by SBrooks103x
George Anderson wrote a companion piece to Michael Fitzgerald's Last Man, https://www.literotica.com/s/last-man-1, Last Man: Brian's Tale, https://www.literotica.com/beta/s/last-man-Brians-tale. I have a bit of a different take on Michael's story, which I am presenting with their permission.
While Michael told the story from Simon's point of view, not even giving the other husband a name, George wrote from the other husband's point of view, naming him Brian. I followed George's template, but as in the Frost poem, I took the road not taken.
I've included key passages from George's story, with his permission, to provide background for those who haven't read or have forgotten George's story. These are in sequence, but out of context; if you need the context, please read George's story.
Thanks once again to my Sweet Inspiration blackrandl1958 for her kind advice and editing.
From George's story:
Simon MacTavish was a big, strong, outgoing, good-looking, obnoxious son of a bitch. He was good at fighting, I hear. From him, anyway. And his loyalty to his clan was second to none. Whether or not either of those is a virtue, you can decide for yourself.
I had been a big, strong, obnoxious kid in my day, too, and when they let me out of high school, I thought I knew everything I'd ever need to know. That's true of most 18-year-olds, but most of my peers had parents to help them come to a different conclusion. I didn't. So I looked at the money it would cost me to get a college degree, and the money I could make working construction, and the money the aunt and uncle who raised me didn't have, and then I started at the bottom of the construction business. Literally. I did basements. I did them well, too, and rose fairly quickly the first couple of years. Then it all fell in on me. Literally. I never figured out what actually happened, but by the time I could tell which way was up, I was strapped flat on my back, all wrapped up in plaster and stuff, with tubes sticking out of me every which way, and was being informed that my left leg and left arm would never work right again. My career in construction, or anything else that required physical labor, was history.
We'd been married about five years, Ben was almost three and Gillian was an infant, when I finally met Mairi's younger sister, Eileen, or Ellie as she preferred. I'd heard about her, of course, but meeting her was something else. Ellie's hair was dark to Mairi's fiery red; her eyes brown to Mairi's blue; she was sweet to Mairi's spicy, but they were devoted to each other, all the more for the years they'd been apart. When Ellie came home from one of her sight-seeing tours, she brought back this loud, obnoxious hairy Scotsman, as if he were some kind of souvenir she'd picked up. He wasted no time making himself at home, drinking my beer, roughhousing with my kids, and worst of all, ogling my wife. He would slap me on the shoulder as if we were best buds, but somehow he always got the angle just right to throw all my weight on my bad left leg. A time or two when I lost my balance, Mairi had to help me up. She gave him a piece of her mind, but all he did was grin at her like he was oh so proud of himself.
I don't know if Mairi or maybe Ellie had a chat with him or maybe he just grew up a little, but he seemed to tone it down after that. Still, I was not a happy camper when Simon got transferred and he and Ellie bought a place about fifteen minutes away from us. It seemed like we were together all the time, usually at our place because of the kids, but to my surprise, he behaved himself mostly. We were never going to be best buds, and I still didn't like the way he looked at Mairi, but I was getting to where I could actually enjoy his company in small doses.
Traffic was as brutal as I'd expected. I was about an hour and a half from home when Mairi called. Usually I didn't pick up the phone when I was driving, especially on I-95, but she'd given our emergency signal: two rings, hang up for 5 seconds, and call again. I picked her up on the hands free and asked what was wrong. I was surprised to hear a whole bunch of other people on the line.
It seems Ellie had gotten a call that morning from someone called Jessica. Simon had picked her up in a bar the night before and she spent the night with him, but she promised they hadn't fucked. Typical Simon, I thought. He couldn't get home to his wife, but he could go to a bar and pick up some bimbo. Anyway, he'd told her all about how he was the last of the MacTavishes and was honor bound to produce a son, and now he'd found out Ellie couldn't have children, and whatever was he going to do. Mairi had set up this conference call to announce to the family that she wanted to have his kids.
Here is where I part ways with George.
What the everlasting fuck‽
"NO!" I shouted into the phone.
"What was that? Who said that?" Mairi asked.
"It is me, your husband," I yelled back. "Remember me? There is no way that I'm agreeing to this, certainly not on a conference call with the entire world. You get your ass home, right now, and when I get there, we will have a PRIVATE discussion about this idiotic idea."
"B . . . But I promised . . ."
"I seem to recall a certain promise you made to me on our wedding day," I interrupted. "Just get your ass home ASAP." I hung up and ignored her repeated attempts to call me back. I could only hope that she would do as I said.
I got home just in time to pick up the kids, then went home to wait for Mairi. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long as she burst through the front door before I even finished my first beer.
Her face was flushed, but fortunately she didn't have that "fresh fucked" look.
"Just what the fuck were you thinking, or were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that we could help my sister and her husband have a family. I called you to make sure it was all right with you."
"Wait right there," I said. "You mean that YOU would help them. I had no part in this.
You didn't call me, you called the whole damn family, and you didn't ask me, you told me."
"I was sure that you would agree once we had a chance to talk about it . . ."
"But not sure enough to actually wait for us to talk, though, did you?"
She had the decency to look down.
"Why do you have to fuck him? Why not use artificial insemination?"
"That's so cold and impersonal."
"That's the whole point! To keep it free from emotional entanglements. It's obvious that he lusts after you, I can't believe that you and Ellie can't see it."
"You're wrong! Sure, he loves me, but just as a sister-in-law."
"Give me a break. I've seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him."
That sent a shock through her.
"I know I'm not much of a physical specimen, it would only be natural for you to want to experience a "real man"."
"Don't say that. You're all the man that I could ever want."
"Yeah, that's why you couldn't even wait to make sure our children were taken care of before rushing to his bed. By the way, what was the rush anyway? The whole reason was so that he could get you pregnant, right?"
She nodded her head.
"Then you should be in your fertile period, and off birth control, right?"
She looked puzzled, then said, "Oh, shit."
Oh shit, indeed. It had been at most three days since she took her birth control pill, so it's probably still in her system, and her period was last week, so she wasn't fertile.
"So I guess it's a good thing I stopped you, so you wouldn't have cheated for nothing."
"It wouldn't have been cheating! I told you, so it's not cheating."
I had to laugh.
"Telling me is not the same as getting my permission, which I haven't given, and don't intend to give you."
"But you have to! What will I tell Ellie and Simon?"
"I couldn't care less what you tell Simon, just tell Ellie that if you fuck Simon, I'll divorce you, and you don't want to lose me. Ellie loves you; she wouldn't want to jeopardize your marriage."
"What will they do?"
"They'll do what other childless couples do, adopt."
"But then the child won't be of Simon's line."