Her Last True Love

"Julia, this nonsense of a 'Time Out' in marriage is just an excuse for one or the other partner to justify having a short 'fling'. If you keep coming at me with this stuff, I'm starting to think you just want to fuck around. Well, I won't stand for it."

"Honey, the magazine insisted ..."

"You want to have sex with another guy, then say so and I'll have the divorce papers drawn up. Then you can fuck around as much as you want. Alone."

"But Jer, the magazine article said my having a Time Out would strengthen my marriage ..." my wife Julia complained.

I countered, "No way I'm gonna agree to your plea for a Time Out. We've been married for 5 years. You want out to fuck around with a drugged-out wimp over a dumb article in a magazine?"

"Oh, no, honey, I love only you. No, I don't want a divorce. It's just that the article said ..."

I'm Jerome Canyon (but call me Jer), a self-employed waste-management engineer, which made me kind of hard-headed and wanting evidence. I wasn't going to go long with Juli's cocked-up marital theories. This month it was Time Out. A few months ago, month, it was light bondage. Late last year, it was temporary celibacy coupled with a vegan diet and yoga. For each new enthusiasm, Julia would be sparked by an article she'd read in one of her women's magazines.

Finally, I just demanded, "Julia van Sant Canyon, drop it. You're a 27 year old married woman. You're not a flighty teen any more. I don't want to hear anything more about an adulterous 24-hour 'fling', justified by a stupid magazine article about a marital Time Out. It's just an excuse for a woman or man to have sex with someone else. If you do a Time Out on me, I'll divorce you the next day. So just stop talking about it."

"Besides," I added, "we've got a dinner date planned for Wednesday evening, with Tom and his wife Harriet. Last I heard, they were bringing along another couple, for us to meet. You remember, I have to make it a mid-week date, because I have that assignment that starts over the week-end, about decreasing the amount of waste paper in small-city landfills."

Julia put on her go-to-party little black dress with net stockings and heels and did her make-up in quiet, which I knew by this time that she was still seething inside, and nowhere near convinced that her latest fad idea was over and done with.

Unreasoning, emotional argument, dressed up in rationalizations, excuses and justifications, thy name is woman, and in particular, by name of Julia van Sant.

But, since were were to be in public, I really expected Julia to keep her current obsession to herself. Tom and his wife picked us up. He brought Warren HungLoWe and his Asian-American girlfriend plus Omar Bateson and his date. Their van was packed. We had a nice dinner at The Pub, over in New Jersey, a place I can recommend for good food and plenty of it.

The trouble started when I noticed Julia, hands repeatedly grasping at her tits and crotch through her dress, staring over at a guy, seated a few tables away. Then I noticed that all the wives and girlfriends were staring at him and feeling themselves out.

I gotta admit, I generally don't stare at men, but this guy was a hunk. Handsome, with a mane of long, jet-black hair, bound up with a silver band at the back of his neck, broad shoulders, long, delicate fingers, mirror-shined boots and the tightest jeans I ever saw on a male person. You could see the outline of his big dick through the material. All three women were looking over this specimen of super manhood-on-the-hoof and breathing deeply, obviously in the first stages of lusty heat.

So,OK, they were all turned on, but we were with our wives and so sure they were off limits to any approach from even a dedicated seducer.

It was even kinda funny, I thought.

But Mr. Drop-Dead-Gorgeous Handsome finished his meal, paid the waitress and tipped her lavishly, but then sauntered over to our table, having caught the looks the wives and girlfriends were showering on him. Ah, the estrogen was flowing like water.

Then the unthinkable happened. Mr. drop-dead completely ignored all us men at the table. His handsomeness looked all over the women there, hands flying all over their clothed bodies, breathing heavily, gestured at the outline of his huge piece of male meat clearly seen in his tight jeans and said, "I'm Ricardo Mt. Calm. Any of you ladies want to ditch the wimp you're seated next to and come with me? I've got 11" of constant orgasm. You'll never forget it."

I was in total shock, as was Tom and Warren. Our wives and girlfriends, propositioned by a total stranger with a big dick. In public. With their men glaring at them, Tom's wife and Omar's girlfriend shuddered and pulled themselves back, clutching at the arms of their respective men.

