Mementos:
A Story of Married Love,
Betrayal, and Redemption

by
Master Po
Copyright Master Po, 2011

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Contents:

1 Away

2 Birmingham

3 The Sixth Floor

4 A Shower

5 The Return

6 Home Alone

7 An Afterword

1 Away

Adam is away on a four day, three night business trip to Cincinnati--a useless sales meeting that his company, in most years, schedules in October in various second tier cities across the continent. He and his wife Leah have great relationship and nearly always have sex once a day at minimum, often twice, during the non-fertile portions of her menstrual cycle. On a few care free days, especially on that first day back in the saddle, Adam and Leah have made love three times--and once, during a weekend getaway in Cape May, managed four, in part just to prove they could. Given that the timing of this trip is smack dab in the middle of the non-fertile epoch, four days is a huge sacrifice--for both of them. They've gotten used to keeping their hands off each other during the fertile times, unless of course they want another kid. They have five. But to miss the better part of FOUR WHOLE DAYS where they could be making love? Well that just isn't fair.

Leah, now 39, does her best to stay in shape. She works out with weights, speed walks, and does Pilates and Zumba every week. She remains a solid 7 with a cute, bright face, and her well-sculpted and thin body. She's got a few of the inevitable battle scars of motherhood, but for a 39 year old, she is... briefly, "Pretty Damn Hot!" Adam, in short, hit the lottery with this chick.

Adam, too, does pretty well. Forty, he carries about 30 pounds too much "weight" for his height. Fortunately, those 30 pounds are solid muscle. His body fat stays, with a careful diet, around 10%. If God didn't want us to eat animals, he was fond of saying, why did he make them out of meat? In fact, if not for Adam's fondness for grilled vegetables, he is an almost perfect anti-vegan. Diet plus frequent workouts at the gym keep him at fighting weight, and he thus possesses more drive, both inside the bedroom and outside of it, than most men half his age. His wife is basically a very lucky gal.

Adam and Leah's kids, five of them, aged 2 to 14, are also very lucky kids, and who knows... there just might be more of them some day.

Now these times away, tho' rare, are simply torture for both of them. Adam for his part promised to be good, to say the Rosary each morning, and to keep himself, including all of his sexual energy only for Leah. He's brought along a dozen more or less erotic photos that he's managed to snap from time to time before or during their lovemaking. Leah sorta hates this. What if you lose them and somebody we know finds them? Well, I guess they'll get an eyeful, heh, heh! Adam's got the straight-on back shot of Leah in a pink lacy thong, another back shot where she's twisting her upper body toward the camera with a million dollar smile. There's the frontal shot in the same thong where she's looking rather coy with her weight shifted toward her right hip, breasts hanging free. Then there's a couple more explicit ones: one where she's inviting the doggy-style with her thong pushed over to the side and spreading her labia, and another POV shot straight down at her butt with Adam's shaft properly connected. Leah really hates that one. Adam, of course, thinks it's the very best. And his "manhood" doesn't look too shabby either, even if he has to say so himself.

So in the morning: the Rosary, after shower and before breakfast. It sets the proper tone for the day, and reminds Adam for whom he's living: his wife, his kids, but most of all for God. The "work" at these meetings consists largely of oppressive boredom. That is only when it fails to amount to an annoying cacophony of buzzwords. After dinner, Adam pulls out his "icons" and allows himself the pleasure of memory--a communion of sorts with the woman he loves. Of course he's stays clothed and keeps his hands off his penis. There's always a small temptation to beat off to them, but that would ultimately kill their purpose and sully the holiness that he and Leah share in their marriage bed. Then he calls home to say good night to the kids, at least the ones not too old to care to talk to him, and most of all his adoring wife. They discuss the day, how the kids are doing, and the manifold miseries of travel, but the conversation always gets around to how very, very, very much they miss each other.

