They had been fighting. She had been cheating. He had been cheating. They just weren’t taking this marriage seriously. There was blame on both sides. But they were in the kitchen and there were knives. When she screamed at him and waved the carving knife in the air as she was cutting up the meat for dinner, he asked for a divorce.
It was amicable really. The marriage was over plain and simple. She slept with two of his brothers and he slept with her best friend. It was a time to party, so they signed the papers and went out to lunch. They remained friends for several years.
Still he couldn’t get her off his mind. He fantasized about having her in all sorts of situations: in a canoe on the lake, in the river bed on polished rocks, in the woods on a blanket, at the beach in the life guard tower… but she never fucked him again.
He had been a stalwart lover. He could stay rock hard for hours – thrusting and thrusting until she came finally, unexpectedly. Fucking had been an event for them, almost like an exercise. Afterwards they would eat huge plates of spaghetti with jalapenos and a fried egg on top.
She never told him about fucking his brothers, but her best friend, Dee Dee, described in detail the illicit tryst with her husband. According to Dee Dee, all they did while they were in bed was talk about Kristie, how much they both loved her, and how hot she was in the sack.
Some friend. Dee Dee had the habit of fucking all her best friends’ husbands which was why they weren’t friends anymore. Divorce is hard.
