Allegra
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All Right Ch. 01 free porn video
This is the first of six chapters. Developments take time. Thanks to GrandTeton for editorial assistance.
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All right, all right, it’s a strange marriage or relationship or whatever you think it is. You think I don’t know that? You want to talk strange, though, you want to know how it got that way.
I married my wife, Stacey, five years ago. It had been one of those forever things. We’d been going out since we were fourteen, all through high school and then through university together. Neither of us had ever been with anyone else. It had been expected that we’d get married after graduation, and we did.
Were we in love? I don’t know. Her happiness was important to me. The sex was good, maybe not earth-shattering, but enjoyable for both of us, and frequent. We had two girls to prove it. We enjoyed each other’s company. Maybe we were in love.
Then it all fell apart. Sort of. I think it would have been easier if it had gone all the way blooey, but I wouldn’t be as happy today if it had.
Stacey discovered that, after all, she really loved women more than men, or at least one woman better than the man she had. You can imagine how I felt. We’d been sexually active with each other for eight years, three years before we got married (neither of us could put up with waiting for marriage, though like good little Presbyterians we probably should have) and all five years since. We pushed the limits when Stacey was pregnant and it wasn’t just me.
Barbara came into our lives after Stacey’s class had a reunion party that had migrated from the downtown hotel where it had started to somebody’s lakefront home – it was far too grand to be called a cottage. The lake had once been part of the city’s water supply before the metropolitan area outgrew it. Somehow, Stacey and Barbara had ended up together in one of the guest bedrooms and nature had run its course. Both of them tried to explain how it had happened, but I guess it was just one of those things. Neither of them was too clear on how they had got together or started to experiment and then found themselves flat out in love with each other. They were trying so hard to explain to me what had happened that I really don’t think they know exactly how it happened. It was earth shattering for both of them. For me, too, though in a very different way.
Stacey was really quite broken up about it. She didn’t want to lose me. A lesbian relationship wouldn’t do her any good in a custody battle, either, especially if we came up against one of the crusty older generation family court judges, and she was devoted to the girls. Most of the judiciary accepted same-sex relationships as at least as good a bond for children as more conventional relationships. It didn’t really matter. I loved my girls and I wouldn’t deprive them of their mother whatever hell she was putting me through.
My problem was trying to understand what was going on. I suppose it was more difficult simply because Stacey didn’t know what was happening inside her or to her, either. Barbara seemed to have a better idea, but better wasn’t good. I simply had no understanding at all, though I really tried hard to sort out what was happening to my family – our family.
‘Robert, I think I don’t know what’s going on in my head at all. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose Barbara. I don’t want to lose the girls. I can’t decide who comes first. Do I really need to sacrifice anything?’
The way it seemed to be working out was that Stacey had determined that she really did love me, just not in that way, anymore. For that, she had Barbara, whom she loved pretty much as much as she loved me, only they could get physical. She loved the girls, too. What made it quite difficult to sort out was that Barbara clearly loved Stacey, and the girls, and loved me, too, in a non-physical way. I found Barbara to be quite loveable myself, and that surprised the hell out of me considering what she’d done to my marriage.
We actually tried a threesome once, which might have resolved the upset even if it resulted in a strange kind of ménage à trois, but it didn’t work. None of us really thought it would, but it was worth a shot since all three of us wanted to stay together. Barbara couldn’t hide her distaste when I touched her in a sexual way, even accidentally. Stacey couldn’t hide that she preferred Barbara’s touch to my own, even when I did the same things to her as Barbara did. Neither of them really wanted to touch me though Stacey tried. Even what we’d done with each other to our mutual joy six months ago was only endured.
I couldn’t understand it, and neither could Stacey and Barbara, since we readily shared hugs, comforted each other when we needed it, kissed in greeting, shared a limited kind of love among ourselves. When the love shifted to sexuality, what used to be the fullest expression of our love for each other, everything shut down except between the two of them.
