Adam's Journey

I wiped up the spilled semen from my step, and threw away the towel. I was lost and disoriented, and wasn't sure what to do next. I glanced out the front window and saw two police cars, one in front and one in back of the son of a bitch's truck. My vicious ploy had worked only too well.

I began to think about what Kristi had said, about his wife and kids. I could care less what happened to him, it would be the consequences of his own actions, but there was no reason that his wife should feel as shitty as I did right then, and I would be the cause of that. I may have destroyed more than one relationship in my anger, and that was cruel and senseless.

Like I said, I'm a bastard sometimes.

I saw one of the cops bring a blanket from his trunk, and they handed it to the SOB and then pulled him from his truck and walked him, wrapped in the blanket, to the rear patrol car where they lowered him into the back seat. He was wearing cuffs.

I saw the two cops talking for a moment, and looking over toward my house. Finally one of them, the older, more heavyset one, turned and began to walk across toward my place. I walked to the front door and opened it, stepping onto the front walk. I nodded at him, and he stopped a few feet in front of me.

"Good evening sir, can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"First sir, can I get your name?"

I told him my name, and to call me Adam. He was officer Sam Mathis. I invited him in to talk, and we stepped into the house. I sat at the end of the sofa, and he took the chair on the other side of the coffee table, facing me. He stared at me for a moment, perhaps judging if I posed any threat. Apparently not, he seemed to relax.

"Sir, the gentleman we just arrested claims you beat him up and threw him out of your house. Is that true?"

"Not entirely, no, and please call me Adam. I didn't beat him up or you'd be hauling him away in an ambulance. I just roughed him up a little in the process of throwing him out of my house." I paused. "Did he tell you what he did?"

He cleared his throat, and looked very uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah, he said you caught him and your wife together."

I laughed bitterly. "Not my wife, thank god, just my fiance', but yeah, that's what happened. What would you have done?"

Before he could answer, I saw his eyes move to the steps, and he looked up. I automatically turned my head to see what had distracted him and saw Kristi, on the second step down. Her hair was hanging down, dark, limp, and wet, and she had slipped into a simple white t-shirt and a snug pair of jeans. She was barefoot, and I could tell she was bra-less, and she looked vulnerable and hurt, sexy, gorgeous, and incredible.

Officer Sam stared at her, eyes widening, and I heard him mutter "Christ! I'd have shot the motherfucker's balls off."

Kristi looked down at us, silent and serious, and he turned back to me.

"Well Adam, he's not going to press any charges, but I would like to get his clothes back, if that's OK with you. We need to take him down to booking."

Kristi said "I'll get them", and disappeared back into our bedroom. Sam looked at me. "You didn't hurt her did you?"

I looked back at him, not knowing how to answer, so I told him the truth.

"Yeah, I did. I hurt her badly, I'm sure, but I never laid a finger on her."

Now he was the one at a loss.

"Oh, well, we can't arrest you for that, that's between you and her, but don't do anything stupid."

"Thanks, but you're a little late with that advice, officer. Are you arresting him?" Truth be told I hadn't even considered the SOB pressing charges against me, and of course he wouldn't, he'd be too embarassed.

Kristi returned carrying his clothes and handed them to Officer Sam just as he affirmed that they were indeed arresting him.

She stood right in front of him and looked him in the eye. "You shouldn't. He wasn't doing anything to anyone, Adam threw him outside naked, it wasn't his fault."

"Yes ma'am, I understand that, and we're going to let the lewd behavior charge go, but he had a rather large baggie of what appears to be a well known smokable organic plant material on his front seat, in plain view. We've got to bust him for that."

I couldn't contain a short, harsh laugh at that. Since the last time he had shot his load inside Kristi, his day had gone seriously downhill. Kristi shook her head. "He's such an immature jerk."

I looked at her. "And yet you fucked him."

She whipped around on me. 'Yeah, apparently my taste in men just sucks all over."

She disappeared back up the stairs, and Officer Sam looked uncomfortable again. "Adam, that wasn't very smart. You need to learn when to shut up."

I've been told that before. He turned to leave, carrying the clothes, and I stopped him. "Wait, there's one more thing of his."

