I know what it's like to look forward to a sequel
The Landlord
Re: The Landlord
I won't keep you waiting too long then.
I know what it's like to look forward to a sequel
I know what it's like to look forward to a sequel
Re: The Landlord
Leena was about to turn four when, one evening, I came home to find a distraught Jennifer, in tears, prostrate on the sofa.
Something had happened.
I immediately feared for the children.
But no, they were playing peacefully in their room.
I asked Jenny what was going on, why she was in such a state, but she couldn't manage two complete sentences.
Finally, between sobs, she explained: Delange had had a relapse: the cancer had returned, even more virulent and brutal than the first time.
He'd known about it for several months, but hadn't wanted to tell her because he didn't want to worry her.
From what I later understood, he hadn't wanted to fight it either. He'd realized right from the start that it wasn't worth it, that he wasn't going to win this time. So he refused any form of invasive therapy. No chemo, no surgery.
From then on, his life expectancy was no more than a few months.
I was shocked.
It's true that I'd thought he looked bad on previous occasions, but I'd put that down to old age, not illness.
I've always had mixed feelings about our landlord, and it's fair to say that I haven't always taken him to my heart. I had my reasons for this.
However, the news of his impending demise gave me no pleasure whatsoever.
On the contrary, it pained me enormously to see my darling in such distress.
I think it was only then that I realized the true extent of her feelings for Delange.
Even though I'd sensed for a long time that it was more than a relationship based on sex, that she had deep feelings for him, I only now realized that it was simply love, a powerful love, a complete love.
***
The weeks that followed were difficult, painful.
Confronted with the poise he'd always shown, Delange had insisted to Jenny that nothing should change in their habits, or ours.
Agreeing to his request, Jenny coped, too, taking care not to show her sadness when she was with him.
When she came home, however, she'd break down.
She cried a lot.
Surprisingly, she, who until then had been very discreet about her relationship, was suddenly telling me a lot more, down to the smallest details of her days spent with him.
It was as if she wanted to share her sadness with me.
In particular, she told me how they continued to make love. Less and less often, of course, but with the energy of despair.
I already knew that.
Even though a sort of morbid modesty had compelled me to stop playing the perverse eavesdropper, a few echoes had nevertheless reached my ears when I played with Tom in his room.
Delange's health plummeted.
For the last two weeks, Jenny spent 90% of her time at his place.
How could I blame her?
I looked after the children, waiting for the inexorable outcome.
Delange had expressed the wish to die at home.
This last wish was not granted.
He collapsed one evening, and the rescue called by Jennifer preferred to take him to hospital.
He died five days later without waking up, without saying goodbye to the woman who, he said, had brightened up his old age.
***
A few days later, as Jenny was slowly recovering from a painful bereavement, we received a surprising letter from Me Lestigne, a notary in his own right, summoning us to his office the following week.
I couldn't help feeling a surge of anxiety as Jenny and I made our way to the notary's office.
I suspected that the summons had something to do with Delange's death, but I felt uneasy.
I've never had a great deal of confidence in all these professionals of administrative paperwork who, with a twist of the sleeve, turn the law on its head and trick you without you being able to say anything other than "thank you".
Knowing Delange was behind it all, my unease grew.
I'd hardly slept all night.
I knew he had substantial means and the power to match.
But I didn't know what he could have done with it. However, I feared he was up to no good.
And instinctively, I suspected it had something to do with my children... or Jenny.
I remembered his absolute desire for posterity... was he going to take away my rights over my children? My wife? Could he do it post mortem?
I didn't fucking know, but I didn't like it.
Something had happened.
I immediately feared for the children.
But no, they were playing peacefully in their room.
I asked Jenny what was going on, why she was in such a state, but she couldn't manage two complete sentences.
Finally, between sobs, she explained: Delange had had a relapse: the cancer had returned, even more virulent and brutal than the first time.
He'd known about it for several months, but hadn't wanted to tell her because he didn't want to worry her.
From what I later understood, he hadn't wanted to fight it either. He'd realized right from the start that it wasn't worth it, that he wasn't going to win this time. So he refused any form of invasive therapy. No chemo, no surgery.
From then on, his life expectancy was no more than a few months.
I was shocked.
It's true that I'd thought he looked bad on previous occasions, but I'd put that down to old age, not illness.
I've always had mixed feelings about our landlord, and it's fair to say that I haven't always taken him to my heart. I had my reasons for this.
However, the news of his impending demise gave me no pleasure whatsoever.
On the contrary, it pained me enormously to see my darling in such distress.
I think it was only then that I realized the true extent of her feelings for Delange.
Even though I'd sensed for a long time that it was more than a relationship based on sex, that she had deep feelings for him, I only now realized that it was simply love, a powerful love, a complete love.
***
The weeks that followed were difficult, painful.
Confronted with the poise he'd always shown, Delange had insisted to Jenny that nothing should change in their habits, or ours.
Agreeing to his request, Jenny coped, too, taking care not to show her sadness when she was with him.
When she came home, however, she'd break down.
She cried a lot.
Surprisingly, she, who until then had been very discreet about her relationship, was suddenly telling me a lot more, down to the smallest details of her days spent with him.
It was as if she wanted to share her sadness with me.
In particular, she told me how they continued to make love. Less and less often, of course, but with the energy of despair.
I already knew that.
Even though a sort of morbid modesty had compelled me to stop playing the perverse eavesdropper, a few echoes had nevertheless reached my ears when I played with Tom in his room.
Delange's health plummeted.
For the last two weeks, Jenny spent 90% of her time at his place.
How could I blame her?
I looked after the children, waiting for the inexorable outcome.
Delange had expressed the wish to die at home.
This last wish was not granted.
He collapsed one evening, and the rescue called by Jennifer preferred to take him to hospital.
He died five days later without waking up, without saying goodbye to the woman who, he said, had brightened up his old age.
***
A few days later, as Jenny was slowly recovering from a painful bereavement, we received a surprising letter from Me Lestigne, a notary in his own right, summoning us to his office the following week.
I couldn't help feeling a surge of anxiety as Jenny and I made our way to the notary's office.
I suspected that the summons had something to do with Delange's death, but I felt uneasy.
I've never had a great deal of confidence in all these professionals of administrative paperwork who, with a twist of the sleeve, turn the law on its head and trick you without you being able to say anything other than "thank you".
Knowing Delange was behind it all, my unease grew.
I'd hardly slept all night.
I knew he had substantial means and the power to match.
But I didn't know what he could have done with it. However, I feared he was up to no good.
And instinctively, I suspected it had something to do with my children... or Jenny.
I remembered his absolute desire for posterity... was he going to take away my rights over my children? My wife? Could he do it post mortem?
I didn't fucking know, but I didn't like it.
Re: The Landlord
Oh no, you did it again! I'm waiting with bated breath!
