Dont Judge A Book By The Cover
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Don't Judge A Book Ch. 1 free porn video
Sunday 12th May 2019
It had been a long nine days.
A very long nine days.
The last nine days had marked the crescendo of a two-year period that had turned our marriage upside down. I’m one of those people who enjoys classical music but doesn’t know all the technical terms. But the last two years reminded me of one of those classical pieces which starts incredibly slowly and builds, bit by bit, through various levels of drama until a noisy and unbearable climax assails the audience that has been ratcheted tighter and tighter until surely something will give.
Think 1812 Overture, with its several soaring sweeps of strings and horns whisking you higher and higher, until finally the cannon booms out to mark the ultimate journey’s destination.
Sitting alone swirling my glass of malt, the parallel seemed complete. The obvious parallel, the deafening boom of the cannon was an apt description of the dramatic situation that these last nine days had brought us to. After two years of slow but accelerating build-up, and the less obvious parallel, a tale told me by a distant music teacher of a brand new multi-million-dollar concert hall that had opened with the 1812, and the use of a real cannon at the death. And how the blast from the real cannon, even firing blanks, had caused an end-to-end crack in the fabric of the proud new hall.
Even in my hour of crisis, the irony of this thought made me smile. Was the hall and that crack the true and final picture of my marriage? A hall and a marriage undermined by something that had seemed so exciting and novel at the time. As the tune and the cannon played out in part of my mind, the rest of my mind was occupied by memories from two summers ago.
Until that fateful summer day, Jill's and my marriage had been one where a stranger’s view from the outside would have accurately discerned the internal goings-on. But more and more these last two years, judging our marriage by such outward appearances would have led to deeply misleading conclusions. It was as if the old adage ‘Never judge a book by its cover’ had been invented for Jill and me, to describe the slowly unwinding twists and turns that had brought us to this moment of truth.
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Saturday July 22nd 2017
I had to smile. It was a sight I’d grown used to over many years of marriage to Jill. It was a hot summer’s day and we’d thrown a neighborhood BBQ and pool party. Jill was dressed in a fairly standard bikini, and there were plenty of other women at the party. But nonetheless, the wolves were gathering.
I smiled to myself. It was nothing that Jill couldn’t easily handle. Nothing she wasn’t used to and hadn’t been used to since her high school years, and no doubt even before that. A forty-four-year-old mother of three, she’d not lost it. Not even slightly. Pretty face plus great body plus a kind, fun-loving, and warm personality. Since I’d known her, barely a party had gone by without some guy or another hitting on her.
And today was no exception; today Jill had excelled herself. Although that’s a little harsh and unfair, because she’d done nothing to attract the attention of the three men currently paying court to her. It was just nature’s way. Three single, available guys trying it on with the most desirable and sexiest woman at the party.
Never mind that her ring finger sported three levels of evidence of her love and commitment to another man. And maybe I couldn’t blame them. We weren’t part of it, but like many a bored suburban community, our little piece of McMansion heaven boasted at least two wife-swapping and swinging circles that Jill and I knew about. We’d never been tempted to join, but we had several friends who were current or past members of these groups. In such a community and hotbed, I guess I couldn’t bring myself to gainsay any of the three wolves currently laying siege to my bikini-clad wife.
I’ve always been a keen student of human psychology, and knowing that none of these three Romeos had a chance with my wonderful wife, I livened the boring task of flipping burgers with keeping a quiet eye on the three rutting males. mentally running a book as to who was ahead, happy in the knowledge that they were just also-rans who stood no chance versus the form book favorite: yours truly, the Burger Kid.
First out of the blocks was Craig, an Australian thoroughbred with strong form. Six-one, the youngest in the field at a mere twenty-seven years old, he was the classic ‘heart-breaker’ barman. Blond of locks with a surfer’s body, I knew for a fact that since he’d arrived as barman at the local country club he’d slept with many a local woman. Including at least five of the women at our pool party, the split being two single and three married. Whenever Jill and I were at the country club, he never missed a chance to flirt with my wife. And I was as sure, as a man can be, that he’d love to add my sexy wife to his roll call of American wives bedded. Jill always gave as good as she got, and I had little doubt that this just sharpened Craig’s desire to one day bed my wife.
As the four of them laughed and joked, Craig’s wisecracks and macho posturing were well matched by the second of the rutting stags: Byron, our new neighbor. Altogether more quiet and thoughtful than the noisy Australian barman, Byron was six-six and taught Physical Ed at the local high school, from which our three had graduated not so long ago. Any professional career he might have had was cut short by injury, but there was not one single ounce of bitterness or regret in him. When he talked about the teams he coached or the sporting laggards he gently coaxed and encouraged, he came alive with an energy and kindness that was positively hypnotic.
If Jill hadn’t been happily married and in love with the Burger Kid, I think I’d have fancied his chances of seducing my good lady. He was eleven years younger than Jill, but if she’d not been happily and contentedly tethered to me, my gut told me that Byron’s enthusiastic idealism, and twenty-four-carat commitment to his wards, would have been a magnet to the loving core of my Jill.
While I felt sure Byron’s genuineness and generosity of spirit would have trumped Craig’s showy bravado, so the dark horse in the BBQ pack was Callan. A year older than Jill, definitely the old man in the field, he was a newcomer to the field as a result of a broken heart from a wife who’d recently run off with another guy. He was a dark horse by reference to his history. He and Jill had dated for the two years before she and I had met, only breaking it off when Callan had ended it to date, and then marry, the woman who’d recently broken his heart. As our own relationship had developed, after a respectable and appropriate time, Jill had opened up to me about how she’d loved Callan before he’d broken her heart. The four of us had lived in the same neighborhood and even been friends with no seeming problems or aftertaste, but with Callan now a single man again sometimes my worry glands did overtime, considering whether his change in status might be a distant cloud on the horizon.