Leah's routine is pretty normal through all of this, the kids, the meals, the house. All fine, except for the overwhelming emptiness of her bed. She wore Adam's pinstripe dress shirt to bed each night, the one he had thrown carelessly on the floor the night before he left for the trip, the one he had used to wipe residue off his shaft after they had made love... that night twice. It smelled of his sweet semen and she inhaled of it deeply each night. His pillow also smelled of him, his deodorant, his hair, his saliva. She pressed her face into it each night as a comforting reminder of her lover and her lord. Her tears soaked into the pillow case. Four days really aren't so long are they? No. But three nights are a veritable eternity! Occasionally in the more desolate moments of the night she lets her hands glide down her smooth tummy and land at her increasingly starved vulva. Just a touch, a reminder; a feather-light glance against her clitoris. She'll not go too far down that road. It isn't even what she really wants right now, which is in fact her own husband heavy upon her and heavy in her, plowing her with his usual skill. There'll be no masturbation tonight, but imagining that which is to come when Adam returns is intoxicating and it makes her wet... and come they both assuredly will.

This is now Adam's 6th or 7th fall "sales" trip. Who's counting? And he will return from this one on Friday afternoon having remained fully faithful to his wife and his own created nature--that but with gonads so chock full of sperm they'll hang a full inch lower than normal. His body is for her, and hers for him. This rule applies no less severely to precious bodily fluids. They slip up occasionally of course, especially during the fertile epoch of the menstrual cycle. Often this is just Adam masturbating to get a quick, and rather unsatisfactory, release. Sometimes they slip up together and have infecund sex. Both, of course, are grave sins, which need to be confessed, and this they dutifully do. This is much more humiliating for Leah. Adam, he supposes, has just gotten used to it. But they have over time, by prayer and reliance upon the saints and God's grace, gotten better. Most often however, when there is a slip up, it's just Adam taking matters, as it were, into his own hands. After all, a man can ejaculate just about as easy as he can scratch an itch, easier if the itch is hard to get to. Leah doesn't hold this too much against him. She understands her husband and his seemingly unbounded sex drive, from which she so often feeds as if it was her own. She is quick to forgive. After 17 years together, they've both learned to not take little slip-ups personally, but most of all to forgive as they've been forgiven.

###

2 Birmingham

Five years earlier, during this same fall trip, that year to Birmingham, Adam slipped up. And not just a little bit, but a whole big freaking lot. These were days before he learned the power of the Holy Rosary, before he had his little pics of his wife, before he fully knew the depth of his wife's love or the depths of his own depravity. He still called every night, of course. But Thursday evening, the day before his flight home, he called a little earlier than usual. He was going to bolt the conference early to catch an earlier flight, and had to get up by 5am. And while this was true, it was merely a cover, perhaps as yet unknown to him, for his real intention of hitting the hotel bar, kicking back one or two too many, and seeing if there were any interesting people to talk to. It had been a positively dreadful week, full of profound loneliness, made almost nauseating by the constant presence of crowds. He wasn't really planning on getting to sleep earlier than usual.

Around 8, a very confident Adam strode up to the bar and ordered, "Talisker, neat." It was the company's dime, so what the hell did he care if it was $20 a shot? He nodded to a couple of the guys he'd seen in the seminars earlier that week. He chatted with one of the facilitators, an annoyingly gregarious man, a non-drinker for heaven's sake, unless you count Evian as a "drink". This man, whom Adam deemed a peddler of trivialities and simplistic pablum, left his presence never knowing that truth, but quite to the contrary rather convinced that Adam a) got a "whole lot" out of the seminars; and b) was one of the nicest guys he'd ever met. Adam was on his game. 8:30. A second shot of Talisker, cask strength.

About quarter to 9, the woman Adam would soon learn went by the name of Carly, glided into the relatively crowded bar and sat down at one of the three remaining empty tables. All eyes followed her, the men's for a few second longer than the women's. She was wearing the quintessential Little Black Dress, which was slightly out of place in a bar full of conventioneers. It rendered her simultaneously over- and under-dressed, by a small but nevertheless non-trivial amount in both directions. Indeed, she wore it quite well, and seemed very comfortable in her skin, of which there was a stunning amount on view, but without rising to the level of tawdry. She was clearly not a whore, and maybe not a supermodel, but what the hell was she doing at the Hyatt hotel bar in Birmingham Freaking Alabama early on a Thursday evening.