-
john jasson
- 2 Bit Whore
- Posts: 1259
- Joined: Sun Oct 23, 2011 1:34 am
Re: The Landlord
This really is a superb piece of writing, Frenchie. One of the best.
Me: You’re probably a better fuck than his wife.
Her: I’m probably a better fuck than most people’s wives.
Our crazy journey: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=65359
Her: I’m probably a better fuck than most people’s wives.
Our crazy journey: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=65359
Re: The Landlord
Oh thanks !john jasson wrote: ↑Thu May 23, 2024 7:55 amThis really is a superb piece of writing, Frenchie. One of the best.
Re: The Landlord
The notary's office wasn't at all what I expected.
I'd imagined a dark, dusty place, walls covered with shelves full of old books, the whole smelling of old yellowed paper and encaustic.
Instead, we were welcomed into a modern, bright and functional room. Watercolors on the wall and a state-of-the-art computer on the desk.
The notary wasn't the stunted old man I'd expected either. He was a pleasant-looking man in his fifties, with a frank, robust handshake.
We weren't alone with him. Beside us sat a rather prim and silent couple in their seventies. I remembered seeing them at the funeral. Maitre Lestigne introduced them as Monsieur and Madame De Bois-Robert, he being a cousin of Delange's and obviously all that was left of his close family.
We took our seats under the suspicious eye of the old cousin, all the while awkwardly trying to calm down our toddlers, who clearly had no desire to remain calm for the duration of the interview.
The notary began by thanking us for coming to the reading of Monsieur Delange-De-Bois-Robert Léopold's will.
After some introductory gibberish, he read out the document he had in hand.
It took a long time.
What I finally understood was that Delange, whose real name was Delange-De-Bois-Robert, was the last scion of a very old family of French nobility and, as such, owned much more than his Parisian building and the countless antiques that furnished his apartment.
In the end, I lost track of what was going on; it was colossal.
Yet the conclusion summing up the will was simple, and it left us on our asses :
Apart from some land and forests in Saône et Loire, which went to his cousin, Delange bequeathed his entire estate to Leena and Tom.
***
We were stunned.
The notary continued to speak, but I was no longer listening.
Of course, in the absence of an official family relationship, the State was going to help itself copiously. But even so, it was clear that our descendants would be sheltered from want for generations to come.
The old owl glared at us. Or rather, she was glaring at Jennifer.
In her mind, there was no doubt that my darling was the main and only instigator of this near non-inheritance. She was the rascal who had turned their cousin's head to get her hands on the money.
In a way, you couldn't blame her - apart from the intentionality, she was right.
It occurred to me that, for the couple and the notary, this will created a legitimate doubt as to the real paternity of my children. Add to this the tenants of the building who were the recipients of Mother Saulnier's indiscretions, and those who would come to the same conclusion when they learned to whom they would have to pay their rent from now on, and I'd say there were quite a few people in this situation. A little too many for my taste.
Draped in their indignant smugness, the two old people left as soon as they'd signed the appropriate papers without saying a word to us.
When we were left alone with the notary, he gave us lots of details. He explained that until our children came of age, it would be up to us to manage their assets. He gave us lots of technical terms about what we could and couldn't do with these assets, and was quick to point out that he'd always be there to help us if we needed it. Not a crazy wasp!
Finally, he took out two smaller envelopes from a kraft paper envelope and gave one to each of us.
Mine was marked “David” in handwriting I recognized.
“- Oh my God!” Jenny exclaimed as she read her name on hers.
I unsealed the letter with a hand only slightly less trembling than my wife's.
“Dear David,
Although we shared the same wife for a few years, the two of us have never really spoken to each other man to man. You know as well as I do what it's like to be a goddamn man-shy and unable to open up to our fellow men, to bare our hearts and emotions as those formidable female creatures are so adept at doing.
However, I would like to take this opportunity to reiterate all the sympathy, respect and gratitude that you, David, inspire in me.
As I face the final countdown, I want to thank you one last time.
Thank you for allowing me to experience what I did with Jennifer.
I know that it hasn't always been easy for you, that it's even happened against your will or even without your knowledge, but I praise your intelligence every day for not making a fuss, for not issuing an ultimatum and for always seeing the positive in this very special situation.
You know that it was never my intention to steal your wife. You know that, like you, my primary desire has always been to please her and make her happy.
Of course, this is no longer the time for pretence. Being able to benefit from the body and heart of this splendid young woman throughout these months and years was, for me, a real blessing, a miracle I couldn't even have imagined before I met her.
I've often told her that she's the sun that lights up my old age, but that's far from being an empty metaphor. Jennifer is a beautiful person, and I can assure you that by her side, you'll always be the happiest of men. So keep on cherishing her as best you can, because she'll return the favor a hundredfold. You're a smart man, I know you'll do it and make her happy.
At this point, I owe you the whole truth.
I've already told you that I didn't set out to seduce your young companion. I simply took advantage of certain opportunities to respond to the game you had instituted in order to obtain my good graces. At the time, I could never have imagined that this game would take on such proportions. However, I have to confess that I fantasized about Jenny quite quickly and steered the game to see how far I could push the envelope, and to my astonishment, the envelope was pushed very, very far.
You may think I planned and worked to get Jenny into bed, but believe me, none of this was planned. Right up until the last moment, I thought it was she who was going to play me and turn her back on me, laughing at the joke she'd played on me.
It's true that I took advantage of your money problems, and I'm ashamed of that. Even if I tell myself that the financial compensation was more than substantial and even if I like to persuade myself that without these “opportunities”, Jenny would sooner or later have ended up in my arms.
I regret nothing. Nothing except that evening with my friends when, stronger than I was, I had to play the cocky rooster in front of my old pals, show them off... Chalk it up to the exaggerated vanity of an old fart. Fortunately, Jennifer doesn't remember the details of the evening, and that's just as well.
Nor do I regret having used and abused chemistry to help me please your fabulous wife.
The little blue pills may have hastened my demise, but what's a few extra months of life compared to the joy of seeing such a beauty cum and rejoice in my arms?
I admit it's cheating, unfair competition with you. I hope you won't hold it against me.
I know that money isn't everything, but I'm very lucky to have been able to see that it does help a lot.
It was therefore only natural for me to draw up my will in the terms it has been just explained to you.
Please don't read into this any desire to disrupt the game one last time. As I write these lines, I still don't know whether Leena and Tom are my blood or yours. However, apart from my old cousin and his harridan of a wife who don't need this to swell their fortunes, it just seemed only right that everything should go to those who embellished the end of my life.
So please don't think of it as anything other than my own way of saying thank you.
I wish you a long life with your fabulous Jennifer and your adorable children.
I had a fleeting taste of that happiness, and that's what makes me so terribly jealous when the time comes to lose it.
Godspeed, David, and be happy, you deserve it.
Léopold Delange
PS: Of course, I release you from your promise. Even if you don't need my absolution, you can now have all the paternity tests you want carried out - it won't change a thing in my will.
