Jade: My Story

[Chrislydi]

BDJ,

All I can say is thank goodness they turned out not to be all they seemed, they dazzled and shone for a while before the inevitable crash and burn. I still don't know if there would have been a way back for me if Nick had have been a decent bloke. It was only the fact he was a reprobate of the first order, with a list of faults and nasty secrets a mile long in his past, that made it relatively easy to unmask him for the villain he always was.

I know Jade had had a first class bloke in Stew, which only changed circumstances made impractical to continue with indefinitely. Replace Michael with Stew and there may not have been a way back ever.

I posted in my thread that if I ever see Nick again I will hit him into next month, whatever the repercussions. Sometimes the red mist can take over from all rational thought, and any more goading from Nick would definitely land him with an early hospital visit, whatever the repercussions for myself.

Chris

[Johng1953]

BDJ,

All I can say is thank goodness they turned out not to be all they seemed, they dazzled and shone for a while before the inevitable crash and burn. I still don't know if there would have been a way back for me if Nick had have been a decent bloke. It was only the fact he was a reprobate of the first order, with a list of faults and nasty secrets a mile long in his past, that made it relatively easy to unmask him for the villain he always was.

I know Jade had had a first class bloke in Stew, which only changed circumstances made impractical to continue with indefinitely. Replace Michael with Stew and there may not have been a way back ever.

I posted in my thread that if I ever see Nick again I will hit him into next month, whatever the repercussions. Sometimes the red mist can take over from all rational thought, and any more goading from Nick would definitely land him with an early hospital visit, whatever the repercussions for myself.

Chris

You need to get someone else to do it for you while you have a cast iron alibi. I've no idea who you could ask to do that for you though.

[BDJ]

BDJ,

All I can say is thank goodness they turned out not to be all they seemed, they dazzled and shone for a while before the inevitable crash and burn. I still don't know if there would have been a way back for me if Nick had have been a decent bloke. It was only the fact he was a reprobate of the first order, with a list of faults and nasty secrets a mile long in his past, that made it relatively easy to unmask him for the villain he always was.

I know Jade had had a first class bloke in Stew, which only changed circumstances made impractical to continue with indefinitely. Replace Michael with Stew and there may not have been a way back ever.

I posted in my thread that if I ever see Nick again I will hit him into next month, whatever the repercussions. Sometimes the red mist can take over from all rational thought, and any more goading from Nick would definitely land him with an early hospital visit, whatever the repercussions for myself.

Chris

Stew: my best friend (and hers too!) He lusted after her pretty much after that first night in our little college apartment. When we returned from Florida she non-verbally told me she lusted for him too because she couldn't wait to see him...and get fucked. I was always there, always a part of it except one time. That was when I knew she loved him. We were staying over right after he had gotten divorced. For some reason we were on a air mattress at the base of his bed. When we awoke the next morning she joined him and I watched, then I took my turn after they finished. But after we got ourselves together and had breakfast we settled into the living room, Jade and I sitting on the sofa. After a few minutes she turned to me and asked, very sweetly, if she could take Stew back into the bedroom...alone. She'd never done that. I said yes and she thanked me, a big smile on her face. I don't know how long they stayed back there but it was a good while. When they emerged she had that glow...the just fucked look plus a happiness that I hadn't noticed before. She thanked me with a big kiss and a smile.

Stew wasn't like Michael. I think they loved each other for many years but he wouldn't break our bond of friendship by doing anything about it. The woman he married though...about five foot three, slim, and had longish black hair.

BDJ

[Chrislydi]

Stew wasn't like Michael. I think they loved each other for many years but he wouldn't break our bond of friendship by doing anything about it. The woman he married though...about five foot three, slim, and had longish black hair.

BDJ

I know yours is a real life recollection but it's so similar to one of the themes Xleglover is using in his latest Jen and Mike saga.

If you're not familiar, Mike and Jen are the perennial favourites in his tales, a cuckold couple who despite all the trials and tribulations life and many lovers throw at them, always come through together in the end. The unlikely scenario of a successful and long lasting marriage is always the less than surprising outcome.

In his latest Greg the latest dominant lover (not in a BDSM way) of Jen is perhaps trying to reshape and remodel her to have the same features as his first and always remembered crush, his young stepmother Sophie, who he had a brief and largely platonic dalliance with as a youth.

It's surprising how fiction can mirror real life, if not in all aspects, then enough to do a double take and think I've read that at some time or somewhere before.

Chris.

[BDJ]

Will read it when I've finished my own effort. Thanks for the heads up.

BDJ

[BDJ]

Confused, I looked around the bedroom. No sign of my lover. I set off for the bathroom to let Sid’s cum drain from my ass, interrupted when I met Michael in the hall. I brightened at the sight of him and said I’d be back as soon as I cleaned up. He just kept going, muttering for me to come to bed. Startled by his behavior, I stared at his receding back, wondering what was going on. But Sid’s cum had begun to leak so I hurried to the tiny bathroom. I noticed the smell of sex was still heavy on me so I decided to shower. While his behavior was certainly unsettling I couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t snap out of it when I got back to bed. Once a night wasn’t enough for Michael. He’d want me again, I knew, he always did.

When I finally arrived I immediately noticed two things: Sid was gone and Michael was already under the covers…on his side and facing away. I wondered what to do. His breathing was shallow and regular, as if he were already asleep. I felt like I’d done something wrong but didn’t know what. He was the one who showed me off, who had me suck Sid, and who had him watch us have sex. If he hadn’t wanted me to do anything else why had he allowed the little man to grab me? I remembered the Valentine’s Day visit to Michael’s house when his friends were there. He’d let them to be voyeurs but wouldn’t let me screw them. Maybe that was it, but he should have said something. He still hadn’t moved when I put my sleep shirt on and joined him. Still unsure of our status, I stayed on my side of the bed.

In the morning I was awakened by a soft and affectionate kiss. I opened my eyes and immediately searched his face, “Michael, what…” I started. He put a finger to my lips, saying “Shhh,” before I could begin. I looked into his eyes, questioning. “We had a wild night, didn’t we? What I can remember, anyway.” I could sympathize, my head felt awful, but I could recall everything. Then he smiled that special way of his and I melted, my fears forgotten. It was if it hadn’t happened. We hugged and lay for a long time, just being close. Nothing was said about what Sid and I had done and he didn’t make an appearance. Not wanting to disturb him we decided to leave and have breakfast on the way.

No mention was made of the events of the previous night on the long drive home…and I was too ashamed to bring it up. But Michael seemed content, his conversation focusing on the workshop and the other things we had done together. I was a little put off with his repeated comments on how glad he would get his license back in a few days. He seemed fixated on it. It would free up my time, which was good, but then we might not see each other as often. I wondered when he was planning to discuss my idea of us living together; almost asked about it but didn’t. I’d wait, but he should know I’d like to talk about it. It was what I desperately wanted. Couldn’t he see that?

My frustration only intensified when I dropped him off at his house…and got just a peck of a kiss and no comment on when we’d see each other again.

The days, then weeks, afterward reminded me Michael had left me hanging many times since we had begun our relationship. Work kept my mind occupied…I stayed in the studio long hours, eager to get a commission done I had let go to help him get around. Still, his silence made me uncomfortable. Was he ever going to talk to me about living together? The longer time passed with no word from him the more worried I became. Michael’s recent behavior had thrown me for a loop. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about him anymore.

After more than a month I’d had enough and decided it was time to force the issue. I called and invited myself over. “Sure,” he casually replied, “come on.” I had a hard time deciding what to wear; wanting to be alluring but not too blatant. I thought a sundress, with its low-cut square neckline and high empire bodice, would fit the bill. My tits looked good in it; my nipples especially prominent after I took out the inner lining. Butterflies filled my stomach as I approached the door of that familiar tiny house. Michael smiled at me as I entered but there was no passionate embrace or kiss. He had a beer in his hand and once he’d closed the door he just turned toward the kitchen, leaving me standing. I followed, wondering what was up—then I heard voices. Damn, I thought, he wasn’t alone. I was casually introduced as Jade to two of his friends from high school; no explanation as to who I was. I didn’t ask why he’d allowed them to hang around. Their eyes roamed over me: typical males doing their thing. A cold beer was thrust in my hand. Startled, I took it with a smile of thanks. And then we ‘hung out,’ standing around the kitchen, me mostly listening to stories of their drunken adventures, my only inclusion being their occasional sly side-glances at my body. Michael never looked at me. It took awhile before I realized what was happening: he was giving me the cold shoulder. Me, his girlfriend. It hurt. Now all I wanted to do was leave. Unfortunately the beer had gotten to me and I needed to take care of that first. I excused myself, acutely aware my ass was being checked out as I made my way to the bathroom.

