The Rest of the Story

The Rest of the Story

Throwing it all away

This story is the third and final chapter of a fictional account of a marriage.

The first two chapters were told from the wife's point of view.

Those two chapters had the title

Second Chance

(Parts 1 and 2).

This final chapter is a continuation of that story but is written from the husband's point of view.

Hence, a new title.

Anyone in this fictional account who is depicted as engaged in sexual intercourse is 18 years of age or older.

A newscaster on the radio used to have a segment on his newscast that he called, "The Rest of the Story." It started by him recounting something that had been in the news some time previously. But once the story had been in the news for a few days it was forgotten. Sometimes, after a news story was forgotten, additional things happened to the main character that were quite interesting of themselves, but never made it to the news. Sometimes new facts were found that led up to the main news story. These additional things are what he reported in a segment of his broadcast he called: "The Rest of the Story."

So, if you read my wife Amy's story, entitled, "Second Chance," you might have been ready to conclude, ". . . and they lived happily ever after." I will let you judge for yourself. My name is Al. I'm Amy's husband. I'm here to tell you the rest of the story.

After we came back from Spring Break we had to go right to work; Dory had to go to school. Amy and I kept on enjoying Amy's re-discovered sexuality -- her desire to be attractive -- her love for being an exhibitionist and wearing the most sexually outrageous outfit in the room when we went out together. And now in the spring of the year there were not only indoor concerts and dance clubs that we could attend, but outdoor festivals and exhibitions as well. All these adventures in exhibitionism culminated in highly satisfying sex for us at the end of the adventure.

As her tits were healing, she took to wanting to enter more amateur contests. Her first contest during Spring Break was not totally satisfying. While Amy looked hot, the girls who beat her out in the competition had acquired some dancing skills that they used to their advantage. More than once, when we talked about entering amateur contests, Amy bemoaned the fact that she did not have any dance training. That brings us to our neighbor, Eve.

Actually, I am the one who found this out about Eve as I was doing a small fix-it job for her. Amy had been hesitant to ask, so never had. I was kind of like the bull in the China shop. Without really thinking that what I was about to ask might be none of my business, I was kneeling on the floor in front of her washing machine, trying to extend a leg on the washer just a little bit because the machine had a slight wobble to it when it was spinning wet clothes, even if they were evenly distributed. There was a lock nut on the adjustable leg, and I was using my hands to feel for it and put a wrench on it. It was one of those jobs that is done by feel, not by sight.

So what was I looking at? Before me was a pair of feet with polished toe nails nestled in platform high heeled shoes. And if I looked up, there was this long beautiful pair of legs that ended right at the hem of a miniskirt. From the position I was in, I could not comfortably look any higher, but I know, from having seen her as I entered her house that the skirt just hugged her hips, then there was a large expanse of bare midriff before the top she was wearing attempted to cover her tits. I say, ". . . attempted to," because there was a noticeable amount of underboob showing before her top started to cover anything.

And so, as I was attempting to work on leveling out the washer, I addressed the calves before me, "I know you're from Las Vegas, and I even know you have had your breasts enhanced, but I've never heard what you did in Las Vegas. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said. "I ran away from home at an early age. I got my first job in Las Vegas as a waitress in a club. I soon learned that it was the dancers that earned the money, so I asked one of the older dancers who I thought was also very good, to teach me how to dance.

"She did and as I got older I eventually became a headliner. However, I learned that there was even more money to be made as a call girl, so I got into that, working as a dancer but moonlighting as a call girl. I was good at what I did and made some serious money. Over the years, as I saw new girls coming up to replace me as a dancer, I moved on to be a house mother -- taking care of the girls working at the club. Between being a call girl and a house mother, which was a very responsible position, I accumulated enough money to make some significant investments.