I grabbed a baggie from the kitchen and ran up the steps. I walked into our bedroom - well, I guess it was my bedroom now, I'd have to get used to saying that - and knelt down and picked up every last piece of his crushed cell phone, even the tiny shards, and put them in the baggie, zipping it closed. I walked back down and handed it to Officer Sam.

"Here's his phone, wouldn't want to be accused of stealing it."

He held the bag up and shook it, looking at it. He smiled a little then. "I'm sorry for your loss Adam, I really am, but you are apparently a bad man to piss off. That 911 call was inspired, we'll be talking about that one down at the station for years."

"Mmm, thanks. Try to leave my name out of it, OK? I'd just as soon not have the whole world know."

He left then, and the other patrol car with the SOB in it was already gone.

Kristi came back down the stairs again, carrying a small bag. "I'm leaving. I'll come back sometime to get my stuff, I'll call so you don't have to see me." She stood, her shoulders slumped, her eyes searching my face.

"Where will you go?"

"You don't care, remember?"

"Yeah. Kristi...?"

She looked at me, waiting for me to finish. I should have said I was sorry for the things I'd said, I should have grabbed her and held her, and begged her not to leave, and told her I could forgive her if she could forgive me, and how much I loved her, but I didn't.

I said "Be careful", and I turned and walked away so she wouldn't see me crying, and I heard the door close behind her.

I wandered the house, going from room to room with tears streaming down my face. I couldn't believe how fast my happiness and excitement at getting a couple of extra days at home with Kristi had turned into anger and agony, humiliation and loneliness.

I just kept wandering from room to room, seeing reminders of her everywhere. Ralph followed me for awhile, then got bored and laid down and watched me. The second time I walked into our - I mean my - bedroom, I looked at the bed, the scene of the crime. I hadn't been able to look at it the first time.

There were several cum stains on my sheets, smaller ones, and two pretty large ones, wet still and showing dark against the sage green sheets, and I could smell the sex in the room. I ripped the sheets off the bed and balled them up, stepping into the hall and throwing the wad to the bottom of the steps. They landed with one of the large, wet stains facing up, visible and taunting me.

I walked down and kicked the mass into the hall, and then collapsed in my chair. I'd wash them later, or maybe burn them. I buried my face in my hands and just sat there, numb.

I don't know how long I sat there, an hour, maybe more, but it was almost dark when I heard Ron knock on the door and let himself in like he always does.

"Kristi, Adam, you here? Hello, anyone home?" He walked in and saw me.

"Hey, Adam, what'cha doing home early? I saw your car..."

He faltered, and stood looking at me, seeing my pain. "What's wrong man, you look like shit. Are you OK?"

"Oh, no, not really. I've definitely been better."

"What's going on?"

"Kristi's gone. We had a fight, so I guess that's that. Like they say, all good things must come to an end." I know I was tryng to act less devastated than I felt.

"No way man! Not you and Kristi, you guys are just way too good together. Whatever you did you tell her you're sorry and kiss her feet, you can't let her get away."

I just looked at him. Of course he would assume it was something I'd done, Kristi is just so sweet all the time, and I know Ron thinks the world of her. Of me too, but he expects us men to screw up.

"I wish it was that easy Ron, but it wasn't me. She was fucking some other guy." There, it was out in the open, I'd been cuckolded, and my best friend knew.

He dropped onto the sofa. "Oh, shit. Are you sure?"

I laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say I'm pretty sure. I walked in on them."

"Oh, fuck! Oh buddy, I am so sorry. Oh my god, I don't believe this. I'm going to call Kori and have her come over. You need your friends around you now.

I really just wanted to be alone, but I didn't say so. He got Kori on his cell and asked her to come to "Adam and Kristi's house", but I didn't correct him, and I heard him tell her to grab "that bottle of Scotch" off the bar.

I sat there thinking about the word 'cuckold', of all things. I didn't like the word before, and now I hated it. I used to sneak old Playboy magazines from my dad's collection, to jerk off to when I was a kid, and they had a section back then called Ribald Tales. Maybe they still do, I don't know. The husbands in those stories seemed to be cuckolds most of the time, and the word was used a lot, so I was familiar with it. And now, as they say, I are one.

Kori showed up and Ron took the bottle from her and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back with a couple of mugs and I watched him pour each of us a couple of fingers of "that Scotch", which turned out to be fine, expensive Macallan single malt.

