The Senator’s Wife

The Senator's Wife

Copyright Catcher78, all rights reserved

Author's notes: This story belongs to me and may not be used by anyone without my expressed written permission. Special thanks to Leon Brian le Roux for editing. He made it better.

The story is about an election cycle for the election and the life of a conflicted U. S. Senator and long-term politician, as well as his family and friends. It is a true story, with some name changes here and there.

Characters:

Senator Theodore Fitzgerald: former congressman, Presidential cabinet member, Naval Officer, a veteran of Desert Storm, a graduate of the University of Washington, Queen Anne Grizzly. Mary Elizabeth Fitzgerald: wife of the senator, known as Betsy amongst friends. Teri Benedict: Betsy's lifelong friend and mother of Kelli and Quinn.

My name is Mary Fitzgerald. I am married to Ted Fitzgerald, who is the Senator from Washington State. For a long time, he was a Congressman. Before that, he was the U. S. Attorney for the Western District under President Bush (the smart one) and President Bush (the dumbshit). Oh, he was also the secretary of transportation under President Obama.

When Ted became the U. S. Attorney we had four kids, two sons and two daughters and I want to preserve their privacy, as they were innocent bystanders in the shit storm that became our life.

I'm not sure when we drifted apart, my awareness of Teddy's cheating seeped in when the emails started to arrive. No narrative, just pictures of Teddy entering the Waldorf Astoria, with this voluptuous married woman on his arm, she was actually a K-Street lobbyist, and when it all came out Teddy and she had two children, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The next email arrived six weeks later and it was Tilly McRae, who was the wife of the secretary of defense Hal McRae, who was a political appointee and clueless about Tilly, who'd had dozens of men. She was his second wife and was a young widow and they'd been in swinger's groups when her husband died in a plane crash.

I was surprised at my reaction. What's the French word, ennui, well it means, lassitude or languor, but more like my Okie grandma Lola would say bored to tears. Lola had a degree from the Northeastern State Teacher's College.

She asked me at a wedding shower in my head, "Darling are you sure he's not queer," as I looked at the pictures, it seems he was not yet. I missed Lola. I was forty-five now and she passed when I was nine. Seems like a long time to miss someone, but she got me and I could ask her anything.

Elaine and Bill, my parents both moved away when I was in the ninth grade, which in some ways was good. Two self-absorbed people randomly fucking people, other than each other. I had two older brothers and they blamed me because everything was fine before I was born. I have not talked with them in decades.

Dad's mom Grammy Hazel pled with Elaine, to not divorce her son. I was a broken condom baby, they were going to get divorced except I was an oops. We were white trash, poor in the middle of a middle-class neighborhood, in the Ballard district of Seattle.

Daddy sold cars and mom worked for the school district. We lived just off twenty fourth Northwest, on eightieth. I started working at Larsen's Bakery when I was thirteen, after I got home from St. Alphonse's school. I was a good Catholic girl.

In my ninth grade year, all my friends from St. Alphonse's went to Holy Names Catholic Girl's School and I begged mom to go there. She said it cost too much. I went back to the guidance counselor and told her it cost too much, and she told me she could arrange for a scholarship. I was so excited to tell Mom when I got home, but for some reason she was late. I trudged over to Larsen's, put on my apron, brought the trays of the pastry and fritters out to the front cases, and emptied them, making them look just so as I'd been taught.

I noticed that Mrs. Jakobsen and Einar Syvruud were watching me. I caught her out of the corner of my eye, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

Einar walked out to me and said, "You don't have to stay, you can go home, ", I looked at him like he was nuts.

I said, "I don't want to lose this job, I'm helping out at home," he looked over his shoulder at Mrs. Jakobsen who waved him away and marched towards me.

She said, "Come back here, we need to talk," back here was the little breakroom.

Once we arrived she said, "Sit down young lady."

I blurted, "I can't lose this job, I'll work harder, I promise, tell me what I've done wrong!"

She had the distinct Norwegian accent (Yah sure, you betcha). She decided to rip the bandage off.

"Your mama was caught cheating on your daddy and she's run off with the head of the school district, to Nevada for a divorce and remarry thing."

I pushed myself back into my seat and thought, why now? The truth shall set you free became the phrase that came up, when I remembered the moment.

"Mrs. Jakobsen?"

"Yes, honey?"