The door had almost closed when I heard something that made me pause and listen: “That’s some prime pussy, dude. She your girlfriend?” Michael laughed, then casually replied, “I let her think so. We hooked up after the divorce and I string her along. She’s good for when I’m horny and the well’s dry.” They all laughed. The same voice then asked, “Damn, I’d fuck her in a heartbeat!” Michael responded dismissively, “Go for it, dude. But be careful, she’ll get needy on you. That’s why I’m ditching her…that shit’s not worth it anymore.”

I eased the door closed and leaned against it. His words kept reverberating through my brain, devastating me. Michael was going to break it off. I began quietly sob. It didn’t seem possible after all I’d given him. After a few minutes I was able to put myself back together, determined he wouldn’t see my distress. When I returned the conversation had thankfully drifted to another topic. I was embarrassed as I entered the kitchen, feeling their eyes on me. It felt as if they were weighing their chances, wondering if I’d fuck them too. Hastily l made my departure; a friendly hug in parting the only gift of intimacy from the man I loved. I cried all the way home, knowing I had lost him—had never really had him.

It took weeks before I stopped spontaneously sobbing, sometimes while sculpting, other times late into the night; my pillow becoming soaked with tears. It wasn’t like I’d never had other men who had affected me like he did. I thought of Stew and Stretch. I’d fallen for them but had gotten over it. Why had Michael been different? I found myself doing a lot of soul searching; of why I’d succumbed to his charms so easily. He’d sweet-talked me and Walker had encouraged me. A hot anger momentarily consumed me. My boyfriend had played with me for almost three years, stringing me along—a willing pussy hungry for his cock. I now understood why I’d had to wait so long between our trysts—he’d probably been fucking other women then too. And the event that cemented my love for him—when he lost his driver’s license—he must have been extra affectionate because I was his only transportation. Bastard.

Calling Walker and telling him was out of the question. Frustration mingled with regret. What would I tell him…that I wanted to hate Michael but just couldn’t—not yet. But resentment also mixed with my embarrassment over letting him know: I blamed him too. He knew I’d fallen for Michael early on but thought it would be like the others. If he hadn’t egged me on, hadn’t wanted me to flirt with a man I was already attracted to; this wouldn’t have happened. My husband had let me down and I didn’t see a way to forgive him…not yet. Sighing, I reconciled myself to the magnitude of my loss, of how foolish I had been to fall in love. All that was left for me now was my emotional attachment to a man who’d never really wanted me. My brutal self-assessment left only one possible future: alone—that was to be my uncomfortable fate.

One day I found myself deeply immersed in the chaos of Walker’s roll-top desk, looking for contact information on a supplier I had misplaced. Record-keeping was his Achilles heel so I had to waste time looking…only to find something else; something more personal. It was a small, hardbound journal featuring a full-color print by Kitagawa Utamaro, an artist Walker had always admired. Intrigued, I began to peruse it, shaking my head in wonder: it was a diary of sorts, chronicling my exploits with others, beginning on that first night with Stew. I set it aside until I could get the information I needed, deciding to later read snippets of it…who knew, it might even inspire me to masturbate.

One night in bed—especially tired after making the final alterations on the sculpture that had to be ready soon—I opened his journal and got a sad reminder of how my husband had struggled with his need to share me. The entry was from the Valentine’s day Michael’s friends had been present…and I had missed our planned tryst. With a deepening sadness I read his words:

This was supposed to be a day to reaffirm our love, but your infatuation with Michael has complicated that. I find myself reflecting on us, and how we’ve come to this—this dichotomy of acceptance and rejection. I wish it weren’t so, but realize things won’t change now. You’ve gone to him once again, and I’m alone in the house we built. It’s been almost two years since you began this affair and I’m ashamed for not recognizing sooner the rift that has worked itself between us. I tried to blame my work, but that’s not it, I know it began when I started taking you for granted. He flatters you: knows the power of loving words. Now it’s too late. I struggle with conflicting emotions when you’re with him. I want you back, need the old Jade; crave the closeness we had for so many years. But I can’t help myself, it turns me on knowing you’ve become his bitch in heat. You’re my wife still, but that’s irrelevant: you’d rather be with him than me.

As I await your return my mind creates a vision of you in his bed; naked and welcoming on your back, and Michael, kneeling between your spread-wide legs, his large-headed penis ready to penetrate you. I imagine your excitement as he manhandles you into position, then moves his body atop yours, lifting your legs high; knowing you’ll totally surrender to him, so eager to please the man who has so easily taken my place. I see you clinging tightly to him as he drives relentlessly into your pussy, the sound of your orgasmic screams echoes through my brain. It drives me to masturbate, knowing he’s able to stimulate you in ways I never have and never can. And then my ultimate turn-on, triggering my own orgasm: of you in ecstasy while his cock spasms; filling you with his hot seed.

I still want you back but I can’t deny it: the image of him breeding you is my ultimate erotic fantasy. It’s driving us apart—yet I want it to continue even though I know the danger of his kind. You’re just another willing cunt; one of many. He’ll never commit to you. But you can’t see that, so caught up in your need for him. I honestly don’t know where this will end.

My tears stained the page, my heart hurt so much I found myself gasping for breath. I couldn’t think for a moment, the horror of his words striking like a knife in my heart. Why hadn’t he said something, I wondered? Then I knew…I had refused to listen, getting angry at him when he tried to tell me. It was a useless memory given our love was gone. I got up, pacing back and forth around the lamp-lit room, intent on removing myself from the pain. But memories kept intruding: of those first years when we made love in our antique bed—and then all those times Walker used me upon return from my lover. The Queen Anne vanity caught my attention. I sat there, its triple mirrors having aided me countless times as I prepared myself for another, Walker close by, eager for it to happen. The dim light in the room made it almost possible to imagine three versions of me: one so young and innocent, radiant with a deep and abiding love for my man, then another, in my prime and brimming with sexuality, and finally the center, largest one, showing the woman I had become, my body still able to attract but judgment now clouded, falling in love…and throwing my spouse away in the process.

I got up and walked to the living room, surrounding myself in its cozy ambiance. A sudden thought struck me: would this house remain ours much longer? I couldn’t imagine we’d have to sell it. Various scenarios flashed through my brain before I settled on the one I preferred most: turning part of my studio, with its two-story log cabin core, into an apartment and giving up the house to Walker. My breath caught in my throat at the thought of him screwing his big-breasted girlfriend in our bedroom, wondering if I could bring myself to be friendly to her.

Melancholy continued to grip me. I retrieved a large album from its place in an end-table and settled in, prepared to reminisce. On the first page was a picture of us standing before the alter: me in the long, white dress I had made, and Walker in his morning tux, trying to stop a suddenly runny nose. The incongruity of that moment made me laugh, but the images on the remaining pages drew me deeper into depression. It was as if a dragon had caught me, its hot breath rendering me inert before crushing me in its talons. What we had built together was lost—forever. Suddenly exhausted, I returned to bed, though sleep came slowly.

The new days’ emergence hadn’t change my disposition. My life had to continue without anyone to rely upon now, so I let work be my companion. But for weeks worry haunted my every moment. My commission, making up a large part of my years’ income, depended on meeting a deadline. The corporation’s liaison had made it clear the ceremony, complete with an appearance by their Japanese owners, could not be delayed. It would be close but I had it covered—I thought.

Then overnight everything fell apart, and I was in a near panic. The man who was to take Walker’s place—who’d agreed to oversee the bronze casting—had been called away on a family emergency and wouldn’t be on site when I most needed him. I paced my studio, waiting as he tried to find someone else. More time wasted—and fear of the disaster awaiting if I wasn’t able to stay on schedule. Then the call: he couldn’t find anyone. Dammit, I thought, I would not give up! Taking a deep breath, I willed myself the courage to do what I had vowed never to do again…beg Walker for help. He might not be able to do it—I didn’t know—he might not even want to. I worried he’d tell me I was on my own; hadn’t I made that clear that’s what I had wanted when I told him I loved Michael? Sighing, I picked up the phone.

[Chrislydi]

An apology before I write, please excuse the grammatical, spelling and typo errors as I have large fingers and am using an android phone - no editing either. It might therefore struggle to be that legible but I read it with my wife Cath (on the PC) and having discussed our immediate reactions wanted to get something down so I'm using the phone for now.

First of all what a tremendous piece of writing in relating a truly awful, emotional and extremely upsetting period for our wonderful heroine of the saga, poor Jade herself. The relationship she so pinned all her future hopes of happiness on has come crashing down, and the facade Michael showed her has developed multiple cracks revealing the deformed mass that was always behind it.

To dupe and lead on Jade in such a way is truly despicable and unforgivable, her trusting, caring and loving nature has been totally abused, in short he's an uncaring, callous user of women, he has his pleasure and throws them aside once they're no longer needed or useful. Poor Jade though was so in love that now her suffering is proportionate, feelings unfortunately don't disappear even when you know the monster he really was all along. His bulbous cock and mind blowing sex were so exceptional it's hardly surprising women could be drawn in, even if only for the physical connection, but Jade was vulnerable, especially the way things were with Walker and the way he kept pushing, Michael pounced on that vulnerability, then took advantage and built on it, capturing her heart in the process.

