A Little Itch

Thanks to jo for the wonderful editing and helpful suggestions.

********

I'm not a wimp. I may be a fool but I'm not a wimp.

What happened to me shouldn't happen to my worst enemy. Right now I'm sitting with my head in my hands wondering just how in the hell I got to where I am. I have been royally fucked and to some it looks like I asked for it or at least I wasn't man enough to prevent it. Bull shit! One tour in Iraq and another in Afghanistan fighting terrorists should dispense any rumors about my manhood. It's just that I've seen so much violence in my lifetime that I just couldn't stomach any more.

So, why am I sitting here feeling sorry for myself? Three hours ago I faced a judge who told me that my wife, now ex-wife, can have half of everything I've ever worked for plus half of my government pension plus support payments plus custody of my three year old daughter. I could only sit and watch as this asshole judge bent me over, shoved my miserable life up my ass, and sent the only woman I've ever loved into the arms of another man. Divorce isn't for the faint of heart.

But instead of bitching about my life, I think I need to explain what happened. It's an age old story. A story of love found and love lost. My name is John and what I'm about to tell you is difficult to tell, but every word of it is true.

The beginning was about nine months ago. I just got back from my annual visit to the VA hospital in Richmond and I was feeling worse than before I got there. They poked and prodded and stuck me with all sorts of needles and took a dozen x-rays and CT scans just to see if I was any less disabled now than when they mustered me out of the Army four years ago. Nope, I'm still not able to wipe my ass without my hand bouncing back and forth between my cheeks like the clapper of an old bell. The little limp caused by having only two toes on my right foot is still there. And let's not forget the nightmares. After two days of benign torture some doctor signed a paper that said I'm still 100% disabled. Thanks doc, I could have told you that! Being disabled doesn't prevent me from holding up my end of the marriage and earning a living. I work from home buying and selling things over the Internet. I make a good supplemental income that way, almost as much as my disability pension.

Anyway, I had just pulled into the driveway when I saw my lovely wife Amanda in the backyard sunning herself. She was wearing her skimpiest white bikini lying face down on a lounge chair with her legs spread. For a thirty year old woman she was HOT! I just sat in the car looking at her feeling an erection coming that would soon need some attention. And the center of that attention was lying on a lounge chair fifty feet away.

I got out, walked around the bushes, and stood beside her, casting a shadow over her beautiful blond hair and dark tanned shoulders.

"Hey, you're blocking the sun," she complained as she turned and saw me standing there. "Oh, it's you, soldier boy. Well, is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

I was feeling a hundred percent better now and in the mood to play.

"I brought you a little present," I teased.

"Little hell. If memory serves your little present is big enough to make me climb the walls in absolute ecstasy. How about we do a little wall climbing now?"

"Where's our little girl?"

"She's staying with her grandmother for the day. Do you want to play or not?"

The bikini never made it into the house and neither did half of my clothes. By the time we fell into the bed we were naked and intertwined in each other's arms like two horny octopi. We started slowly with a long torturous 69. It was a race to see who could make the other cum first. I won this time but came (sic) in a very close second. Then we kissed and played with our fleshy parts until my little soldier was again standing at attention. Then she mounted me and tried to power fuck my brains out all over the bed. She almost succeeded. As I shot my load up inside her she dripped sweat down from her face onto mine. The salty taste reminded me of where my tongue had been earlier. She was still pumping up and down on my increasingly flaccid cock and looking like a heartbroken little girl. I knew what she wanted, what she needed, so I pushed her off and reached into the nightstand for her favorite toy. When she saw the giant black dildo she was all smiles again. We hadn't played with it for a long time but I absolutely knew how to blow her mind with it. It took a little bit of manipulation in the folds between her legs with Junior (she called it Junior) and a lot of my sucking and biting on her nipples before she tensed up and screamed out in agony. I continued to plunge Junior in and out as she squirmed and contorted below. Her face was as twisted as her body. She was absolutely beautiful. So beautiful that I thought I'd let her down easily and slowed my probing in her pussy.

