Another quick one while I work on some longer pieces. Sometimes you just need to write a story and actually finish it, you know?
This is another of my stories that are heavy on the dialogue. If you don't care for that style consider yourself warned.
I'm aware that this isn't an original premise but having read quite a few stories here I can't cite an individual inspiration. I thank all those that may have contributed.
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THOSE THINGS DON'T MATTER
They don't?
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The party had been fun but I was ready to go. Normally we, and by we I mean Pam, my wife of 4 years and me, would stay later, but I'd had a long week and really wanted to get home.
I went in search of her. We often spent these parties catching up with the others in our social circle, often seeing each other only when we arrived and when we found each other when it was time to leave. I checked the living room, dining room, and even the garage, I looked in the backyard and even the front but she was nowhere to be found. That left just the upstairs.
I swear my mind never went to the possibility that she was cheating on me upstairs, even though there was nothing but bedrooms and bathrooms. I assumed she was in the restroom or perhaps had gone off with some of the other wives for a little quiet conversation.
So I was genuinely surprised to open the bedroom door and see her on her hands and knees getting fucked, and even more surprised to realize that the guy was Norman, one of our nerdier, for lack of a better term, friends.
I watched for a few seconds, mostly out of shock, before I took action. They hadn't noticed me, being well wrapped up in what they were doing, so it came as quite a shock to Norm when I yanked on his right shoulder, causing him to pop out of Pam's pussy, and slugged him as hard as I could.
Norm was actually a pretty small guy. I could have easily simply tossed him across the room; the punch really wasn't necessary. But I was pissed and had actually thought of him as something of a good friend.
He hit against a nearby wall and sank to the ground. If he wasn't unconscious he was pretty damn close to it at that point. I didn't need to do anything further to him but I was pretty pissed at this point and I moved toward him, intent on making sure he REALLY understood how unhappy I was.
"Henry, no! He's hurt enough already!"
Pam's voice, and perhaps more important her defense of the prick that had just been putting it to her, snapped me out of the focus I had on him and I turned my attention to her. She actually recoiled a bit as I turned toward her even though I had never raised so much as a hand to her. I guess the look on my face was enough.
"Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I'll go back to the apartment and pack my shit."
I stormed out of the bedroom, ignoring a 'Henry, wait' that came from behind me and I didn't stop or look back. I simply went out to our car (we'll have to decide who gets that, I thought) and drove myself home. It was a wonder I didn't kill myself or someone else. I wasn't drunk, though I was strongly considering remedying that when I got home, but I was seriously pissed and upset and hurt. I really had no business behind the wheel of a car in that emotional state, but it turned out okay.
Of course the hits just kept on coming when I got home, remembering I had polished off the last beer last night and had put off restocking until the weekend. I really wanted to get drunk and forget my pain but I would have had to drive again and I didn't want to risk that again, so I simply collapsed on to the couch and cried.
I have no idea how much time passed, but it wasn't very long and it sure as hell wasn't all night, before I heard the door open and Pam came walking in. I realized then I had forgotten to hook the chain on the door. I was suddenly angry all over again.
"Henry, we need to talk about this."
"No, we fucking don't need to talk about this. I have no interest in reliving the events from tonight. I'm gonna get some sleep and then get up and pack my shit."
We just sat there glaring at each other for what felt like several minutes but was probably only 30 or so seconds. When she spoke I felt like I had won something, but I didn't feel that way for very long.
"Okay, Henry, we won't talk about Norman or what happened tonight."
"Thank you."
"Let's talk about Mary Frazier instead."
Oh shit!
"Why the hell would I want to talk about Mary Frazier?" I said, decidedly less confident in my anger than I had been just moments ago.
"Well, we're not going to talk about her exactly. I was thinking we could discuss that finger-fucking you gave her a few months ago. Or the hand job she gave you afterwards."
Oh shit...again.
"I, uh, don't...know what you're talking about."
"Oh please. She came and told me all about it, and how awesome it was that we had such an understanding relationship. She was quite disappointed when you didn't actually fuck her. She really wanted it. She's always had a thing for you."
"Look, Pam, I don't know what..."
"Or maybe we should talk about the make out session you had with Tabby Feller last year. She really enjoyed you feeling up her little titties. Or how about the time a few months later when you got Donna Bayles out of her shirt at Cheryl's party? That one I can't really blame you for. I mean, those things are huge! I wouldn't mind getting a chance at those puppies myself some day."
I was totally busted. Those girls didn't mean anything to me; it was just a little harmless fun like we had all had together for years. But I hadn't fucked any of them. I decided there was no point in denying it now. I looked up at Pam and she had a 'well?' look on her face.
"I, um, didn't know you were aware of any of those things."
"Oh yeah. I knew about them pretty much right after each one happened. What, you thought you could mess around with our friends and I wouldn't hear about it?"
"I guess I didn't really think at all. But why didn't you ever say anything?"
She moved toward me and got on her knees in front of me. She took my hands in hers and looked me right in the eyes.
"Because those things don't matter, baby."
"They don't?"
"No, they don't matter. Just like the things I did with David Nova, John Walton, and even Norman don't matter."
"David Nova? John Walton? What the hell did you do?"
"No more than you, baby. David and I made out for awhile and I let him play with my tits. John got to finger me a bit and I jerked him off, like you and Mary."
"And then you fucked Norman. I never did that."
"I know, baby, and I didn't plan that. You know he's always had the hots for me so I thought I'd make a dream come true for him by letting him play with me a little bit. He asked if he could put that little thing of his in me and since it was pretty small I agreed. If you hadn't walked in you never would have noticed. Hell, I barely noticed."