PS 2: You'll find a safe behind the Buffet, in the living room. It contains a number of valuables which are not listed in the will and which you can use freely. The opening code corresponds to the dates of birth of your two children. I advise you to open it when you're alone, you'll understand why.”
I looked up. In the next armchair, Jenny was still reading, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. I imagined how poignant her lover's farewell letter must have been.
I'd imagined a dark, dusty place, walls covered with shelves full of old books, the whole smelling of old yellowed paper and encaustic.
Instead, we were welcomed into a modern, bright and functional room. Watercolors on the wall and a state-of-the-art computer on the desk.
The notary wasn't the stunted old man I'd expected either. He was a pleasant-looking man in his fifties, with a frank, robust handshake.
We weren't alone with him. Beside us sat a rather prim and silent couple in their seventies. I remembered seeing them at the funeral. Maitre Lestigne introduced them as Monsieur and Madame De Bois-Robert, he being a cousin of Delange's and obviously all that was left of his close family.
We took our seats under the suspicious eye of the old cousin, all the while awkwardly trying to calm down our toddlers, who clearly had no desire to remain calm for the duration of the interview.
The notary began by thanking us for coming to the reading of Monsieur Delange-De-Bois-Robert Léopold's will.
After some introductory gibberish, he read out the document he had in hand.
It took a long time.
What I finally understood was that Delange, whose real name was Delange-De-Bois-Robert, was the last scion of a very old family of French nobility and, as such, owned much more than his Parisian building and the countless antiques that furnished his apartment.
In the end, I lost track of what was going on; it was colossal.
Yet the conclusion summing up the will was simple, and it left us on our asses :
Apart from some land and forests in Saône et Loire, which went to his cousin, Delange bequeathed his entire estate to Leena and Tom.
***
We were stunned.
The notary continued to speak, but I was no longer listening.
Of course, in the absence of an official family relationship, the State was going to help itself copiously. But even so, it was clear that our descendants would be sheltered from want for generations to come.
The old owl glared at us. Or rather, she was glaring at Jennifer.
In her mind, there was no doubt that my darling was the main and only instigator of this near non-inheritance. She was the rascal who had turned their cousin's head to get her hands on the money.
In a way, you couldn't blame her - apart from the intentionality, she was right.
It occurred to me that, for the couple and the notary, this will created a legitimate doubt as to the real paternity of my children. Add to this the tenants of the building who were the recipients of Mother Saulnier's indiscretions, and those who would come to the same conclusion when they learned to whom they would have to pay their rent from now on, and I'd say there were quite a few people in this situation. A little too many for my taste.
Draped in their indignant smugness, the two old people left as soon as they'd signed the appropriate papers without saying a word to us.
When we were left alone with the notary, he gave us lots of details. He explained that until our children came of age, it would be up to us to manage their assets. He gave us lots of technical terms about what we could and couldn't do with these assets, and was quick to point out that he'd always be there to help us if we needed it. Not a crazy wasp!
Finally, he took out two smaller envelopes from a kraft paper envelope and gave one to each of us.
Mine was marked “David” in handwriting I recognized.
“- Oh my God!” Jenny exclaimed as she read her name on hers.
I unsealed the letter with a hand only slightly less trembling than my wife's.
“Dear David,
Although we shared the same wife for a few years, the two of us have never really spoken to each other man to man. You know as well as I do what it's like to be a goddamn man-shy and unable to open up to our fellow men, to bare our hearts and emotions as those formidable female creatures are so adept at doing.
However, I would like to take this opportunity to reiterate all the sympathy, respect and gratitude that you, David, inspire in me.
As I face the final countdown, I want to thank you one last time.
Thank you for allowing me to experience what I did with Jennifer.
I know that it hasn't always been easy for you, that it's even happened against your will or even without your knowledge, but I praise your intelligence every day for not making a fuss, for not issuing an ultimatum and for always seeing the positive in this very special situation.
You know that it was never my intention to steal your wife. You know that, like you, my primary desire has always been to please her and make her happy.
Of course, this is no longer the time for pretence. Being able to benefit from the body and heart of this splendid young woman throughout these months and years was, for me, a real blessing, a miracle I couldn't even have imagined before I met her.
I've often told her that she's the sun that lights up my old age, but that's far from being an empty metaphor. Jennifer is a beautiful person, and I can assure you that by her side, you'll always be the happiest of men. So keep on cherishing her as best you can, because she'll return the favor a hundredfold. You're a smart man, I know you'll do it and make her happy.
At this point, I owe you the whole truth.
I've already told you that I didn't set out to seduce your young companion. I simply took advantage of certain opportunities to respond to the game you had instituted in order to obtain my good graces. At the time, I could never have imagined that this game would take on such proportions. However, I have to confess that I fantasized about Jenny quite quickly and steered the game to see how far I could push the envelope, and to my astonishment, the envelope was pushed very, very far.
You may think I planned and worked to get Jenny into bed, but believe me, none of this was planned. Right up until the last moment, I thought it was she who was going to play me and turn her back on me, laughing at the joke she'd played on me.
It's true that I took advantage of your money problems, and I'm ashamed of that. Even if I tell myself that the financial compensation was more than substantial and even if I like to persuade myself that without these “opportunities”, Jenny would sooner or later have ended up in my arms.
I regret nothing. Nothing except that evening with my friends when, stronger than I was, I had to play the cocky rooster in front of my old pals, show them off... Chalk it up to the exaggerated vanity of an old fart. Fortunately, Jennifer doesn't remember the details of the evening, and that's just as well.
Nor do I regret having used and abused chemistry to help me please your fabulous wife.
The little blue pills may have hastened my demise, but what's a few extra months of life compared to the joy of seeing such a beauty cum and rejoice in my arms?
I admit it's cheating, unfair competition with you. I hope you won't hold it against me.
I know that money isn't everything, but I'm very lucky to have been able to see that it does help a lot.
It was therefore only natural for me to draw up my will in the terms it has been just explained to you.
Please don't read into this any desire to disrupt the game one last time. As I write these lines, I still don't know whether Leena and Tom are my blood or yours. However, apart from my old cousin and his harridan of a wife who don't need this to swell their fortunes, it just seemed only right that everything should go to those who embellished the end of my life.
So please don't think of it as anything other than my own way of saying thank you.
I wish you a long life with your fabulous Jennifer and your adorable children.
I had a fleeting taste of that happiness, and that's what makes me so terribly jealous when the time comes to lose it.
Godspeed, David, and be happy, you deserve it.
Léopold Delange
PS: Of course, I release you from your promise. Even if you don't need my absolution, you can now have all the paternity tests you want carried out - it won't change a thing in my will.
PS 2: You'll find a safe behind the Buffet, in the living room. It contains a number of valuables which are not listed in the will and which you can use freely. The opening code corresponds to the dates of birth of your two children. I advise you to open it when you're alone, you'll understand why.”