Her four-inch heels extended her amply long and shapely legs almost to the point of caricature. Almost! Carly's face was a pleasant, slightly sultry, slightly hollow, a solid 7 on the attractiveness scale. But her body was near perfection: 9+. She was thin in all the right places, and ample in all the other right places. Wide muscular hips, C-cups, broad shoulders, paired with slender limbs and radiant skin. Adam was to learn that she was 32 (though he would never know for sure, nor would he ever know her last name), but she could easily have passed for 25. Carly had been plucked from the deep end of the gene pool, and she seemed to be vaguely, if only provisionally, aware of it. She ordered Pinot Grigio. Adam decided this was one of the interesting people he would like to meet...

Adam wasn't the highest ranking alpha in the room, crowded as it was with VPs and overly loud regional representatives. But no one else new that, nor, importantly, did Adam. He gulped down the remaining $10 worth of his island malt, and strode over as though this woman was his long lost sister. Adam wore only a tight black T-shirt on top, accenting his thin waist and massive pecs. His tight nipples poked through whenever he twisted or breathed deeply. On bottom, he wore simple faded blue jeans that accentuated his tall glutes, held up by a well-weathered leather belt, clasped with an oversized shiny silver buckle. Unbeknownst to him (he merely thought he was anachronistic), this focussed the attention of most ladies, and not a few men, toward his pelvic area, an unintentional but nevertheless powerful tacit message that the real business happens RIGHT HERE! (And truthfully it did happen a lot for him... but only with his adoring wife... and never, before or after, like this.)

"What?" Adam demanded. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink?" Carly was slightly amused, even if taken a bit off guard. She was quite accustomed to having drinks bought for her... whether she wanted one or not.

"Why can't you just put one on your room?" queried the woman bursting in black.

"Oh, I'm on a really tight expense budget. My boss would never approve anything like that!" Adam plopped his muscular ass down in the chair to her right.

"So what was that you were just drinking a second ago?" Carly smiled.

"Oh, that..." Adam feinted. "That was a glass of Talisker. A rich widow bought it for me. I was trying to marry her for her fortune, but she saw right though me. Sonuvabitch gold digger, I think she called me... before she stormed out... ... Damn nice whisky though... Thought I'd finish it..."

Carly brushed her hair back and recrossed her legs. Outside, she continued to exude confidence and beauty, but inside she experienced the first tiny crack in her ego. This guy had some balls talking to her like this. Who the hell was he? He was pretty good looking. Was he hitting on her? Seemed to be. But he had a ring on his finger... for chrissake. He just seemed so comfortable with her... and with himself. This was rare among men that moved in her circles. He could just be socially retarded... but he was quick and witty and... what's that word? charming. He was just the sort of interesting person she had come there to meet.

"Adam."

"I'm Carly."

They talked for nearly two hours. It came out that, yes, Carly too was there for the conference. No, Adam wasn't really wooing a rich widow. Unsurprisingly they worked for the same company. Almost the entire hotel was taken up by its employees. Carly worked as some sort of administrative assistant in the CEO's office in Chicago, and assistant to his assistant or something like that. Clearly, the CEO had good taste in decor. She was surprised to learn that Adam was lowly IT administrator in their New Jersey branch. She had taken him for some sort of sales manager. It turns out he worked as a professional geek, even though he was clearly not one of them in real life. He was complex, understated if anything given the depth of his knowledge on so varied an array of subjects... and the more she analyzed it, he looked pretty damn good in that T-shirt.

Adam was completely open about his marriage: It was great. Three kids!? My God, how does your wife cope? How can you afford it? Carly was married too. But where was the wedding ring? She and her husband were considering separation only after three short years. Adam was genuinely concerned when he heard this. That poor guy. This hot wife! They just seemed to be growing apart; she had no idea why. Maybe she "settled". No, no, he was a really nice guy... bent over backwards for her... she could do no wrong... he was a great friend... maybe just a lousy husband. Maybe she was a lousy wife? She wanted kids, she just couldn't decide when the time would be right. Yes, I know, I'm not getting any younger. Thirty-two actually. Damn, you stay in pretty good shape. I was a late bloomer.

