Barbara's Exposure Pt. 09 - Sex Stories

Barbara's Exposure Pt. 09

... two loads of a stranger's sperm and taken another over her belly and tits. If I went out into the street right now and dragged in the first three random men I saw, she'd fuck them too, without a moment's thought.

How could I possibly continue with a relationship where that happened?

Barbara opted to drive down to Julia's and she left that very night, just a small, hastily packed case to accompany her.

The following week was shit. Really, really shit. Empty is the only word to come close, but that doesn't even begin. I was a shell. Sure, I walked into work with the knowledge that I'd given the slut the boot, the elbow, and I could claim an element of masculinity had been reclaimed. Maybe.

But the truth was that only now could I see that for what it was. I would have taken any number of jibes, any amount of ridicule, of disparaging comments about Barbara, just for one glance of those smiling, happy eyes. I could see it so clearly now. Yes, Barbara was a slut. A rare, beautiful diamond. A drop of water in a desert. The last piece in the jigsaw. Being a slut didn't lessen her, it made her who she was.

How many women existed like her? Julia, granted, there was one. But I'd never met another and I was never likely to. She was happy, she loved me, I knew it. And I loved her. And yet I chose to cast her aside. And, corny as it sounded, when I'd done so I'd also forsaken a huge chunk of myself. I knew I'd never be the same person without her. I'd ripped out my soul. And ...

... for what? Keeping up appearances?

The chance meeting with Mark, just walking out of the supermarket, confirmed it.

"Are you completely mental?" was his reaction to the news that I'd chosen to dispense with the lovely woman who'd cheerfully coaxed three loads of sperm from him just the other day. "Listen. I don't know if there's any chance it's not too late. And I appreciate I may not have the full picture. But let me tell you this.

"I would happily, right now, give up my life, my marriage, my children even. If I could turn the clock back and have a chance with a girl like Miss Stainthorpe. If the choice is a woman who loves sex -- maybe too much for some people's liking, but it can't be argued she loves it, right?

"If the choice is that or what I have -- what most men have, let's be honest. It's no choice. Yes, she's free and easy, so what? I saw the way she looked at you. Even as she was doing the most unspeakable things. If there's a semblance of a chance you can get that back, then you need to try."

And so, here I was. I knew it before Mark had spelled it out but hearing it from a voice other than my own had helped. My heart was in my mouth as the gate of Julia and Charles' huge and beautiful house slid open.

I'd called Babs as soon as I'd got home after speaking to Mark. I was a mess. One week without her and I was broken, ruined.

She hadn't held a grudge, or made me beg or suffer. She did have to check with Charles and Julia that it was OK for me to ...