I looked up. In the next armchair, Jenny was still reading, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. I imagined how poignant her lover's farewell letter must have been.
Re: The Landlord
Another good chapter, which leaves us hanging and waiting for the next one.
When you are lying of your death bed, you only regret the things you did not do.
The most beautiful woman in the world is the woman lying naked and sweaty next to me.
The most beautiful woman in the world is the woman lying naked and sweaty next to me.
Re: The Landlord
Damn... I was fooled into thinking this is the end, but should have expected another twist. The safe, I imagine has pictures from that night with his friends. Looking forward to knowing the contents and the next inevitable twist.
Thank you, Frenchie!
Thank you, Frenchie!
Re: The Landlord
Can't wait to discover the safe contents.
-
Sergio2701
- Prepubescent
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Sun Sep 11, 2022 8:27 am
Re: The Landlord
Maybe Leo filmed the sexual encounters between him and Jenny?
Re: The Landlord
Paternity test results
Re: The Landlord
Some of you aren't very far away...
Re: The Landlord
It took us a number of days to realize what was happening to us.
Jenny especially, who seemed to be hovering, absent, all the time. Fortunately, our children regularly reminded her of her duties and brought her back down to earth for bath time or meals.
As for me, to keep my feet on the ground, I immersed myself in the documentation to learn and understand how we were going to manage our toddlers' impressive patrimony.
It still felt strange to think that this building was now owned by our family, whose most important possession until then had been the wreck that served as our car.
It was almost unreal to think that all those keys were ours, and that we were going to be the recipients of our neighbors' rent.
On that note, I have to admit that I relished the prospect of our snide neighbors giving their checks to the "cuckold of the sixth". A sweet revenge I'd know how to savor in its own time.
One point that would have to be decided sooner or later was the future of the vacant ground-floor apartment.
With Delange gone, what were we to do with it? Occupy it ourselves? Empty it out and rent it out?
It was still too early to decide. Jenny's memories were still too fresh and she didn't want to broach the subject just yet. I understood her.
In fact, she didn't even want to go back.
So, a few days later, I went alone.
I must admit it felt strange to turn the key and walk in as the owner of the apartment that had impressed me on our very first visit.
Nothing seemed to have moved. I always found the same museum-like immobility permeating the place. The same walls covered with paintings, the same furniture loaded with knick-knacks and books.
I felt like an intruder, an incongruous thief. I almost expected the usual occupant to appear and ask me what the hell I was doing there.
But no, the place was deserted. Not even a dusty cat to frighten me. This one had been a few months ahead of its master.
I made a complete tour of the apartment. I entered the rooms I hadn't yet visited: the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedrooms... In one of them, an impressive number of more or less open medicine boxes testified to the patient's recent presence.
So this was his room.
Despite the medical aspect, it was hard not to think that it was in this room, in this bed, that it had happened. The image of my naked wife lying in that bed, legs spread wide, receiving her lover's vigorous assaults... her moans and cries flying out over the chimney grate... quickly entered my mind.
I hurried out of the room. I didn't want to think about that right now. I didn't want to check that a number of my wife's belongings were still lying around, silent proof of her consummated adultery.
I returned to the living room, Delange's letter in hand, curious to open the safe he'd mentioned and eager to discover its mysterious contents.
"...behind the Buffet..."
The buffet in question was a huge sideboard which, stuffed to the gills with crockery and books, must have weighed in at around 600 pounds. Moving it like that was out of the question.
Cursing whoever had the bright idea of stashing a safe in such an inaccessible place, I set about the thankless task of emptying the furniture of its contents, discarding the expensive crockery, the silver housewares and, above all, the countless books.
It couldn't be! A lifetime wasn't enough to read all that!
Once lightened up, I was able, after a lot of sweat, to move the piece of furniture a few inches so that I could see better at the back.
With a little more effort, I'd even be able to slide in.
But that wouldn't be necessary. From the corner, I could already clearly make out what I'd begun to suspect but didn't dare admit: The wall behind the sideboard was completely smooth, devoid of any bulge or hollow that might harbor a safe of any kind.
Delange had played his latest trick on me.
The bastard must have been laughing from his eternity!
Just to get the joke over with, I managed to push the piece of furniture further back to create a larger space...
Nothing to do. No matter how I probed the wall with my fist, it didn't ring hollow anywhere. No hiding place under the wallpaper, no trapdoor, nothing.
Mopping my sweaty forehead with a dusty hand, I wondered what had bitten the old fool.
What was his interest in tricking me post mortem? Come to think of it, it didn't really fit the man or the tone of his letter.
A little groggy with disappointment and effort, I scanned the other walls of the room. Could it be that the sideboard had been moved since the letter was written? It was highly unlikely. Delange had other things to worry about than moving a piece of furniture as heavy as three dead horses.
It was then that my gaze fell on the painting in the middle of the opposite wall... A large painting depicting the face of a sad clown with features cut with a serrated edge...
What a jerk!
Buffet, with a capital B, for a proper name, that name of the painter who had painted this picture for example!
What a truffle!
This time, there was no need to sweat blood and water, as the picture frame swiveled effortlessly to reveal an armored door and its encrypted knob.
What an uneducated moron I was !
After a few unsuccessful attempts to determine the order of my children's birthdays and months, the mechanism clicked and the door slid open without a sound.
I reached out with a trembling hand to discover the last secrets of our former landlord...
Jenny especially, who seemed to be hovering, absent, all the time. Fortunately, our children regularly reminded her of her duties and brought her back down to earth for bath time or meals.
As for me, to keep my feet on the ground, I immersed myself in the documentation to learn and understand how we were going to manage our toddlers' impressive patrimony.
It still felt strange to think that this building was now owned by our family, whose most important possession until then had been the wreck that served as our car.
It was almost unreal to think that all those keys were ours, and that we were going to be the recipients of our neighbors' rent.
On that note, I have to admit that I relished the prospect of our snide neighbors giving their checks to the "cuckold of the sixth". A sweet revenge I'd know how to savor in its own time.
One point that would have to be decided sooner or later was the future of the vacant ground-floor apartment.
With Delange gone, what were we to do with it? Occupy it ourselves? Empty it out and rent it out?
It was still too early to decide. Jenny's memories were still too fresh and she didn't want to broach the subject just yet. I understood her.
In fact, she didn't even want to go back.
So, a few days later, I went alone.
I must admit it felt strange to turn the key and walk in as the owner of the apartment that had impressed me on our very first visit.
Nothing seemed to have moved. I always found the same museum-like immobility permeating the place. The same walls covered with paintings, the same furniture loaded with knick-knacks and books.
I felt like an intruder, an incongruous thief. I almost expected the usual occupant to appear and ask me what the hell I was doing there.
But no, the place was deserted. Not even a dusty cat to frighten me. This one had been a few months ahead of its master.
