy? I love having my pussy licked!"

I saw her jeans and panties and been pulled off, leaving her naked. Jake was kneeling beside the bed, and her legs were over his shoulders. She'd turned sideways and was laying on her back, holding his head with both hands and fucking his face. He was eating her hard and fast.

After a few minutes, she was about to cum, making loud, whiny moans and panting hard. Jake stood up and then moved on top of her, spreading her legs.

"Fuck me, Jake!" she said as he pushed forward. She let out a loud grunt, and he groaned. I knew he was inside my wife. He fucked her hard, and fast. She loved it. He fucked her rough, and she was begging for more. What happened to "oh baby, your dick is too big; it hurts me"?

I watched, shocked and disgusted with her. She came and kept urging him on for more. She came a second time, and she wanted more. Then suddenly Jake made a deep growling noise, and it was clear he was cumming inside her. I quickly made my way to the door and ducked out, closing it back, but not locking it.

I stood outside the door and tried to breathe, tried to think.

Twelve years down the toilet in five minutes. Is that how much I meant to her? How much our son meant to her? Our marriage?

Yeah, I wasn't a saint. I had cheated, but I only did it because she rejected me for years. I put up with peeing on the floor, with being screamed at for forgetting to buy lemons, with being slapped repeatedly and called a pig.

I put up with it all because, in spite of everything, I loved her. She was my wife, my partner, and my family.

But, I could not, I would not put up with her giving herself to another man, especially when she refused to give herself to me.

That was it. I was done.

Twelve years destroyed in five minutes.

I ran downstairs.

I ran to the kitchen.

I ran to Liz. "Liz, shit! Jake hurt himself! He needs you! He ran up to the master bedroom! You need to go help him!"

"What happened?" she asked, looking shocked.

"I think he burned himself on the grill! You better hurry!" I urged her on.

She ran out of the room heading to the stairs.

I walked out the front door, leaving it open behind me. I walked to my car, got in and started it up. I drove home. When I got there, the answering machine light was flashing, and we had fifteen messages waiting. I ignored them.

I ran to my room, packed a bag quickly. I ran to Andy's room and packed up a bunch of his stuff. I ran downstairs and grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a pen. I scrawled:

"You can contact me through my lawyer."

I wrote down his name and telephone number, grabbed the bag, and left. I headed to the babysitter's house, paid her and loaded Andy into the SUV.

"So, you remember what you told me about divorcing your mom?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Did you mean it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's what we're doing," I explained.

"Cool," he said, "about time."

We went to a hotel and checked in. I didn't hear from Harumi. On Monday, I went into my office. A security guard was waiting for me and told me I had been fired, and they would send me my personal effects.

Two weeks later, my lawyer told me that Harumi had left the country. She'd gone back to Japan. It took me another ten years, and a lot of legal struggles, to formally get our marriage dissolved. For some fucking reason, she didn't want to divorce me, and she did everything to fight it. We had been married in Japan, which complicated things greatly.

Jake's company's design for the video streaming software was shit. I knew it when I worked there. I could have fixed it if I had stayed there another year. I had a better design in my head and started my own company with the little bit of money I had saved up. Within five-years, Jake's company was bankrupt, and I sold mine for forty million.

Now, I have a beautiful wife, and we have the best sex of my life. We do it everywhere and anywhere, at home and in public. We explore all her fantasies and mine. We talk. We share everything. We hide nothing.

My kid is grown and is about three months short of earning his Ph.D. in psychology. He used his mother as a case study for his thesis. They still talk. I try not to. She's the same bat-shit crazy bitch now that she was our entire marriage.

In the end, I realized our marriage had been dead for a long time. I wasted so many years staying with that crazy bitch, trying to make it work, hoping she would change. I should have just ended it and moved on to something better.

Sometimes you have to realize things will never get better and you just need to move on.

KingBandor
KingBandor
2,101 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousabout 1 month ago

Sorry women, there is a double standard to cheating for men and this is why men feel that way:

Woman: I met this WONDERFUL guy! He SO romantic and charming! I just KNOW he's a wonderful and considerate lover! I get goosebumps just thinking about him! Our time together will be MAGICAL!

Man: I wondered if I could seduce her stupid married pussy and I did! Oorah! Pump and dump. Dumb slut.

NO woman: I met this moron. His IQ is smaller than his neck size and probably just wants to use me as a cum dump, but I can tell he's got a big cock, even though if I let him eff me, it will probably only last for 2 minutes.

AND THAT is why men feel different about women cheating.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 1 month ago

Why do they always wait do long to do the inevitable?

JRandyJJRandyJabout 1 month ago

Your MC was a idiot, this story makes men look like wimps. I know no man who would put up with that shit.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 2 months ago

Nicely done but he put up with her way too long. 4 stars.

Bill S

AnonymousAnonymousabout 2 months ago

Great story men dont normally divorce no matter how bad their treated. Most men endure too much shit.

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