Chapter 5 #3
Yes, she loved me… yes, she wanted to be a mom and for us to have a family. But could she really give this all up? Give Thomas up for a sex life that was big on love but short on Thomas-sized thrills?
After Benson, she’d tried. After her first night with Thomas, she’d tried again, determined her and Thomas would be a one time thing. And at Easter, rather than end things as we’d agreed, she’d found an alibi for the two of them carrying on as lovers.
So far, she was 0-for-3, so what were the chances that, come July 4th, she’d finally succeed—end things with Thomas, go back to being monogamous with me, and start a family?
And being fair to Sash, what the chances I’d help her in this difficult change? Until the last Easter change, I’d always been just as complicit as her in our failed attempts to stop.
Those depressing thoughts were the last thing going through my head before booze finally allowed me to sleep.
But at least, aside from a splitting headache, things did start finally improving the next day.
When I finally woke from my a very fitful (half booze, half angst) night of sleep, I was happy to discover two things. No Thomas in the house, and Sasha’s warm, sleeping body spooned next to mine.
With her soft ass next to my groin, reaching around to cup her boobs was a thought I was incapable of resisting. The gentle kisses to her neck that came next a lovely way to start the day for both of us.
I may not have been the stud that Thomas was, but Sasha seemed happy enough as we held each other, kissed tenderly and made love like two people with the deepest of emotional connections. My seed eventually joining what I’d not managed to suck out the night before.
The two of us cuddled afterwards. I was thinking how much fun we were going to have trying for kiddo number one. My instincts told me she was thinking similar thoughts, but almost certainly mixed in with thoughts of how she was going to miss her big-dicked Boyfriend for the next two weeks.
Maybe I’m being unfair to Sasha, because after a shorter than usual travel week for both of us, she was hyper loving and attentive when I back on Thursday and surprised her with a romantic long weekend..
Friday morning, still fatigued from our respective weeks, we were both quiet as we made the five-hour drive up the I-75.
A five-hour drive after the respective weeks we’d had? Any destination except Mackinac Island would have made this the dumbest of decisions.
But Sasha had always loved the place. It’s where I’d proposed to her and where, when schedules allowed, we’d come to celebrate special wedding anniversaries.
Abandoning the car at Mackinaw City, my beloved’s face had the biggest of smiles as we rolled our bags onto Shepler’s Ferry, and let the cold air off Lake Huron blow the last of the cobwebs and waft us back to early vacations and memories.
Checking in to the Grand Hotel, with its long white facade, lakeside views and old world charm, she nearly hugged the life out of me when the front desk clerk gave her the key.
“There you go, Miss… your key… First Lady Balcony Suite.” It was the suite we’d stayed in right back in 2000 when we’d gotten engaged.
I had a feeling Mr. Jason Spencer was going to be a lot more loved up by the end of the weekend than any member of the South African Pilot’s guild…
no matter how handsome or big is cock was…
Our three days on the island were truly wonderful and restorative. The memories, the romantic walks and excellent meals on an Island that banned cars and preferred the timeless charms of horse-drawn transport were special enough.
But what made the three days heavenly was all the talking we did on our walks or in bed after we’d made love.
There was hardly any mention of Thomas. All the talk was about the love and years we’d already shared and about what was coming next. Sasha being the first one to giggle, wondering if one day we’d bring our own kids here.
“We could bore them to tears… do our own special version of ‘How I Met Your Mother’, well sort of…” The reference to one of our favorite TV shows and how we might one day bore our as yet unborn children soon had both of us in fits of laughter.
When we’d finally stopped laughing, Sasha was observant enough to spot the briefest of clouds pass across my face. And after everything we’d shared over the years, she knew me well enough to know exactly what caused the momentary cloud.
“Don’t worry, Jason, sweetheart… I know we were both too weak to end things after Benson… and to resist Thomas… but I promise you that when all your travelling’s done, we’ll do what we said… July 4th will mark our very own Independence Day…”
With Sasha’s promise—and all our talk about us, our love, and the family we hoped to have—by the time we headed home on Monday, I was in a far better place.
I finally believed her heart was where it needed to be, and that in six weeks’ time we could break free from the life we’d been living for more than four years.
I was ready. She was ready.
We had a final few weeks to enjoy the lifestyle of a black-on-white hotwife and her cuckold husband—then, onwards and upwards to the next phase of our life together.