"When one of my regular customers suggested to my madam that maybe he'd like to try a younger girl for a change, I saw the handwriting on the wall. I retired from being a call girl, and moved here to the midwest. I'm now one of the house mothers at a franchise club in the city. It is much less pressure than Las Vegas, but it's something to do. I have enough in investments that I do not have to worry about finances for the rest of my life."

By then I was standing up and trying to wiggle the washer. There was no wiggle; I had fixed it. It was solid. But she wasn't done.

"I still try to keep in shape by dancing," she said. She had me follow her to her attached, heated, two car garage. It had a high ceiling. She owned only one car. In the other bay she had a pole installed like the ones used in pole dancing. That pole was surrounded by a slightly raised wooden floor. She went over to a CD player, turned it on, and started dancing to the music. I'm no expert, but she looked good. Her dancing was athletic like a combination of dancing and gymnastics.

When the first song was done she went over and stopped the CD player. She came up to me very sensuously and asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"Hottest dance I've ever seen," I replied, and I was not exaggerating. "If I wasn't a married man . . .," I began to say, but finished by saying, "Maybe I had better not go there."

"So I haven't completely lost it?" she asked, teasing me some more.

"Not at all," I said. "You have my permission to finish my sentence any way you want." I gathered my wrenches (I didn't know exactly what size I'd be dealing with so I had brought a couple different sizes) and went home.

It is the information that I gleaned from Eve that caused me to remark one evening when Amy was talking about wanting to enter an amateur night contest but wished that she knew how to dance better, that I suggested that she talk to Eve, telling her what I had just learned about Eve's past history.

Sure enough, the next time Eve came over to get me to fix some little thing around her house, Amy hit her with an, "Oh, by the way . . ." and mentioned that when she had entered a contest at Spring Break she felt she did not do as well as she could have if she would have had a few more dancing skills. Eve was happy to have Amy come over and Dory too, for that matter. I think maybe Eve had not made many friends since she moved into this area and was glad to have someone come over who was interested in exotic dancing. It may have helped that neither I nor Amy seemed to be shocked or judgmental of her having been a call girl. After all, by this time both Amy and I had fucked people outside our marriage. Who were we to judge?

Once we came back from Spring Break we continued to go out at least one day or night of the weekend. Amy would dress to turn heads and both of us would have fun showing her off. We liked to go dancing so that I could watch her fast dancing, or we could dirty dance together. We used to dance with one another exclusively, but since Spring Break where we had fun dancing and flirting with others, we would dance with others. Amy would not go off and dance with another guy if I would be left sitting at a table by myself. But if I had found a dance partner, she liked the attention from the other guys, and it was very sexy to me to see how sensuous she could be in flirt mode.

Later, as it became summer, we often went to a beach on either a Saturday or a Sunday. Beaches that were closer to home were more conservative, causing us to wear bikinis instead of thongs, and forcing her to keep the top of her swimsuit on. We did find a few beaches farther away where we could wear thongs and one where Amy could remove her top in an adult section of the beach.

A few times she noticed an admirer that caught her attention. She offered to spend some time with him if he would wear one of my thongs or bikinis with her. While I was there, I let the guy oil up Amy and watched as Amy oiled him up. They would play with one another in and out of the water. Two times the three of us went off into the woods that surrounded the beach so that Amy could fuck the guy and I could video it. Those fucks ended in a three-way. Both of us took turns in her mouth and in her pussy. She loved being so hot she could seduce any guy she wanted. I loved to see her being that hot and loved the live porn show. I loved the three-way and reliving our experience again in bed at night.

By the end of summer Amy was entering amateur strip contests. Her dancing lessons had paid off. She did not win every competition, but she always placed well. At most establishments amateurs were only allowed to dance on stage. They could not do lap dances our use the VIP rooms. However, at one place they could do lap dances, but had to keep their g-strings on. The audience was fairly young, and Amy did a number of lap dances on young guys, accidentally putting her hand on their cocks as she danced or rubbing her ass against their hard-ons. She would let guys bury their heads between her tits.