But whatever their history, I knew the depth and extent of Jill’s love for me and her commitment to our love and family, causing any such doubts to disperse even quicker than they arrived. But seeing Callan giving as good as he got amongst this field of three young bucks did make me have more than a second thought or two.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No longer as young as my mind thought I was, I breathed a sigh of tiredness as I reached the top of the stairs, smiling and refreshed as I opened the door to our bedroom to see the way Jill’s shapely ass filled and shaped the royal blue fabric of her bikini bottoms. A perfect heart shape, sort of, only topped by the sway, shape, and fullness of her lovely breasts, displayed for me momentarily as Jill changed out of her bikini and donned her nightdress.
She caught me looking at her, and something in my gaze made her smile. Maybe pleased that, even after twenty-three years together, she could still have this effect on me.
I loved looking at her sexy body, which nearly excited me as much as it had back in 1994 when we’d first met. Back then Jill had still been dating Callan. We’d only got together when Jill was on the rebound after Callan had dumped Jill for Charlotte, the girl he was later to marry.
Jill wiggled her ass and grinned at me. Sexy minx. I loved this woman. Making her smile as without a word, or a by-your-leave, I removed her nightdress and bikini bottoms and put all this afternoon’s voyeuristic frustration to good use, kissing, touching, and caressing until Jill was as hot, bothered, and frustrated as I was. Our eyes locked as she felt me finally get all the way inside her. Two people deeply in love, using our bodies to sign and witness our love and life together.
Ten minutes later we were snuggling and cuddling, and it was me who brought up the subject of Jill’s rutting trio of admirers.
“So, who was you’re favorite?”
Jill feigned innocence. There was a tiny bit of doubt, but I was pretty sure she knew what I meant.
“Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
Jill’s beaming smile marked the end of her feigned innocence. And mock innocence gave way to mock teasing. At least I took it as mock teasing.
“What a question to ask a girl!”
She looked across at my smile and knew she wasn’t in trouble and that I wanted to play.
“But, if you really want to know, I guess I ought to give it some thought.”
If she’d not opted for a career in teaching, Jill could have been a fine actress.
“Well, of course, what girl could resist the healthy beach life and charms of Craig? He’s such a naughty boy, and I guess every girl wants to sometimes break free from the bonds of everyday life and taste the freedom of the beach life and the allure of foreign lands.”
She’d held my gaze as she’d twisted my tail. I couldn’t complain as I’d been the one to ask the question. Seeing, as she knew she would, not even the slightest negative reaction, my smart and mischievous wife twisted one more time.
“But on the other hand, there’s something deep and soulful about Byron. What do they say, ‘Still waters run deep.’ If Craig’s the bad-boy charmer, Byron’s the soulful poet that appeals to the tender mother within.”
She paused to let her words sink in, face perfectly straight, studying me for reactions and the smallest of micro-expressions. Seeing what she wanted, her lips twisted into a smile as she judged the third of the panel.
“And Callan.” Her words were followed by a long pause that set my heart on edge. “Callan, dear sweet Callan. Who once upon a time broke my heart. And now? Now, with a broken heart all of his own.”
The teasing slowly receded as Jill and I continued to cuddle, enjoying our coupledom and marriage of heart and soul, as we discussed the day and all the things we’d seen and heard at the party. Jill already knew I’d been discreetly spying on her and her trio of admirers – she’d caught me looking and grinned an acknowledgement a couple of times. And after my initial playful question about her preference amongst the trio of stags, we settled into a more serious discussion which centred on Callan and Byron and their personal lives.
Because although the pool-side conversations I’d observed had been flirty and non-serious, I knew that Jill’s nature had allowed her to puncture their male bravado. And that in the previous months she’d developed genuine friendships with Byron and Callan. And even Craig.
As Callan had struggled with the implosion of his marriage to Charlotte, Jill had comforted him and listened to his sad ramblings over more than one long evening. Not surprising, given their previous history.
Maybe more surprising was how Jill had become a close confidant of Byron during the three months he’d been living next door to us, sharing a house with another couple of young teachers at the high school. Byron’s story was altogether more unconventional than Callan’s. Before he’d moved into our community, he’d been living in LA and had been involved in a menage-a-trois relationship with a white married couple. For six months all had been sweetness and life until Byron and the wife found themselves falling in love and getting closer in the second six months. The wife had been all for leaving her husband of twenty years and setting up a home with Byron. But Byron’s moral compass, raised by a God-fearing hell-fire-and-damnation mother, told him differently. And he upped stakes and left the infatuated wife back in LA as he made a new and anonymous home here in Miami.
But Craig was the biggest surprise of them all. Cocky bravado personified – think of every cocky Australian you’ve ever met and square it, and then add some for good measure – Craig’s bravado was masking an unhappy childhood as a powerless only child who’d seen his mother beaten and assaulted by a drunk father in Sydney. Craig had finally pumped enough iron and grown old and big enough to mete out Old Testament justice on the man he was ashamed to call father. He’d then had the good sense to skip the country before the police had caught up with him and his baseball bat. With no hint of shame, he’d shown Jill the photos of his ‘father’ imbibing liquids through a tube in a New South Wales hospital.
As Jill and I snuggled and chatted, I had no inkling how today’s events would have such a profound and existential impact on our marriage.
(Thanks to Cbears52 for his editing and checking.)
Kierra
- 04.07.2021
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