I could not fucking believe my ears - but there they were, right in front of me, giving the news with seeming concern for my well-being but apparently without a fucking clue as to how it would be received. Maybe I haven't been emotionally demonstrative during my life but just because I don't wear my feelings on my sleeves does not mean that I don't have them; and deep feelings I do have.
The pain was unbearable. It got worse and worse. Finally, things went black.
***************
Growing up in the Midwestern United States, I was always a quiet child, so my parents tell me and so I at least somewhat remember. I was also always reserved and cautious, at least by other people's standards. Smart and "cute" were likewise both used to describe me, although that did not always work in my favor especially when in sixth grade Mrs. Jensen announced to the entire class "Jimmy Quayle, you've got to be the most gifted student I've ever had in my sixteen years of teaching." Lots of kids, in the competitive environment that I grew up in didn't like the grading curve destroyed by some smarty-pants, causing me to become even more reserved than before.
My brother Kent, two years my senior, did help some. He tried to include me in his activities - unless his friends really objected. Then he would exclude me, but would try to let me down easily. Since Kent was primarily an extroverted jock, and me mostly an introverted intellect, we didn't normally compete head-on for our parents' attention, although if there ever was a head-on competition it seemed to me that the extroverted jock prevailed ninety percent of the time.
College was better to me than elementary and high school had been. Intelligence was prized in the Ivy League school that I attended on full academic scholarship, and smart and "cute" were both advantages in dealing with females. I graduated college a year early having had several nice relationships with female classmates, some platonic, some sexual. I was far from a horn dog, but by the time that I graduated I thought that I ate pussy and fucked pretty well - at least my female companions often complimented me about them.
I met Giselle the second year that I worked as an analyst for "The Company," as the CIA is affectionately called in the Washington, D. C. area. We met in a bar in Georgetown. A bar is almost never a good place to find a romantic interest but I allowed that this was the exception because we were both there in a group - separate groups - for a night out with a friend that had just gotten engaged. A bar was not a place that either of us frequented to pick up dates, or get picked up.
For me it really was the elusive "love at first sight." I can't speak for Giselle in that regard, but she sure seemed "interested." To make a long story short, we left the bar together to go elsewhere to talk, we were fucking regularly within three weeks, and we got married three months after we met.
My first fuck with Giselle cinched the deal in my mind. It was our fourth date and she had gotten very friendly during the evening despite virtually nil consumption of alcohol. The way that she snuggled up to me, and the looks that she gave me with her big, brown, doe eyes, indicated complete submission. She never said anything like "Let's fuck," or "I need you in my pants," or really anything else provocative. Rather she gave out every non-verbal cue imaginable that she was "available."
When we got to my apartment she didn't strip and jump into my arms, or pull my cock out and start sucking it, or anything else overt. Again it was every non-verbal cue available. When I stripped her and started sucking her ample tits she simply sighed. When I ate and then porked her she was completely compliant; not in the classic dominant-submissive sense, just in the "I'm yours and want to please you" sense. Anything that I wanted was mine for the taking.
By the next morning my cock had found its way into, and ejaculated in, all three of her penetrable orifices, the first time that my little one-eyed friend was in an ass in my life, and the first time that I had had three orgasms in an eight hour period. When I took her home after breakfast she gave me a "doe-eyes" look and a kiss and said "Thank you so much Jimmy. You're so kind and gentle. Do anything you want to me, any time," before she turned and entered her apartment.
Giselle never overtly initiated sex, but she wasn't lying when she said that she was available any time. Just to test her one day I met her for lunch for a quickie where she willingly gave me her ass right in the stairwell of the building she worked in. She called me that night - I couldn't receive personal calls at The Company - and giggled "I couldn't sit down properly all afternoon," then hung up.
Giselle's approach to sex wouldn't appeal to guys who like a physically aggressive woman, but she was perfect for me.
*************
Giselle's parents had died a few years before I met her. Her only close (emotionally, not geographically) living relative was her sister, Michelle. She seemed to be completely devoted to Michelle and talked about her constantly. Michelle lived in Northern California and neither of them was well-to-do so they mainly talked on the phone, although Giselle did fly out to visit Michelle twice in the three months from when I met Giselle until we married.
Our wedding was small since Giselle and I had to pay for it; maybe only thirty guests. My brother Kent served as my best man. He seemed to really like Giselle from the first second that he met her, and told me several times in the few days he and my parents were in town leading up to the wedding that I was a lucky guy.
Michelle served as Giselle's maid of honor. I only saw her for maybe ten hours total the weekend of the wedding since she and Giselle were together doing their girl thing most of the time, there were no elaborate pre-parties, and Giselle and I left for our honeymoon straight from the modest reception.
I was a little surprised by Michelle's appearance when I did meet her. She had thick glasses and a "lazy eye," something not easily seen from the photographs of her. Giselle did tell me that her vision was bad (she couldn't drive a car), but I didn't realize how bad until I met her. Also, although if they both had sunglasses on you could tell that they were sisters, Michelle was not nearly as pretty, and was probably fifteen pounds overweight compared to Giselle's lithe figure.
The honeymoon in Aruba was phenomenal and Giselle's compliance reached a new level. I could suck her tits or lick her pussy as much as I wanted anytime, or even anyplace, including on a public beach, and she would suck my cock or balls at the slightest hint. We also fucked twice a day, and Giselle was immensely thankful for every sperm deposit that I made, regardless of the orifice.