"This is going to sound kind of off, and please, know I appreciate your courage in telling me, "I paused sucking in a bushel of air, and resumed, "Mom has had an affair going on with Bob Johnson, for longer than I've been alive. My dad wore a condom that broke, or else I would be black. They were getting divorced. Daddy's relationships seemed to be shorter in nature at the dealership, receptionists, part's girls, and Mrs. Balch whose husband owns the dealership."

"They absolutely detest each other." I asked her, "Can I bring some fritters home, pear or apple is fine."

That worked out well because it seems, he never told me to confirm it and I probably didn't ask, but, he went on a drunken binge and ended up in Taos, New Mexico with a blond floozy, and never came home. I climbed up on the countertop in the kitchen next to the sink, opened the cupboard and there was a flour jar.

Mom had never baked a fucking thing during my sentient life, and I was guessing here, as I'd gone through all of her drawers in their bedroom, bathroom, and cubby holes in the basement looking for money to buy food.

This was all that was left. It was maybe eighteen inches tall, earthenware, with a depiction of a cake on the outside. I set the flour jar down, then climbed down onto the floor and brushed my knees off.

The top of the jar had scotch tape on it, sealing it closed. There was a drawer next to the sink with old spoons and knives, a hammer, carpet nails and there was a box cutter. I pushed the blade out and secured it in place, then traced the line between the top and the base of the flour jar. Putting the box cutter down, I grabbed the knob and cleanly pulled the lid off the top of the jar, and it was packed with money. Loose bills, tens, twenties, fifties, and hundreds. There were packs of bills of all denominations, wrapped in brown paper, big paper clips.

Carefully I pulled it all out and stacked it by denomination: Ones, twos, fives, tens, twenties, fifties, one hundreds, and one pack of one thousands. The one thousands were old, the top bill said 1932 on it.

I got a pad of lined paper and a pen, made pages for each bill, and then counted them five times. I got three counts exactly the same and for the other two I was off, within one hundred dollars.

Visually, if Elaine was in an art class, she would be called Rubenesque. When she walked through a room, everything moved. She would sit at a makeup table doing her brows and lashes. The last thing was her lipstick and lip liner. She had her nails done elsewhere. She'd sit in the chair wearing this shelf bra and a half slip, and silk stockings. The bra had to be made of titanium to hold those immensities in place, except the tops laid there covered with freckles and veins on her alabaster skin which ended in large pink areolas that seemed to combine with her nipples making them indistinct.

Underneath the bra, she had five fat rolls, and then as her hips swelled love handles and a jiggly belly. Her ass was so big that a lowland gorilla would comfortably spoon with her.

At the bottom of the jar were two cards with her name on them Tryst and Eros escorts for women, men, and couples. She was 100% ho.

There was one hundred seventeen thousand four hundred and twenty-two dollars that had been in the cookie jar. But she had spent my salary from Larsen's, the fucking bitch.

I looked up locksmiths in the Yellow Pages and found one in Ballard. Locksmith Bright in Ballard. I called them and said, "I need all the locks changed and said we were afraid of hooligans breaking in." Dad always said, hooligans.

The guy said, "Have you thought of bars on the windows?"

I said, "We talked about it and that's what Dad wanted. Let's do it."

He said, "Alarms on the doors and windows for the ground floor of course."

Then I told a whopper, "Mom's afraid of being raped again by those black men. Let's do it. When can you come?"

He said, "Immediately!"

I said, "How much?"

I could hear him working the ten key with the crank handle and he said, "Seven thousand two hundred and seventeen dollars and thirty-seven cents, tax included."

I said, "Is cash okay?"

It was. I got a code for the alarms, it was my birthday, twice without periods. I called Grammy Hazel about a month into this. I told her everything and said I'd forged her name and was getting a scholarship to Holy Names, which was about ten blocks from her place, an old home that had been converted to a duplex, in the nineteen twenties.

She helped me open an account at the Boeing Employees Credit Union (BECU) a joint account. I put in $1,000 and she put in $5,000. I was not quite honest about the remaining one hundred and five thousand dollars. We lied to BECU about the parental unit's location, saying Daddy was in New Mexico settling his parent's affairs, and that he and Mom were divorced so he got custody. I had forged his signature on a note, saying his mother had his permission to open the account. It took months until I had ninety-five thousand into the account. Of which I bought two forty thousand dollar certificates of deposit.