Michael in a way reminds me a little of the eponymous hero of the novel by the 19th century
author Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891). For those not familiar with the classic, the story revolves around a portrait of Dorian Gray painted by a friend of Dorian's and an artist infatuated with Dorian's beauty. Through the artist, Dorian meets Lord Henry Wotton and is soon enthralled by the aristocrat's hedonistic worldview: that beauty and sensual fulfillment are the only things worth pursuing in life. Newly understanding that his beauty will fade, Dorian expresses the desire to sell his soul, to ensure that the picture, rather than he, will age and fade. The wish is granted, and Dorian pursues a libertine life of varied amoral experiences while staying young and beautiful; all the while, his portrait ages and visually records every one of Dorian's sins. You can see the allegorical similaries with our knowledge of Michael, he puts on this veneer of being the man of her dreams, on the surface what's not to like? He whispers sweet nothings and compliments, he romances her, shares similar interests and they have so much in common. Those out of this world, mind numbingly fantastic, sexual adventures, all while showing truly amazing feats of stamina and a perfected technique to die for which gives her the orgasms of her life, and all of this with just a hint of a promise of a shared future together. It's that hint, that possibility, maybe mostly in her own mind rather than actual, although never rubbished by him or denied as nonsense, which is enough to keep her hoping and longing for a future with him at her side. Then there's that picture in his attic the one painted some years back when he looked so handsome and attractive as be would ever be, as he probably looked now and has for as long as she could remember too, but now the painted face in the attic has had additions, it's turned diseased and ugly with boils and septic pustules, his soul is showing through, it even smells of rotting flesh and doesn't look or smell too healthy at all. It's rotten to the core and diseased like the leper Michael really is.

Finally what a twist of fate, it's so hard to read without a feeling of pathos for what might have been and was thrown aside, namely those heartbreaking reflections of a very sad Walker following THAT Valentine's Day, the one she spent with Michael and his intrusive voyeuristic friends, rather than Walker, returning the next day after unintentionally and understandably falling to sleep. The memories of their wedding day, the album those photos but most of all the regrets and bitter recriminations of how Walker's urges to always want more with her lovers had led to their downfall. It was that deeper involvement with her very own Dorian Gray, Michael that led us to where we are now. Then that twist of fate, her sculpture, the commission so massive and now possibly at stake unless she can be rescued. Jade has been let down badly and only Walker has the expertise and might be able to help. Jade has no choice she can't let her own mixed and bitter feelings stop her, she has to ring Walker, she has to let him be her batman to the rescue in the nick of time.

I know this account only touches on it with Jade's tentative plans to reorganize the studio flat and work space, letting Walker move back into the other separate part, but Walker was heavily involved with his lover too. Sure enough Jade then thinks about his big breasted lover (I've christened Bertha) and it's only then that we remember that this was a very close relationship for Walker, he was in love with his 'Bertha' and the complications of any moves obvious. Hopefully we think Walker and Jade do get back together in time, but things just aren't that simple right now.

What complicated lives we all lead, it's only sometimes in these reflections that we can see the obvious errors and signs that things just aren't right, it's so simple in hindsight, but at the time when it's us and we are actually involved with feelings and living them it's never quite so easy.

We thank BDJ for his truly wonderful writing and more especially Jade for letting us in on her innermost thoughts and reflections on what must have been an extremely painful episode and the most difficult of times. I know I comment that some writers have the ability to take my breath away, well BDJ is now definitely one of their number..

Chris

[Asterix42]

Ouch…
A wonderfully written chapter that conveys the emotions so well. Very painful stuff. So many classic lessons in play in this latest chapter…
You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone/ It was under your nose all along/ The grass is always greener.
Open your eyes to the truth; it's all around you/ Some people only love you as much as they can use you/ Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
You can’t treat people like shit and expect them to still love you/ You only call when you want something.
Blaming others is nothing more than excusing yourself.

[Johng1953]

Michael has revealed himself to be a psychopath. They're not all killers by any means but all are self obsessed and utterly incapable of understanding or feeling empathy or emotion. I'm sorry Jade had to find out this way but the signs were there all along.
It was always obvious too that the lack of communication on both sides (as indicated by the valentines diary entry and what I remember of the events as related to us) was a huge contributory factor to where Jade and Walker now find themselves.
"...beg Walker for help" He'll help! Of course he will.
I know you both end up together but I do wonder how that comes about given Jade's rejection of Walker for her, in the end, imagined love affair and Walker's new partner.

[Asterix42]

Michael has revealed himself to be a psychopath. They're not all killers by any means but all are self obsessed and utterly incapable of understanding or feeling empathy or emotion. I'm sorry Jade had to find out this way but the signs were there all along.
It was always obvious too that the lack of communication on both sides (as indicated by the valentines diary entry and what I remember of the events as related to us) was a huge contributory factor to where Jade and Walker now find themselves.
"...beg Walker for help" He'll help! Of course he will.
I know you both end up together but I do wonder how that comes about given Jade's rejection of Walker for her, in the end, imagined love affair and Walker's new partner.

Even if they end up back together, the fact that one rejected the other's love and cast them aside must take a long time to get over. No matter how well they repair things, the cast aside partner will always know in the deep dark recesses of their being that at a point in time their soul mate rejected them. No matter how extensive the repair work, from time to time things will occur in life that will cause them to recall how they were once their loved ones second choice. Knowing they were cast aside for an asshole/ psychopath can't make it any easier.

It must be a tough road back.

[BDJ]

Johng1953 and Asterix42,
You both make good solid observations on the human condition. The only hints I can throw your way are: My parents divorced after 26 years after, I thought wrongly, a happy marriage. I remembered that when I proposed. And an analogy; long lived marriages are like an old pair of shoes. They can get really worn down with use and SOME people just chuck them out, but if they were well made, can always be repaired (sometimes over and over.) Obtuse enough for you?

[BDJ]

Chris,
I like this observation from your comment: "What complicated lives we all lead, it's only sometimes in these reflections that we can see the obvious errors and signs things just aren't right, it's so simple in hindsight, but at the time when it's us and we are actually involved with feelings and living them it's never quite so easy."

The fault lay with both of us: I have/had the itch to know my wife could be well satisfied by other men better than me. She resisted my need to see her that way until she was doing it, then loved it. Michael was an aberration for us both, though we didn't see it at the time. He was smooth and very capable in bed and she was susceptible, more so than earlier in life. The two combined to set us up for what happened. And now add the wrinkle to easily getting back together by the fact I had fallen in love with another woman.

Look at my reply to Johng1953 and Asterix42. My experiences early in life shaped my decision when all this came to a head.

BDJ

[Asterix42]

Johng1953 and Asterix42,
You both make good solid observations on the human condition. The only hints I can throw your way are: My parents divorced after 26 years after, I thought wrongly, a happy marriage. I remembered that when I proposed. And an analogy; long lived marriages are like an old pair of shoes. They can get really worn down with use and SOME people just chuck them out, but if they were well made, can always be repaired (sometimes over and over.) Obtuse enough for you?

Good analogy BDJ. Just as old shoes need to be cleaned and resolved from time to time, long term relationships need work to maintain them. People change over time and given 25 years or so, no one is exactly the same person as they were at the start. As you point out, some people find it easier to throw what they have away, rather than do the maintenance or make changes required to keep things fresh. Others find that the dirt and grim that can build up over time isn’t worth cleaning off for whatever reason. Still others nurture things and work to keep them fresh and make them last. There’s no right or wrong answer to this analogy, it just is what it is.

Every relationship is different as is every individual in a relationship. Damn good thing to, as life would be dull if we were all cookie cut to be the same!

[Chrislydi]

It's easy to fall into the trap of quoting the proverbial 'marriage is hard work and needs constant attention to keep it fresh, worthwhile and exciting', but it's really hard to deny the truth of it too. However it's a limited and very broad brush, a simplified general rule, and it can be a rather throwaway, bland and sometimes unhelpful line even if never less than true. It's not something which can be easily fitted to all situations and all the different intricacies and difficulties when circumstances, background and strong inclinations are added into the mix. There are so many variables involved that can make it so difficult to follow, each partner's characters, susceptibilities, inclinations and motivations, and of course when you add a third party, the difficulties increase exponentially, not forgetting the everyday real life issues of work and finances which can so often undermine so many marriages too. Bland sayings won't do when it's far too complicated, involved and progressed too far, inertia can and has been the all too easy option to take, the drift of the abnormal and dangerous into becoming accepted and ordinary, the drift into separation and breaking out from the straightjacket that's perceived to be trapping you becoming all too enticing, to use one of those clichéd lessons, 'The grass is always greener'.