"You're a classy guy Ron. I think I can do a little better than an old chipped coffee mug for a Macallan. You know, if you're planning to drown my sorrows, any old rotgut would work, this is a waste."

"Fuck you, a glass is a glass, and it's just booze. Shut up and drink."

I did, and I was right, it was a waste. My mouth just tasted like copper, and I couldn't taste the fine smoky peat flavor of the Scotch. I did feel the warmth flow through my belly, which had felt cold and hard, so that was good.

Kori said "What happened? Why were the police here? What did you do?"

My friend's faith in me was astounding. "Tell us Adam, start from the beginning."

So I did, I told them the whole sorry tale, leaving out nothing, most of the time with my face buried in my hands and occasionally having to stop and collect myself. At some point Kori came over and sat on the arm of the chair, next to me, and put her arms around me, and then just sat and rubbed my back while I talked. I was glad Ron had called her.

When I was done we all just sat in silence for awhile and I heard Kori sniffle. I looked at her, and saw she had tears running down her face. She searched my eyes for a moment. "Adam, where is Kristi now?"

"I don't know, I told you I kicked her out."

"Oh, Adam!" She grabbed Ron's cell phone off the table and walked outside. Ron and I sat, not talking, and he poured us another drink. That woud be my last, and it was right. Just enough to round off the sharp corners a little, soften the hurt.

I'm not one to drown my troubles in booze, never have been. I try to face up to things and deal with what life throws at me, but this time I knew it would be tough. A sick hangover would be no help at all.

After about 30 minutes on the phone, Kori came back in. We both looked at her, waiting. "She's OK, she went to Wendy and John's."

That was smart of her. She had been taking care of their place for them while they were back in Indiana and knew they wouldn't object to her staying there. I hadn't thought of that.

I was very relieved to hear that she was OK, and even kind of glad that she was not very far away. I don't know why that was important, but it was.

Ron and Kori sat with me until about midnight, just talking. They tried to assure me that this would blow over, that we could still make up, but I knew better. We had cut each other too deeply, both of us, and that kind of wound doesn't heal.

After they left I let Ralph out for awhile, then back in, and drank some water. I walked to my bedroom - I'm learning to say that - and just looked at the bare mattress.

In my mind I could still see them, her hand guiding his cock into her, him thrusting into her again and again, right in front of me, her long soft hair tumbling down her back and swinging with her movements as she rode his cock, his balls pressed to her ass as she took him deep, and could hear the sound of them cumming, and see the white, thick semen running from her and onto my bed as she cried out her orgasm. The mental film clip of them fucking played over and over in my head.

I turned and walked to the guest bedroom and closed the door, laying down on the bed. My cock was rock hard, and I loathed myself for that.

I got up and went back to my room and got Kristi's pillow, and returned to the guest room, stripping naked before lying down, my cock thrusting out uselessly in front of me.

I laid on my back and put her pillow over my face, holding it down with both hands and smelling the scent of her shampoo, and her cologne, and the oh so familiar sweet feminine scent of her body, and of sex. I felt my ejaculation start and the warm jets spattering down on my chest and stomach, and I laid there, not touching myself, and let it. My disgust and self-loathing knew no bounds, and I wondered what I had done to send her to another man.

I slept for awhile after that like you do sometimes, just the release of tension, but I woke up at 3:17. I hate those fucking digital clocks. I laid there awake for several minutes, feeling the crusty dried cum on my stomach, then got up and went in the bathroom and took a fast shower.

I wanted to go back to bed, but couldn't get my mind to turn off, and just wandered around naked for awhile. I stood at my window and looked across at the SOB's truck, still parked where the police had left it. I thought they would have towed it in and impounded it, but apparently not. I gave some thought to going over and vandalizing the shit out of it, but decided I would be the most likely suspect for that action, and left it alone.

It dawned on me that I was standing bare-ass in front of a full length window, but it was after 3 a.m., so who cares.

All alone, freshly cuckolded, hurt, angry, miserable - this promised to be a long and lonely night. Inevitably I started to think about Kristi, both the good times over the last 18 months or so, and the bad times of the last few hours. How could everything turn to shit so fast!