Holy Names is where I met Teri Benedict, it was Teri Moss in those days and I was Mary Duffin then. I had been held back because I didn't regularly talk until I was five years old. I think it was because of all the fighting at home then. Teri's family was from Kirkland and very rich. Software in the eighties, was the place to be and my family missed it.

I turned eighteen the summer before our senior year, Teri was aggressively queer and after one toe-curling kiss, there I went. She was wild. We were by no means exclusive as she fucked, a ton of our classmates, one of the married teachers, and at least one nun. I'm not sure who turned who, the nun or her.

About two weeks before Christmas, our athletic director approached me and said, I could get a complete scholarship to Santa Clara University to play tennis. I was by that point six feet tall and left-handed, and they thought I should join the pro tour as an amateur. I was way far ahead in credits so I could graduate immediately. I called Grammy and told her and said I would come over to see her.

She made pot roast, carrots, and peas. Not super cuisine, but so much better than Elaine ever cooked. Although she was slowing down, her mind was sharp. She surprised me by saying that she had been regularly in contact with Dad. I was not sure what I felt about him any longer and apparently, it showed on my face. "He said he doesn't think he's your dad."

She asked, "Do you know what type of blood you have?"

I said, "AB"

He said, "He's A and your mother is O, therefore you're not his child."

I had just seen Star Wars and it was like Princess Leia saying, 'Help me Obe one, you are our only hope'. Only to be told sorry kiddo, your mom's a skank and you're on your own. I never ever knew who my biological dad might have been.

"So, you're not my grandmother then?"

She reached out and said, "It would be impossible to love you more than I do."

I pitched forward and kissed her hand and sobbed. After a bit I helped her clean up. And we were washing and drying and I bumped her hips and she started giggling. We were alright then, I gave her a big hug. I had the papers and she signed them as my guardian and I hugged her again. She said, "You know you own that house don't you?"

"How could I..." I asked.

She said, "In their divorce, she gave it to your Dad and he bequeathed it to you."

"I want to keep it. It's home."

She said, "I will get it squared away, "and she set it up into a trust, that we both were co-trustees.

I said I would come by after Mass at St. Joseph's on Sunday. Then I was headed south to Santa Clara and after a week of working out, I would enter my first tournament. Teri was not there, and it would be years before I saw her again.

I left in my 1974 green Volkswagen bug, four-speed, with an extractor tube and away I went, heading down I-5. I stayed in the right lanes sticking to 60 mph, with my sun roof open during the day and closed at night. I had some waters and apples, plus thee PB&J sandwiches from Grammy. I stopped and got gas, bathroom breaks, got some wheat thins, and some coffee. Random things I like.

I arrived outside the gate to the University at ten in the morning, there was a guard at the gate and I rolled my window down and said, "I'm an incoming freshman for the women's tennis team, and I'm supposed to meet coach Jenny Smith."

It was really the time of my life. The coach was incredible, really improved my velocity on my first serve, and gave me a wicked second serve, that I could put anywhere so that it would pop up into the body as well as my backhand which, for the first time was a two hand. I was kind of wild that first year a very well-known married player and I slept together all summer long. She was almost done with her career. I discovered what it was like to be a lesbian MILF's fucktoy. She had kids and a hubby (he was fucking some Australian golfer, totally in the closet)

I was so stupid, I'd dream of being her wife. In the last tournament which was in Phoenix, we were supposed to have dinner in her room on a Saturday. This was by far the deepest I'd gone in a tournament. I'd upset this Czech woman on Friday. She played early in the morning and lost love and one. I went three sets and lost to this tall blond from Russia in three sets losing the first 7-5, winning the second 6-4, and losing the final 7-5. My coach was there to watch me and we talked briefly. I thought my lover would be watching me again, but I didn't see her. I raced to the hotel which was across the street and caught an elevator to her room. Two Hispanic cleaners were cleaning the room.

I walked to my room thinking there'd be a note or a call. I called the front desk to see if there had been any calls. Nothing.

Years later I saw her at a reception standing next to Teddy, she was with her fourth husband at that point, and she looked at me with this look like she was trying to place me. I winked at her and bit my lip. Her mouth dropped open and she blushed which caused me to smile.

Moving forward I loved being at Santa Clara, my tennis got better. I never got higher than two, but she went on to win the U. S. Open so no shame there. The best finish I had in a tournament, was one minor tournament in Midland, Michigan, I lost 0 and 1.