I made a complete tour of the apartment. I entered the rooms I hadn't yet visited: the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedrooms... In one of them, an impressive number of more or less open medicine boxes testified to the patient's recent presence.
So this was his room.
Despite the medical aspect, it was hard not to think that it was in this room, in this bed, that it had happened. The image of my naked wife lying in that bed, legs spread wide, receiving her lover's vigorous assaults... her moans and cries flying out over the chimney grate... quickly entered my mind.
I hurried out of the room. I didn't want to think about that right now. I didn't want to check that a number of my wife's belongings were still lying around, silent proof of her consummated adultery.
I returned to the living room, Delange's letter in hand, curious to open the safe he'd mentioned and eager to discover its mysterious contents.
"...behind the Buffet..."
The buffet in question was a huge sideboard which, stuffed to the gills with crockery and books, must have weighed in at around 600 pounds. Moving it like that was out of the question.
Cursing whoever had the bright idea of stashing a safe in such an inaccessible place, I set about the thankless task of emptying the furniture of its contents, discarding the expensive crockery, the silver housewares and, above all, the countless books.
It couldn't be! A lifetime wasn't enough to read all that!
Once lightened up, I was able, after a lot of sweat, to move the piece of furniture a few inches so that I could see better at the back.
With a little more effort, I'd even be able to slide in.
But that wouldn't be necessary. From the corner, I could already clearly make out what I'd begun to suspect but didn't dare admit: The wall behind the sideboard was completely smooth, devoid of any bulge or hollow that might harbor a safe of any kind.
Delange had played his latest trick on me.
The bastard must have been laughing from his eternity!
Just to get the joke over with, I managed to push the piece of furniture further back to create a larger space...
Nothing to do. No matter how I probed the wall with my fist, it didn't ring hollow anywhere. No hiding place under the wallpaper, no trapdoor, nothing.
Mopping my sweaty forehead with a dusty hand, I wondered what had bitten the old fool.
What was his interest in tricking me post mortem? Come to think of it, it didn't really fit the man or the tone of his letter.
A little groggy with disappointment and effort, I scanned the other walls of the room. Could it be that the sideboard had been moved since the letter was written? It was highly unlikely. Delange had other things to worry about than moving a piece of furniture as heavy as three dead horses.
It was then that my gaze fell on the painting in the middle of the opposite wall... A large painting depicting the face of a sad clown with features cut with a serrated edge...
What a jerk!
Buffet, with a capital B, for a proper name, that name of the painter who had painted this picture for example!
What a truffle!
This time, there was no need to sweat blood and water, as the picture frame swiveled effortlessly to reveal an armored door and its encrypted knob.
What an uneducated moron I was !
After a few unsuccessful attempts to determine the order of my children's birthdays and months, the mechanism clicked and the door slid open without a sound.
I reached out with a trembling hand to discover the last secrets of our former landlord...
Re: The Landlord
Do I stop here a few days in order to manage the suspence ?
Re: The Landlord
Well, I have mercy...
Re: The Landlord
What I saw immediately were the bundles of cash. A few dozen, large denominations.
The man had foresight, I knew that.
Underneath, a whole pile of old papers and kraft paper envelopes.
On top, two wooden cassettes.
In the first, jewelry, most of it gold. A few watches too.
I wasn't a specialist, but it looked like quality, even if the shape wasn't the latest fashion.
Family jewels, I thought.
The second box was a little larger, but its weight surprised me. Considering its size, I wasn't expecting it.
It wasn't locked either.
The sight of its contents made me miss a few heartbeats.
Gold coins.
Lots of them.
And big ones. Most of them US $20s from the early 20th century.
I knew roughly how much they were worth, having seen a TV program about them not long before: About €2,000 each.
There were at least a hundred of them, loose, like that.
I was astonished to discover a Harpagon side to Delange that I hadn't suspected.
I imagined him plunging his hand with relish into his gold in the manner of a monomaniacal Louis de Funès in the movie i’d seen recently.
With an almost hypnotic gesture, I did just that. It was truly unreal.
Struggling to regain my composure, I set the second cassette aside to examine the other papers.
It wasn't all very clear. There were certainly property deeds. I couldn't say whether these properties had been mentioned in the will a few days earlier.
In a thick envelope, I found bearer bonds in the name of a Luxembourg bank. All the same, numbered from 1007120 to 1007280.
I was stunned to discover their face value.
The total amount relegated the value of the cassettes' contents to a mere tip.
I was starting to get the shakes.
Another envelope: old papers richly decorated with Cyrillic script. Russian loans! This was worth considerably less.
Another envelope, another language: Mexican loans. This was only worth as much as the paper.
More paper. Difficult to identify them all. Insurance, maybe.
Then an envelope with "For David" written on it. My heart raced.
Inside, three smaller but thick envelopes and a loose leaf with recognizable handwriting:
"Jenny would probably have preferred that I destroy them, but I think you'll agree with me: it would be a waste."
I impatiently opened the first one...
Pictures. Mostly black and white.
Jennifer. Lying face down on a bed... totally naked.
Jennifer. Lying on her back in the same bed... naked... one hand hides her face, the other her pubis.
On the next, her hands hide nothing. She appears to be asleep.
The next... a close-up of a breast, the nipple erect...
magnificent.
Then a close-up of her crotch... the puff of scraggly pubic hair... the slightly shiny labia...
tempting.
There were a good fifty like that. Always Jenny, more or less naked, in more or less wide shots, not all from the same day.
At first, I thought these photos had been taken without her knowledge, when she was asleep, but on some of them, a corner of a smile suggested that she was perhaps an accomplice of the paparazzi and was only closing her eyes out of false modesty.
One thing was certain. These photos were of the highest quality and showed off my sweetheart's body to perfection.
I had no idea that Delange was such a talented photographer.
So, after leafing through all the shots, I tackled the second package. I'd have plenty of time to contemplate my love's perfect curves later.
More photos of Jenny:
Her bare torso is photographed from a low angle, but this time there's no false modesty: her eyes are open and she's looking straight into the lens. Her mouth opens in a half-smile.
She knows her effect.
We can guess her astride her lover, who is taking the photo.
This is confirmed by the next image, whose field has opened up.
We discover her almost in her entirety, straddling a bare body, her pubis pressed against her partner's belly. Their fleeces unite. She's not just on top of him, she's planted on him.
Her smile is gone. Head back, she opens her mouth wide. You can almost hear her cry of ecstasy.
I'd understood: after the "soft" envelope, I'd moved on to the "hard" one.
The following pictures confirmed it:
Jenny from the back, all fours, her rump glued to a hairless belly.
Then almost the same, except that the rump is unstuck, revealing, for the first time, her lover's sex slipping inside her.
Then the same forward movement. This time, the penis is almost fully exposed.
I knew this panorama well, having contemplated it many times...
It was hard not to make the comparison and realize that she'd finally told me the truth: in the picture, the phallus cutting into her did indeed look impressive.