As it worked out when we tried the threesome, I was the spectator at a lesbian love fest. It probably was pretty hot, and both women were clearly satiated when it was done. However, I didn’t get off on being a voyeur and intensely satisfying as watching the same sex on a porn site might have been, all I could see was an attractive woman taking my wife away from me. Actually, it was quite clear that she’d already done that. I couldn’t even hate her. She’d had no intention of doing that at all. It had just happened.
A night of a little fun between one woman somewhat inclined to be gay, Barbara, who nevertheless had enjoyed a couple of heterosexual relationships, and one woman determinedly heterosexual, Stacey, who might even have been a touch homophobic, had laid the foundations of what might as well have been one of the great loves of our times. No one had tried for it, no one had expected it, no one really wanted it, and no one could do anything about it. Apart from the sexual side of it, I wasn’t even shut out of the love we all shared. I’d never heard of a relationship developing in that way, and neither had the others.
Barbara had been terribly apologetic. She had been the catalyst, I suppose you could call it, for a change that might have ruined my marriage. On the other hand, she was too nice a woman to blame for something that just struck out of the blue. I suppose I could have hated her. It wouldn’t have done any good. The damage was done. It would just have hurt Stacey, and through her our daughters. I’m not that great a person, but I did leave the hatred out of what was going on in my head. I knew neither of the others hated, either.
I couldn’t even say that my marriage was ruined. Being loved by both Stacey and Barbara was very comforting. Not having sex was horribly frustrating. It would have been easier to deal with if they’d just excluded me. Then it would have been clear that I had to go. Not far enough so I couldn’t see the girls, but away. But they didn’t. Except for sex, I was included in everything, even their love.
How do you deal with a change like that? Stacey and I had been still very active sexually with each other. Now, for me, all of a sudden there was nothing. I’d only ever been with Stacey in my life. To be truthful, I never really wanted to be with anyone else, though like any male I’d had fantasies. I suppose it was time to act out my fantasies. I didn’t want to. Really, I just wanted Stacey back, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Stacey’s and Barbara’s love for each other was a far cry from a temporary infatuation, though I tried to fool myself into believing that for a while. It was strong enough to let me into it. I suppose that should have told me that it wasn’t going to go away. Since I was a part of it, I wasn’t going to go away, either. The girls needed a father, too.
I moved into the spare room, Stacey and Barbara shared the master bedroom and the girls continued to share their room.
Stacey swore she still loved me. If you discount the sex sid
e of it, she probably did. She was certainly as caring as she’d ever been, as comfortable, as loving. So was Barbara after she’d worked through the initial discomfort. It didn’t feel as if I was being cuckolded under my own roof. It was more like Stacey had gone through a sea change that took the physical out of our love and our marriage, but had only strengthened our other ties. I guess if I stayed around I was going to learn all about platonic love. Whatever physical love Stacey had in her went to Barbara.
Barbara was actually a loving soul. She was almost as easy to be around as Stacey was. She clearly cared for me as much as Stacey did, and I found myself caring for her, too. More of that goddamned platonic love.
Maybe I can work up a really good hate on Plato. It wouldn’t do as much totally unfair damage to Stacey or Barbara, or my daughters, as any other hate I could work up, but it would be just as useless, I think. Who really gives a good goddamn what I think about some dead Greek?
A big part of my problem in resolving a situation where I supposed that otherwise I’d just leave was that I still loved Stacey and I couldn’t reject the love she still held out to me. Then I came to love Barbara, too. But no sex. What a cockeyed mess.
‘So how do we sort out what’s going on for us all?’ Barbara asked one night after the girls were in bed.
‘It’s not fair that Robert has to go without sex,’ Stacey added. ‘We can’t give it to him. Robert, do you think you could go with a guy, so it would look like there’s two standard couples in the household?’
‘Not unless I have an epiphany that would rival St. Paul’s, love. It’s not the way I’m wired.’
‘Well,’ Barbara put in, ‘that leaves us all trying to find you a woman who could put up with this mess.’
‘We’ll need to change our living arrangements, then, or daddy trying out a potential housemate will confuse the daylights out of the girls.’
‘I think we’re all agreed that we want Robert to stay? And that if he can resolve his problem he wants to stay?’
