The Failed MarriageExternal Link/Members OnlyI’m proper fucked up. I get the same dream every couple of months. I am with my first wife – let’s call her Clare. We are stood in the hallway and I am telling her how wonderful the future will be for us, I’ve been saving for us to visit New York you see, and I talk about children and growing old together. But she is unhappy and distracted and she looks directly at me and says ‘I don’t love you anymore’. And I am trying to compute what I have just heard, and I am trying not to cry and then I’m stood on at the end of the drive as she puts a suitcase in the boot and then I see the tail lights at the end of the road, and our marriage is no more.
And even though it is over 20 years ago, I am not able to shake off the black dog of that failed relationship. I think anyone who opened up their heart enough to love without restraint and subsequently were devastated by loss knows that in that moment you are forever changed. A part of you is no longer whole. Some will never love again with that level of abandon where life is perceived as innocent and the threat of loss seems implausible. Love and loss, therefore, are linked.
My best mate told me that a broken heart is just the growing pains necessary so that you can love more completely when the real thing comes along. I’m not sure I go along with that theory.
I saw Clare about 4 weeks ago coming out of the supermarket. She looked the same and whenever she now sees me she has taken to putting her arms around me and giving me a hug and kissing me on the cheek like you do with some long held friend. The next thing she will start doing no doubt is telling me she is sorry about how she left me for someone else I daresay.
But when I saw her in the supermarket car park, all I could picture was turning her around, bending her over and eating out her arse hole, her pushing herself against my tongue and telling me to eat her shitter and whilst she is doing that she’s putting her purse away and checking her vouchers. Just like the old days. She still had nice 34d tits, small waist and nice arse – she always looked great in a bikini.
And so I’m sat reflecting at home on last night’s dream, and I’m thinking that I would like to see a hooker who reminds me physically of Clare and I look at the rota at the Directors Lodge and I see that Paige is working today and I think that she sort of fits the bill in terms of her physical appearance. And the next thing I am doing is dialling the number and speaking to the receptionist who tells me that Paige is available to at 3:30 and so I settle down and think about what I’m about to do with Paige.
The thing about the Director’s Lodge is that it has a darkness to it. It always reminds me of the kind of makeover that Fred West would have created. My favourite room is the upstairs one with the iron bed frame and the well-used porn magazines. And I’m sat on the bed wanking myself enthusiastically over an old copy of Escort magazine, and I start to wonder who actually buys these nowadays, especially with the internet an all. And I’ve selected a photo of a tanned busty princess with dark hair to wank myself over whilst I wait for Paige, and I have a couple of sniffs of poppers to help proceedings along. I try to turn the page, but I notice that there are 2 pages stuck together and so I don’t get to see what the dark haired princess is doing on the next page. Hopefully, she is on all fours with a couple of fingers up her shitter.
And then I hear the footsteps and the door opens and Paige comes in looking all tanned, tattooed and stunning, and she takes a look at me and tells me to sniff some more poppers and I follow her instructions. And she comes over to me and rubs her pussy over my thigh and puts her tongue in my mouth and asks me what I’ve been thinking about. And before I know it, I’m telling her all about Clare and my failed first marriage. And Paige takes to this banter very enthusiastically and she starts to explain to me why Clare left me, and tells me that Clare probably thought I was a pathetic little cunt who wasn’t able to satisfy her and what sort of girl after all would stay with a man who likes to eat hookers’ arseholes out for pleasure. And with that she starts to peel down her knickers and she invites me to put my tongue into her arse and she positions herself on all fours and pulls open her ass – and I am in there with my tongue and whilst this is going on Paige is instructing me to sniff more poppers and she is asking me more questions about Clare and what she liked to do and she tells me that Clare was probably being fucked all the time by different men whilst she was with me, getting spunked on, fucked up the arse and pissed on probably, and that she was a right slut.
And then after about 5 minutes of eating her ass out, Paige gets me on all fours and starts to tease and pull and milk my cock from behind and she is varying the speed and intensity and she has my balls pulled up and back and with the other hand she is running her fingernails up and down my cock, from the base to the tip and during this time she tells me to take 2 x 10 second hits of poppers and tells me to think about Clare doing this to me – and I do.
Then Paige gets on her back and spreads and pulls her legs right up and showing me her pussy she tells me to lick it whilst she feeds me more poppers and I am licking out her pussy and I have my tongue right inside it and she is offering me the bottle of poppers and every minute or so I am coming up and taking big sniffs and the room is now swirling around me and Paige is telling me what a pathetic cunt I am and even suggests that I should give Clare a call whilst I am down there licking Paige’s pussy.
And all this chat combined with the poppers is making me feel incredibly horny and depraved and it’s a feeling I really like and then I’m on my back and Paige is teasing my cock again, pouring oil all over it and she is using her fingernail, pushing it into my japs eye and this feels amazing. And at this point, she gets 2 candles and begins to dribble hot was firstly over my balls and then over my cock until it is completely covered in hot wax and her lips are next to mine and she is gently licking my lips and tongue and asking me if she can spit into my mouth and I say that would be great and she slowly starts to dribble strings of saliva into my open mouth and I am running my hands around here tits and pussy and she has the type of smooth and taught skin which reminds me of my first wife. And at this point, she is wanking my cock and telling me what a cunt I am and how Clare is probably getting pissed on be 2 blokes at the same time – and at this point I come very loudly and the spunk is splashing up onto my chest and I am feeling really fucked up and my head is throbbing.
And Paige gets me a drink and we talk a little bit about my first wife and I explain to her about the recurring dream I have and how it plays out more or less the same each time. And she tells me that I should really think about talking to someone about this. And then I am out and walking towards the car and I reflect on why I feel like I do about Clare, and wonder whether this feeling will follow me to the grave.
The sad part is, that I will probably end up loving her without her for much longer than I loved her when I was with her. Some people might find that strange. But the truth of it is that the amount of love you feel for someone and the impact they have on you as a person, is in no way relative to the amount of time you have known them for. I was only with Clare for 7 years. At first, my friends would say that there is light at the end of the tunnel, but by that stage, I didn’t care – I was just sick of the tunnel.
And in the car, I reach for the Spotify and I put on ‘Bring it On’ by The Gaslight Anthem, which pretty much summarises what happened to me. One day everything was fine, and then it wasn’t – and I can’t for the life of me tell you what happened in between those 2 scenarios.
And I have moved on with my life, and yes, time does heal to a degree. But every so often I will picture myself at the end of my drive, looking at those tail lights as they disappear into a future full of new possibilities. I think perhaps, I will always hold a candle for Clare – even until it burns my hand. And when the light has long since disappeared, will I be stood there in the darkness holding what remains, quite simply because I cannot let go....
Hidden Image/Members Only