It was toward the end of the summer that things began to go off the rails. Amy had been fantasizing more and more about Spring Break and especially about her time with T.R. That, in and of itself, wasn't objectionable. Then, one evening, she asked me whether I still had his telephone number. As a matter of fact I did. I felt a little uneasy about admitting that because I knew what the next question would be. Sure enough, she wanted to try giving him a call just to see how he was doing.

I expressed just the slightest misgiving about contacting a former lover and was immediately shot down. She had obviously prepared herself for my objection. She did not get heated about it, but emphasized that he had behaved honorably all the time he was with her and her intentions were merely to reconnect with a friend. It was so unlike me to be jealous, she said. She assured me I had nothing to worry about.

I gave her the number. Their conversation was not long. It was not until a month later that I found out that they had exchanged email addresses, and they continued from that phone call to communicate by email.

At the end of September she hit me with it. J.R. had invited her to fly down to his place in Florida for a couple of days to repeat the fun they had at Spring Break. Again I voiced my objection. What she was now going to do by herself was very different from what we were doing at Spring Break where both of us were there together enjoying her hot, sensual, exhibitionist and promiscuous behavior. She said she'd send me pictures and videos. I told her it would not be the same thing.

But I knew her mind was made up. If I fought her any more, I would have just pushed her further away, made her more defensive of her behavior and more determined than ever to see him. I gave in. The Friday night she was going to leave I was supposed to take her to the airport in her car after I came home from work. When I got home form work I hardly recognized her. True, her summer tan had started to fade, but in addition to that she had spent the day getting her hair bleached a very light blonde. She had had some filler injected into her lips to make them a little fuller, and was wearing very light pink eye shadow and lip gloss. "It's all about the contrast," she said. "I want to be this very white girl in the arms of this very black man." She left on the last flight on Friday night after work. I took her to the airport expecting to pick her up Sunday night.

That night when I went to bed, I found Dory there, naked, waiting for me. I had done nothing with Dory since Spring Break. The plastic surgeon was right when he refused to augment her breasts. Her breasts had grown from a B cup at Spring Break to a modest C cup now. I will admit, Dory took my mind off of the bad feelings I was having about Amy going down to see T.R. We had a repeat of this on Saturday night.

I thought she would be coming home on Sunday night. She had not left me any information so that I could pick her up. Sunday night I got a call. I was ready to hop in her car and pick her up when she said she was going to stay a few more days. The fact that she called me Sunday night confirmed in my mind that she had definitely left Dory and me with the impression that she would be returning Sunday night.

I asked, "What about work?"

She answered, "I've taken care of that."

I was upset. I tried not to show it over the phone, although I do not remember what I said. But what I was feeling was that this was the beginning of the end. If not, it was the end itself. She had left me for T.R.

At first I thought, "Divorce the bitch." And then the more I thought the more I considered: "But if I divorce her I wind up giving fifty percent of everything I've worked hard for, to her and her lover just so they can cuckold me. That makes no sense."

Dory had been out for the evening and when she came home she asked, "Where's Mom?"

I told her that her Mom called to say she was going to stay in Florida for a while longer.

Dory was furious. "That BITCH!!!" she yelled as she stomped off up to her room.

I don't know. I never talked with her about it. But Dory and I never did it again. I think that she could enjoy me as a Daddy/lover. But once her Mom left, maybe she felt that if she slept with me it would be as a surrogate wife and that was just not a comfortable role for her. To tell you the truth, I am relieved. I was not comfortable about the incest thing even though Dory was the one who initiated it, wanted it and really seemed to enjoy it.

I don't think it took me very long to revert back to the mind set I had during the years that Amy had denied having any sex with me. I had been here before -- the no sex part. In some ways it was easier than before. She wasn't around to remind me every day that she didn't want me. In another way it was harder, knowing that I'd been replaced by another man. What did he have that I didn't have? I tried to stay away from those thoughts. I didn't think they would help.