But I was totally paralyzed, in shock, when Julia looked at me, grinning nastily. She traced the outline of Ricardo's huge cock through his trousers with her fingertips, then said, "Sure, I'll go. It'll be a 'Time Out.' Only 24-hours. He'll make me happy for a little while. I'll be back tomorrow night, you can make me happy again and our marriage will be all the stronger for it, you'll see."

Julia grabbed at her purse, shoved her chair back and made to stand up. I nearly shouted, pleading with her not to do such a foolish thing. I yelled that a 'Time Out' with a total stranger would destroy our marriage. Nothing I said in the next couple of minutes made a dent in my wife's sudden, triumphant, utterly stupid decision to have an overnight affair with Ricardo. Standing, she linked her arm with his, while Ricardo slid his arm around her shoulders and then, quickly squeezed her right boob.

I surged up from our meal, but then caught my foot under my chair, lost my balance and fell flat across the dinner table, smashing my face into the bread, steak juices, drinks and butter. All my friends and their women laughed. By the time I untangled myself, Ricardo and Julia were across the restaurant and leaving. Dripping food and garbage, I raced to the front door, only to find Ricardo and Julia getting into his sports car. Julia was already out of her black dress, as it was a front-zip model and she screamed out a last 'fuck you' as she—dressed only in a skimpy chopper bra and panties, plus net stockings and heels—zoomed out of the parking lot, Ricardo driving, and onto the road around the so-named Airport Circle interchange, just outside of Camden, NJ.

I walked over to the black dress lying on the ground of the gritty black parking lot. Picking it up, I felt the last of her body heat leaving the inside of her garment. My marriage and life were shattered. She was gone now, along with her so-superior smile, as she went off with her suddenly-appeared lover, to have cheating, thrusting big-cock sex for a day and a night.

Just like the magazine article had said, except that her Time Out wouldn't strengthen our marriage, I'd just destroyed it.

Going back inside, I heard a furious argument on-going, between Tom, Omar and their women. Accusations flew back and forth about 'lust' and 'instant adultery' and 'cheating'. I threw the cost of our meal and a tip down on the table, as all four of them suddenly looked up at me. Srtill covered in old food scraps, I quietly said, "Thanks for all the help, guys. I really appreciated the support, girls. Don't bother to call me tomorrow. Or ever again."

I turned and walked out of the restaurant, then got into a cab that had just let off a couple entering the place. I gave my home address, over in Philly. Once home—nope, that's not correct, as it wasn't a home any more, just a little house, a place for a single man or woman to shelter within—numb and crying, I started to pack up my stuff. I found the magazine article about her so-called Marriage Time Out and systematically tore it into little, tiny bits. Finally, about 2 AM, I took a 10 mg Xanex and, by 3 AM, was out cold, tranquilized to the hilt.

The next morning, I called my business attorney, who referred me to one of his professional folks, specializing in 'Family Law,' an euphemism for divorce proceedings. Later that afternoon, I met the guy and he outlined what I wanted was a no-fault divorce. We had no children, I was willing to give her the checking and savings and to pay off her credit card. We could sell the house and split my assets 50/50. Julia could get back into the workforce again, which is how I met her.

"Oh, Julie," I said to myself as I signed papers, "you've really done it to yourself this time. You wanted happiness, but you wanted it served up to you on a silver platter. You wanted a little excitement, a little danger. First you wanted me but now you've found someone else, prettier and better, with a big dick. OK, now you've got him. Without a husband, anymore."

Settling down, with my bags packed, I sat in my small living room to wait. I really didn't expect her to come back in her 24 hours. She didn't disappoint, as the vague and fuzzy 'deadline' came and passed, with no spousal return. The next day, I called my new divorce attorney and we changed my filing to Non-Respondent, because I didn't know where she was and so couldn't have her served.

At the middle of the next week, seven days after her departure from the restaurant, the DVDs appeared in the mail. My lovely, chubby, brunette wife starred in all of them, fucking bareback, no condoms, obviously well used. First Ricardo did her naked body in the usual sequence of oral, vaginal and anal. He pumped his huge member in and out of her, as she screamed in orgasm, apparently taking his entire length into her so-willing body, deep into her cunt and also into her ass, which she'd always denied me entry.

Then his friends appeared, and they all had big cocks too. My soon-to-be ex-wife took all of them, in single, double and triple penetrations, as she was 'airtight' while she screamed and yelled for more and more sex. An additional DVD continued the multi-day orgy, as Ricordo's other women joined in and my ex-wife demonstrated her lesbian-loving skills as well.