"Don't you even think about it, buster!" she barked at me. "Get the other one and hurry. I'm on the edge of another one."

She wanted something she hadn't asked me to do for a long time. She wanted her anal plug. So I reached in the drawer and pulled out another of her toys.

"Put it in me, put it in me. HURRY!" She groaned.

"It's not lubed up, babe," I answered.

"Fuck it! Give it here." She yanked it out of my hand and put it into her mouth and began sucking and licking it all over. The slobber was dripping down her chin when she took it out and said, "Here, now it's ready. Put it in me."

I put the tip against her brown star and applied a little pressure. She tensed up and became deadly still. As I pushed the tapered shape deeper into her ass she never moved or blinked, she remained frozen with her eyes and mouth wide open. Hell, I don't even think she took a breath. When it hit the smaller end it was sucked up inside the rest of the way. In one motion her asshole closed around it. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body exploded with an earthquake of an orgasm. She bucked and twitched and yelled out almost throwing herself off the bed. Finally with one last gasp prior to passing out from ecstasy she groaned, "Take 'em out, take 'em out."

I removed the vinyl cocks from her holes and watched as she passed into oblivion. She was breathing, but only barely. I watched her sleep. She was so peaceful and beautiful all I could do was look at her. I loved her more than life itself.

I got up and went into the bathroom to relieve myself and to clean up a little. As I stood there peeing and looking around feeling quite full of myself, I spotted a little something on the floor between the tub and the toilet. After shaking the last drops off I reached down and picked up the little piece of trash, but before I let it fall into the trashcan I saw a word I hadn't seen for a while. On the piece of red foil I saw the letters 'TRO.' The rest was missing but I knew exactly what it was. I had seen and used enough of them in service. But I don't use them now. I don't need to. After our little girl was born I got myself neutered and have been shooting blanks ever since. Besides, Amanda loves when I come up inside her. Why in the hell is the corner of a condom wrapper in my bathroom?

I just stood there in shock, naked and in shock. I looked over my shoulder and saw Amanda lying spread eagled on the bed snoring up a storm. She hadn't moved since her last orgasm. I sat down on the toilet and watched her snore. I thought about how over the top passionate she had just been. She's usually a handful in bed but this time she was different, more demanding, more forceful, more, well, more of everything. I loved it a moment ago but now I'm holding something I shouldn't be holding. What does it all mean? Is there a good explanation why a condom wrapper is in my bathroom? How can there be? I thought I might have a problem.

I found all of our clothes and went to put them in the clothes hamper when I saw that it was empty. Amanda doesn't do the laundry until Monday evening so why is the hamper empty on Friday. I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went out to the laundry room. In the dryer I found a set of sheets for our bed and a few other even more curious items. There was a set of Amanda's sexiest underwear and a little white dress that she wore whenever we went out dancing. There were also several bath towels and a washcloth. All of this meant absolutely nothing, or it meant exactly what it looked like. I needed to think about it.

I grabbed a couple beers and went out to the backyard. It was almost dark when I saw the kitchen light go on and Amanda's head sticking up over the window sill. She walked out wearing an old t-shirt of mine and sat down next to me.

"Is there anything wrong, babe?" she asked.

I didn't say a word. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if what I was thinking was true or not. If I asked her about it and she lied I'd know, then I would feel ten times worse. If she told me the truth, well I wasn't sure I could handle that either. I just sat quietly.

"Babe, talk to me. What's going on?"

My hand moved all by itself, my mind was not telling it what to do. It reached in my pocket and pulled out the little red piece of trash. I held it in front of her. It took a couple minutes for her eyes to focus on it but when she did her eyes closed and her bottom lip stuck out. After a minute of silence she got up and walked into the house. In another minute our bedroom light came on. I sat in the twilight and wondered what was happening too afraid to know. A few minutes later I took my two empty beer bottles and dropped them in the recycling bin on the way inside. When I got to our bedroom Amanda was dressed and putting her clothes in a suitcase.

"I'll be out of here in a few minutes," she said sadly. "I'll go to my sister's. In a few days I'll be back and get the rest of my things."