All this really says is advice is easy to give but much harder to follow at the moment in time you really should do. Hindsight is a great teacher but never actually there and obvious when you need it's help right now, and not at some safe distance in the future.

Chris

[Chrislydi]

For me Michael is the classic example of a sociopath, having little regard for Jade's emotions, rights, or experiences. He seems to show no remorse for leaving her hanging or indeed no real regard for the undivided love and devotion she's all too often shown him. It's been a one sided contract from the beginning, Jade the generous giver and Michael the callous taker, drawing her in or stringing her along when wanted and convenient but ready to spit her out as soon as she's not so wanted.

Chris

[BDJ]

I was so tired I could hardly stand up, but I’d be damned if I was going to slack off now. My fatigue and an aching back had to be nothing compared to what Walker felt. His body dripped with sweat, clearly visible through the heavy jumpsuit he was wearing. Both of us were similarly dressed: futile protection from the extreme heat of the molten bronze. I was just as sweaty, my job being to stabilize the other end of double-ended tongs as we worked the crucible of molten metal over each sprue-head. Carefully choreographed down to the last movement, we poured the white-hot liquid into the last of multiple sand molds—each holding a part of the sculpture’s anatomy—all needed to later reconstruct the cast pieces back into its original form. This was the last one and I was glad. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to pour another. But even though we’d finished, ahead were days of work: lifting the individual parts from the molds, cutting the sprue away from each segment then cleaning them. Finally welding each casting back together before filing, finishing, and buffing it. This piece wasn’t going to be chemically patinaed: wind, rain, and time would accomplish that.

“I’m parched. Let’s get something to drink,” I said as I put away the empty crucible and he began to shut the kiln down. It had been a long day with no breaks; beginning when Walker had arrived at four in the morning to start the kiln and check the molds one last time. It was hours before everything was ready and we’d climbed into our casting clothes. Now, in the early hours before dawn, I could breathe a sigh of relief; this part of completing my sculpture had worried me most.

I wasn’t going to wait another second to get comfortable. Unceremoniously stripping off the cumbersome jumpsuit, I reveled in the sudden freedom from all that weight, even though my soaked boy leg panties and wifebeater were now the only barriers hiding my nakedness. I didn’t care—wasn’t intentionally trying to be sexy—the heavy garment was just too damn uncomfortable to keep on any longer than necessary. Stretching, I glanced my former spouse. Walker had been looking at me, then tried not to stare when I turned to face him. Seeing an opportunity to interject some levity into our mostly somber interactions, I asked teasingly. “Like what you see?” The old Walker would have been eager to make a move on me after that, but this new man, almost a stranger, didn’t respond. My actions wouldn’t have been all that unexpected, I’d given him this type of blatant invitation many times before. Then again, this time I had an ulterior motive for the tease; I wanted to gauge his involvement with his new lady love by his reaction. That he didn’t appear interested didn’t stop him from acknowledging my brash action by removing his own suit. Unlike him, I watched unabashedly, suddenly gripped by desire as his muscled body was exposed; sweat molding his boxers into a graphic reveal of the magnificently long cock I knew to be hidden within. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he put tools away and shut down the furnace, not stopping until he was sure the shop was properly buttoned up.

Neither of us chose to change into dry clothing before heading back to the house. We’d always done this, staying half naked; letting the night air dry us. Now we silently walked together along a lane winding through an old apple orchard, beneath a half moon in the night sky. It could have been romantic: in past years it had. That wasn’t likely now…we’d hardly acknowledged each other for the past week—even working side by side—limiting our interactions to only what was necessary to follow a long practiced routine. Now, though, seeing the sky peppered with stars triggered such a wave of nostalgia for our past life, I found myself wanting to touch him. But I kept my distance, though I glanced at him obliquely—trying to keep my longing hidden—not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

By the time we had reached the house the cool night air had dried our sweaty clothing, rendering us somehow more acceptable. Our latent familiarity evaporated, though, as soon as we crossed the back door’s threshold. In the kitchen, Walker gave me lots of space as he got some glasses. Feeling somehow chastised, I silently pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator, acutely feeling the sting of his distance. And his reluctance to engage in smalltalk underscored my fear he’d moved on, unwilling to continue any semblance of closeness.

Still, it was a very domestic scene we’d just been creating; quite familiar—until we sat across the round oak table from each other. Walker gave me his professor look, silent; as if he feared some sort of confrontation now the work was done. I returned his stare, trying to keep my gaze neutral even as I automatically took on a self-protective stance. It was obvious we both felt awkward, not knowing what to do next. I wanted to keep the closeness we’d had while working together but was afraid reaching out would cause him to draw back even more. It made me so sad it had come to this.

I was truly grateful to him for rescuing me from certain disaster. And he had seriously sacrificed to do it; having to get a substitute for most of a week to cover his classes. “Walker, thanks again for coming,” I said, hoping my voice sounded sincere. “It’s not done,” he replied, “but I can return over the weekend for the welding, then you won’t need me anymore.” I tried not to flinch from the impact of those words…too soon I’d be alone again. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t stepped in,” I responded, “I want to repay you, but don’t know how.”

Instead of answering he changed the subject, asking, “How’s Michael?” I jerked as if struck, remembering that pride—and anger—had prevented me from telling him. I waited—a long wait, my head down, unable to meet his gaze. Finally, I heaved a mighty sigh, and looked up into a concerned face…not the stony stare I had expected. “I don’t know,” I answered simply. “Why?” he queried. More waiting on my part. In a voice barely audible, I replied, “He doesn’t want me anymore.” Mere words couldn’t adequately convey how I felt then; but my hanging head and slumped shoulders did—they telegraphed defeat. My husband, in name only now, started to get up; to come to me. Then he settled back in his chair, holding me in his gaze. “I see,” was all he said in reply, before sighing himself. “Tell me about it.”

I tried to describe how Michael had changed during the workshop weekend. I couldn’t hold myself together as I described my visit to his house. The pain of that memory broke me and I lost all pretense of reserve. I wailed: cried uncontrollably for a few minutes. He waited; made no move to comfort me. Through sniffles and a series of pauses while I blew my nose, I told him how my lover had changed. “He just ignored me, Walker,” I said plaintively. “Then I overheard he was going to dump me.” That there was no resentment in my tone wasn’t lost on him. “But you still love him,” he stated flatly. I sat up, my back straight, suddenly incensed. I spat back my answer: “I hate him!” His dispassionate reply left me with no retort. “No, Jade, you don’t, you can’t just turn off love. Admit it, you’re hurt, but you’d go back to him if he wanted,” Silence hung over us until it was broken when I scraped back my chair, stood and walked to the window. I looked out into the darkness, seeking solace in its nothingness, but my mind wouldn’t let go of Walker’s accusation. He was right but so was I. I hated Michael but couldn’t help it, I still wanted his affection: was still in love with him. Admit that to Walker though—no I just couldn’t do it.

I wouldn’t lie so instead I turned the statement back on him. With my back a safe barrier against what I was about to say, I replied, “I read your journal, the part from Valentine’s day.” I paused, wondering if I could go on, “I was weak, but you wanted me to fuck him, you got off on it.” I paused, my shoulders slumping,” “I fell for him, but you weren’t around to catch me. You…you didn’t protect me this time.” The words hung in the air: heavy, oppressive. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. Resigned to hearing the inevitable ‘but’ after that statement, I started to cry again—tried not too; didn’t want him to see me doing it. My soft lament was the only sound in the room. I was startled when I felt his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to face him. His face mirrored mine—he really was sad.

Seeing him like that; concerned and compassionate, was too much for me. “I want you back,” I whispered my confession: my head dropping to my chest, not wanting to make eye contact. He didn’t respond. A sudden intense feeling of remorse at all that had happened between us broke my resolve to let him go; to live without him. With another sob I repeated it—my voice straining, my fists clenched at my side—“I want you back!”

After a long moment, where the only sound in the room was my labored breathing, Walker took my hands, then gently, methodically stroked my fingers; so patient until they uncurled, releasing their tension. With that accomplished, he turned them over, his thumbs gently caressing my calluses—the result of a multitude of cuts and abrasions over the years working with bronze. He lifted my face, staring at me intently. I saw the hurt I had caused clearly etched on his countenance. But his words were calm, almost poetic, when he spoke, “I see your hands,” he said, then raised them to his lips and tenderly kissed them. “Their beauty became blemished by your unbridled passion, but I knew them when they were perfect.” He stopped speaking—I waited, holding my breath. My fears, the loneliness I anticipated marked me then, etching my features into a frown. He continued to search my face, looking for what I didn’t know. How could he want me, ever trust me again, I thought. The longer he waited the more I became convinced he wouldn’t return.

