*Author's note: Two quick things. I write mostly May-December romance stories in the 'mature' category. Readers often tell me via email they appreciate my well-developed characters. One recently said, "I'm so tired of the typical stories here that go like this: 'Hey, there's a pizza. Wanna fuck?" That's not me. I don't do three-pages stories. Outside of hook ups, real people don't have sex, fall in love, and get married without good reasons. Nor do they get involved in threesomes or involve other people—especially of other races—on a whim. Developing those reasons and the people behind them takes time. So...please be patient. :-)
Second, this story is based loosely on my ex-wife. I shared our actual story in Making Changes. Over time, she became a lifestyle submissive. Initially, it was fun. She'd do anything I asked and I mean anything. Okay, she wanted to be told or ordered, but you get my drift. After a while, it became a huge pain in the...um...burden, because I'm not a 'top' or dom. When I stopped playing, she needed a real master and I moved on to other things which I've shared in several other stories.
Bottom line is we did the things in this story and a whole lot more, but they weren't much fun because there was no resistance and I like resistance. With extremely rare exceptions, normal married women just don't say to some new, wild idea their husband proposes, "Oh, sure. Let's do that. In fact, how about tonight?" Some tiny percent will eventually agree, but it has to be a very small number. The ones who'll agree to do it again, have to be very, very few in number. But they are out there.
One of my biggest fantasies is a 'normal', attractive wife who would eventually say 'yes' to the theme of this story. I'm into a whole other lifestyle now so this isn't possible for me, but when I look back and dream, this is perhaps my favorite fantasy. Well, one of them anyway.
This isn't a cuckold tale. It is a fetish story, but it also interracial, and although it is unlikely, it is most definitely possible and has undoubtedly been done many times over the course of human history.
******
"Good morning," she said happily as he waited for her.
Every day began the same way. He got up first and made coffee then waited for her to join them once it was brewed. He handed her a cup and kissed and told her how much he loved her. Sometimes, he had even more to say and today was one of those days. Today, he set the cup down and held her after the kiss and she held him back. He stroked her long, soft hair and said, "Every day I feel like I'm the luckiest person alive."
She squeezed him tight and said, "No, that's me. I have the most wonderful, amazing, handsome young husband in the world and he's in love with me. Sometimes it feels like I'm living in a dream. The most wonderful, romantic dream anyone could ever have."
She was just over six years older than him and she really did think he was the most handsome man she'd ever known while he honestly believed she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. There was no show or exaggeration in their words. Both of them deeply believed what they said and wanted the other person to know how they felt every day. Granted, they'd only been married six months and known one another a year, but they were already each other's life.
His wife, Hallie Miller, (formerly Thomas) had recently turned 30 and just two years ago was still legally married to her high school sweetheart, Elwood Thomas. His unusual name aside, they were the classic most-likely couple in their high school. He'd been the football team's quarterback and the Homecoming King while she was the pretty cheerleader and Homecoming Queen. Nothing had seemed more right than a small family wedding right after graduation. Why should they wait to start their lives together when both of them knew their love was real and would last forever?
For the first few years, they were mostly happy even though finding work had been very hard for the former athlete. He worked construction and often sporadically at best, yet he insisted she stay home and let him care for her. That was fine except that work was scarce which meant money was, too. Unfortunately, the less he worked, the more he drank and the more he drank, the less he worked.
At around the five-year point, he became gradually more and more depressed and began drinking even more. When she told him she was going to work—just part time to help out—he'd flown off the handle and called her a whore. For the next four-plus years, he called her that many times along with words that were far more hurtful. She knew she should leave, but for some reason, she couldn't. She still loved him or whatever shell was left of the man she'd once loved. So she stayed and hoped against hope things might change.
He'd gained a lot of weight even though he now ate very little, and his personal hygiene was neglected more and more as time went on. She'd told in no uncertain terms to sleep on the couch two years before she finally got up the nerve to leave because the stench of beer and sweat was more than she could stomach.