By this time, though, I was pretty numb. After all, porn is porn. Sex that you watch can get boring, even it it involves your own wife fucking away with her adulterous lovers. Long gone was the 24-hour Time Out.

Most disturbing, though, were the videos—interspersed between the fucking and sucking—of Julia smoking joints and snorting lines of cocaine. In the last DVD, which showed Julie taking BDSM sex, while roped and flogged in a dungeon, then suspended in chains, but also obviously being injected with an IV syringe and going off into LaLa-land, eyes rolled up in her head and drool dribbling down from her mouth. She took several injections, stretching over a few days, as shown by the time/date stamp on the DVD and didn't appear to fight any of them.

Specifically to spite and humiliate me, Ricardo and his crew narrated on the DVDs what they were going to do to my former woman, plus what they then did and how much she enjoyed it. Ricardo said that they'd keep her until she was 'turned out,' still 'turning tricks' but that I could have her back once she was 'used up'.

The trouble was, by that time, I wouldn't want Julia back, as she'd likely be a drugged out, stretched out, diseased whore.

Leaving the application for a non-respondent no-fault divorce on the table, along with my wedding ring, I called for and arranged for a suite on a Caribbean cruise ship vacation, for 14 days duration. Leaving the house cold and empty, the divorce papers on the dining room table, and the motion-activated video-cam on, I flew from Philadelphia to Florida and joined the ship before departure the next day. Away from the New Jersey overcast gloom and into the sun, to cure my depression.

Yeah, it's true about cruise ships. The word spread among the female passengers that I was male, single, divorcing and looking. Soon I had several slips of paper with phone numbers and a few with shipboard room numbers. I had about 4 days of fun, and didn't sleep alone once.

Then Xara (pronounce 'X' as 'Z') plopped herself down beside me and commented on the ring imprint of my left-hand ring finger, comparing it with hers. Hearing my story, she countered with her own, about a cheating, abusive black male, whom she recently divorced. She was tall, about 6' 1", slender, strong without being muscle-bound, and absolutely coal-black, wearing long braids (her own hair, no weaves). High, firm, natural breasts with prominent nipples plus a large and very sensitive clit. Large, soft lips, on both ends. YAG-laser-ablated pussy showing no trace of hair. Easily aroused and multi-orgasmic with orgasmic tits. We were an exclusive couple from then on.

Xara was a Private Investigator, specializing in financial and accounting crimes within big business and industry. In the space of about an hour, we got to know each other. Then, in the next 10 minutes, we became lovers, having wild monkey sex all over my cabin's suite. Tubes tied (not wanting kids), Xara and I had bareback sex for the remaining 10 days of the cruise.

At the end of the cruise, I flew Xara home to Philadelphia and discovered a totally trashed house. Xara, to my delight, stripped naked, put on an apron and started to help me re-clean the house.

After we got some of the mess cleaned and put away, I examined the motion-activated video-cam flash-drive. Each motion-activated scene was time and date stamped, showing duration.

It seems my ex-wife had paid a visit to what had once been our home, coming back after 11 days away. She was dressed in skin-tight jeans and a crop-top, nearly transparent, wearing sandals and looking more like a street-walking tart than a loving wife. She had a new tattoo on her left arm. Obviously, she came back to a cold, empty house.

Sitting at the dining room table, she read the divorce papers, of which I'd listed 'adultery' and 'abandonment' as reasons for a Dissolution of Marriage. The video recorded her crying and sobbing. Then she smoked what looked like some pot. Moving slowly and unsteadily, she opened the household safe and emptied out every dollar of the household emergency money there.

She made herself a pick-up meal but next she took out a small pouch from her purse. Opening it, she heated the contents of a small packet of white powder into a small metal pan (not a spoon) and heated it with a lighter from the pouch. She drew up the resulting warm liquid with a syringe from that pouch, and injected herself in one of the large blood vessels between her legs.

Julia fell deeply asleep, lying there on the couch, so much so that the video-cam turned off and only re-activated when she started to move again.

Looking over my shoulder, Xara said, "Jer, I apologize. T thought some of your story was exaggeration. I'm sorry and I won't doubt you again. Your ex-wife started with that stupid Time Out, became a sex-addict to big cocks, then got shot up and is now a IV user and mainline heroin addict. If that's her 'happiness,' she can keep it."