With an audible sigh he pulled me closer; bent his head low until it was nestled beside mine. Then he whispered, his words full of emotion, “You are still beautiful to me. You left but I never stopped loving you. Now you want me back and…and things have changed. I find it hard to do.” I knew what he meant: the new life he had begun with another woman. He must have been thinking of that; what he’d be giving up returning to me. He took my chin and moved his face so our eyes met. I saw sadness in them. “When we were lovers your hands held my heart,” he said, then added, “That’s gone now.” He was gently stroking my back; lightly done and barely felt. Another pause, the longest one yet. He sighed heavily. Our eyes remained locked together, his head now tilted closer toward me. But those eyes said it all…it was too late. His life with his girlfriend was more important. I could just feel it. I took a haggard breath, almost a sob.

The wistfulness of his features belied his next words, “Is longing and love synonymous?” I was surprised, then puzzled. What did he mean? He stopped then, as if it thinking through that cryptic sentence. He stared at me so long I'd almost begun to feel uncomfortable.

Then, when I thought he’d just give up and turn away, he spoke; softly but with an intensity missing until now, “I’ve missed you Jade…missed your hands’ gentle caress.” He pause again, as if a decision had been made, “I long for your arms to hold me as they used to…when my desires were fulfilled by your warm embrace.” My breath caught in my throat when he said, “What we had and was lost, I too want again. I will let you once again fill me with love.” He pulled me closer, then kissed me lightly, our lips barely touching. When we parted, his final words came out a whisper, “This time forever.”

It took a minute for it to penetrate my brain, his declaration a gift I had not thought possible. My heart thrilled, my breath quickened in my chest: he was going to take me back! “Oh, Walker,” was all I could say as I hugged him tightly. I didn’t want to ever let him go. We stayed like that for a long time, each tearing up from the emotion of the moment; content to just hold each other.

What happened next startled me. “I know how you can thank me for helping you,” he said as he disengaged from my eager clutch. I looked at him; uncomprehending. With a wicked grin he took me by the hand and began to pull me—lead me really—down the hall toward our bedroom. Awareness flooded me. At least one part of the old Walker was back. Now I smiled—eager to again be the wife he wanted—my pussy already getting wet.

Epilogue to follow soon.

[Chrislydi]

The long hours, the tough, hard and sweaty physical work in oppressive heat which drains the body, and all the while a precision and technique is needed and a concentration on it being just right. Every process a carefully learnt art, to do everything at exactly the right time and to do it to the exacting standard required being a skill that few can supply. Even after such monumentally long hard hours of a very long day, ahead were days of work: lifting the individual parts from the molds, cutting the sprue away from each segment then cleaning them. Finally welding each casting back together before filing, finishing, and buffing it. It's the old team of Jade and Walker working together, her husband answering a desperate call for help as we always knew he would. Her Batman to the rescue in the nick of time.

Walker ever the professional and commited to the last shows it later in replying, “It’s not done, but I can return over the weekend for the welding, then you won’t need me anymore”, then of course it hits, Jade and us the readers remember, "you won't need me anymore", finis, caput, the end, it's over, things have moved on for Walker and our sadly heartbroken and desperately lonely and suffering heroine Jade. Walker now is involved and loves another woman, but you can't help hoping his love for Jade still survives, how could it not? Love is not a light switch, feelings that were once so strong are not switched permanently off but by there very nature are powerful and lasting, they may change and Walker has learnt to love his 'Bertha' with her big breasts, but it doesn't mean his feelings for Jade have suddenly disappeared and gone, just that it's now so much more of a complicated situation, other people and especially his big breasted Bertha to consider.

Jade's admission of the failure of her great love for Michael and the rejection of everything she had so hoped for was a soul destroying task for her to admit, my heart went out to her reading that, all that pain and suffering of an unrequited love and that hateful and callous ending. "He doesn’t want me anymore.” rarely could a mere five words have given away so much, the underlying messages that you understand, the despair and long hours of regret, the human suffering that poor Jade's had to go through and now the admission of rejection and failure, and to have to admit it to her former lifelong partner, the one who was so incredulous when she left him for the hope of Michael! When this is followed by the retelling of Walkers bitter reflections of that Valentine's Day, the heart strings are really being stretched, it's so difficult to read, you just want to push the two together, you know they were always meant for each other and can't get through this cloudy complicated mess of their own making, they can't see what was always meant to be. Real life is no fairytale though and although Jade now secretly yearns for her Walker she's not sure if Walker is free to reciprocate and the hold his new lover has over him.

I read this alongside my wife Cath, and it was quite an emotional experience, perhaps we're soft romantics at heart, but we were taking quick looks at each other and you sensed both wanting our Jade to recapture and hold onto her Walker, her real lover the real man in her life, so when Walker posed the riddle "Is longing and love synonymous?” we too held our breath, for the purpose and reasoning behind the question wasn't too clear. Perhaps though it did signal a thoughtful man battling within himself to come to terms with his own allegiances and demons, and to come to terms with his own understanding of conflicting emotions and deeply held feelings, it was a sign of hope, that this may be significant.

Jade had already declared she wanted Waker back and repeated it so earnestly and with such feeling, a pleading from her very soul, a wish she had newly rediscovered and knew she now wanted, that reflection and admission of failure and rejection and now set next to something solid, something she had and thrown away, it was an earnest entreaty to please go back to give us another chance. Then what was scarcely hoped for as Walker had whispered his own emotional response “You are still beautiful to me. You left but I never stopped loving you. Now you want me back and…and things have changed. I find it hard to do.” , and hence you feel and taste the conflict, he loves his new woman so what does he do? This riddle he subsequently poses does the answer to "Is longing and love synonymous?” provide the clues?

I don't know about you but we subconsciously held each other closer and could hardly read on, BDJ had cleverly built up a tension to the narrative, a calculated suspense that had this particular audience of two on the edge of our seats knowing that the answer was coming and fervently hoping the answer would be Walker and Jade back together.

BDJ then writes the perfect paragraph

"“I’ve missed you Jade…missed your hands’ gentle caress.” He pause again, as if a decision had been made, “I long for your arms to hold me as they used to…when my desires were fulfilled by your warm embrace.” My breath caught in my throat when he said, “What we had and was lost, I too want again. I will let you once again fill me with love.” He pulled me closer, then kissed me lightly, our lips barely touching. When we parted, his final words came out a whisper, “This time forever.”

The tears weren't too far away here in our house in Southport when reading Jade's realisation of what her Walker had said,

' “Oh, Walker,” was all I could say as I hugged him tightly. I didn’t want to ever let him go. We stayed like that for a long time, each tearing up from the emotion of the moment; content to just hold each other'

Even that famous Shakespearean quotation

"For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

might be loosely adapted to read

"Never was a story more happily ending than that of our Jade and her beloved Walker."

Granted it doesn't quite have the same ring to it or anything like the great bard's finesse with words, but nevertheless this was the perfect ending to our tortuous tale.

I think you would have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by the way BDJ described the final reconciliation. There may be complications and some real decisions to be made but an epilogue is coming shortly. Cath and I were just holding each other as if the magic of Walker and Jade's reconciliation had influenced our own passions for the moment.

Congratulations to BDJ for writing such a superb series of Jade sagas, a mixture of pure fiction and real recollections from his own married life, we hope it has helped you both too and cemented that great love you share with your real wife 'Jade'. Thank you also to his real Jade for her generosity in sharing her innermost thoughts and helping her Walker bring it to life on the page. It's been an absolute pleasure to read and we look forward to the epilogue and wrapping up all those final loose ends.

The Walker and Jade magic is working here too, as Cath just asked me to come to bed and it's pretty early for a Friday night!

Chris and Cath

[Johng1953]

Thanks for this. I'm pretty sure that whilst this is the end of your story for us it must have been the start of happier times for you both but I'm sure not at all plain sailing. I must admit to also feeling a little for the one innocent in this story, the woman you have developed feelings for while Jade was away. I'll wait for the epilogue now.
Thank you again for all of your time and effort. It's been quite a journey!

[Asterix42]

Wow. Well done BJD.
That was quire emotionally gut wrenching. I can’t begin to imagine how hard it must have been to write this last chapter.

[BDJ]

"Epilogue to follow soon," I confidently asserted at the conclusion of my story. And now I'm making a lie of that statement. I'm going to blame it on my friends here. They've brought up questions I had not adequately addressed in my already written brief synopsis of life after our reunion. I've decided it should be a real addition to the story, and you know what that means--some more hot sex! (I can't help it.)

Please forgive me as I go about the task of organizing it in my mind; and it being complicated by the distraction of a planned medical procedure and the friend who has come to stay with us as I recover. I hope the result will be worth the wait.

BDJ

[Chrislydi]

"Epilogue to follow soon," I confidently asserted at the conclusion of my story. And now I'm making a lie of that statement. I'm going to blame it on my friends here. They've brought up questions I had not adequately addressed in my already written brief synopsis of life after our reunion. I've decided it should be a real addition to the story, and you know what that means--some more hot sex! (I can't help it.)

