Autumn Winds 1

Introduction: Many people love autumn, with its changing leaves and brisk mornings; however, for some, autumn is a sad time, a time of memories and growing older. Perhaps, there is another aspect to autumn, one that speaks to realized hopes and dreams, but whatever the nature of autumn, it is a time of change. This story is dedicated to all those men and women who walk in the face of the Autumn Winds.

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A crisp wind blew over the city, and it spoke of even cooler days ahead. As Frank Howard came down the steps, from the front porch of his house, he heard the breeze speak of change. He felt change radiating up from the ground. The year was growing older, and gone were the days of summer when the year was at its prime. Now, the year was moving, with slow decline toward winter, when the whiteness of snow would bring its cold whiteness. Then, there would come a long night, when the year would slip away into history. Yet, the year tenaciously fought, to hang on to a remnant of what it once had been, and the days still grew warm, after the crispness of morning. There was change upon the wind.

Frank Howard didn’t look his 56 years. He stood around six feet tall, weighed 180 pounds, had blue eyes and graying, brown hair. Frank took pride in his physical fitness and no matter how busy his schedule he always managed to start everyday out with a regiment of exercise. Although he was totally unaware of it, women found Frank fascinating and attractive, while men admired his inner strength and character. He walked with the firm step and poise of a person who was confident in his abilities and place in the world.

For thirty years, he had worked for McMillan & Sons Inc. He had gradually advanced up through the ranks, until he now held the position of Corporate Relations Manager. Frank was responsible for all manner of negotiations, ranging from company/union contracts to multimillion dollar business deals. He was good at what he did for a living, and he took great pride in his ability, to reach mutually beneficial agreements.

Frank’s wife was named Martha. She was a year younger than her husband, and at five feet one inch tall, she was considerably shorter than her spouse. She weighed 125 pounds and had brown eyes and black hair. Her hair was diligently colored, on a regular basis, to ensure that the telltale signs of aging did not show upon her tresses. She was a pretty woman, neither stunningly beautiful nor terribly plain. Her voice had an almost musical quality to it that attracted attention whenever she spoke. With the exception of a couple of years, when she had worked as a school teacher, Martha had been a housewife and mother; jobs in which she took great pride.

Martha and Frank been married for thirty-two years, and for twenty-nine of those years they had lived in the same big, rambling, two-story house. In that house, the couple had raised their three children, two boys and a girl, and saw them off upon their own ways in the world. One of the boys had taken a job in Canada; the other boy was working for a company in Delaware; while their girl was working in Europe. Although the house was bigger than their current needs, Frank and Martha had never considered selling it.

Frank Howard entered his car and began the morning ritual of the drive to work. As usual, he followed the same route that he always took, down past the river and over the North Street Bridge. In the coolness of the morning, tendrils of vapor rose off the water and collected in small patches, wherever the breeze did not blow them away. He glanced up river, toward the falls, and he wished, as he always did, that he had more time, to sit and look at the beauty of the river. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and sighed, knowing that as usual, when the weekend came, he would find other things to do than river watching.

In keeping with his normal routine, he entered the McMillan building just before 7 a.m. It was an hour when the majority of McMillan & Sons employees had not yet arrived for work. He knew that he would find company’s CEO, Carl Coffman alone in his office and would be able to review some of the negotiating points, for the upcoming talks with Nolan Enterprises. As he suspected, he found Mr. Coffman sitting in his office going through the stacks of papers, which covered his desk.

“Morning Frank,” Carl looked up and smiled, “I was just thinking about you and this Nolan business that we have going tomorrow. What’s your read on the situation?”

“I think, we have a good chance of coming out of the whole thing with a lot of money.”

“You know,” remarked Coffman, “I have this feeling that they will be trying to unload those Asian goods that they’ve been trying to get rid of for the last year. We sure don’t want to make a concession when it comes to that.”

“We have an opportunity,” Frank explained opening up his briefcase, “to turn that to our advantage. They want to be free of that stuff, and we have the means to move it, but they’ll have to sweeten the kitty. Fuck! I left the folder with my strategy outline on my desk at home. I’ll have to run home and get it.”

