I cried a river yesterday.
Court and I were not made for each other, that’s for sure. I’m way too emotional in an environment of the mind. My husband should have come with me, he should have been by my side. I didn’t think about it until it was too late and the attorneys were rattling off compromises like auctioneers. I was feeling alone and overwhelmed, not sure who to trust, not wanting to fuck my decision up, not wanting to ever come back again.
A few miles from the courthouse is a deep pile of rocks that line a point by the ocean. It’s secluded and peaceful because few people brave the climb down to find it. Barefoot is how I got down with my heels in my hand. I cried harder down there, engulfed in the late February wind, the loud haunting call of the seagulls, the overcast sadness on everything and the repeating words coming from within. You lost again. You always lose to him. Your ex always wins.
My ex won on that rock pile too. On a summer night many many years ago, he made out with me there. He slowly untied the drawstring on my green pants and licked my pussy in ways no other man ever had. The wind blew and the seagulls clapped, nobody knew but us. Because of that night and nights very much like it, he won and I lost so much joy in my life.
Rain started to fall, so I climbed back up and called my husband wanting to tell all. He answered and instantly seemed distant like our worlds were unconnected and far apart. He wasn’t involved in one of my life’s biggest struggles, and I hadn’t been aware enough of my need to ask him to be.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked drying my tears and pretending like it was just another Tuesday and I was heading for hot coffee after a fun meeting.
“Heading to my uncle’s to do some work on the building,” he replied.
I had hoped he was waiting for me at the house, waiting to receive my war-torn body into his loving arms and listen to my battle story over a warm lunch. But he wasn’t. He was heading in the opposite direction.
He would have turned around if I asked him to, but in the moment, I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to have to ask. It all just validated the loneliness.
“How’d it go?” He finally asked after a few moments of silence on the phone.
“Horrible,” I said scrambling up what was left of my dignity. “Look, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Bye,” and I quick hung up the phone.
My tears were so thick and the traffic on the interstate was too. The overcast sky gave way to rain drops, the perfect setting for my mood.
Did you need something? He texted immediately.
I didn’t respond. The only thing I needed was my bed, the covers, some sleep, my thoughts. I’m used to handling the hard parts of life by myself. I don’t need him.
An hour and a half later, I stumbled into my house leaving everything from the hearing in my car, the files, the empty smoothie cup, the umbrella and my box of half eaten chicken fingers.
The comforter was my biggest comfort. I slid under her and wept again and again. The rain outside was hitting harder now. Maybe I wasn’t alone. Maybe Earth was crying with me. My clothes came off, my contacts came out, and I willed myself to stop thinking, stop the chatter, stop the heartache and just concentrate on breathing.
A few hours later my husband came home. Guess the rain stopped the progress of the building. I wasn’t glad he was home but then again I was. Being mad at him took too much energy, energy I didn’t have. He crawled into bed with me and said he was sorry.
“I should have been there with you, Stella. I know what court is like on me. How it affects you is even worse. What happened, sweetheart?” His eye were warm and his chest was open and secure. I took it like fresh bait and dove in. Could he save me?
Slowly I divulged every memory of the morning, from being asked if I was the attorney to the hat my ex was wearing and the way his attorney laughed a little when he talked about how often I call as if talking to my son while he’s at his dad’s house is weird.
My husband is a court veteran too. He’s been to the same type of modification hearings himself and knows what it feels like to lose, even if you really won. No one skips out of court after fighting their ex, no one.
He poured me some wine and grabbed himself a beer. Luckily my son was out with his dad and the other kids weren’t home. On this dreary overcast evening, it was just me and him and our collection of divorce court memories, connecting us once more.
We moved our pity party to the great room where my husband warmed up some homemade soup and slow toasted his famous grilled cheese sandwiches. I lay on the sofa feeling better, sipping wine and reading aloud some of my recent blog posts. That’s when I noticed my energy had switched from disabling grief to being a good emotional fuck. You know exactly what I mean.
It’s the lost control girl. It’s the reckless I don’t care girl, the fuck me however you want girl. Good crying always precedes great cumming, always. Especially with my husband who really digs the submissive, damsel in distress, I need a dick to bring me back to life girl.
He sat down next to me on the couch and parted my legs. I was still wearing my sweater dress from court and now my husband saw I was also wearing sexy white lace panties underneath. He pushed them to the side and starred at my pussy before diving in to taste her goodness.
I was caught off guard and feeling numb. His dick didn’t take long to jump into action, plunging into the depths of my feminine world right there on the gold living room couch.
I was surprised, feeling both intoxicated from the overdose of sadness and relieved that physical touch still had the power to knock me out of it. I needed that.
Just then the front door opened. “I’m home,” yelled the voice of my son as the door shut behind him.
My husband quickly pulled out and zipped up while I put my dress down and sat up. Like teenagers we pretended nothing was going on. I’m not sure if my son was buying it. Regardless, our passion had to wait.
Back in my goddess palace after the kids said goodnight, our passion was re-kindled although my energy was lower than before. I rolled on top of my king and cuddled him sweetly, pouring all of my love into the moment. I’ll admit it, I need him.
He purred with excitement and lowered my body down onto his filling me up completely. I rocked him slowly, kissing his lips and flipping my long hair from one side of my head to the other depending on which side of his neck I was licking. The moment was sweet but sleepy, so my husband took control.
“Lay on your back,” he said squeezing my breasts and kissing them gently. It was dark in our room with the smallest bit of light peeping through the curtains from the street lamp outside. He could see my tired excitement. Being with him was comfort, security as always, but the day had drained me of my usual joy.
I let him up and laid on my back on the edge of the bed spreading my legs around him and pulling him closer. His dick entered me from this position and felt two times bigger. That’s not always a good thing but it’s what I have.
“You like a big dick,” my husband said reading my thoughts. He was bent over me and working my pussy like jack rabbit.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got what I’ve got,” I whispered into his ear.
“Yep, you just gotta take it, gotta get used to it, I’m sure you are by now.”
He fucked me long and hard until he came and fucked me again in the morning when his dick slid into me by accident and pleased itself in the process. As for me? My nerves are still raw, it’s still raining, I feel like I’ve been here before.