Please forgive me as I go about the task of organizing it in my mind; and it being complicated by the distraction of a planned medical procedure and the friend who has come to stay with us as I recover. I hope the result will be worth the wait.

BDJ

Of course BDJ, real life always comes first, this is very much secondary if that. I for one am prepared to wait as long as it takes, complete it when you can no matter when and how long into the future that is.

Chris

[Johng1953]

Don't worry about how long it takes, I'll still be here too.
Hope your recovery goes smoothly.

[BDJ]

Epilogue

Many years later…

Walker looks so frail in the hospital bed, only recently awakened from the drug induced slumber he’d been in for the hours long operation on his back. What had seemed a pulled muscle six days before was actually a very rare type of ruptured disk; one that almost cost him the use of his legs—leaving him an uncertain future. We’re alone, discussing his long road to recovery. “I suspect it’ll be awhile before I hike again,” he says. That brings to mind his obsession; his way of coping with life’s stresses after we had gotten back together. Every morning he’d haunt the wooded trails on the farm or trek determinedly down the nearby country roads with our ever-present St. Bernard/Great Pyrenees at his side. Only a few years before he’d hiked the Kaibab trail three miles into the Grand Canyon, then back out—just to see if he could. Smiling at his pride at accomplishing all that in a single morning I respond. “You’ll do it again. I know you will,” But realistically it didn’t look likely. “The main thing now is to get you home; in bed with me,” I add with a grin. He smiles in return and points to his crotch. “Can’t wait,” he replies.

That makes me think of how far we’d come since we’d gotten back together so many years before. Walker had been prophetic when he’d told me you can’t just turn off love. He didn’t admit then it also referred to his situation. His big breasted girlfriend—I never could bring myself to say her name—had retained a hold on his emotions even as my continued need for Michael had prevented me from fully committing to my new life. I was wounded emotionally and he knew it. We both had used physical diversions then as a coping mechanism. Since my work continued to be in demand it was easy for me to lose myself in the creative process. It enabled me to largely ignore my need for Michael; helped along because he’d never tried to reestablish a connection. I guess he really had thought of me as a convenient cunt for his hungry cock—and one just as easily discarded.

Walker had a more difficult time of it. His lady love had cried when he’d told her he was returning to our marriage and resisted letting him go. To make matters worse their classrooms were beside each other, offering numerous opportunities at daily interactions. I’d begun to get worried when fate stepped in and solved that problem. A week after she had attended the funeral of a former girlfriend she confessed she’d begun a relationship with the bereaved widower. It wasn’t love: his attraction was because she looked so much like his late wife. It shocked me when she confessed being open to his overtures. That had led to a quick marriage and her leaving the college.

Eventually we established a new bond of love and trust. But the core of our previous martial discord remained: his need to share me. Walker confessed he still got an erection thinking of me beneath Michael, orgasming on his pummeling cock. I was vehement I would never take another lover; confessing my fear of losing my heart again if I allowed my libido full reign with someone other than him. He tried to understand, I could see that, and ultimately I gave in; determined not to let it come between us. And the compromise we’d agreed upon had the potential to actually work: I’d be open to swinging but only with another couple with whom we could also be friends—no more random hookups. That settled, we began to the long process of finding someone compatible.

My reverie over that difficult process was broken when a tall ginger-haired nurse came in to give Walker a shot. Her cheerful chatter was in distinct counterpoint to our watchful silence. After she left he commented, “Is she your type?” No matter the situation, I mused, my husband thought about sex every ninety seconds. I laughed, then replied, “Not mine, but yours maybe. I saw you looking.” “Just as eye candy,” he replied; but I smiled when he countered by asking, “You’re sure you’’re not interested? She looks so much like Lauren.” I blushed a little, remembering that time on our gorge hike when a woman with similarly colored hair and a set of mouth watering breasts had stolen my heart. “Well, maybe some…but I’m satisfied with Cassie.” “I’ll bet you are,” my husband smirked.

I had to smile: we’d lucked out with Cassie and Tim. During our initial meeting the bold Cassie had played footsie with Walker’s cock under the table during our meal. Later Tim had moved beside me and fingered my pussy while blithely questioning me about my art. It affected me just as he’d planned: I tried to appear normal but got wetter by the minute as his nimble fingers excited me. I wanted payback so I copped a lingering feel of what he had to offer. There, tucked up against his stomach, was a thick column of flesh long enough to fill me nicely. It was as if a switch had been flipped in my brain: I couldn’t wait to try him out. Toward the end of the evening Walker and I had a few minutes to talk privately. We decided we liked their attitude and were delighted at how well our personalities meshed. It was a relief when we discovered they felt the same and everyone agreed to take the next step toward intimacy. That was so many years ago; Walker and I were in our sixties now. Hard to believe the arrangement had worked so well.

I remembered that first date like it was yesterday. Walker had been nervous as he‘d chosen my lingerie; deciding I should wear a garter belt under my tiny panties. I wanted to tease Tim so we’d chosen a loose skirt and the off-the-shoulder crop top with an elastic neckline that I’d worn for Michael. I liked that it showed bits of my dark areole and nipples through the floral lace. Posing for him I asked, “Do you think Tim will like my tits? I’m not nearly as large as Cassie.” My husband took me in his arms and gave me the most tender loving kiss. “I like them,” he replied. “And so will he.” Then he grabbed my butt and squeezed it. “And I’ll bet Cassie will too,” he added. I just smiled. Walker knew I was curious as to whether she liked women. I was drawn to her but was afraid she wasn’t into that, and any undue interest on my part might scare them off. Walker, on the other hand, had his own fear of not being able to perform adequately. Some Viagra, he told me, would make sure that wasn’t a problem.

We met them at a lounge popular with an older set but chose it because, on this night, only beach music was going to be played. Walker and I had taken shag lessons soon after we’d reunited, seeing it as a way to reconnect. He was a natural but I found the steps hard to learn and never mastered them all that well. But it turned out our new couple also loved to dance, so it seemed logical to enjoy their company here before returning home for the main event.

We were walking into the foyer of the club when Hot Chocolate’s ‘It Started With A Kiss' began. It was Walker’s favorite song. With a look of pure joy on his face he grabbed Cassie and pulled her onto the dance floor. Like a long-practiced couple they began to cha-cha. Tim and I could only stare as the two moved smoothly through steps I’d never even attempted. Her short slinky dress rode high around her thighs at each twirl, exposing a hint of her lacy panties. I tried not to gawk but couldn’t help myself—she was just so sexy! Walker was lucky, I thought—big tits and she can dance.

I was feeling decidedly inferior as Tim led me to a table tucked into a dark corner. Suspecting something was afoot, I looked anew at my date. He was shorter than his wife but well-built with a wonderfully hirsute chest; dressed so nattily in pleated chinos and a dress shirt. So delectable I thought. Taking the chair beside me, he pulled me in close. That was followed by a kiss when I’d turned to him. “They’re having their fun,” he whispered in my ear as he began nuzzling my neck, then followed up with another long, tongue-laden kiss. “This is ours,” he continued when we’d broken apart. Then he’d demanded, “Give me your panties.” Taken aback at his brazenness, I stared at him in amazement, then decided two could play his game. I retorted, “Uh-uh.” He just grinned, then slipped his hands under my skirt as if daring me to stop him. When I giggled he continued until he’d pulled them off; then inhaled their fragrance. “Smells good, but they aren’t wet enough yet,” he commented. I laughed and put my hand on his growing bulge. “You’ll just have to remedy that,” I replied. It set the tone for the rest of the night.

For hours we shagged but it was the slow dances in between that really got my pussy ready for him. His cocks’ pressure against my tummy reminded me that before the night was over this sexy man would be on top—and inside—me. I kept checking on Walker, seeing if he was having a good time with Cassie. After awhile I could tell he was smitten; not only by her constant teasing but because she could dance way better than me. They meshed like they’d been together for years. After an evening of flirting and shagging we decided it was time to continue the fun at our house. I couldn’t wait.

It turned out I did have to wait—a little anyway. We’d prepared an impromptu play area of blankets on the floor in front of our large antique sofa, but it wasn’t immediately needed. As soon as we’d entered our living room our spouses attacked each other. Tim and I watched in amazement as they frantically stripped, totally focused on getting naked. Then Walker pushed her against a wall and held one of her legs up against his waist, his other hand firmly holding her buttock. She reached between them and lined his cock up to her pussy. With a mighty shove his manhood found its mark. We could hear her loud grunts each time he rammed his long pole deep into her willing quim. Their coupling was frantic: urgent in a way only unbridled lust can be. I watched in fascination as they fervidly kissed, unable to help themselves. It was so hot seeing Walker lose control like that. I felt a little jealous but also a touch of envy. My gentle husband was fucking her like Michael had taken me countless times.