This was the second time I was in total shock. My mind was taking in everything but it wasn't allowing rational thought. My mouth wasn't working either.

She looked up from her packing with tears in her eyes and said, "I been wanting to tell you for a couple weeks now but I couldn't find the nerve. Now you know. Now you won't have to worry about me lying or cheating on you any more. You can find someone else who won't disrespect you." She went back to packing.

"What in the hell is going on?" I finally said loudly, almost too loud.

She looked over at me with the same tear stained face but now with a little bit of fear. "I can't tell you. It would hurt too much."

"Hurt who? Me or you?"

"It would hurt you too much. I just can't."

I walked over to her side of the bed and stood very close to her. I stood as tall as I could to seem as threatening as possible. I didn't want to hit her but I wanted to know what in the hell was going on.

"Tell me or..."

"Or what? You'll hit me. You wouldn't hit me. You don't have it in you to hurt anyone, let alone me. No, you won't hurt me, and I won't hurt you by saying anything else."

My hand reacted again without my mind controlling it. I pushed her onto her back on the bed. I leaned down over top of her, raised my fist in the air, and got nose to nose with her.

"Don't be too damned sure," I yelled. "Now tell me what's going on."

She covered her eyes with her hands and sobbed out the words that ended my very existence. "I'm in love with someone else. I've been seeing my boss at work for the past few months. We were just playing around at first but now we've fallen in love. I never meant for it to happen and I didn't start out to hurt you but I love him and we've decided to move in together." She moved her hands away from her eyes and looked into mine as she twisted the knife in my heart again. "You can't give me all the things I want anyway. Your disability pension doesn't pay shit. You're great in bed but that's all we've got left now, the sex. It's not enough, I want more. I want a big house and a nice car. I want to shop at nice stores, not Goodwill. And I don't love you anymore. I know I've hurt you but I didn't mean to. I'm sorry we had to end this way. Now, please get off of me and let me go."

She slid out from under me and grabbed her suitcase and ran out of the room. I was still bending over the bed when I heard the front door slam and her car squeal out of the driveway.

So how did I handle my wife telling me that she no longer loved me? I did what any self-respecting Army vet would do. I spent the next hour trashing the bedroom and then went out into the backyard and got rip roaring drunk.

I don't remember anything that happened after that. I could have howled at the moon for all I knew. But when I regained consciousness the next morning I was laying under the picnic table holding onto the ground like I'd float away if I didn't. I've had hangovers before but what I experienced right then was the mother of all hangovers. I looked up and saw a pair of hairy legs in front of me. They led up to the bottom of a jerk who I've known all my life, Larry. Larry and I grew up together and went into the Army together. We fought together and got drunk together. We even got married together. I married Amanda and he married Amanda's sister.

"About time you woke up," he screamed down at me.

"Quietly, please, don't yell." I begged.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Do you need anything? Like a crane to pull your ass out from under the table? A new head maybe? How about something more to drink? From my count I see 10 beer bottles and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels strewn about the yard. I've got a bottle of Wild Turkey in the car. Want me to go get it?"

"No dickhead. Just get the hell out of the way or you're going to need a shower in a minute."

Larry jumped off the picnic table bench and backpedaled a few paces. That's when I let loose with the most colorful mix of vomit I'd ever seen through partially closed eyes. I heaved up my guts. I was sure that my small intestine was also in that puddle somewhere.

When the dust settled, actually when the vomit settled, I looked up at Larry. I had expected to see his usual smirk of 'I told you so' but it wasn't there this time. Somehow I crawled out from under the table and sat on the ground next to the puddle of my previous night's debauchery. Damn the sun was bright!

"Come on, I'll help you get in the shower." Larry manhandled me into an upright position and guided me inside. He turned on the cold water and I just stood there with the water flowing all over me, clothes and all. When I felt the coldness of the water I turned it off and held my hand out for a towel. Larry handed me one and I began drying off my head. Larry knew the routine because we've been helping each other sober up since we were teenagers

"Put some dry clothes on and I'll meet you in the kitchen with a cure for what ails you." .