“Fine,” Carl nodded. “How is your team shaping up?”

“Everyone knows the plan. There are just a couple of items that I need to review with Jeff Hendricks, when I get back, and we’ll be set to go.”

“Great! Brief me when you have everything ready.”

Shaking his head in disgust Frank left the building and went to his car. On the drive home, he kept kicking himself over the lapse in memory, which was causing him to return to his house, to retrieve the forgotten papers. As fast as he could, he made it to his home, went up the steps, and entered the front door. He was surprised to find the entry hall darker than normal, because the sliding doors to the living room had been closed. He was just about to call out to his wife when he heard her voice.

“Yes, harder, faster!” her voice came from the living room, “You feel sooo, good!”

He saw that the sliding doors were not completely pulled shut, and he heard the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, in that horribly familiar rhythm of passionate sex. Frank looked through the cracked doors and saw his wife lying totally naked, upon the room’s table. An equally naked man stood between her legs, rapidly pumping his rigid cock, in and out, of her most willing pussy. Frank immediately recognized the man as neighbor, Hank Tatum, a person who Frank had never liked, and now liked even less.

“How cliché!” Frank thought, as a grim smile touched his lips, “The unsuspecting husband comes home to catch his wife flagrante delicto. It has all the earmarks of a cheap, pornographic story.”

However, unlike most cheap stories, the main characters involved in this tableau, were not your typical, glamorous couple seizing a moment of illicit pleasure; they were a middle-aged woman and man. The man had receding hair, a plentiful beer belly, and an average sized cock. The woman had slightly smaller than average breasts, which showed the combined effects of time and gravity, and had a roll of flesh around her midsection. To Frank the scenario was far more disturbing than a story; the woman involved was his wife.

Once upon a time, Frank would have burst into the room and beaten the man senseless, but as he watched the scene in the living room, he discovered he didn’t care. He felt neither anger nor jealousy. He was neither turned on nor repulsed, by the spectacle he was witnessing. In a way, he was not surprised by what he was seeing. For some time, he had known that his marriage had been faltering. The passion had gone out of the relationship, and while it might be normal for the fires of passion to diminish with age, in the case of Frank and his wife, those fires had seemed to have gone completely out. They had only made love four times during all of last year, and only twice during the current year.

Hank Tatum’s hands moved over Martha’s breasts. He pushed on her tits, and his fingers depressed her soft flesh and caused her to softly moan. He then pinched her nipples between his fingers and thumbs and stretched them, before moving his hands to her hips. Martha arched her back, and Hank leered at her obvious pleasure.

“Oh, baby,” Tatum said,” you feel so fine. You’re cunt is nice and tight—just the way it should be for a good fuck. I can tell you haven’t been getting it much from your old man.”

“It has been a long time since he has made love to me,” she gasped as her lover continued his relentless efforts between her legs. “I don’t remember the last time. This is the first time I’ve ever cheated on him, but I don’t want to talk about him. I just want you use that wonderful cock to fuck me, and fuck me some more.”

“Don’t you worry, babe,” Tatum’s hands moved back over the woman’s breasts. “This is only the start, you’re going to be getting a whole lot of fucking from now on in—that I promise you.”

Frank’s eyes widened with surprise. Martha had always disdained what she called “vulgar” words such as, cock and fuck. She had a strict prohibition that such terms not be used in her presence.

Once upon a time, Frank and Martha had made love, long and often. Frank wondered when it was that things first began to taper off. It must have been, at least five years ago, when he first began to notice subtle changes in his wife’s mood. She began to do fewer and fewer of those little things, which are done out of love and not for duty. She began to sleep on the far side of the bed, instead of snuggling up against him during the night, as she had done since they were first married. Then, she began to find fault in most of the things he said or did. Even a little thing, like taking out the trash, was followed by complaints.

Hank stopped his motions for an instant and reached under Martha, to lift her partly into a sitting position and kissed her deeply. He then, eased her back down upon the table, grabbed her hips, and renewed his fucking. Frank watched as the man’s hands slid down to roughly mold Martha’s buttocks. He could see Hank’s thick fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her ass cheeks.