Tim had been undressing me from behind, kissing my neck and caressing my breasts while also trying to keep an eye on the action before us. I could tell from the way he was staring that this was not how his wife usually acted with a new man. Seeing my husband performing like my former lover had gotten me so turned on I pulled Tim down on the sofa. Spreading my legs wide, I pleaded with him to put his tongue in my pussy. I watched, growing more aroused by the minute; completely mesmerized seeing them fuck like rutting animals. Then Walker suddenly withdrew, causing a cry of consternation from Cassie. But that was short-lived. He instantly spun her around and forced her back up against the wall. I’ll swear he bit her neck as his cock searched for her wet hole again, but she didn’t react other than wail for him to put it back in—urging him to fuck her harder. Most men couldn’t do it in that position but Walker’s nine inches made it possible. He bent at the knees, lined his stiff column up and thrust deeply into her in one motion. She was pinned, her head turned to one side, body plastered to the wall as he pistoned up against her bouncing buttocks. Within minutes both were gripped in orgasm: Walker holding her firmly by her waist as Cassie’s ass played a jerky dance against his groin.

Then it was our turn. Tim had gotten me well primed as I’d watched our spouses and I was ready to reciprocate. I tugged at his clothes until I got to his underwear. Dropping to my knees put me at eye level with the impressive bulge threatening to escape his boxers. Images of other well-endowed lovers flashed through my mind. Eagerly I pulled his underwear down, revealing a short, thick cock; shaped so much like Jeff’s it made me instantly salivate. Looking up at this sexy man I licked my lips and smiled, “I think I’m going to like this very much.” Then I focused on pleasing him. As I used my ever-present scrunchie to put my long hair into a ponytail, I couldn’t help but think that this whole evening had been so different from what I’d expected. After what had happened with Michael I’d wondered if I could allow myself to fully let go again. But as I licked his thick column, then became mesmerized pulling his foreskin down to reveal his cock’s stubby, rounded head, I knew I’d let him use me, that I’d happily surrender to his desires. I wanted to again experience the sensation of floating on a cloud of rapture as a rampaging cock filled me—stretching me beyond Walker’s ability—wanting a new, masterful set of hands leading me to nirvana.

Tim reclined on the blankets and I lay beside him. I looked across his muscular body and saw that Walker and Cassie were sitting on the sofa; her back to him on his lap, her hand gently stroking his cock wedged between her spread thighs. His meaty shaft was beginning to harden, already grown long enough to wedge itself against her engorged labia. They were watching us, focusing on me; probably wondering if I’d want to do it—could give myself to someone new after my heart had been so thoroughly broken. I looked down at this willing, sexy man. He had been so much fun, and god, did I ever want his cock! I decided to show them I was finally over Michael.

“I like my men smooth,” I said as I licked his groin and cupped his soft scrotum; caressing his cum-filled balls with my tongue. I inhaled noisily and gave him a teasing look, “Umm. Smells good,” I held his stiff shaft in my other hand, then licked the broad head like an ice cream cone, making little moans of desire as I worshiped it. Looking at him, I smiled as I moved up his body, teasing him with my tongue the whole way. It ended with a long kiss; beginning as gentle play with his lower lip, tugging at it with my teeth. “Grrr, you’ll do,” I breathed. I felt like a tigress with its prey—possessive—in control. My actions became more fervid the longer I used my mouth to make him mine. Tim lay quiescent, happily accepting my role as his dominatrix. I traveled back down his chest, pausing only to nip at his erect nipples, smiling up at him before pulling one taunt with my teeth. By the time I'd returned to his groin his twitching cock was already dripping precum. I looked up at my audience and gave a devilish grin before I descended: his thickness filling my mouth in an almost forgotten way. Taking his balls in my hand I gently pulled his scrotum taunt while forcing his cock down my throat; willing myself to take it all. It was magical, to once again have sex with a hung man; savoring every sensation his hot body was causing. When I’d brought him to the edge of orgasm I stopped, pressing my fingers into the base of his cock, preventing his release. “Are you OK,” I asked? He laughed, replying, “You little vixen, you don’t know how much.” Then, without warning, he grabbed me and we wrestled until he was on top, my legs forced apart. “Ready for it?” he said, his voice challenging. I gave him a look so hot it was almost molten. “Do it,” I dared him.

In an instant my legs were over his shoulders—his strong hands cupping my butt. The tip of his cock found my delicate butterfly-shaped inner lips—but then he teased me, making me gasp with every tiny thrust past their guarding portals. He waited, wouldn’t move further until he thought me ready. It brought back another instance like this with a new man, his actions a mirror to these. Momentarily my heart ached: Michael. Fear gripped me. Oh god, no, I thought. But this man wasn’t him, I reminded myself, he wouldn’t hurt me. I wasn’t rescued from those wayward thoughts when he ordered: “Beg for it!” For just a second I saw another man above me, arrogant in his cruelty: my fat-cocked redneck. It was as if I was reliving the sharpest, most hurtful points in my life. “Jade!” I heard Walker exclaim sharply. I looked over at him and saw his concern. He held my gaze until my breathing slowed, my face relaxed from its fearful demeanor. Comforted, I returned my focus to Tim…Tim who was going to be my new lover. Walker was here, I thought, he would protect me. Accepting now, I smirked as I offered my retort. “Beg for your big, hard cock?” I taunted. “Beg to be fucked so hard I’ll see stars?” I locked my eyes with his. “I’ll only beg if you’ll make me scream.” I licked my lips in anticipation. His hands shifted to grip my waist, his gaze showing me he’d taken my challenge. I quivered in anticipation. “Give it to me,” I croaked, my voice heavy with need, “Hard! Now!”

So I got royally fucked; reamed out by a man I had known less than a full day. His wonderful cock took me to nirvana repeatedly, my cries filling the room. I lost myself, surrendering to the thousand sensations his rampant cock caused. “Baby Jesus!! Oh, God,” I screamed. It was almost too much. Tears of joy filled my eyes as he continued to use me. He wouldn’t stop, gauging when to push and when to pause. The orgasms continued, a drumbeat on my heart—sealing my fate. And then it was over as his hot essence filled me, making me his for that one special moment.

It was enough, could easily have been the end of the evening for me, but I soon discovered there was more. Though my mind still whirled from the astonishing euphoric heights Tim had taken me, I was nevertheless able to focus on my husband and his wife—back at it again. This time their lovemaking was almost languid: Cassie’s ass still firmly joined with Walker’s lap, only now his long cock was buried deep in her hairless pussy. Her breasts were so beautiful, I suddenly thought; their pendulous weight a magnet, begging me to hold them, to smother them with kisses. I looked at her face, stuck by the passion she was exhibiting, the scene reigniting the concupiscence I’d initially felt for her. I began to fidget, my face taking on a frown—only refraining from my impulse to act because the evening had been so wonderful, this couple compatible with us in so many ways. Walker chose then to catch my eye, his look acknowledging my need. He held up one heavy globe, offering it to me. All my anxiety over messing up our budding relationship fell away in an instant and I found myself sitting beside them, staring lovingly at her full orb even as my hand cupped it, testing its fullness. I looked in wonder at her then, whispering, “They’re so beautiful. You’re so lucky.” My pussy did a flip when I saw that the lust she’d shown Walker now included me. She reached out and caressed the back of my head; then drew me to her. We kissed, gently at first—focusing on the sweetness of our growing desire—then harder, more urgent, now lost in our need for each other. Once our mouths broke contact I leaned down to suckle an achingly erect nipple; drawing it fully into my mouth, my tongue tasting—teasing her hardness. She gasped, the sexy sound of her moan almost taking my breath away. I worshiped her hanging bosoms while Walker further distracted her with his insistent cock. It wasn’t until her head fell back against his shoulder that I made my descent; finally kneeling so my mouth could titillate both of them. At first I licked them indiscriminately, then focused solely on her hard protruding clitoris, but it wasn’t enough. I was greedy, wanted to possess her completely. My look up at her was beseeching; my need written clearly on my face. I begged, “Please!” She knew what I wanted and disengaged from Walker, laying on the floor with her legs spread, knees high—inviting me. Kneeling with my ass in the air, I licked and stroked her soaked pussy, pulling on her labias' minuscule inner lips, teasing her unmercifully. Then I thrust my tongue fully into her sex, desperately lapping at her juices, wild to bring her to orgasm.

Suddenly I felt hands on my hips, positioning me. Glancing back for an instant I saw Tim, his cock once again rigid, preparing to fill me. I groaned in appreciation but went back to my task. The first jarring thrust made me lose my concentration for a moment, then I lost it again as Walker wiggled beneath me, intent on making his own contribution to my bliss. Somehow I was able to continue my assault on Cassie’s cunt, taking her higher—my companion as we lost ourselves in lust. She came first, spasms jerking her body uncontrollably, crying out my name as her orgasm ripped through her,.

