She Loves Me She Loved Me Not

Author's Note:

This is my first submission to Literotica after years as a reader. I greatly appreciate the help of Dad Slip as my editor of this story. I thought my story was OK -- whatever it is he made it much better, and I sincerely appreciate that help. While it's my first submission, it's a story I started seven days ago and finished. I mention that as I have been writing for over a year with seven or eight stories more than 75% complete, I still rework those stories repeatedly. For whatever reason, this story was 'complete' within 3 days and just needed some polish - lots and lots of polish. With my editor's help, I am ready to let it go. (Sorry, I made another edit).

Now the usual warnings and disclaimers. This story contains sex acts but always between consenting adults. Since the story covers events over 15 years, there are references to some characters that are younger than 18 at that time but no under-age sex is included in this or any future story that I may submit. The story is told by four key characters in the story.

Ashley

the older daughter of

Greg

(her dad),

Anita

(her mom) and

Rita

, Greg's second wife.

So, it is official -- I finally finished what I started, although I've made changes 5 times after it was final. Now you know my problem!

So here goes, I will welcome comments but like other authors will delete anything deemed inappropriate. I maintain all copyrights to this story.

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not - Greg's Story

Ashley's Perspective

How do I start this? For some reason, a guy who writes stories for a web site called LITEROTICA contacted me to write our story. I e-mailed him back and told him to stick the story concept up his ass and figured that would be the end of it. No -- he got another author friend of his, this time he was a 'she', and she explained to me that my story or rather the story of my family would be rated with a perfect score if posted to the site. She also said that she worked as a clinical Psychologist and how writing this story would benefit the healing process.

That statement bothered me -- I'm a well-adjusted, 26-year-old woman now expecting my first child. My name is Ashley Gordon Taylor and I love my husband Adam and he loves me. We can't wait for the arrival of our first child, a girl we plan to name Callie Greg. You think our choice of name is weird? When you learn about what my father Greg put up with so far in life, you'll understand why I wanted this life-long connection to my dad. No, he's not dead but he spends a lot of time wondering why his life always had to be reclaimed from a trash fire.

Even with the trials and tribulations of life, Dad was my rock and I'm pretty sure I became his rock as well. Don't get all excited and tell me to post this in the Incest category -- never happened, never will. But let's get back to that last contact by the clinical psychologist. I did spend a lot of time with one about a year ago and she urged me to write down my thoughts. Could she be the person that contacted me? She kept telling me that she never met a person who faced so much adversity but still was in full control of her or his life. Before I stopped seeing her, I told her to call Dad. Then she would know why I can do it.

I'd like to say I had a great upbringing. That I had a mother and father that loved both me and my sister. My father did have a steady job making decent money and after us kids got a little older, Mom went back to work and made money for the extras. You know, cheerleading expenses, college funds, best quality braces, and maybe I don't want to tell you this part.

Why? Because I lied about the great upbringing. No, the story about the early part of my life was mostly true. Only when I was 12, I discovered that my mother hated children. My sister and I (Brie and me, Ashley) were included in that hate.

Mother was self-absorbed and she used most of her take-home income to improve herself. Hair, nails, spa treatments, girl's nights out, sex with other men. Alright, it's out in the open. My mother was in the running for world's worst role model. It was only days after my 12

th

birthday, I got home from school and found my father crying in the den. Brie was still at gymnastics practice. Mother was there with a guy I recognized. I saw them fucking one day in the master bedroom and now he was in our house now telling Dad that Anita (my mother) was leaving Dad to go and live with him. They planned to get married as soon as the divorce was finalized.

Well, I heard that and was getting ready to scream at her that I would stay with Dad! Then the guy, his name was Jim Duncan, said "Oh, I don't like kids" and "I have no intention of supporting two little brats, especially if I'm not the father!" My Dad remained numb through the entire discussion and never responded. Then Jim "Asshole" Duncan added "Anita told me she cheated on you through most of your marriage so you might want to get some DNA tests done."