The next event was in Austin, Texas, and warming up just soft-hitting serves, I tore my Achilles tendon in my right leg which was my push-off as I'd serve. I had surgery at the University of Texas. Great hospital, great community, great music, food, and women. I spent the better part of a year there rehabbing, I had an affair with a beautiful woman, the wife of a businessman and a sponsor at the tennis club, where I tried to see if I might come back. I had lost velocity and could not get it much over one hundred and ten mph. Serve and volley was my deal.

Like a fool, I fell in love with someone, who could never be someone I could be with, her name was Libby. Which was a pattern.

I moved home, to Ballard, thinking about going to grad school at U Dub (University of Washington) getting my teaching certificate for English literature. Grammy Hazel was gone, she had passed. She left me her home which I held onto as rental property, and moved it into my trust.

Returning home, I had no connections with anyone, and I'd never heard back from Teri, well fuck her I'd had better, a lot better and I ached for Antonia. I'd dm her on Facebook and begged her daily to come visit me and I told her I had never loved anyone like I loved her.

She blocked me.

To get into the whole master's program, my transcript from Santa Clara, showed some gaps and I had to take this base course in micro-economics.

It was an undergrad course and I thought that maybe I could meet someone, nothing serious, I'd been alone for a bit. Walking across campus there were so many stunning Asian women, Chinese and Japanese as well as some Indian women. I could almost trip over someone and get lucky.

My class was in this beautiful old building, Savery Hall. It was in the basement, which meant steep stairwells in red open-toed pumps and I made it into the room. It was like a mini-amphitheater with ten rows or so, the only seat left was smack in the middle of the first row.

There was nothing but stunning young eighteen-year-olds, tall, short, skinny, voluptuous, Asian, Swedish, and me, I was twenty-three. The lecturer was tall and angular, big-shouldered, and handsome with short hair, and huge hands that gesticulated as he talked and smiled. Everybody laughed.

I was rooted unable to sit still, staring at him. He turned and was two feet away from me, he started to say something and stopped, moving closer.

"I know you, you're Betsy Duffin the tennis player. I watched you play against the University of San Diego when you were at Santa Clara. You were incredible."

He stopped talking. My heart was pounding. He was a man. Fuck.

"What are you doing in my classroom?"

Fuck me I was drooling and I was so wet. A man. "Well, I'm getting my teacher's certificate, Seattle's home, I was short this type," my voice petered out, as our eyes locked on.

Without moving he says, "Let's get coffee afterward, okay, this is going to be fun, you gotta sit down babe."

The lecture was about something that didn't register in any level of consciousness for me. Him, he was dynamic, funny, genuine, and his hands. What the fuck, his hands, I liked big hands it seems. He was so fucking beautiful. I had to go to a porn movie and learn how to suck a dick. Did men's cum taste good? I liked getting fucked with dildos in strap-on harnesses. Even some butt play with fingers. I wonder if his dick was big, it had to be with those hands. I looked at his feet, size fourteen if they were an inch.

He was wearing khaki pants with a Warren Moon tee shirt. I'd met him at a tennis tournament, with his white wife and he'd hit on me. His wife was a smoke show. I probably would have done a threesome with her and him fucking her, but that was the day with the in-the-closet MILF tennis player.

I could see the outline of his dick, down the inside of his pants leg. Was he commando? He WAS big. Really BIG. Did I give him an erection? I looked up into his eyes as he talked. When he finally looked at me without conscious thought, my treacherous tongue slid between my lips, to wet my lips. She loved cunts, but now, this betrayal of my innate lesbian status. What was happening?

He stared at me, then I mouthed, 'Fuck me, baby.' I had become possessed by the devil. Randomly, I wondered if the priest at St. Alphonsus could do an exorcism.

He was nodding yes. My thighs squeezed together, and I bit my lip as my face squished together in lust and deep need for him. I knew if I stared at him any more I could make myself cum, because when I was getting hot for a woman, my clit came out to play and she was out, and fuck if she didn't say to me where is she, mama?

I had a talking cunt now. Could other people hear her? There were flowering trees outside the window, Grammy loved flowering trees. Missionary position, l liked that with the harness dick in me, we could kiss. If I was on top he could pull on my titties. I mean, on my nipples, FUCKKKKK!

Please be a good kisser.