Not surprisingly, since we’d put up with this screwy mess for a couple of months already, we were all agreed. The next step, apparently, was to go house hunting. The three of us each made enough that based on our combined earnings we could easily carry a hefty mortgage. We agreed that we wouldn’t put our own house up for sale until we were certain that we’d managed to resolve the problem with some degree of permanency. It was possible that we wouldn’t be able to resolve our issues, and I’d leave. The house would give me somewhere to go. I suppose in theory Barbara might leave, in which case we’d let her use the house, but that didn’t seem too likely given how close she and Stacey were to each other. Stacey would never leave the girls and no one would ever ask her to. The girls needed a mother even more than they needed a father, though I’d never go far enough away to make that an issue. They’d always have a father, too.
Saturday morning we bundled the girls into the car. Their car seats took up a lot of space in back, but there was just enough room between them for Barbara, who was the smallest of us, to squeeze in and get the seatbelt fastened. Stacey and I were in front. I think we were both happy Barbara was there to keep a close eye on each of the girls. At four and two the girls were just starting to be exploratory. Frances could undo some of the restraints if she worked at it, though Cynthia was unlikely to create problems until she was let loose.
Both sets of parents – all three, if you counted Barbara’s – lived too far away to be convenient child care, though close enough we could visit easily. We hadn’t gone to Barbara’s parents yet. I think we were kind of hoping we could have things sorted out better before we did. They were aware that Barbara had moved in with a woman who had a couple of young children. They were, if not comfortable with Barbara’s inclination, at least accepting of it. They didn’t know about me, the leftover husband who was hanging around in some vague position in the relationship. Stacey had let her parents know that she was seeing someone, a woman, and that I was still very much in the picture as well. I’m sure they had lurid visions when we went to see them, but Barbara is a very pleasant and visibly conformist person, so by the time we left they were just confused. Welcome to the club.
I had no idea what to tell my parents, so Barbara just came along when we took the kids to visit them. I didn’t try to explain her presence. I don’t know what they thought of her, beyond the fact that she was a nice young woman who got along well with the girls. Maybe that’s all they really wanted to know.
Stacey had gone to the realtors the day before to make a connection and set up some appointments to view available properties. She’d passed on what we’d decided we needed: four bedrooms in the main house, a two-bedroom apartment (at least) by way of a separate rental unit or an in-law suite, easy access between the two that could be shut off, a decent yard, preferably fenced, no pool (too dangerous for the girls) and parking for at least three vehicles. We hadn’t specified a price range. The realtors had come up with a half dozen options that met the criteria and another couple that they said were close. We had arranged to meet them at the first appointment at ten. The girls had us up at six, as usual, so we hadn’t been pressed for time.
The first house looked to be just about exactly what we’d asked for. There was a large main house with five bedrooms. There were extensive grounds. The apartment over the three-car garage had two large bedrooms. You had to go outside to get into the main house, but it was an easy walk. There was a pool, but it was well-fenced, so there really wouldn’t be a problem apart from the maintenance. There was a separate play area. I wasn’t that stuck on how far the apartment was from the main house. I’d kind of hoped for something meshed a little more tightly with the main living area so the girls could sort of flow between the two living areas as their inclinations took them, but there were a lot of advantages, even luxuries, in both living areas.
The realtors, two women in their early thirties who had the look of sisters, explained all the special features of the property. There were a great many of them. They did admit the apartment was not quite as close in as we’d specified. They also admitted it was a tad pricey. At eight million dollars, just a tad, I thought. Barbara smiled happily at the realtors and suggested that we could move on and see the rest of what they had set up before committing to any one of them. I guess she figured if I didn’t get out of there soon I’d just keel over and die of apoplexy. Bless them, neither Stacey nor Barbara wanted that.
Number two was a near duplicate of the first, with an equally appalling price tag. It seemed that failure to meet our standards only applied to meeting most of them, as neither of the first two properties we were shown were considered by the realtors to be deficient. I suppose we still had to look forward to the two that were so far off what we’d asked for that they actually admitted it.