It was even clearer in the next shot: Leaning against her lover's legs, she holds the big, stiff shaft in her small hand.
The contrast is striking.
Once again, she proudly faces the lens and flashes a greedy smile.
I already knew what I was going to discover on the next one: The glans disappears between her distended lips. She looks down, concentrating on her work...
In the next one, her face is hidden by her hair, but we can see that her mouth has swallowed a respectable portion of the thing.
Yet another series: Jenny lying on her back, thighs wide open, penetrated, skewered... This time, he seems to be concentrating on her face to capture all her expressions of pleasure.
She's fabulously beautiful.
There were still a lot of photos. I didn't count them.
In sets of three or four. From facial ejaculation to doggy-style, from missionary to sodomy...
You'd think he wanted to make a catalog!
Until the last one, on which I was stuck for a long time: a close-up on the little vulva offered... From the gaping lips flows an opalescent trickle that gets lost between her buttocks before coming to make a little puddle on the sheet.
Demonic!
I was in a daze.
Normally, this shouldn't have troubled me so much. In the end, none of this was really surprising. As I'd already said, I knew for a fact that when they were together, it was for sex, not dominoes. And I'd already had auditory proof of that.
But this was the first visual proof, and not just any visual proof. The most explicit, the rawest that could be.
My heart was pounding and, poor me, I had a raging hard-on.
After that, I wondered what I was going to find in the third package.
This one was smaller than the other two. I had trouble deciphering what was scribbled on the envelope: "Because I owed you the truth... These you can destroy."
More photos... In color and of much poorer quality. Like bad impressions from cell-phone photos.
Not the same place, but still the same scene: in the living room, this time, Delange, in front of the sofa, wearing only a shirt, besognizing a partner whose bare legs protrude from either side of his back. Although we can't see much, it can only be Jenny. Her panties and shoes lie at the foot of the sofa.
Of course, what's noticeable at first glance is that, for the first time, her lover is visible from head to toe, instead of just a few body parts. This can only mean one thing: he's not the one taking the photo.
Even before moving on to the next one, I knew what I was looking at.
The second shows the same scene from a different angle, from the side...
No more uncertainty. It's Jennifer, her skirt hiked up over her waist, her bodice open to reveal her bare breasts. Her eyes are closed, and you'd almost think she was asleep if she weren't clasping her arms around her partner's neck.
In the background, two men stand watching the scene with keen interest, a knowing smile on their lips.
No doubt about it, these were shots from the famous taboo evening, the one that neither Jenny nor Delange assumed to remember.
Third picture, almost the same, except for one thing... one important thing... It's not the same man between Jenny's thighs.
This one still has his pants around his ankles. Leaning over Jenny, he steals a kiss she doesn't seem to want to deny him.
On the next one, it's a real showdown.
The man between her thighs seems to have changed again, but it's hard to see because two others are standing in front: One is helping his accomplice by holding Jen's ankle with one hand while caressing her breast with the other, while the second, even though we can only see his back, it's not hard to imagine what he's doing : his pelvis level with my wife's face, her little hand clasping a bare buttock, as if to better hold him against her...
Or in her.
I quickly scrolled through the other shots.
I counted five different men, in addition to Delange.
He only appears in the first few photos. After that, he's gone. Is he the one holding the camera, or did he leave his friends free to take care of his conquest while he went to sleep in a corner?
No idea.
Jenny, on the other hand, looks more and more gone, as the photos go by. If she's still got a rod in her hand, she seems to be clinging to it more than anything else. No wonder she can't remember much.
I couldn't help but scroll through the whole series again, looking for some detail that seemed to jump out at me, only to slip away as soon as I thought I'd put my finger on it...
Until it became obvious: these men, these five strangers, looked vaguely familiar from what I could make out of their faces...
But yes, it was clear! They were all present at the funeral!
I now better understood the intense glances I'd caught on Jennifer : if she couldn't remember the famous night, they, on the over hand, must have retained a very precise and detailed memory of the magnificent anatomy hidden beneath the wise black dress.
Had they then cherished the hope of being able to replay the scene in Delange's absence? Some of them, no doubt, yes - how could they not?
But without alcohol to help, and without the encouragement of their old friend, none of them had had the audacity to try anything.
Or so I assumed.
Still, I'd have to ask Jenny for confirmation.
Meanwhile, I suddenly realized that not one but six men had enjoyed my wife's body beside me. Six men had caressed her, had kissed her, had licked her, had penetrated her, had fucked her and, no doubt, had cum inside her.
The image was enough to make my head spin. I think I sat down in the first available chair.
Voilà.
I suspected there was something fishy about this evening, but it was more than an eel, it was a conger eel, a moray eel!
I understood better why he wasn't proud of it, the Delange.
But I also understood why he'd kept those prints, even though they were clear proof of his deception.
The same reason I already knew I wouldn't destroy this series either: seeing my darling play the star of a pornographic photo-novel, even if it was of poor quality, had disturbed me to the core.
It was certainly disturbing and obscene, but above all, it was terribly arousing, and I already knew that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from coming back regularly to look at them, haggard-eyed and with my hand down my pants, as I was doing right now and as Delange must often have done.
After all, the two of us had a lot in common.
Starting with the main one: Loving Jennifer more than anything.
The man had foresight, I knew that.
Underneath, a whole pile of old papers and kraft paper envelopes.
On top, two wooden cassettes.
In the first, jewelry, most of it gold. A few watches too.
I wasn't a specialist, but it looked like quality, even if the shape wasn't the latest fashion.
Family jewels, I thought.
The second box was a little larger, but its weight surprised me. Considering its size, I wasn't expecting it.
It wasn't locked either.
The sight of its contents made me miss a few heartbeats.
Gold coins.
Lots of them.
And big ones. Most of them US $20s from the early 20th century.
I knew roughly how much they were worth, having seen a TV program about them not long before: About €2,000 each.
There were at least a hundred of them, loose, like that.
I was astonished to discover a Harpagon side to Delange that I hadn't suspected.
I imagined him plunging his hand with relish into his gold in the manner of a monomaniacal Louis de Funès in the movie i’d seen recently.
With an almost hypnotic gesture, I did just that. It was truly unreal.
Struggling to regain my composure, I set the second cassette aside to examine the other papers.
It wasn't all very clear. There were certainly property deeds. I couldn't say whether these properties had been mentioned in the will a few days earlier.
In a thick envelope, I found bearer bonds in the name of a Luxembourg bank. All the same, numbered from 1007120 to 1007280.
I was stunned to discover their face value.
The total amount relegated the value of the cassettes' contents to a mere tip.
I was starting to get the shakes.
Another envelope: old papers richly decorated with Cyrillic script. Russian loans! This was worth considerably less.
Another envelope, another language: Mexican loans. This was only worth as much as the paper.
More paper. Difficult to identify them all. Insurance, maybe.
