. . .

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Clement’s mind was racing. He had always been one to admire women; the beautiful ones of course. It never went beyond that. But Bernice had stirred something funny in him that morning that had left him feeling like a teenager again.

Felicia,

he whispered. He loved her dearly although marrying her had been more out of duty to please his mother; he had grown to love her. It was his habit of flirting that he found hard to break but he had sworn never to hurt his wife; she didn’t deserve to be cheated on…

No wife deserves to be cheated on,

a voice in his head stated clearly.

But is it my fault?

he asked himself.

She has become too motherly to be appealing anymore.

He soothed his screaming conscience.

When was the last time you had sex man?

He couldn’t remember…it was sometime before his second son was born;

Where did that passion go?

Her second son was going to turn one in 3 weeks. He hadn’t had sex in over a year! He felt justified. Bernice was young, single and hadn’t seemed to care that he had a ring on; she had flirted right along with him! He wasn’t planning to have an affair with her. He was just worried how hard keeping his hands off their new receptionist was going to be.

So help me God.

His phone rang; it was Felicia.

“Hello, Yaw (she always called him by his day name). Will you be home early today?”

“Yes, if nothing comes up”

“Okay, good. Please pass by the pharmacy and get Caleb something for his cough. I’m on my way to get them from school now, but I forgot to pick my purse so I have no money on me”.

“Alright, no problem, I’ll get some cough syrup on my way home.”

“Thank you. Stay safe. Bye!”

“Okay, Bye!”

Whatever happened to ‘I love you’? He slipped the phone in his pocket and picked up his car keys and met Simon, his colleague and best friend in the corridor.

“I’m off to lunch. Are you coming?” he asked him. Simon shook his head.

Simon had lost his fiancé in a motor accident weeks to their wedding about five years ago. It had almost killed him, the grief. But over the years he had recovered. He was ready to move on. He just hadn’t found the right lady yet. He was in no hurry. Clement on the other hand needed to be tamed, was what his Aunt Gladys always said to justify the pressure she’d put on him. Felicia was a beautiful and humble woman; wife material. She had given Clement 2 wonderful kids that Simon loved to have around and pamper; Two boys, Caleb and Joshua.  Someday, he wished to have kids of his own and a wife as beautiful as Felicia and as humble…as kind and loving. He looked out just in time to catch Clement hugging Bernice…she lingered too long in his arms. He better not hurt Felicia he thought and clenched his teeth. Blowing out air sharply through his mouth, he tried to calm down. Anytime he thought of Felicia, he couldn’t help thinking he deserved her and not Clement. He wasn’t a bad guy…he just had eyes for other beautiful ladies in spite of the fact that he was married to a very gorgeous one and Simon hated that. Felicia had stopped complaining to him since they had both concluded he was never going to stop flirting and she had chosen to worry little about it because Clement had never cheated on her.

Not yet.

 He had to shake his head to get thoughts of her out of his head.

What is wrong with me? I’m thinking about Felicia yet again!

He scolded himself. Clement’s head appeared at the door and he said again with smiles, “I like her”. Simon forced a smile and winced after he closed the door.

Why does he keep doing that!?

 

 Clement was still awake in bed. Felicia was out in their sons’ room, putting Joshua to bed. It had taken her several hours to get him to sleep.

Why doesn’t she just wean the boy so he becomes less attached to her?

He thought. He was hoping to make a move that night but the hope was starting to die. It was past 11. She was definitely going to tell him she was tired if he tried.

“He’s asleep now,”

she said and joined him in bed. He shifted close and wrapped his hands around her, framing her back and kissing her neck. For a fraction of a second he thought he felt her relax: respond. But then she started to wriggle free, brushing her buttocks against his groin and triggering blood flow down to that region. “Yaw, I’m tired please, some other time, okay? Good night.”

Good night?! Nothing is good about the night!

He balled his hands into fists and got up. Finding his slippers, he left the room. She turned to watch him go but she asked nothing. She only sighed and soon, she was asleep.

He had promised to quit. He had even prayed at church about it;  but he needed to be relieved of the tension that had built up in his pajama bottoms.

It’s all her fault, he thought as he sat behind the computer and started it up. He had done it so often he knew exactly what to do, what to type in. He pulled out the drawer; the KY jelly stared back at him. It seemed to beckon him to touch it. His hands trembled when he picked it up and unscrewed the cap and he tried to swallow a stubborn lump that had formed in his throat. The all too familiar warning page appeared;

WARNING!!

ADULT CONTENT

THIS SITE CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX SCENES INTENDED FOR ADULT VIEW

PERSONS UNDER 18 ARE NOT ALLOWED

IF IT IS ILLEGAL FOR YOU TO VIEW SUCH CONTENT

IN YOUR LOCATION, DO NOT ENTER THIS SITE

EXIT BY CLICKING THE BACK BUTTON

OR 

Then there was that enticing word, highlighted in red, right beneath the exit button. The one that kept blinking…calling you to click;

ENTER

Of course he was an adult; it was legal to watch such material so far as he was an adult. Why then did he feel so guilty about it, yet he couldn’t stop?

She’s to blame for this!

The thought flashed in his mind again as he gave in and clicked on the button and slipped his lubricated palm down his pajamas.

Every night it woke her up; his stifled groans, and that night wasn’t an exception.

God why is he doing this to me?

She sat up in bed and listened carefully to the sounds.

Am I to blame for this?

“No!” she refused to accept blame for her husband’s shameful habit. She had known for months but she had never confronted him about it. She was tempted to call Simon; talk to him. She loved to talk to him. But she held back. Perhaps he was asleep. He sure was.

Why should I allow him to touch me after he shamelessly flirts with every female in town and comes home to jerk himself off in front of his computer? Why should I?

Hot tears burned her eyes and she shut them tightly. Easing back onto her pillow, she stared at the ceiling; concentrating on the patterns engraved in the wood. She was tired of thinking about her marriage and how empty it had become. She refused to go through that torture. When he tiptoed back to the bedroom, she had fallen asleep again. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom and joined his wife in bed; it was a little past one in the morning. He had been at it for hours.

Is this becoming an addiction?

“No!” he refused to believe he had a problem to deal with. It was simple logic to him. His wife was refusing him sex, so he needed an alternative approach to satisfying himself and so far his approach was the safest, he presumed.

Other men will have an affair

he defended himself.

I haven’t!

As sleep slowly claimed him, a thought crossed his mind…

YET!

Not yet…

 

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9 thoughts on “. . .

  1. You are a genius…..gosh you make writing seem very easy….your characters are very believable…..did you do some research or… is it out of experience…..?

    Like

    1. First of all thanks for passing through. Errm, research…research…well not a conscious move to research but i think for the writer, it is an almost unconscious thing, or for me at least. So it often happens that i do not research as a result of a story i want to write or am writing, but i write as a result of some research i am doing or some observation i have made over time or some one time.

      For this, no, there was no direct research. And no, it is not a personal (direct or indirect) experience.

      Thanks again for your comment.
      🙂

      Like

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