After class, I stood up and he was right there. I said, "Your office now." My hand was in his hand, which was dwarfed by his. I should get a manicure for him and put on fake nails to look pretty for him.

I have no idea how many flights of stairs we went up to reach his office. We were inside his office and we were kissing. He tasted like cinnamon and his tongue was insistent yet tender and he cupped my face and whispered how beautiful and sexy I was. His hands rubbed my sides, back, and my ass. I was breathing raggedly.

I said, "I need you so bad, don't torture me, just take me. You're so fucking big, go slow. I'm begging you to fuck me now, baby. I'm dying for you."

I was sopping wet after he pulled down my jeans and panties. I thought it was going to hurt, but he slid right in, way into my cunt up against my cervix, and pulled back and went in again. He picked up speed. Noises came from my mouth as I had my first orgasm from a man. He did not stop and one orgasm, rolled into another until he filled me up with his seed. There was a lot of his seed as it dribbled down from my cunt into my ass crack.

He said, "My name is Teddy. Teddy Benedict."

He lived on a house boat, on Portage bay and we traded back and forth all summer. Houseboat during the week, weekends in Ballard. Classes ended and we spent August and September in his family's cabin on Orcas Island. I was desperately in love with him. I never said anything about being queer, he asked me once if I'd ever loved anyone before.

I deflected and said, "There had been others, but you are the only man I've ever loved.

I said, "Teddy, "as we returned from Orcas on the old Ferry boat, "You stole my heart that first day in class and I can't imagine being with anyone else. I want your children, I want to grow old with you."

He fished around in his pocket then turned to me and said, "Betsy, will you marry me, "he had this jeweler's box with this heirloom pebble of a diamond on a ring.

I shrieked, "Yes!!!"

We were married at St. Alphonsus in September. It was customary to announce that in the Catholic Church, Teddy and I were Catholic and had been going to premarital counseling with Father Patrick. There was a squeal behind us. I craned my neck it was Teri Moss, waving at me.

Afterward, I introduced Teddy to Teri who was now married to a guy named Fred Benedict, they had two girls, Kelli and Quinn, Kelli was six, and Quinn maybe two.

That meant Teri was pregnant with Kelli when we were at Holy Names, and she was fucking my brains out.

So it was now. I'd not talked to Teddy for weeks now. A couple of texts, where my response was minimalistic at best. Yesterday his administrative assistant texted me, asking me if I was okay, which irritated me, so I responded and said, 'Jesus honey I'm so hot for you, I need your dick.'

That he's twenty-eight and married to his gay wife, didn't bother me.

I actually taught a senior class at Holy Names on writing and modern American Literature. They were all so bright and it was joyful. Our kids were in their twenties in the real world, except for money from me around month's end.

Sometimes I go to Saturday Mass, because it seemed more intimate and I talked to God while I said the Rosary, and thanked him for my kids and Grammy Hazel. This Saturday was different. I prayed for resolution and for Teddy to do the right thing and leave me. I thanked God as always for my children and Grammy Hazel. I was wearing jeans when my phone buzzed, I fished the phone out and it was the same gmail address the first two videos had come from.

I would not look at it inside the sanctuary. I left and walked outside through the narthex and was standing outside in the spring winds.

There were two of them.

Teri Benedict was fucking him in his office, no hotel entrance this time. The second one was in our home in Georgetown in our bed.

I was furious. No discretion at all, she was mounted atop Teddy riding him like he was a War Admiral, Teddy mauling her titties.

I was mumbling to myself, calling him a fucking cocksucker.

Out of nowhere, her fucking mother, who would clean up the sanctuary for Mass was in my face saying some shit.

I said, "I'm sorry, I missed that. What did you say?"

She smiled and said, "Are you okay, Betsy?"

"You know, I've never been better. Thanks for asking."

I started to walk away, then stopped. I touched her forearm smiling, and said, "If you're talking to Teri ma'am, tell her those are my favorite sheets and to air out the room, as I will get the house in the divorce."

She said, "I'm so angry at her I could spit. I wanted to tell you, but she said not to do it because it would mess up the election and Fred wants to kill her and Teddy. Honey, I'm sorry."

My phone lit up within half an hour, Teddy and Teri I blocked them. I got home and told my kids via text that I wanted to Zoom with them all tonight, no matter what, at nine p. m. They were all on when I texted them the video of their dad with Teri. "Hi guys, I love you with all my heart and this is hard for me. Your dad intends to divorce me after the election and marry my old friend Teri Benedict."