My Dad was crushed. He was a beaten man. I know you hear about the damage to a man's ego, lack of respect, having to question literally every breath he had taken since he married my mom. I went over and hugged him and cried with him waiting for my sister, Brie, to get home from school.

I watched Mom as she walked around the room picking up her personal treasures. I was not old enough to understand but I recall that she took anything of value. Original pictures came off the wall, she started packing her fine dinnerware-- a gift from Dad on their 10

th

anniversary but when Dad heard her opening the safe in the office he ran into the room. There was a loud bang as the door to the safe was pushed closed and I heard my mom's scream as he pushed the door closed on her greedy little fingers. Score one for Dad but I knew Mom's still ahead -- 937 to 2.

By that point, I was not shocked when Jim Duncan said, "It's time to go babe! We have a 'call ahead' reservation for the early bird special at Applebee's tonight". With those words, they picked up the looted treasures and were out the door.

Out the door and gone! Our 38-year-old mother and a mid-40's guy going to Applebee's was more important than saying goodbye to my 10-year-old sister. I wondered -- did she see this guy as an upgrade over Dad? When my sister came home, Dad was rocking back and forth, sitting on the sofa. He almost looked like that autistic kid at school -- getting comfort from the rocking motion. I spoke to him but would not get a reply. He was catatonic and unable to communicate at this point. I decided that, for now, I was the adult in the family, so I told my sister how our mom had just left us.

Brie asked me "When is she coming back?" I had to answer that I didn't know. It would take more than six months before I decided the answer was

never

!

Never

if I have anything to do with it. We were totally ignored by Mom and her Mr. Jim. At least I'd never have to deal with him again.

My Dad? He was a basket-case for months, but we survived. He's a mid-level manager in the logistics industry and seems to be very well liked by his bosses. They were understanding of the devastating blow that would need to heal and allowed him almost six weeks with pay to get his head together. Unlike the woman he loved, they had ultimate respect for him as did his co-workers.

The people that worked for him absolutely loved him. I found out later in life that Dad had trained, mentored, and groomed 8 people who are now in senior management. Few companies ever figure out that part. In case you can't tell, I love Dad! Not to spoil the story, but over time his ability to handle adversity proved to be his strongest trait.

Our little family of three struggled with all the home management stuff for a while. Dad started going to work a little later in the morning so he could get us to school. Breakfast was always ready for us each morning and Dad really started improving his kitchen skills. A hot breakfast wasn't the norm but those mornings when he prepared one made Brie feel special. Dad's slightly later arrival at the office meant that he needed to stay a little later each day.

After school, our neighbor -- Rita Johnson -- who worked at our school would bring us home every day. Her daughter, Lily, was younger than us -- just 8 years old at that time. She would let us get settled at her place to do homework and other stuff until our dad came home. Rita was an amazing Mom. Her husband had died six months ago from a heart attack. He never seemed to be very healthy. While at Rita's house, I heard her say he put on 60 pounds in the four years he lived near us. We really didn't socialize much with them back then but when Mom left us Rita became our surrogate Mother.

I started writing this next part but somehow got my ex-Mom to explain what happened. Afterwards, I went back and re-wrote most of the work of fiction she provided.

Anita Speaks -- Finding Fiction in the Facts

Who started throwing stones? Did you ever commit a sin? Did you ever tell a lie? Did you steal penny candy from the convenience store? How about driving 7 miles an hour over the speed limit? Yeah, you're not perfect after all so forgive me a few transgressions.

The bible tells us not to throw stones unless you've never sinned. I figure at least 100,000 of you readers have left your spouse and kids without a second thought, right! Don't lie to me, I know your type because it's my type as well.

I was raised in a suburb of St. Louis. It was an average community, in an average suburban town, the house value was close to the median value for a St. Louis suburb. In school, I got average grades and missed 4.3 days a year due to illness which happened to be average for our school. I'll stop -- you get the point. Everything in my town aspired to be average. I knew I had a greater calling -- to be great.

