Five weeks ago, I married the man of my dreams. It was a fairytale wedding followed by a four-week honeymoon in paradise. Everything was going great until we got back home and my husband’s phone beeped while he was in the bathroom.
It was a text from a trashy whore, thanking my husband for a lovely night and encouraging him to hit her up if he was ever back in town on another business trip. The skanky bitch even sent him a naked selfie with his cum on her face to remind him of their photo-esque night together.
Just one day after getting home, our house was silent, only filled with resentment and guilt. I loved my husband so much; I didn’t think I could just leave him, but I also didn’t want to encourage the idea that what he did was okay. The only thing I could think to do was to go shopping.
I walked around that store like a zombie, lost in a blend of depression, rage, and false happiness. There was so much going on in my head; I wasn’t even bothered by all the employees repeatedly asking me if I needed help. Finally, I ended up staring blankly at boxes of popcorn.
“Yo,” a deep voice called out. I turned and saw a familiar, but strange-looking man. “Bree?”
“Yeah, do I know you?”
“You should. You tried to bite me in the middle of class one time.”
“Andre? Oh my god...” I stared lustfully as he walked toward me. My once overweight friend was now covered in muscles and had long beautiful dreads. “Hi!”
He wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me close. “What’s up, gurl? How you been?” Instead of letting him go, I held him tighter. “Are you all right?”
When I felt his hands on my hips, my legs wobbled, and I fell against his chest. His muscly arms flexed and wrapped around me tighter as he caught me. He pulled me up and stared into my eyes with such heartwarming concern.
“No, I’m not all right.” Somehow, I ended up blurting out my problems. “My new husband cheated on me on our honeymoon, which we just got back from yesterday; and I found out about it from the little slut, who texted his phone yesterday.”
“That sounds super fucked up. So, you’re buying popcorn to celebrate his death?”
“No, I’m not buying anything. I just don’t want to go home. I just want to be out.”
“Want to come to my house? I don’t have anything today or tomorrow; I’m officially retired. It’s way more boring than I thought it would be. We could hang out, watch TV; I can cook.”
“I don’t know.”
“I have a pool. You can imagine drowning your husband in the deep end.”
“I would never drown my husband.”
“Right, because you’re planning to poison him with a very specific type of popcorn, and you need to stand here for hours staring at the boxes to determine which popcorn to use.”
That little joke was the first moment of happiness I’d felt all day. For a split second, I genuinely forgot about my cheating husband and all the drama.
“Is there a spa in that pool?”
“Yes, and a hot tub, and some grottos, and some waterfalls; it’s very wild and jungle looking.”
“I’m in; I totally need some time away.”
“Yes! I need to go get what I came to buy, and then I’ll meet you outside.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as he jogged away. He seemed so happy and excited; it made me excited. It was so overwhelming; I rushed outside and waited by my car.
Before he came out, my phone rang, and I could tell by the depressing ringtone that it was my husband. I threw my whole purse in the trunk and continued waiting for Andre.
He came out moments later carrying three or four bags filled with household items. I wondered if he’d bought some condoms, but quickly pushed that idea out of my head. Though I was extremely attracted to him, I didn’t want to ruin our fun day.
“Ready to go?”
“I’m so ready.”
He put his things in his car, and I followed him to his place. We made it to his luxurious mansion in less than ten minutes, so I knew it would be easy to get back if I wanted to come over again. More images of my compassionate friend being naked and on top of me flashed through my mind.
I struggled to push these images out, but it helped that he was actually there. He helped me out of my car and showed me around his house, holding my hand the entire time. All of the tremendous artwork and craftsmanship that went into building his home was impressive.
He sat his bags down in the kitchen and showed me to the backyard, still holding my hand. My eyes widened when I saw the jungled out lagoon surrounded by big waterfalls, sculpted by massive rock grottos and stone masonry. I just wanted to run and jump in the water.
“Ooh, I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Just swim in your underwear. That’s what I usually do if I’m not skinny dipping.”
“I’m not swimming in my underwear, and I’m not skinny dipping.”
“Well, you can wear one of my shirts if you want.”
He pulled me to his master bedroom and walked me into his large closet. There weren’t a lot of outfits in there, which, based on the way he dressed, is understandable. I picked from the older shirts he still had leftover from when he was bigger.
He went to go put up the stuff he bought, leaving me to explore his closet. There wasn’t much to look at in the closet, but in his bedroom, I found a huge secret drawer under his bed. It was filled with all types and flavors of condoms and lube; there were some smaller sex toys like handcuffs and vibrators as well.
I was surprised that he had so much sexiness under his bed, most likely for access during the heat of the moment. The dry spell between my legs suddenly ended, and I found myself fantasizing again. This time, I had a plethora of vibrating aides to ease the tension.