Soon after we got back from the honeymoon some real life things about Giselle that had been hidden came to the forefront. Being a CIA analyst I probably should have suspected something when Giselle came to live with me after we knew each other only six weeks and apparently had no concern about her apartment lease. She told me that she was month-to-month and could leave anytime that she wanted. In fact, she was on the verge of eviction for non-payment of rent.
I also was shocked by her credit card and student loan debt. Despite the fact that she had a college degree, she just didn't seem to "get" how to handle a credit card. I didn't know that she had paid for Michelle's entire trip to D. C., plane fare, lodging, cabs, meals, you name it.
In view of Giselle's credit history and debt, I separated our finances shortly after our marriage and got her only one low limit credit card, one that I carefully monitored. We worked hard to pay off her existing debt and college loans, but we were not doing it too well or quickly - especially since she insisted on flying out to see Michelle every two months or so, which at least was cheaper than bringing Michelle to the D. C. area.
Despite the financial problems, I was happily married because Giselle was always both emotionally and physically available to me. Fucking her was just so goddamn rewarding every single time, and she loved to cuddle and say sweet things to me.
Surprisingly, a couple of months after Giselle and I got married my brother Kent got a job in the D. C. area and moved to within about two miles of the apartment Giselle and I shared in Northern Virginia. He came over occasionally and always seemed to enjoy our hospitality. Giselle was really nice to him and I know that he appreciated that she accepted him so easily into our new little family.
We did end up with a significant problem when a loan that Giselle had - that I didn't even know about - became due about six months after we had been married, and litigation was threatened by the bank that held it. About the same time Giselle was placed on half-time at her office because of budget cuts (at least that's what she said, but I suspected that it was due to her frequent time off to visit Michelle).
Giselle and I talked about our financial situation many times. She was always apologetic but never really contributed to a solution - aside from making me happy by cuddling me and batting her eyelashes and then allowing me to fuck her anyway that I chose while profusely thanking me afterward.
When the bank actually filed suit I decided that I needed to take drastic action. An evil corporation - I can't identify it because I signed a confidentiality agreement and the former CEO, affectionately known as "Darth Vader" before he became the least popular Vice-President in the history of the U. S. (I didn't give too much away there, did I?) - was desperate for analysts to work in Iraq. Ex-Company analysts were particularly prized commodities. I interviewed with Evil Corp. and they offered me a job at four times what I was making at The Company, doing similar work. The only problem was that it was in Iraq.
Giselle and I had many heart-to-heart talks about it. She assured me that our relationship could survive, especially since I got two weeks of R&R paid for by Evil Corp., every four months of service, and I could fly Giselle anywhere in the world for it. I left The Company, hired on with Evil Corp., and got the bank to put the lawsuit on hold with the promise of having part of my salary paid directly to them every month to pay off Giselle's loan.
The work in Iraq was really shitty. While it involved analysis similar to what I had been doing at The Company I was in a dangerous area, could never even leave the building I worked and lived in without an armed escort, and I got the feeling that my analysis was not resulting in good things for the people of Iraq but was just facilitating Evil Corp. making obscene amounts of money at the expense of the U S taxpayers.
Fortunately, I did have email correspondence with Giselle every day, and a phone call once a week. That fortified me in some ways, but in others screwed me up because I longed for her tender touch and always available moist, tight, pussy.
The first two week R&R period with Giselle was fabulous. We went to Hawaii, did everything we wanted to do, ate anywhere that we wanted to eat, and fucked each other senseless. By the time that we left, her to return to Virginia, me to return to Iraq, we were bleary-eyed and walked bowlegged.
After only working for it five months, I was promoted by Evil Corp. so that I was making six times what I did when I worked for The Company. The extra money that I got - all tax free - I put into an account that I set up in the Caymans. The work and living conditions were still shitty.
The second two week R&R period with Giselle, after I had been working in Iraq eight months, started out weird. We met in Athens and went to all of the Greek Islands. Giselle was reserved the first two days, spent in Athens, but since she was her old self - willing to fuck anywhere, anytime, anyway - by the time that we got to Rhodes, I chalked it up to jet lag or general malaise. I didn't evaluate it like I would analyze data in my job. The last day in Mykonos, the last stop on our trip, we spent the entire day in bed, testing the limits of the ability of our sexual organs as we sucked, fingered, and fucked each other to oblivion.
Between the eighth and twelfth months that I worked in Iraq I noticed some squirrely things popping up in Giselle's emails. When we talked on the phone and I brought them up she just laughed them off. A couple of times, when we talked at what would have been the morning in Virginia, she interrupted our conversations by gagging and getting off the line for a while. She said she might have the flu or bad allergies.
As my third R&R trip was coming up, Giselle suggested that I come home to Virginia for it. Actually, I was thinking the same thing myself. Our financial situation was much better now since my extra income had allowed us to pay off almost all of Giselle's debt, and I had more than $50,000 in my Cayman account.
When I arrived at Dulles Airport I was greeted by my father, not Giselle.
"Dad, what are you doing here?" I asked, close to flabbergasted.
"Hi, Jimmy," he replied with a smile but a strange look in his eyes as he hugged me. "Mom and I were able to come for a visit and wanted to surprise you. She, Giselle and Brett are waiting at your apartment."