Had she not run into an old friend one day, she might never have moved out. This friend was three years her junior, but their parents had been friends since they were kids, and when they saw each other for the first time in several years, this friend, Celeste Layton, asked how things were going.
"Oh, okay, I guess," Hallie lied not wanting to get into it.
They chatted briefly, and Celeste could tell something wasn't right. "You know I got divorced two years ago, don't you?" she asked Hallie.
"Right. Yes, I heard about that. I'm so sorry," she said truthfully.
"Thank you, but I'm not. Hallie? Sometimes leaving seems impossibly hard, but if things are bad—really bad—it becomes our only option. If they were that bad, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" Celeste asked with deep concern.
Hallie was still gorgeous. Celeste was secretly envious that a woman three years older then her looked so much better than she did even though she was a very attractive young woman herself. Hallie had the kind of natural beauty, which, if nurtured in the slightest, would last for many, many years, and she was squandering it on a man unable to appreciate it.
It only took a few seconds for the tears to start flowing followed by a confession of just how bad things had gotten. "Come stay with me," Celeste told her. "I have an empty room and you can have it for as long as you need. But you have to get out. That's not living and you deserve better."
That week, Hallie found the courage to confront her husband who told her in so many words, "Good riddance." He'd punctuated his brief-but-intense diatribe with more hurtful words she'd tried to forget but which still lived right under the surface; words she'd allowed to define her for far too long.
She'd cried for days after leaving him and then one day, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. It was over. She was free. Free to start a new life. Free to maybe even find real love or at least a decent guy who didn't drink and who occasionally complemented her. That didn't seem unreasonable to her and it did seem reasonable there had to be single guys her age somewhere in this big old world who could meet that very low bar. They didn't have to be Homecoming-King gorgeous. They just had to show her some appreciation and affection and well, shower regularly.
She knew she was starving for love, and the thought of just having the basics would be a dream come true. A smile, a gentle touch, a kiss, an occasional 'I love you'. None of that seemed like too much to ask for. Yes, she still thought about sex and remembered with great fondness how it had been when she was 18 or 19. That would be the proverbial icing on the cake. For now, any reasonably attractive, decent guy with a steady job would be...amazing.
She filed for divorce the following week and learned her soon-to-be-ex wouldn't contest it. Within a year, her nightmare would finally be over. It was way too soon to seriously think about finding someone permanent, but the hope she eventually might burned brightly somewhere in the back of her mind, and that hope sustained her as she began working full-time while trying to mentally and emotionally nurture herself back to life.
And that's when she met him for the first time. He was dating Celeste who'd talked about him quite often. He'd been out of town for a few days when Hallie moved in so she hadn't yet met him. Celeste told her he'd be coming over that evening and she said she'd be glad to go watch a movie or stay in her room, but Celeste insisted she meet her beau, as she called him, and Hallie agreed.
Neither of them admitted it until around the time they started dating, but both of them remembered thinking, "He/she is the most gorgeous person I've ever seen!" Hallie was shocked to learn he was just 23 years old.
Celeste was 26 and change, and the 3 1/2-year age difference drove her crazy. Hallie had just turned 29 and remembered thinking that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. While she'd never really considered the possibility of falling for someone more than a couple of years either side of her own age, she knew she'd gladly date a guy that good looking in a heartbeat unless of course, he had a heart of stone—or drank like a fish. But because he was already dating her friend, she also knew that was a moot point. But were it even a possibility, she'd go out with him—or a guy like him—no questions asked.
Her self-confidence had been shattered over the years, and she couldn't begin to imagine a man that good looking even being interested in a woman her age—especially one coming out of a failed marriage. Clearly, she no longer knew just how attractive she still was.
"Hallie? This is my beau...friend, Michael Miller, who insists I call him Mike." She made a face as though doing so was...distasteful. "Mike? This is my good friend, Hallie." They smiled and shook hands with each other then talked occasionally as Mike and Celeste chatted about his most recent trip. It wasn't long before the infamous 'gap' came up.
"So I'm assuming you were the youngest person there?" Celeste asked unable to start digging.