Once upon a time Frank had tried to salvage his marriage. He had seen all the warning signs, but he had been powerless, to prevent the situation from spiraling down into an ever widening rift. There had been times, when he had felt like a helpless bystander, at the edge of the tracks, trying desperately to signal an oncoming train that the bridge ahead had washed out. Frank knew that his work responsibilities took up a lot of his time; therefore, he had taken on a lighter work load, which had given him more time at home. When he had suggested marriage counseling, his wife had erupted in a fit of anger. He tried flowers, gifts, romantic dinners, and weekends away from the area. For awhile his efforts had seemed to ease the situation, but in the end, the downward spiral continued unabated. Finally, this last year Martha forgot his birthday, and while normally Frank wouldn’t have let it bother him; under the current circumstances he began to become resentful. He ceased to try to please Martha. In fact, he often would go out of his way to argue with her. Frank was ashamed of these arguments, which were the end result of his resentments and frustrations.

Hank Tatum pulled his cock free of Martha’s pussy, and pulling the cushions from the couch, arranged them on the floor. After making sure he had the cushions placed just where he wanted, he helped Martha down from the table and directed her to get down on her hands and knees. Hank then knelt down behind her and guided is glistening cock to the entrance of her sopping pussy. With a hard thrust, he sent his organ deep within the woman, as his beer belly came to slapping up against her rear. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips and his hands covered her swaying breasts.

Once upon a time, Martha had moaned and yelled wildly, as Frank had made love to her. He had been able to fire her passions to the highest peaks. Back in those days, she told him that he was the world’s best lover, and she meant it. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of Frank; she would often wake him in the middle of the night, her hands gently messaging his manhood, while she rubbed her eager pussy against his leg.

Frank had thought she had been the most beautiful girl (he still thought she was beautiful) he had ever seen when he had first met her, in that time so long ago. He was a long haired liberal, dedicated trying to stop the war, while at the same time setting up food assistance programs, for those people who fell through the official government safety net programs. In those days, she had been a fiery and demanding lover, and the two of them became engulfed in a haze of lust and love, which led to the exchange of marriage vows.

“Oh,” gasped Martha, “I’m going to cum. Keep going, hard and fast! Ohhhh!”

“You want hard and fast,” Hank said as he gritted his teeth and began thrusting himself into her with renewed vigor, “I’ll give you hard and fast. I’m going to fuck you so hard; you’re going to wish you were born without a cunt.”

Once upon a time, Martha had been a woman of class and distinction, set so far above the likes of Hank Tatum, that she would never have given him more than a quick neighborly glance. Frank shook his head, as he watched his wife fucking Hank, and he wondered how she had ever fallen so very low.

Hank had supposedly suffered a sever injury to his back, one that had been so serious, it was impossible for him to work and restricted almost all the man’s normal movements. While Hank sat around home drinking beer and collecting disability payments, his wife was out working. Hank’s wife held a fairly high paying job with one of the city’s leading advertising agencies; she was the money maker in the marriage. From what Frank was witnessing, it more than apparent that Hank’s back was not bothering him very much this day.

Martha was cumming. Her eyes were tightly closed, head shook wildly side to side, and she moaned through clenched teeth. When she had passed the summit of her climax, she lowered her head upon a cushion and tried to regain her breath. One of her hands reached back, through her legs, to cup the swinging balls of her fucker.

Once upon a time, Frank could have forgiven her this infidelity. Frank had come of age as a member of the free love generation, but when he and Martha had become engaged, they had agreed to a totally monogamous relationship. For thirty-two years Frank had been faithful to his wife, and apparently up until today, Martha had been true to him. However, forgiveness requires a deep and abiding love, which was something Frank no longer felt. He did not wish her harm, but no longer cared for her in the way a man should love his wife. That is not to say he didn’t love her, but the emotion he felt toward her was more of the type of love, which a brother has for a sister.