I'd showed Xara the DVDs that Ricardo made and sent me. I just sighed and then hugged my new girlfriend. I really liked doing that, especially as Xara was nude. We'd be sexing in a few minutes.

We watched the rest of the video-cam recording in silence. Julia came to, then proceeded to trash the place, pulling everything down from shelves and out of drawers and closets. The video also showed that Julia went into the kitchen, knelt down and put something under the sink, 'way in back.

Then my former wife stripped herself out of her jeans, got up on the table, spread her thighs wide open and pissed all over her copy of the divorce papers but taking my wedding ring (to pawn, I guess). Unsteadily, she got down from the table and, still leaking tears, wandered unsteadily out the door, only to come back a few moments later to skin into her panties and jeans plus find her sandals. Then she left again and there was no more recording until Xara and I walked in.

Reaching under the sink, it was the effort of moments to find a second little pouch, identical to the one Julia replaced in her purse. Inside was the expected syringe, small metal measuring cup, lighter and a single packet of white powder. I replaced it exactly where I'd found it.

It looked like Ricardo had, indeed, turned Julia van Sant Canyon out, getting her to turn tricks for him as a drugged-out prostitute, until she was used up, then let her go.

Fast forward three years. Xara was now my wed-leased wife, gone for an industrial/business assignment involving Russian foreign agents, fraud, extortion and counterfeiting. She had my permission and blessings to relieve her tensions by having sex, and I had the same from her.

So, sitting alone in my living room, I heard the doorbell ring. Not expecting visitors, I was shocked and floored to see Julia Van Sant (whomever) stand there in my doorway. I abruptly found that my white-hot hatred of years ago had cooled to indifference and I felt no particular emotion at all.

Except that I was in the presence of a half-naked pretty woman.

Inviting her inside, I observed that she'd undergone a lot of changes. When Julia left for her Time Out, she was 27, which made her 30 years old now, but she looked more like a well-preserved, still elegant woman, but aged 40. Her Jet black hair was dyed, but a few errant strands revealed that she was starting to go gray. Back three years ago, I had a chubby wife, but now, my ex was slender, verging on skinny. Her right arm was tattooed from wrist to shoulder and she had more tattoos on her back with one over her left breast (that must have hurt). Over her left nipple was the inked word 'hot' and over her right one was inked 'hotter'. I knew all this because, right after closing the door, my ex unbuttoned and pulled off her deep-V 'French-cut' long-sleeve blouse.

Julia had needle tracks down her right arm, which I could clearly make out, despite the tattoos.

On her left flank, along the ribs, there was what appeared to be a list of words. Catching my glance, Julia grinned at me, saying, "Its a list of instructions. How to fuck me. Some guys are just too, too dense. You wanna know how to do me?"

Not waiting, she pointed out each tattooed line, saying,

"Watch me tease;

Lay me down;

Tweak my nips;

Lick me hard;

Fuck me deep;

Make me cum;

Over and over;

Then back to 'lay me'."

Changing subject in a flash, Julia asked, "Ya gonna feed me, 'cause I'm starving."

I did. While eating my stir-fry, I got Julia to talk a little about her recent past. It seemed Ricardo was dead, shot by police while raping and mutilating a woman. His friends are still doing hard time as accomplices. Julia had acquired a series of 'sugar daddies 'until recently, then became a free-lance escort, doing a lot of sex on the side. While she avoided talking about drugs and the drug life, it was obvious that she was still 'using'.

After dinner, we talked, then cuddled on the couch. Cuddling became heavy petting and moved quickly to sexing, which I did wearing a condom. As expected, Julia was very experienced sexually, and I got to fuck her anally once.

I let her believe that I'd drifted off to sleep, but watched my former love through slitted eyes.

Getting out of bed, she found her spare 'works' under the kitchen sink and the little packets of white powder. While I lay quietly, pretending post-sex sleep, and watching, she prepared a syringe of liquid as she chanted to herself, "Just once more. I can stop anytime I want. Just a taste. I can handle it".

She injected herself, this time in her left arm. Then Julia relaxed back in bed, to let the drug take hold of her user's body and addict's soul. I appeared to wake and cuddled agin, holding her, now relaxing and dreamy, in my arms.

She gave several murmured excuses for her 'fling' and long time away, all being lies for me and to herself.