Then an envelope with "For David" written on it. My heart raced.
Inside, three smaller but thick envelopes and a loose leaf with recognizable handwriting:
"Jenny would probably have preferred that I destroy them, but I think you'll agree with me: it would be a waste."
I impatiently opened the first one...
Pictures. Mostly black and white.
Jennifer. Lying face down on a bed... totally naked.
Jennifer. Lying on her back in the same bed... naked... one hand hides her face, the other her pubis.
On the next, her hands hide nothing. She appears to be asleep.
The next... a close-up of a breast, the nipple erect...
magnificent.
Then a close-up of her crotch... the puff of scraggly pubic hair... the slightly shiny labia...
tempting.
There were a good fifty like that. Always Jenny, more or less naked, in more or less wide shots, not all from the same day.
At first, I thought these photos had been taken without her knowledge, when she was asleep, but on some of them, a corner of a smile suggested that she was perhaps an accomplice of the paparazzi and was only closing her eyes out of false modesty.
One thing was certain. These photos were of the highest quality and showed off my sweetheart's body to perfection.
I had no idea that Delange was such a talented photographer.
So, after leafing through all the shots, I tackled the second package. I'd have plenty of time to contemplate my love's perfect curves later.
More photos of Jenny:
Her bare torso is photographed from a low angle, but this time there's no false modesty: her eyes are open and she's looking straight into the lens. Her mouth opens in a half-smile.
She knows her effect.
We can guess her astride her lover, who is taking the photo.
This is confirmed by the next image, whose field has opened up.
We discover her almost in her entirety, straddling a bare body, her pubis pressed against her partner's belly. Their fleeces unite. She's not just on top of him, she's planted on him.
Her smile is gone. Head back, she opens her mouth wide. You can almost hear her cry of ecstasy.
I'd understood: after the "soft" envelope, I'd moved on to the "hard" one.
The following pictures confirmed it:
Jenny from the back, all fours, her rump glued to a hairless belly.
Then almost the same, except that the rump is unstuck, revealing, for the first time, her lover's sex slipping inside her.
Then the same forward movement. This time, the penis is almost fully exposed.
I knew this panorama well, having contemplated it many times...
It was hard not to make the comparison and realize that she'd finally told me the truth: in the picture, the phallus cutting into her did indeed look impressive.
It was even clearer in the next shot: Leaning against her lover's legs, she holds the big, stiff shaft in her small hand.
The contrast is striking.
Once again, she proudly faces the lens and flashes a greedy smile.
I already knew what I was going to discover on the next one: The glans disappears between her distended lips. She looks down, concentrating on her work...
In the next one, her face is hidden by her hair, but we can see that her mouth has swallowed a respectable portion of the thing.
Yet another series: Jenny lying on her back, thighs wide open, penetrated, skewered... This time, he seems to be concentrating on her face to capture all her expressions of pleasure.
She's fabulously beautiful.
There were still a lot of photos. I didn't count them.
In sets of three or four. From facial ejaculation to doggy-style, from missionary to sodomy...
You'd think he wanted to make a catalog!
Until the last one, on which I was stuck for a long time: a close-up on the little vulva offered... From the gaping lips flows an opalescent trickle that gets lost between her buttocks before coming to make a little puddle on the sheet.
Demonic!
I was in a daze.
Normally, this shouldn't have troubled me so much. In the end, none of this was really surprising. As I'd already said, I knew for a fact that when they were together, it was for sex, not dominoes. And I'd already had auditory proof of that.
But this was the first visual proof, and not just any visual proof. The most explicit, the rawest that could be.
My heart was pounding and, poor me, I had a raging hard-on.
After that, I wondered what I was going to find in the third package.
This one was smaller than the other two. I had trouble deciphering what was scribbled on the envelope: "Because I owed you the truth... These you can destroy."
More photos... In color and of much poorer quality. Like bad impressions from cell-phone photos.
Not the same place, but still the same scene: in the living room, this time, Delange, in front of the sofa, wearing only a shirt, besognizing a partner whose bare legs protrude from either side of his back. Although we can't see much, it can only be Jenny. Her panties and shoes lie at the foot of the sofa.
Of course, what's noticeable at first glance is that, for the first time, her lover is visible from head to toe, instead of just a few body parts. This can only mean one thing: he's not the one taking the photo.
Even before moving on to the next one, I knew what I was looking at.
The second shows the same scene from a different angle, from the side...
No more uncertainty. It's Jennifer, her skirt hiked up over her waist, her bodice open to reveal her bare breasts. Her eyes are closed, and you'd almost think she was asleep if she weren't clasping her arms around her partner's neck.
In the background, two men stand watching the scene with keen interest, a knowing smile on their lips.
No doubt about it, these were shots from the famous taboo evening, the one that neither Jenny nor Delange assumed to remember.
Third picture, almost the same, except for one thing... one important thing... It's not the same man between Jenny's thighs.
This one still has his pants around his ankles. Leaning over Jenny, he steals a kiss she doesn't seem to want to deny him.
On the next one, it's a real showdown.
The man between her thighs seems to have changed again, but it's hard to see because two others are standing in front: One is helping his accomplice by holding Jen's ankle with one hand while caressing her breast with the other, while the second, even though we can only see his back, it's not hard to imagine what he's doing : his pelvis level with my wife's face, her little hand clasping a bare buttock, as if to better hold him against her...
Or in her.
I quickly scrolled through the other shots.
I counted five different men, in addition to Delange.
He only appears in the first few photos. After that, he's gone. Is he the one holding the camera, or did he leave his friends free to take care of his conquest while he went to sleep in a corner?
No idea.
Jenny, on the other hand, looks more and more gone, as the photos go by. If she's still got a rod in her hand, she seems to be clinging to it more than anything else. No wonder she can't remember much.
I couldn't help but scroll through the whole series again, looking for some detail that seemed to jump out at me, only to slip away as soon as I thought I'd put my finger on it...
Until it became obvious: these men, these five strangers, looked vaguely familiar from what I could make out of their faces...
But yes, it was clear! They were all present at the funeral!
I now better understood the intense glances I'd caught on Jennifer : if she couldn't remember the famous night, they, on the over hand, must have retained a very precise and detailed memory of the magnificent anatomy hidden beneath the wise black dress.
Had they then cherished the hope of being able to replay the scene in Delange's absence? Some of them, no doubt, yes - how could they not?
But without alcohol to help, and without the encouragement of their old friend, none of them had had the audacity to try anything.
Or so I assumed.
Still, I'd have to ask Jenny for confirmation.
Meanwhile, I suddenly realized that not one but six men had enjoyed my wife's body beside me. Six men had caressed her, had kissed her, had licked her, had penetrated her, had fucked her and, no doubt, had cum inside her.
The image was enough to make my head spin. I think I sat down in the first available chair.
Voilà.
I suspected there was something fishy about this evening, but it was more than an eel, it was a conger eel, a moray eel!