My oldest, my beloved son asked how I knew this.

I said, "I've been getting videos of your dad going into hotels with various beautiful women on his arm in Washington. Last night I received one from our Georgetown home triggered by our security system where they are making love and expressing their love for each other. It came when I was at Saturday mass. I stepped outside St. Alphonsus and her mom was there, and we talked, and she apologized and said that all of Teri's family, especially her husband, but her kids too have shunned her.

There's a text from me on your phone of them fucking in my bed in Georgetown. I'm going to get away for a week or so, to clear my head. Don't get into it with your dad, he loves you. I know this is a cliché but after this is over you will need your dad." I started to cry and I said, "I'm sorry and clicked out of the Zoom."

I felt really dirty and was going to take a shower. But I thought, and looked at the old phone tree that we still used at church and the number was right there so I called it.

"Hi, "she answered."

I said, "Kelli, this is Betsy Benedict from Church."

She inhaled and said, "I'm so sorry Mrs. Benedict. Can I help you?"

I said, "Are you busy this week? I could use some help at our cabin up on Orcas, I'm going to sell it because of the divorce, could you come up with me, tomorrow morning? Could you swing by in the morning, bring some jeans and I'll heat the pool so a swimsuit would work too. We'll catch the eleven o'clock out of Anacortes. Love you too."

I emailed Grammy Hazel's attorney, Ester Feinberg, and put everything there. I wanted to start tomorrow with leaking stuff to the New York Times, Seattle Times, and the Washington Post. I wanted to file by the end of the week in Seattle and I wanted the Georgetown house, the cabin on Orcas, and half of his Congressional pension and his medical benefits. Sell the video to the New York Post. I texted her and asked her to call me on this number to verify or if she had any questions. She responded immediately affirming my request.

I undressed in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I had some minor surgery six years ago, liposuction on my neck, a tummy tuck, some nice sensible breast enhancements and lifts, big C-cup or small D-cup. Then I had a Brazilian butt lift with some liposuction on my ass. I got some Botox into my lips and had long since perfected the slutty pout.

I might be forty-five, but I easily passed for mid-thirties now. Plus I think she may be a sweet queer girl.

We were half way to Anacortes in the the morning. I was driving a rebuilt 1980 GMC Yukon with bench seats and a great sound system. She unbuckled her seat belt and slid over towards the middle, there was another belt.

She took her phone out and plugged it into the sound system, playing Chappell Roan singing 'Pink Pony Club'.

She started rubbing my thigh, my heart was pounding she was outing me, how did she know?

She said, "Mom said you were her bitch when I told her I was queer."

I said softly, "She turned me and fucked me silly, we were never exclusive, even though I ached for her, she fucked a nun and a married teacher at Holy Names and God who knows. She was pregnant with you at the end."

She said, "No, that was another man, that she gave up for adoption through the church."

That was news. I said, "I went to Santa Clara and played tennis, pro tennis too, and fucked all these married women, tennis players on the tour, then I tore my Achilles tendon and it was over, she was married then with you and your sister and I was not going to break up a marriage just because I yearned for her.

I went back to school to get my sixth year and teach English to kids, I did want to be a mom, but not like I wanted to perv on girls.

I had to talk an economics class and Teddy was teaching the class and I fell head over heels in love with him, it wasn't like I was thinking of him as I needed a man. It's hard to explain, but he stole my heart and we had a family, then he drifted away, I don't know when or with who, but he stopped loving me."

I pulled over to the side of the road and lost it, crying my heart out, clinging to this beautiful woman, spitting out words, "I was a good wife and mom, how could he do this, I still love him, why hurt me?"

She was patting me, kissing my cheek, shushing me, telling me she had me, I was going to be okay.

I sat up. She was fluffing my air, wiping my tears off my face. I was looking at her and she ran her thumb over my lip and said, "That pout is so fucking hot."

She was going to fuck me and I wanted it so fucking much. I whispered to her,

"Please don't hurt me, I need you so much."

She said, "I won't."

epilogue:

We fought like all couples, my son allowed us for her, to be inseminated via in vitro so that our children were ours.

Teddy lost the election, I got the Orcas home and the Georgetown house, and Kelli and I split time between Orcas and Ballard. I gave the Georgetown home to Georgetown University, which indirectly I heard infuriated Teddy.

Life is complicated eh?