Then I felt an emptiness as Tim withdrew his cock from my pussy and used his mouth to lubricate my sphincter. I groaned when he re-filled my pussy. But now a new sensation was added; the inexorable pressure of his thumb penetrating my nether hole, sawing into me in time with each mighty thrust. Walker added to my arousal by rapidly vibrating my clit with his tongue. It proved too much. Stars exploded in front of me, my head jerked back and I wailed—loud—insistent. Screaming I proclaimed, “Oh baby Jesus, mother of God, I’m cumming!!” I thrashed about—lost in my wild climax, dislodging Tim in the process, finally ending curled up, my head resting on Cassie’s smooth stomach. For a few minutes I was lost as aftershocks rippled through my body.

Hearing Tim moan loudly brought me back to reality and was at first confused—I didn’t feel his cock inside me. Turning, I saw him standing beside us and Walker, my sweet love, was kneeling before him, servicing his cock. I couldn’t believe it—but it was real: my husband was sucking a man off! I couldn’t help myself but to join him, getting more aroused by the minute seeing that thick column of flesh stretch his jaws wide, moving in and out with determination. Cassie was suddenly there too, beside us with her fingers finding my clit, her mouth insistently kissing my neck. Then Tim grabbed Walker’s head with both hands and held it while he filled his mouth with cum. I was transfixed by the sight, staring blankly as Walker pulled his mouth off Tim’s still-twitching cock. I lost it when he turned and kissed me deeply, transferring sticky cum to my mouth—my orgasm so intense Cassie had to hold me up.

I was brought back to the sterile surroundings of the hospital room by Walker’s hacking cough; so sudden and intense he was helpless. Quickly going to his side I offered him a glass of water, ready for when the spasms stopped. He smiled at me and sipped, mouthing a grateful thank you. I settled on the bed beside him. “I was just thinking of the first time with Cassie and Tim,” I told him. He smiled, responding weakly, “We’re lucky to have such good friends. They’ll take care of you until I’m better.”

Twenty years of companionship and planned trysts had been punctuated by many shared vacations. It was a friendship I wished we’d had from the beginning. I smiled, a wave of love for my husband washing over me. Walker always could read me; giving me what I wanted; no that wasn’t right—tried to give me what he saw I needed.

I sighed. Things had been going along so well with us; now this. We’d get through it, I thought, focusing again on the suddenly frail man in front of me. The hospital would be his home for awhile until they decided he could walk well enough to make it on his own; though the prospect of a complete recovery wasn’t assured. As to sex it didn’t matter, I still had my rock, my faithful husband, keeping his promise to never leave me.

But change is an ever-present constant in life I was to learn…waiting to shatter the comfort of a complacent mind.

[Chrislydi]

We left the last final chapter after the emotional reunion of Jade and her Walker, a battered and mentally bruised Jade floundering in a sea of rejection and bitterness, the lingerng shadow of Michael and her forsaken longing still haunting her every moment and thought. She had needed something, someone who might begin to understand, who might know and understand her emotionally and might help her heal, she saw that lighthouse that was Walker and swam towards him desperately seeking the rescue of those rocks breaking above the waves, she clung for dear life, for rescue and for the tower of strength ahe knew her Walker could provide. It was emotion on steroids and the two ended in an embrace that meant so much. It was a masterly bit of writing and apt conclusion to a torrid time for our poor Jade, so when Walker after much thought, examined those hands he knew so well and accepted her embrace we knew a way back was possible even if there were so many unanswered loose ends and emotional turmoil ahead. The main questions about the emotional fragility of the heartbroken Jade, and that other big imponderable about her Walker who himself had fallen deeply in love for his big breasted lover hung in the air. It's why the need for an epilogue always seemed so apparent, the what happened next question that was left unanswered.

Rather like those old 1920's silent movie b/w cliffhanger serials then, you know the ones about the old steam train rattling down the track with the bad blsckhearted villains having tied our young sweet heroine to the rail track and her imminent death certain with the steam engine only seconds away. The next installment (the epilogue here) as in the start of the next episode in those old picture house cliffhangers started with a surprise, not so much cheating us by positioning the steam engine half a mile further back on the track than it had been at the end of last week's episode, with the danger nothing like as imminent, but from the point of view of meeting Walker as a frail, older and incapacitated man suffering following a ruptured disk in his back. So then there are new fresh doubts about his future mobility but all the while those many questions about what happened next remain unresolved

To answer them from the point of view of a concerned and loyal Jade reminiscing about what we had missed was a great angle and set it all up very nicely. When you leap forward many years into the future, we are told they're now in their sixties, there has to be a compression of some events in that a paragraph can contain the essence of what happened without it reflecting time passed, a necessary condensing of events to fit the narrative length and perhaps highlight the salient points rather than be absolutely reflective in all things. So we learn about Walkers lover crying and obviously extremely upset at the turn of events, her finding new love in a bereaved widower and surprisingly open to his advances before exiting the stage for a new life with him. Jade herself is still deeply troubled by the ghosts of her past, her rejection and so cold treatment from Michael, and what a nasty little unpleasant rogue of the worst kind he turned out to be, but the pain is very real and lasting. So just as for Walker with his big breasted girlfriend until she left for her new married life, Jade's continued need for Michael had prevented her too from fully committing to her new life with Walker.

And so as we come to the real meat of this epilogue it's straight into the issues that have always been the making of both the real highs and very low points of their life together. Jade still next to Walker in his hospital bed carries on reminiscing about how they went on and coped with that core 'faultline' of their previous martial discord remaining,:namely Walker's need to share her. Of course this in the past has been both a force for good and bad, the catalyst for endless great excitement and huge fireworks of an extremely positive kind and ultimate fantasies realised or the destroyer that decimates trust and wreaks indescribable havoc, wrecking their marriage. On the positive side it could add that needed edge, uncontrollable maybe but an ever so erotically charged X factor, that necessary added spice that's either explosive in it's stimulus, promoting and arousing to another level, or alternatively, as it very nearly did, simply destroys from within, insidiously infecting and rotting, an infectious virus that you can't avoid, a mould that spreads with unparalleled rapidity or an unstoppable cancer that destroys the most solid and best of marriages. Understandably Jade's experiences with Michael weigh heavily on her mind and she only reluctantly compromises and agrees to what proved the most fortuitous of decisions, to open both sides of their marriage up and to meet and swap with another couple.

At this point I must digress about our lack of understanding here in England, the Carolina shag being a form of steps and dance moves is a new discovery for me. Like most English people, shag and shagging just means to fuck unless you're talking about the qualities of a carpet or a rug, but then BDJ always did like his pupils learning something new and so it's another feather in his cap.

BDJ then describes the events of their first meeting and the animalistic lust he had for another well endowed lady in Cassie. Jade looks on and remembers her own past, In Walker pummeling Cassie she remembers others as she does when Tim's cock is unveiled. A catalogue of images of men she's known and lasting experiences she's had but still Michael haunts her, psychologically it's major and its a solid barrier in her way, a hurdle she just has to jump, and clear it she finally does with the help of her friends and her beloved Walker. Tim and Cassie provide a plethora of new and exciting experiences and notably not just straight but experiences of Jade with Cassie and Walker sucking Tim. I can't add anything to the way BDJ describes it so beautifully, erotically and sensually but can say it showed a new happiness, friendship and togetherness. Jade wasn't afraid of the ghosts of Michael as Walker her protector was nearby, her inner self was unleashed to enjoy Tim and to give herself enthusiastically. Tim and Cassie become the best of friends and many nights follow but for me this is all about what Walker and Jade are and have always been, a naive young couple who grew up together and married young but have come through the real highs and terrible lows to come out the other side, growing together and a lot stronger for it.

That second to last paragraph speaks of their now rock solid bond that's been forged anew, a path hewn through rock as hard as diamonds as life's troubles have been overcome and conquered. Any new incapacity won't defeat them, nothing will.

"I sighed. Things had been going along so well with us; now this. We’d get through it, I thought, focusing again on the suddenly frail man in front of me. The hospital would be his home for awhile until they decided he could walk well enough to make it on his own; though the prospect of a complete recovery wasn’t assured. As to sex it didn’t matter, I still had my rock, my faithful husband, keeping his promise to never leave me."

Chris and Cath (who actually pretty much dictated this, so blame her)

Apologies for so many mistakes, I posted before editing

[veub]

Of course this in the past has been the catalyst for endless great excitement and huge fireworks of an extremely positive kind, ultimate fantasies realised,

I fail to see how any of this tale (except the reconciliation) can be characterized as "extremely positive". Whatever fantasies may have been fulfilled, both Walker and Jade went through terrible times. If nothing else, Jade realized that the love of her life wasn't who she thought he was: Walker has to know that he was, and always will be, only a fall back position.