My grades did improve a little in high school and were good enough to get into Southeast Missouri State in Cape Girardeau. I did not have a clear career goal but learned from some of the juniors that Communications was an easy major. One of the girls mentioned that I was cute and that might help me get a job after graduation. When I asked about their career aspiration, two of them answered "Marry a rich guy!" I thought that was a better major but did stick to communications.

I dated a lot in college. I had a three-date rule. Only a kiss on the first date. If you wanted a second date, it needed to be at a nicer place. Second dates got you to second base. If you wanted a third date, it better be dinner and dancing and a real restaurant, not one of Cape Girardeau's many dive bar/restaurants. Don't be offended, dive bars, it's the best food even today in the Cape. A nice time after dinner, dancing ensured and a "grand slam home run" and the guy got to run all the bases. I was sore a lot afterwards but knew I liked a hard fuck more than being made love to.

After graduation, I was one of many women at SEMO that failed the "find a husband" test. So, I returned to St. Louis and tried to find a job in Communications. After six months, I found a job at Starbucks. My parents wondered why I went to college only to settle on Starbucks. I said the pay is small, but the tips are big. I made ends meet but still living at home was a bummer.

What made the tips big? People loved the Barista and were generous with their cash. Back in the day, Starbuck's was still sort of an elitist destination and lots of businesspeople would hang out there. I learned the value of networking! I'd talk to people, tell them my background, and occasionally I would get a lead on an entry level job. Dropping off or mailing resumes didn't seem to do the trick so I wondered how I could push ahead.

One day, it seemed that the 40-ish guy with the wedding ring was flirting with me, so I flirted back. He was telling me about a job at his company, so I decided to drop the old "three-date" rule and we headed to a cheap motel when my shift ended. After a blowjob, I got the name, phone number, and e-mail of the hiring manager. After fucking him and letting him do me anally, he wrote an e-mail to the guy from his laptop and gave me a glowing recommendation.

I was interviewed nine days later and received a job offer the following Monday. I started a week later and was now gainfully employed in my field. Mom and Dad were happy for me, but I still didn't make enough money to get my own apartment. Too bad the pay was only slightly better than working at Starbucks. You see, a young woman finds it easy to get bigger tips working in the service industry. I was careful to only go for guys with very large tips, especially the black ones!

I re-paid my friend from the motel with some more action but finally his wife realized he was cheating on her, so we stopped to enable him to restore his marriage and be allowed to live in the house he paid for with his wife and four kids. My boss at work finally figured out why I got the glowing recommendation since he spent the last four months reworking almost everything, he gave me. Be considerate fellow, I'm still learning. To secure my job, I showed him my best skills. After our first three motel adventures, I just gave him a blowjob every Friday in his office. I made his week every time I made a big display of swallowing his load.

My parents were looking forward to an empty nest. I never mentioned my three siblings since they were all eight or more years older than me. They were all happily married living in one of the rings of suburbs around St. Louis. My parents now had 5 grandchildren and one more on the way. I was in the way of their freedom.

A couple of my college friends came into town one holiday weekend, so we went bar hopping. There was a group of guys at a large table, and it turned out it was a tame bachelor's party for one of them. The other six guys were around my age as far as I could tell. I could hear the stories being told about their college days in Columbia at the U of Missouri. I surveyed the guys. The groom was OK looking but tall and physically fit. There were 2 other relatively handsome guys, but I saw wedding rings so moved on to the last four. Three were what we used to call 'filler' -- below average in every category and in college, you'd fuck them if you were drunk and desperate enough. The other guy was just sort of average but seemed to be able to keep the conversation going. Repeatedly I heard the guys start a conversation with "Hey Greg"! At least I had the advantage of his name.

This story is going to be too long to read if I don't cut to the chase. Greg and I connected that night and I 'waived' the three-date rule. I think by this point in my life, I'd fucked around 30 guys and Greg might have fallen inside my top 50% of my lovers, but probably not. I orgasmed that night but fantasized about a well-hung black dude to get off.