Not to get too maudlin, but the first thing I thought of was that the last time I had seen her smile was when I woke her to tell her I was leaving to go back to work, about this same time several days ago. I always stayed home as long as possible, leaving in the early darkness for the long drive back.

She had woken up slowly, her silky hair mussed and sexy around her sleepy face.

"Mornin' baby. I have to get going."

She rolled over, exposing her breasts, and reached up and stroked my neck and cheek. "Mmmm, so soon. It seems like you just got here and now you're leaving."

We had made love a few hours ago, and I could smell the cum that was probably still leaking from her. I began to get hard, and when she ran her hand across the front of my jeans she felt it.

"If you can stay a little longer we can take care of that for you."

The thought of her pussy, still warm and creamy from the last time - god, now I was rock hard! "Very tempting you sexy thing, but I'm going to be a little late as is. I have to go. Hope I can fit this behind the wheel."

She smiled at that, beautiful and sensual, and we kissed and parted, yet again, to count the minutes.

If that was going to be the last of her smiles for me, at least it was a good one.

I thought long and hard that night about the why of what had happened, the usual self-pitying why-me crap, but I started by giving her all the blame. She was obviously a slut, an unfaithful whore that never really loved me, etc, etc, but I knew better inside.

Then it became the questioning of myself; was I not man enough for her? Had I done something to piss her off? Was she not satisfied with our sex life? How could that possibly be, we seemed so perfect? How long had this been going on?

That last one hurt. It had not occurred to me until then, my mind had grasped at the idea that I had caught her the first time she cheated, but how likely was that? Damn, now I really felt sick.

In my pain and exhaustion I focused in on what I could have done to drive her to this. Or, more accurately, what signals I could have sent that encouraged her to do this, and I began to remember a few things, to put them together.

Like the first time she saw my Baby, about 3 or 4 weeks after we'd met. I was doing a home improvement project, and had needed a little more light, and had sent her after the utility light on my workbench in the garage.

When she came back she said "Found it. What's under the car cover out there?"

"Thanks, plug it in willya? That's my Baby, a car I bought from Ron, one of his finds. A classic."

"What is it? It looks like something fast. I love fast cars."

She must have hated riding around in my old Jeep. "Really? I didn't know that about you. Come on, I'll show you." Any excuse to avoid this project and show off my Baby. On the way to the garage I grabbed the keys from the drawer.

I walked to the rear of the car and began to lift the cover off, and as soon as it cleared one taillight Kristi had said "Oh my god, is that a Shelby? I love Shelby's!"

I was impressed. As I continued to lift the cover, she said "A '67 I'll bet, it's got to be a '67." She was right, a 1967 Shelby Mustang (nee:Cobra), red with the white stripes, and she seemed very excited.

"Is it a 350 or a 500? Oh my god, it's the GT500, why have you been keeping this secret? That big honkin' 428 in this little machine, it must fly!"

Now I was really impressed. This love and knowledge of cars was a whole new side of her, and the delight on her face was plain to see.

"I didn't know you liked cars, I didn't want to bore you with it. Ron got it for a steal, and when he saw how much I loved it he sold it to me for what he paid, and it was too good to pass up."

"Is everything correct? Do the numbers match? Oh jeez, it's the early year model with the foglights close together. My favorite!"

No wonder I loved this woman!!

"Wow! Gorgeous, smart, sexy and loves cars! Are you real? Come here, let me pinch you to see. And yes, it's all correct."

"Do you know what this is worth?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm not planning to sell it."

"Can I ask what you paid Ron for it?"

"Sure, like I said, what he paid, $29,000. He said he got it from a guy that was keeping his wife from getting it in the divorce, for instant cash on the spot."

"Bullshit. He didn't get it for $29,000. It's worth 4 times that, maybe a lot more if everything is original and in good shape. He gave you a gift Adam, you gullible fool."

"Well, he's a wheeler-dealer, he gets stuff like that. And I took him and Kori out for dinner at Brook's Steakhouse."

"Still, you stole it. You owe him big time. Can we fire it up? Too bad it's so sloppy out, I'd make you let me drive it!" Now I knew she was for real. Most women would have expected me to take it out, despite the slush and ice melt chemicals still on the street from last night's snow. And her drive it? Hmmm...