As Frank watched his wife being fucked by the neighbor, he felt as if someone had died. The same feeling that had come over him, at the death of his parents swept over him. He knew with certainty that his marriage had died. With that sort of insight that is often born amidst tragedy, he saw clearly what he needed to do, and turning from the sliding doors he went and retrieved the papers he had forgotten that morning.

When he had gathered up the needed folder, he returned and glanced one last time between the doors and saw his wife kneeling in front of the neighbor. Hank looked down at her, and as a wicked grin crossed his face, he fed his slick cock into her mouth. Hank’s hips bucked rapidly forwards and backwards, his large belly smacking into the top of her head, until he suddenly shoved himself deep between her lips. He grunted sharply and clenched his buttocks, his cum shooting into the mouth of the woman. Frank could see some of the cum seeping from the side of Martha’s lips, as she swallowed the sperm of her lover.

Sighing deeply in resignation, Frank turned and walked out the front door of his house, for the final time. Other than the folder he had forgotten, he took nothing with him, nor did he pause for a final look around the place where he had lived in for so long. He simply and quietly left.

Once upon a time never comes again.

It was late morning by the time that Frank entered his office in the McMillan building; however, he didn’t rush into see Carl Coffman, but rather took time to write out several letters. He wrote to each of his children, saying only that he and their mother had broken up and that he would be going away for awhile. One of the letters was to Hank Tatum’s wife and explained the events, which had occurred that morning. Frank had debated whether or not to write her, as he didn’t want to cause her any grief, but in the end, he felt that he she deserved to know, what games her husband was playing, while she was hard at work. Another letter was to Martha and described without hostility, everything Frank had witnessed happing in their living room. He told her that he was leaving, and he would not be in contact with her for a long time to come. He mailed the letters to his children by regular post. For the letter to Mrs. Tatum, Frank used the special company courier, with explicit instructions to deliver the letter to Hank’s wife at work, no earlier than 4:45 p.m. that day. He also used the courier for the delivery of Martha’s letter, making sure it was understood that the letter had to be delivered precisely at five that afternoon. The remaining letter was his formal resignation from McMillan & Sons Inc. That last letter he took in person to Carl Coffman, after a short stop at the office of Jeff Hendricks.

“Okay,” Carl smiled at him, “now do you have everything?”

“Yes,” nodded Frank, “I’ve turned it all over to Jeff Hendricks; he will be handling the negotiations for me.”

“No, no,” Carl shook his head, “I need you on this job.”

“Look, if I thought for a second that Jeff couldn’t handle it I’d do it, but he will do fine. Besides, I’m through. Here is my resignation. I know I didn’t give any notice, but I’ve just come back from home after catching Martha fucking one of the neighborhood jerks.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I wish! Anyhow, I am taking off for the tall and uncut. Like I said, if I suspected there would be any trouble with in these coming negotiations, I’d hang around until they were over. I just want to say, it has been a pleasure working with you. You’ve been a good boss and a better friend,” Frank held his handout to the man behind the desk. Carl stood and shook his hand.

“Frank, words can’t express how sorry I am for you. I won’t say something trite, like I know what you are going through, because I don’t. Instead of rushing off, why don’t you take some time off? Hell, you can have as long as you want. I know a good lawyer, why don’t you drop around and see her?”

“No, Carl. I’m leaving town today, and I don’t plan on ever coming back. I’ve got some things that I want to do, which I’ve put off, for way too long. I’ll be in touch someday.”

“Look, don’t do something that you’re going to regret. You run off now and Martha will take you to the cleaners.”

“She can clean as much as she desires. I have all I want. Now, I’ve got to run.”

Carl Coffman watched his friend walk out of the office, then quickly picked up the phone and called Helen Brown head of human resources, “Helen, listen Frank was just in here and quit. He found is wife boffing some idiot and he is running off. He is clearing completely out of town. You get down and catch him before he gets away. You talk some sense into him, even if it takes the rest of the day. He can have as long off as he needs to get his head together. Do whatever it takes, more money or whatever, just get him to reconsider. You better run or you’ll miss him.”