The third property we were shown was a three bedroom bungalow with a granny flat in the basement, one bedroom. Not nearly enough room for the girls. Stacey told the realtors no as soon as she saw it. The next one was a big old house that had five bedrooms but no separation, and no easy way to create one. It was better than what we had, but not nearly what we had decided we needed. That was a no, too.
I wonder whether realtors operate on the theory of bait and switch, showing us the glamorous properties first, knowing they are so far out of any reasonable person’s price range that we’ll accept anything that has a more reasonable price tag. Maybe they work on the theory of exhaustion. By the time we get through looking at all the properties they’ve set us up for we’ll be so zombified that we’ll sign anyth
ing they put in front of us. Maybe I’m just so tired of looking at properties for sale that I’m inventing conspiracy theories to keep my mind going.
House number five, out of the six ‘compliant ones’, was four bedrooms with a modular unit dropped in for use as a granny flat. Not quite perfect, but getting there. I remembered reading that our city’s zoning required granny flats to be removed when granny left, for a home or for the Elysian Fields. The City didn’t much care which. I asked the realtors and they promised to check. That meant it wouldn’t work, which was too bad. I probably couldn’t rely on a denial, but when they didn’t even bother to deny my objection I knew it was a genuine and unsolvable problem. Zoning and parking were the twin pillars of municipal government policy where we lived. The council didn’t even pay attention to barking dogs.
The last of the compliant houses didn’t have a pretense of a separate apartment. It was a three-bedroom split level that was smaller than the house we had. The realtors did apologize for having misread the listing, which would have been pretty hard to do. I think they wanted to wear us down with six before scaring us with the non-compliant ones. Maybe we’d actually be able to scare up eight million. Worth a shot given the size of the commission involved.
The seventh, first of the two that didn’t meet our standards, was actually closer to what we wanted than any before. It was a six-unit apartment building. We could have turned the two-bedroom apartment on the second floor into a four-bedroom unit with a little renovation, just by merging the two apartments on that floor. I could take the larger unit on the ground floor, and that would leave three more units to rent out to help cover the mortgage. The yard was all paved, for parking, and apart from the little front lawn there really wasn’t any yard for the girls. It had promise, though, and I left it as an option if there wasn’t anything else. We might be able to pick up a little extra land.
The final viewing for the day was one that seemed to embarrass the realtors, which was a surprise since I didn’t think it was possible to embarrass them after what they’d been showing us all day as meeting our specifications, when not one had. The realtors worked well together, sometimes playing us off against each other (harder when there were three of us, rather than the couple they usually dealt with), sometimes playing good cop bad cop, sometimes playing crooked realtor/straight realtor. They were all techniques designed to get us to make up our minds and buy something. After all, we’d already told them we wanted to buy something.
What they had for us was a side-by-side duplex, called semi-detached in some areas. It was not what we’d specified at all, but it was at least as suitable for our purposes. Unlike many, both sides were being sold as a unit. It had a fair-sized lot with a lot of room for the girls once I got a fence up. That was within my capabilities. There was a single front door so it actually looked like a large house. Once inside, there were side by side doors to the two units. That would work perfectly for the degree of separation we’d decided was required. Full connection when we were all home en famille, but fully separated when I was, uh, interviewing. A door in the party wall would make us even more connected.
Each side had three bedrooms up and a fourth bedroom or study on the main floor, which extended out behind for an extra room, providing a very nice outdoor sitting area on the second floor. The two units each had an attic and a dry if unfinished basement. The price was quite low, the neighbourhood was acceptable, travel time to our various jobs was reasonable. It looked to be time to sign papers. We’d better have a quick look.
Oh boy.
The story that came out was that the property had been tied up in an estate for four years. The two units had been rented but the executors hadn’t paid much attention to their tenants, and the tenants had done damage beyond belief. The floor coverings would all have to be replaced, wall-to-wall carpet and linoleum alike. There was significant damage to the plasterboard on the walls. The ceilings were in generally good shape but there were a couple of holes, and the mounting brackets for the ceiling mirror in the master bedroom on what would have been my side had just been ripped out. Several of the electrical fixtures appeared to have been pulled out of the walls. Lots and lots of cosmetic defects but no apparent structural damage.
Lauryn
- 28.11.2020
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