Author's Note: This story takes place before the story "Dahlia and Darren." Feel free to read that story after this one. The bulk of this story ends in October, which is right when Dahlia and Darren's story begins. These two stories share a character or two. ;)
Angie was Ulysses' first affair with a married woman. His second, several years later, can be read about in "Emily's Story."
Edited by Todger65.
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Chapter 1
Angie was dreaming again. A dream she's had countless times in the past six years. She was dreaming of the one of the most pleasure filled nights of her life. It was also the worst night of her life.
The room was hazy. She saw herself on the bed, slightly blurred, and dimly lit by a faint orange glow. He was on top of her again, slowly, gently guiding his cock in and out of her. He was so young, just out of college, but so good in bed.
His name was Ulysses. They met in his senior year at college. Angie was a career counselor that worked for the university. He was very polite when he came to her, seeking advice and guidance. There was something about his smile, his bright white teeth against the backdrop of his dark brown skin that made her weak. They maintained a friendship after he graduated. Deep down, Angie knew it was only a matter of time.
Back in her dream, Angie let out a soft moan as Ulysses kissed along her neck, pinning her down with her hands entwined in his. Moaning again, she closed her eyes, wrapping her legs around his toned, muscular butt. She didn't want the dream to end, but knew it would, and knew when and how it would.
Ulysses released her hands, staring into her brown eyes, running his fingers through her long red hair. Resuming his slow and steady thrusts, sending tingles through her body, she began cumming. He sat back on his knees, bringing Angie up with him, her legs locked behind him, be began bouncing her. Slamming upward into her over and over, she gripped him tightly, her fingernails trailing across his dark chocolate colored skin, the orgasm exploding and coursing through her.
"Yes! Yes!" She cried out, her closed eyes not initially seeing her bedroom door open. Ulysses stopped, she opened her eyes, her husband was standing in the door way; the bright light from the hallway, magnified by the dream, behind him, creating a clinched fist silhouette. That night, six years ago, was the night her own actions brought about her demise.
Angie's eyes shot open after a loud gasp. It was over, she was awake, and the dream had ended. She slid out of bed and walked to the bedroom window. Sliding the drapes open to let in moonlight, she stood there looking up to a full moon, her naked body silhouetted by its light. She shook the images of the dream from her head and sighed.
The frown turned to a slight smile when she felt a warm hand slide around her body and rest on her bare, flat tummy. She closed her eyes when she felt her shoulder being peppered with kisses.
"You ok sweety?" Sandee asked. Angie must have woken her.
"Yeah, just the same bad dream again." Angie explained.
Sandee moved next to Angie, smiling at her while she moved her long red locks behind Angie's ears. Sandee held Angie's face and placed a soft kiss on her pouty lips, Sandee's own full lips interlocking with Angie's.
"It's just a dream. Come back to bed," Sandee said, taking Angie by the hand, leading her back to the small bed in Sandee's bedroom.
Angie rested in Sandee's arms, her head using her breasts like a pillow, trailing her hand over Sandee's tight 35 year old stomach. The two women didn't have to work tomorrow. It was the Fourth of July weekend. Sandee invited Angie over to spend it together in bed.
Thoughts of that horrible night ran through her mind as Angie tried to go back to sleep. She had many affairs over the years during her marriage. She initially blamed her controlling, domineering, uncaring, workaholic husband on them. There were a few of his coworkers at the law firm he was a partner at, several of his clients - a couple of them big, nasty, linebackers for the Oakland Raiders - there were men she met at the gym, their neighbors on each side their house, their neighbor's sons, and finally Ulysses - the college senior that needed her help with career guidance.
In his arms, she was in another world; a world of constant orgasmic bliss. Then it ended that fateful night she got caught. What followed was a systematic destruction of her life as she knew it. Over the course of a few months, she lost her marriage, her home, a great deal of her funds, and the one thing that gave her joy besides the occasional extramarital sex, her son.
In the back of Angie's mind she knew she'd get caught sooner or later. She knew her addiction to cheating would ruin her. After every bra removal, after every ass grab, after every swallow of semen, after every thrust, pump, grind, spank, and orgasm brought about by another man, she knew eventually it would all come crashing down on her. She knew she'd be punished and made to suffer for neglecting her family and the person she loved most, her son, all so she could sleep with someone.
Her husband, Don, consulted with another bloodsucking lawyer friend of his named Wayne, built a case against her, and took everything. Don took their son, John, and fled across the country to build a new life in Miami; coincidentally where Don's partner in crime, Wayne, was living.
Angie screamed in heartbreak as she watched her then 12 year old baby being rushed into the taxi by his father. John was crying too, reaching out to his mother for one last hug; not knowing when they'd ever see each other again. He was so small, so innocent in all this, and so precious. She brought this nightmare upon herself.
