I'm ashamed and embarrassed to have even raised my hand at her, let alone around the company we had. I'll never as long as I live raise a hand to hurt her, but only hurt her in the pleasure she seeks from me. I could never physically see her that scared that hurt again. See her shake and back away like an afraid wild animal. I'll never leave her vulnerable like that again I don't know who that person was and he died the same day. She keeps reassuring and reassessing it was her fault and she deserved it, but what she deserved was me coming home, me bringing her flowers for no reason. Me leaving sweet notes in her car and her purse, telling her she's beautiful every day and not every other holiday. I'm the one that let her stray away how could I be mad for her affair.
Day 4:
Today's morning was different, I woke up seeing her lay there looking beautiful. Her skin was glowing; the sun was cascading in the window on her like a goddess with a terrible past. All of a sudden I found myself getting mad, even though the previous day held so much joy and happiness for the future. I found myself mad for finding this new sense of sexual pleasure and desire I have for her but, somebody else has already been where I've been multiple times.
A stranger has already entered her and left his presence inside her. A stranger did all the things I was doing to her and she found pleasure in it. Who was I to think that I can or could make her feel like that day in and day out. She gave a portion of herself to each one of them and all I see is them laughing back in my face. I returned back to reality today and left out of my fantasy world, when I rubbed my hands across her back frisking up the back of her dress laced in yellow and white. Though I wanted to entice her and please her, I'm brought back to the reality of her infidelity.
I'm brought back to another man having her there way with her and doing all the things I've done with her. I'm brought back to another man rubbing across her back and rubbing in between her legs. I'm brought back to hearing her moan and find pleasure in all these strangers. I'm brought back to crying in the house I built begging and pleading with her to tell the truth of her infidelity. Lastly, I'm brought back to the reality of all the things she showed me that makes her feel good, she probably showed her other partners as well.
Day 5:
All is well and sunny in the 41° weather of Sioux Falls, while it feels the same in the rugged back woods of central AL; I still find no peace. I still find myself feeling mad, sad, happy, and broken.
No matter in the ways I touch her and create these new memories trying to erase and forget the past, I'm quickly reminded almost abruptly and atrociously attacked with the reminder another man has been here before same as me. A blur of disgust went over me looking at her lay there in her vintage posture, leg tweaked forward and hand resting below her face. The disgust was finally aimed towards her and I hated the feeling. The disgust was held for the generic faces and generic choice in men she let invade the cavities; we promised to never let another touch on either of us in those special places. She broke that promise but I'm even more guilty of breaking the promise first.
There's still details left out still moments left to ponder on, she will tell you she's embarrassed and ashamed. But will she tell you of the things she enjoyed.....of the things that made her moan even more.....the way she lusted behind those men and told them their appearances looked good. All the men she slept with they all look of generic rip offs, a blade of grass in a field so thick you couldn't distinguish them apart from the next. I realized I looked nothing like them, I don't resemble them at all. She'd outgrown me and this was the type of man she indulged in now, not a dark skin, Afro, and cowboy boots. She indulged in dreads, Jordan's, tight jeans and cologne masking a marijuana fragrance. She indulged in the life that I was escaping since I heard the news of our first born child. That's who she was now and I couldn't see her any other way.
She proved me wrong again. I can't see her that way because I look at her in a newfound sense. The same playful sense of puppy love. To say that evening was anything short of amazing would be a lie. To say watching her wriggle and squirm against the bed wasn't a turn on would be a cold lie. To say feeling her clinch and tie down to the bed was exhilarating and exciting in a new way; pinning her down to the headboard feeling her lips wrapped around my entire dick thrusting in and out of her.
Her moans like knife edge murmuring slicing the enticement of my mind and desire. Her breath gasping out for more air with the refreshing scent of chrysanthemums and lust. You can simply say... I picked her apart that night, closing with her legs rose above her head filling every cavity and crevice of her pussy with warm, lust led, and motif charged semen. Resting atop of her patterned kissing above her brow, to her cheekbones, to her jawline, and slowly leaving every trace of us within her.