It was about two weeks later that there was a knock on the door a little before supper time. It was Eve. She was expecting to see Amy home making supper. My work van was not in the driveway yet. Dory opened the door and Eve cheerfully asked for Amy. "I've got to borrow her husband again," she said.

"The bitch ain't home and I don't think she ever will be. As far as borrowing Daddy, he's all yours. Take good care of him. He deserves so much better than the bitch in Florida. I'll tell him you were here and have him give you a call right after supper."

Dory was ready to dismiss Eve, but Eve interrupted: "Wait, wait, wait, What's that all about?"

Dory gave her a short version of what had happened. Amy had met a guy on Spring Break. They had had some fun together. Amy tried reconnecting with him in August and by the end of September she had left to be with him. Amy had made it sound like it would be just for the weekend, but then she called saying that she was going to stay longer. Dory thought it was a shitty way to treat her dad.

Eve went home. I saw her walking up her front walk as I came home from work. I honked at her and waved. She waved back. I went in and Dory had supper all ready for me. We had arranged a cooking schedule based around Dory's school schedule. This day was a light day for her so she cooked. She cooked two days a week. The other days either I cooked, we bought pizza, or we went out to eat.

After supper she told me about Eve coming over to borrow me. She told me in no uncertain terms that if I wanted to stay overnight at Eve's or wanted Eve to come here, it would be fine with her. She told me she thought that Eve had the hots for me and I might as well take advantage of it. Dory was on her third boyfriend since Greg at Spring Break. It seems as though she had two standards: one, that married people should stay together and the other, that if you're not married you're pretty much free to hook up with anyone who is willing. She considered her mother to have broken up the marriage and so she considered me to be free to hook up.

In actuality, once Amy left, there were the two times with Dory and then I had gone back to taking care of myself mode. I had developed a pretty bad attitude towards Amy and most women in general with the exception of Dory. She was my daughter. I needed to take care of her. We had both been abandoned by her mother. We needed to watch out for one another.

I helped Dory clean up after supper and then headed over to Eve's, even though, as I said, I had a pretty bad attitude about all women in general. I was not going over to her house because she was a woman but because she was a neighbor who needed some help. I'd have done it for any of my neighbors.

When I arrived Eve thanked me for coming. I avoided small talk and simply asked her to show me what the problem was that needed fixing. She showed me a lamp that went on an off depending on where you moved the cord. I quickly determined that the movement had to be very close to the plug. I carefully pulled the plug by grasping the plug and could feel heat in the wire in the area where the break must have been. She must have been in the habit of pulling the plug out of the socket by pulling on the cord. I could fix it by putting on a new plug. I had a replacement plug at home I could quickly put on, so told her I would be right back. She told me to put on my dancing clothes.

I was a little taken aback by this. She had a charming way about her. In retrospect, I think she may have been such a successful call girl not only because of her looks but because of the way she could read a guy and get him to do what she wanted him to do. When I had entered her house, dancing was the last thing on my mind.

I had showered when I got home, before eating supper. Now I found myself obediently changing clothes before I grabbed the plug and a couple of tools and went back to Eve's. I had the plug fixed in five minutes. She threw me the keys to her car. "We're going dancing," she said. I guess I needed her to take charge of me a little bit that night. I opened the door for her and let her in her car. I got in the car, started it up and backed out of the driveway. "Where to?" I asked.

She directed me to a dance club on the far side of town. The whole time driving there she snuggled up to me. And then she started talking about sex. "How old were you the first time?" "Where did you do it?" "Did you like it?" "What's your favorite position?" "What's the craziest sexual thing you have ever done?" "What is the best sex you ever had/" "What is your favorite fantasy?" On and on she went. And after she asked me the question and I told her the answer, she would answer the question for herself. By the time we got to the club I was pretty fired up, having gone for several weeks with nothing but my hand and porn.