Left with nothing but her job at the University, the clothes she owned along with a few other personal items, Angie got an apartment and tried to go on. Don wouldn't return her calls, she never heard from John, and no one in his family would speak to her or help in anyway. Don had full custody and kept John away from her in every way. She got a call at Thanksgiving and Christmas from John. It was awkward; both wanted to talk longer, but Don intervened. Angie received birthday cards from John too. Nothing else though. No pictures were sent with the cards, no emails exchanged. Don was making her suffer.
In the months that followed, she convinced herself she deserved it. She should be punished. She failed as a mother. She went into a deep depression and didn't interact with anyone. Two years after she lost her son, she was able to find a new job at a job placement agency helping folks find employment. The temporary boost in happiness quickly faded. She enjoyed helping folks down on their luck or needing a change, find one. But she still missed her son, so bad it hurt. She'd often have chest pains. The doctor saw no heart issues, but prescribed her anti-anxiety pills.
Months and months passed, then years. A holiday phone call and a birthday card was her only communication with her son. She listened to his voice get deeper and deeper as time passed. She imagined what he might look like. When she last saw him he had dark hair like his father, styled in a messy and unkempt way, he had blue eyes like Angie's father, covered with a pair of glasses. She wondered how tall he was. Angie herself was 5'10" and Don was a little over six feet, surely he would've gained some decent height. She daydreamed about seeing him, hugging him, laughing with him. He told her he played football. She would daydream about going to his games to watch him. It was heartbreaking for her. Each phone call ended with her holding back tears.
She never touched another man since that fateful night five years ago. She never went on dates, never made friends with men, and had nearly zero interaction with the opposite sex save for the clients of the employment agency she worked for. Angie really had no friends at all. Don was punishing her by taking away the person she loved most; and she was punishing herself by denying herself a social life, or a chance at new love.
She rarely contacted her own family. This could've made her more depressed, but she was never close with them to begin with. Her three older sisters tormented her relentlessly as youngsters. Her oldest sister, Darla, continued into adulthood; her condescending attitude and biting remarks were indicative of a woman who was jealous of Angie's elegant beauty. Angie was happy to move with her husband to Los Angeles on the other side of the country. She rarely spoke to or saw her sisters again. She did have a niece named Leanna that was sent out to LA to live with her father and step mother. Her brief and infrequent chats with Leanna's mother, her sister, over the years contained fake promises of visiting the teen girl. Angie knew she never would and she honestly didn't care.
Angie instead spent her time at home reading, baking cookies pretending they were for her son, cleaning her apartment, and exercising. Every once in a while she would masturbate. She would rub herself to climax while in a nice bath, or in the shower. She would sometimes lay in bed and stimulate her clitoris with her fingers until she was ready to sleep. She wouldn't think about any man in particular - just the overall sensation.
This was her life. The now 43 year old, assumed this is how it would always be and knew it would be because of her own unfaithful actions. Then in May, she met Sandee.
Chapter 2
Sandee was a recently turned 35 year old stripper that was looking for a change in life. She wanted a job that didn't involve taking her clothes off. She came to the agency where Angie worked and was paired with her. There as something about Sandee that Angie couldn't forget. She was incredibly sweet, cheerful, and always smiling. She was also gorgeous. She was so gorgeous that straight women would look at her in admiration or possibly jealousy. Angie went the admiration route. Her light brown eyes and matching hair along with those thick lips made an impression on Angie. Sandee was like a vampire that fed off Angie's depression, sucking it out of her and removing it temporarily - until Angie was alone at home again.
Angie couldn't help but let this woman into her life. How could she not? She was a caring, lovable ball of energy. Sandee would cook for Angie; she would invite her to movies or dinner and she would take her out shopping. Angie felt alive again. Then one night, in mid-June, Sandee kissed her. It was awkward and Sandee apologized profusely, fearing that she offended or grossed out her friend. It was actually the opposite though. Angie had never been kissed by a woman before, but something deep inside her was brought out by that simple, quick kiss on the lips. Perhaps it was the loneliness, the depression, the anxiety, or the thought that she didn't deserve a man touching her or loving her again that made her kiss Sandee back in an equally hurried and awkward way.
Angie apologized to Sandee for the return kiss, blushing, looking downward. Sandee, bringing Angie's chin up to meet her gaze, kissed her again. It was a long, slow kiss on the lips. The next thing Angie knew her hands were on Sandee's waist and the two women were walking backward towards Sandee's bedroom, continuously kissing, and then collapsing on her bed in a flurry of kisses and flying clothes.
The first time Angie had an orgasm from another person in six years was like a dam breaking. That night in June, Angie's vagina was filled with unending barrage of tongue and fingers. It culminated in the wee hours of the morning with the two women collapsing on the mattress in a heaving, sweaty mess after what seemed like hours of grinding their pussies together.