I understood better why he wasn't proud of it, the Delange.
But I also understood why he'd kept those prints, even though they were clear proof of his deception.
The same reason I already knew I wouldn't destroy this series either: seeing my darling play the star of a pornographic photo-novel, even if it was of poor quality, had disturbed me to the core.
It was certainly disturbing and obscene, but above all, it was terribly arousing, and I already knew that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from coming back regularly to look at them, haggard-eyed and with my hand down my pants, as I was doing right now and as Delange must often have done.
After all, the two of us had a lot in common.
Starting with the main one: Loving Jennifer more than anything.
Re: The Landlord
Wow, what a writer you are. Probably the best erotic story I’ve ever read. My compliments.
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c4goodlife
- Virgin
- Posts: 16
- Joined: Fri Mar 07, 2014 10:41 am
- Location: Bath
Re: The Landlord
Magnificent!
Re: The Landlord
Ty for sharing this amazing story
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wannabecUKold
- Player
- Posts: 346
- Joined: Thu Feb 23, 2023 1:51 am
Re: The Landlord
How magnificently written.
I hadn't come across this story before today. Now, two hours later I have come to the end. Superbly written in a wonderfully gentle narrative voice. The style is so credible, and so true to character. (Was it based on a true story?)
It is so beautiful the way she gave her body to the landlord - we all wanted her to do it. Just as we all wanted her to be pregnant by her two lovers. And for her husband to be her fully aware cuckold. I loved the moment she told her husband that Delange had fucked her for months. It felt so right.
Many thanks. A masterpiece.
I hadn't come across this story before today. Now, two hours later I have come to the end. Superbly written in a wonderfully gentle narrative voice. The style is so credible, and so true to character. (Was it based on a true story?)
It is so beautiful the way she gave her body to the landlord - we all wanted her to do it. Just as we all wanted her to be pregnant by her two lovers. And for her husband to be her fully aware cuckold. I loved the moment she told her husband that Delange had fucked her for months. It felt so right.
Many thanks. A masterpiece.
Re: The Landlord
I agree with wannabecuckold - this is a beautiful story, wonderfully told. Great job, Frenchie, and many many thanks.
Re: The Landlord
As always the update was worth the wait. Thank you for not leaving us in the middle of this one! This really is one of the best stories on here and so brilliantly told. Thank you.
Re: The Landlord
Thank you all for your encouragement and compliments. It makes me very happy and rather proud, I must say.
I'll try to answer some questions and make a few clarifications later, but for now, it's time to put the finishing touches to this story.
After all, it's got to end sometime.
I'll try to answer some questions and make a few clarifications later, but for now, it's time to put the finishing touches to this story.
After all, it's got to end sometime.
Re: The Landlord
Epilogue.
The years go by fast. Too fast.
The children grow up, the seasons pass with the rhythm of vacations and back-to-school.
Memories fade little by little.
If it weren't for the photos, I could almost, at moments, forget that there was a time when I had to share my wife with another man.
Like me, Jennifer is maturing gracefully. Nicely, too.
You'd think that after the Delange adventure, she might have wanted to renew the experience and find another lover, another sexual partner who would have made her experience sensations other than her husband's, since he had welcomed this first indiscretion with a certain benevolence.
But as far as I know, her little husband is enough for her.
Anyway, it was never about sex. It was much more than that.
Am I relieved to be the only one again?
Undoubtedly. Life is a lot simpler that way.
Do I miss it?
To be perfectly honest, sometimes I do miss that little extra spice this adventure has given us.
If it weren't for the photos, but also for the fortune.
In the end, Jenny never put her studies into practice. She preferred to be a happy, present mom.
As for me, I gave up my job. There was no point in getting up every day and suffering the dictatorship of statistics while our bank account accumulated zeros before the decimal point.
In the end, annuitization isn't such a bad occupation.
And I can assure you that the neighbors have long since swallowed their snide looks.
Photos, a fortune and accommodation.
We ended up moving into the ground-floor apartment. It was bigger and more convenient for the children's access to the inner courtyard.
Over time, we gradually erased the "Delange touch" and brought our own personality to the decor. It was clear that we couldn't live in a museum.
In fact, the sale of some of the pieces contributed significantly to rounding off our kitty.
However, I insisted that our bedroom should not be the one Delange occupied.
I didn't explain it to Jen, but I didn't really want the new upstairs neighbors to witness our lovemaking.
Anyway, Jennifer didn't insist. She couldn't see herself sleeping with me in HIS room.
So this room has become a kind of sanctuary, where we still store what's left of the memories of "Papy Léo", as the kids still call him.
Ah yes: photos, a fortune, a home... and children.
As I was saying, children grow up.
They are amazing !
Leena is still the spitting image of her mother.
I think Tom looks enough like me.
Anyway, I'll never do any paternity test.
THE END.
The years go by fast. Too fast.
The children grow up, the seasons pass with the rhythm of vacations and back-to-school.
Memories fade little by little.
If it weren't for the photos, I could almost, at moments, forget that there was a time when I had to share my wife with another man.
Like me, Jennifer is maturing gracefully. Nicely, too.
You'd think that after the Delange adventure, she might have wanted to renew the experience and find another lover, another sexual partner who would have made her experience sensations other than her husband's, since he had welcomed this first indiscretion with a certain benevolence.
But as far as I know, her little husband is enough for her.
Anyway, it was never about sex. It was much more than that.
Am I relieved to be the only one again?
Undoubtedly. Life is a lot simpler that way.
Do I miss it?
To be perfectly honest, sometimes I do miss that little extra spice this adventure has given us.
If it weren't for the photos, but also for the fortune.
In the end, Jenny never put her studies into practice. She preferred to be a happy, present mom.
As for me, I gave up my job. There was no point in getting up every day and suffering the dictatorship of statistics while our bank account accumulated zeros before the decimal point.
In the end, annuitization isn't such a bad occupation.
And I can assure you that the neighbors have long since swallowed their snide looks.
Photos, a fortune and accommodation.
We ended up moving into the ground-floor apartment. It was bigger and more convenient for the children's access to the inner courtyard.
Over time, we gradually erased the "Delange touch" and brought our own personality to the decor. It was clear that we couldn't live in a museum.
In fact, the sale of some of the pieces contributed significantly to rounding off our kitty.
However, I insisted that our bedroom should not be the one Delange occupied.
I didn't explain it to Jen, but I didn't really want the new upstairs neighbors to witness our lovemaking.
Anyway, Jennifer didn't insist. She couldn't see herself sleeping with me in HIS room.
So this room has become a kind of sanctuary, where we still store what's left of the memories of "Papy Léo", as the kids still call him.
Ah yes: photos, a fortune, a home... and children.
As I was saying, children grow up.
They are amazing !
Leena is still the spitting image of her mother.
I think Tom looks enough like me.
Anyway, I'll never do any paternity test.
THE END.