I felt good about him though. He was a decent guy with a good job in Logistics and three months later, we moved in together much to the delight of my parents. Four months later we were engaged and three months later we married. OK, I got pregnant! Greg kept improving his sexual performance. He's now in my top 15 at #13 and thought he might make the top 10. After the birth of our first daughter and me having some responsibility for child rearing, he fell back to #26. If you are a math wizard, you probably picked up the hint here. You see, after Ashley was born, I sort of fell off the fidelity wagon. With a young child, as soon as Greg came home from work, I had errands to run.

One of my favorite destinations was the Starbucks where I worked before the communications job. That job was gone because the timing of my maternity leave coincided with losing two large accounts and staff cuts were needed. Instead of the prey, I was now the hunter and there were a couple of handsome high school graduates (at least I didn't go down the age-scale) working that were more than happy to get some pussy after work. I did do something for the first time -- I let both fuck me at the same time and I loved it. Two inexperienced recent high school graduates rocked my world that afternoon. I started wondering what it would be like if it was two highly experienced studs treating me like that!

I was in the groove again when it happened. Eighteen months years later I was pregnant again! Shit, I should have been more careful. My doctor told me I appeared to be further along than I thought. She said her guess was eight or nine weeks. I nodded and went home, not wanting to tell Greg anything at this point. I pulled out my Day-Timer (yes, all paper back then) since I continued to use it even after my job disappeared.

You all have already decided, haven't you? This next child isn't Greg's, right? Why are you so against me -- do you really think I'm bad? My decision was it wasn't likely to be Greg's since he was on the road the week it must have happened. I knew enough to make up a really good story about our sex when he got home and less than seven months later, Brie joined our 'loving home'.

My parents looked at Brie in our crib on one of their few visits to our home. Mother looked straight at me, then down at our 3-month-old and said to me "She's not your husband's daughter, is she?"

"How can you possibly accuse me of cheating on my husband, Mom?" I was angry.

"Because I know who you are and how you act. I asked one of my friend's whose daughter had the same job as you at another Starbucks what she made at her place. It was about 70% of what you were making. She asked her daughter if what I said you made was possible and her daughter replied, 'Only if you fuck the customers'. Anita, I've been ashamed to be your mother since then."

Well, no more calling them to babysit! I realized that she wouldn't care. She now knows what kind of woman I am. It had little impact on our lives. When Brie had her first birthday, my husband came home and said he'd been promoted. We would soon be leaving the Midwest for Phoenix. He would be Director of Transportation for a trucking operation owned by their company with a 30% salary increase.

Slightly shamed, we packed and moved and now had a house fitting of my status! No, I mean Greg's status and life was good in the southwest. When Ashley started kindergarten, my itching for "more" restarted. I had been a faithful, yet irritated wife for almost two years but knew the next opportunity to cheat that came up, I would do it. I still didn't work but planned to re-enter the work force when Brie hit kindergarten. One afternoon while picking up Ashley I noticed a cute guy behind me in the car line. We chatted for two minutes, and he asked, "Do you cheat?" I couldn't believe how bold he was. I said, "What do you think". He gave me a card with his business address. "Meet me tomorrow -- I have an apartment in the back, I'll give you what you need!"

I arranged a sitter for Brie the next day, met him at his "crash pad" behind his business and thought I fucked him into the cot. No, he got his second wind and he fucked me harder than I ever experienced prior to that afternoon. We were both late picking up our kids from school and got a stern lecture from the principal. She told the guy "This is not the first time for you, but it better be the last time, or I'll have another talk with your wife!" I saw her glare at me as I strapped Ashley into the car seat for the ride home.

We moved our encounters to noon time and coupled around 25 times before we got caught by his boss. I knew it was again time to cool it. Did you notice I never mentioned his name? After my first time, I remembered the building and how to get there but I lost the card and his name and never asked it. Twenty-five encounters and he never mentioned mine.