My wife's best friend is a lady named Darlene. She is a very pretty redhead. Darlene was grossly overweight in her thirties. Last year, when she turned forty, Darlene lost more than seventy five pounds and the results have been spectacular. Darlene is extremely self centered and she can be combative and very bossy. She doesn't like to take no for an answer. This story (parts 1, 2 and 3) are the first three chapters of a much longer novel, a work that is still in progress, in which Darlene, my wife Abby, and their friend Pamela are the main characters. The story contains a number of my own interrelated sexual fantasies, many of which are about Darlene and Pamela. The first part of the story is different from what follows, because the theme involves homosexual activities. The incident described in part 1 is included because it sets the stage for and is critical to the rest of the story line. The themes that occupy parts two and three and the rest of the novel are female domination and adultery. The novel is entitled 'My Three Mistresses' - but this part is "Darlene's Story"
( Darlene arrives home unexpectedly to discover the shocking secret of her husband's homosexual affair with her best friend's husband. She watches the two men from her hiding place )
The house on the hill stood alone, bathed in shadows created by the outdoor lighting strategically situated around the perimeter of the vast sloping lawn. The house was very large, larger than most of the nearby estates in this affluent gated community at the western end of San Fernando Valley. The darkened windows of the mansion gave the impression that the house was empty but in fact, it was not. The architecture, manicured lushness and large trees surrounding the impressive estates inside the gate were a testament to the wealth, social standing, and good taste of its residents. The mansions here were constructed of stucco, brick or frame and the tree lined streets were more like those found in wealthy communities like Wellesley Massachusetts, Winnetka Illinois, or Scarsdale New York, than Southern California. They seemed somehow incongruous and out of place in the suburban Valley The expansive lawns were lush and green and contrasted sharply with the surrounding semi-arid hilly terrain, the horse fences and ever present scrub oaks that provided the only clues to their true location
The atmosphere inside the house was totally different. Soft indirect lighting cast a warm hue on richly paneled walls and oriental carpets. It was obvious that the occupants were people of wealth, discernment, and good taste. The interior of the sprawling manor was palatial and filled with expensive art and furniture. The owners had beautifully and tastefully furnished the house, and it was well tended.
Darlene Carr, a grossly overweight but strikingly beautiful redhead was the mistress of this house. Her physical appearance was largely a reflection of the emotional roller-coaster she'd ridden for the past two years. Her marriage to Brian was like a car driving in cruise control. They had once loved each other and she supposed that she still did love him. But her husband had become increasingly cool and indifferent to her over the past five years. The only passion left between them manifested itself in the occasional shouting matches that flared up over her obsessive spending or when she was involved in a power struggle with their daughter Ashley. Brian could be counted on to side with their demanding teen aged daughter. He doted on her and spoiled her. It seemed that she was her father's principal object of affection. Even early in their marriage, he had seemed indifferent to having sex with Darlene. He made love to her because of his marital obligations and even when he was at his best the sex was mechanical and ritualistic. Otherwise Brian was aloof and increasingly spent his time involved in business affairs, or chairing some civic committee. They rarely saw each other except on weekends. Meanwhile Darlene allowed herself to overeat and turn into a grossly bloated caricature of the matronly middle-aged woman. She had just turned forty-one but she looked at least ten years older.
She glanced at her diamond studded watch as she drove her expensive Mercedes sedan up the long familiar driveway. It read 12:30 AM. As she approached the house she noticed that there was another car parked in the driveway. It was a dark blue BMW 750. Darlene immediately recognized the car as belonging to her best friend Abby. She wondered why it was parked at her house at this hour. Was something wrong? It just didn't make sense. Working on her gut instinct, Darlene decided it would be best to park her car away from the residence so that her arrival would remain unnoticed by anyone inside the house.
It was a Thursday night and the Carr's live-in housekeeper Rosa would be off until the following Monday. Whoever was visiting the house was in there alone with Brian. Darlene approached the front door cautiously. It struck as very odd that Abby's car to be there so late at night, particularly since Abby knew that Darlene was out of town visiting her ailing mother. Darlene's intuition told her that she needed cut her trip short and come home. So she had flown home a couple of days earlier than scheduled without telling anyone, even her husband Brian, of her change in plans. Ashley, a college freshman, was away on a holiday trip with her best friend Kimberly Hunt. Now that she had arrived Darlene wondered what was going on. She experienced a sudden surge of anxiety. Was Abby here, at the house, with Brian? If so, Why?
Or, maybe someone else was visiting; could it be Abby's husband Greg? That seemed improbable. The two men were very different and had opposite views on most things. In fact their only common bond other then their affluence seemed to be that they were married to women who happened to be the best of friends and that each had a daughter who also happened to be very good friends. For those reasons the Carrs and the Hunts frequently socialized with each other. For the sake of appearance, the two men tolerated each other and allowed themselves to be civil with each other. Recalling Brian's secret and disparaging name for Greg, Darlene discounted the notion that the two of them were alone inside. The two men really despised each other. Her mind continued racing. It was filled with unanswered questions as she entered the foyer. Her curiosity, and her suspicions, reawakened when she heard voices coming from the upstairs quarters.
The sounds were muffled and faint, but she recognized one of them as being a man's voice. Putting down her coat, she removed her high heeled shoes and tip-toed up the carpeted semi-circular stairway. She walked at a snails pace with her back against the wall. Reaching the top, Darlene continued down the hallway, toward the light coming from the master bedroom suite. That was where the voices she had heard seemed to originate. The sound she heard now included a second voice, another man's voice. One of the men, she thought it sounded like Brian, was using vulgar and coarse language. The words seemed to be sexual slang.
"Come over here you sexy tramp and see what a real man tastes like, c'mon you horny cock slut, c'mon over and wrap your lips around my knob...give my rod a blow-job with that sexy pussy mouth of yours"
He seemed to be teasing the other man. For a moment she froze with fright, not having a clue as to what was going in her bedroom. Finally, she stood in front of the closed door, listening to a dialogue that was foreign to her ears.
Music, it sounded to Darlene like Brazilian jazz, was playing softly in the background. And then she heard voices again, now she was sure that the man who seemed to be taunting the other was her husband, Brian.