"Only death will cure me now," I groaned.

I walked into the kitchen and dropped my sorry butt onto a chair. I was physically and emotionally a wreck. I put my head in my hands and prayed to be struck by lighting. As luck would have it the weather outside was clear and sunny. Oh well, so much for prayers.

"Here eat this."

Larry sat in front of me two pieces of toast and a glass of tomato juice. I ate and drank but didn't feel any better. At least emotionally I didn't feel better.

"So, what are you going to do? Amanda came over last night and told us what she did. She'll be staying with us until she gets settled, one way or the other. And she's got Darla with her. I just want to know what you have planned. I'll help any way you want. I know her boss, Herbert Hubley. That asshole sold us our minivan last year. Just because he owns the largest Ford dealership in town doesn't mean that we can't take him down a peg or two. I don't give a shit if he is running for mayor. He's got a lot of nerve screwing around with a married woman. And Amanda treated you like shit. She needs to be taught a lesson too. Maybe we can get a couple of the guys from the old squad together and pay asshole a little visit at his ranch. Maybe he can just disappear on the way to work one day. I know if my wife did to me what Amanda did to you I'd..."

"Stop!"

The toast and tomato juice came back up. I left Larry to clean up the mess and went to the spare room and went to bed. I did something that I hadn't done for a very long time. I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up the kitchen was spotless and Larry was gone. He left a note on the counter saying simply, "Call me when you know what you want to do."

I found a ginger ale in the refrigerator and went out and sat in the rocking chair on the front porch. I thought about Amanda. I thought about myself. I thought about our marriage. I thought about my daughter. I thought about revenge. I sat there all day thinking. It was almost dark when Larry showed up again. He didn't say a word he just handed me a sandwich and soda and sat down.

"Well?" He queried between bites.

"Well what?"

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know if I would have her back even if she wanted to come back. What she did with that asshole was way more than I can take. She's made her choice and I lost out. I'm yesterday's news."

"So what do you want to do about asshole?"

"Larry, let it die won't you? I don't want to use asshole for target practice or shave his ass and sell him to a Venezuelan whore house. I got enough of that shit in Afghanistan. I hate him it's true but I could no more hurt him than I could hurt... her."

"Dude, he stole your wife from you. And if they end up together, and Amanda gets custody of Darla, then he stole your daughter too. You've got to stand up for what's right. You've got to fight for your family. You've got to do something. I know if my wife did to me what she did to you then her ass would be looking up at the surface of Caveman Lake, from thirty feet below. Man up! Grow a set of balls! Do something!"

I put down my sandwich and looked over at the best friend I've ever had and said, "Larry, go home."

He did.

I never did anything. I didn't fight the divorce. I didn't fight the custody. I didn't say another word to Amanda. I just pulled the covers over my lifeless body and crawled into a bottle. I spent six months in a self imposed stupor. When I woke up I found that any love I had for Amanda was washed away with the booze I pissed out every morning. I put on the only suit I had left and went to the final divorce hearing. I was sober but not thinking too clearly. By the time it was over I was thinking clearly again. Pain will force you to think very clearly.

So now I sit in this coffee shop and mourn the death of my life. Maybe I am a wimp.

As I sit here I think about the positive and negative sides of a divorce. Everybody focuses on the negative side probably because the pain is the hardest thing most people will ever experience. Well, I've experienced a lot worse. In Afghanistan my Humvee was hit by an RPG and I was dragged off to some hellhole of a house where this fat Taliban warlord took absolute delight in shredding my skin with a bamboo stick over the next few weeks. And when he wasn't playing with his bamboo stick some other sick fucks were pouring buckets of water over my face while I was tied to the bed saying over and over in their form of English, "You do dis to our man, we do dis to you." No matter what side you're on, waterboarding is still torture. The pain of what my wife did was awful but I had so much other shit done to me that I could never do anything to anybody else, no matter how much I hated their guts. I no longer had a violent bone in my body.

I'm single again and Amanda married Herbert just after the divorce hearing. I wondered why she didn't stipulate alimony in the settlement agreement. Now I know.