They talked about a lot of funny things, too, like the general good humor of South Asians that they worked with, and the complete lack of humor of most East Asians, at least until everyone else around them was laughing. It turned out Carly had a slightly unpleasant guffaw whenever she could be induced to laugh uncontrollably. And she hadn't been out of control of anything for quite a long time. Adam rather wickedly pointed out that at least her laugh wasn't as bad as this dork in high school he'd known who laughed kinda like a sick mule. Meanwhile, Adam had downed by now his fourth and a final fifth shot of Talisker, probably two too many, compliments again of Carly's room charge; she was nearing the bottom of her third big glass of Pinot Grigio--a bit much for her as well.

They discussed their travel plans tomorrow. Yes, Carly had to stay to the end. What a drag! She'd catch the evening flight. Adam was getting out of Dodge under the radar on the 8am flight. It was getting late. Yeah, gotta get up really early... Carly confessed to being really glad to have met Adam. He'd done an excellent job of deflecting all the assholes from hitting on her. Then something suddenly just clicked on in the depths of Adam's soul. He had surprised even himself with a notion rather foreign. He'd been playing her like a pro all evening and did not even know it. Being a man just came naturally to him--the inheritance from a loving yet powerful father. He was just acting normal... normal for him. But it was intoxicating for women. For his wife, of course, he knew this. But also, unbeknownst to Adam, for dozens of other women that came in and out of his spheres. Then a split second, a moment of weakness: he looked at this super hot woman, and knew that he would never see her again. He, the animal, wanted just to take, to see that body up just a little bit closer. Nothing to do here but shock and awe. If it worked, he might hit the jackpot; if it failed, he'd lose nothing.

He planted a hard, open kiss on her lips. No warning, no hesitation, no asking permission. He simply invaded her personal space, grabbed her arm with his massive hands, and planted a one. For about 1/100 of a second, Carly's instinct was to push away. A silent gasp almost escaped from her... but then... she quickly decided that it was most welcome. Her wet mouth opened for his tongue. She began grinding her hips right there in the bar in full sight of everyone. The kiss devolved quickly into a wild exchange of saliva. She wanted this man and no others... even if only for a night. The din of the bar had slowly subsided as they had been talking there. A few others now noticed this rather inappropriate public display. They whispered amongst themselves that maybe they should get a room.

"Come up to my room and I'll show you the great view I got," Adam commanded.

"Oh, that'd be great," she pretended.

They strolled to the elevator, arms around each other, steadying each other when necessary. Happily one was waiting right there for them. Even more happily, they realized they were the only ones on it as Adam pressed six. Carly threw her arms around him and ground her breasts up against him. They kissed even deeper than before through the entirety of the short ride. She wrapped her long, stiletto shod leg around his hip. This was madness. But neither of them wanted to be sane right now.

###

3 The Sixth Floor

As soon as the room door closed behind them, Carly pulled her dress off over her head in one easy motion and threw it across the room. No padding in that black lacy bra. Yep, she was clear C... Her tits were plump and full and needed little support. Underneath she wore the tiniest thong Adam had ever seen. It consisted of the thinnest possible thread of elastic around the waist, and an equally thin floss down through her ass crack. She pranced around in place giddily, showing off her both of her good sides. In the front, the waist "band" (if you could call it that) dipped deeply below her belly and toward her pubic bone. There could not have been more than two inches of height to the front of this thong, and certainly less than 3/4" of width. It was basically a thong on both sides. Her vulva were clearly exposed on either side of the strip, and this without any upward tug. She could have peed in these "underwear" and hardly have gotten them wet. Do girls just wear such underwear for no reason? Do they even bring such things on business trips? Clearly she'd shaved recently and thoroughly. Shaved? During, certainly not before, a business trip?

Almost immediately, Carly dropped to her knees in front of Adam, and with determination began the task of undoing his jeans. She lowered them to about mid-thigh, and then carefully pulled down his charcoal grey boxer briefs. Adam was already pretty well aroused. A couple wet sucks of his dick brought him to full size. "Oh my God, you're huge!" It wasn't true. Adam was slightly above average measuring in at about 6 1/2", proportionally thick and well formed. He was slightly larger than her own husband, but not by very much. Carly was seeing him with her emotions--in fact seeing him in a way that that she hadn't seen even her own husband for quite some time, if ever.

Carly had, over her three years and some change of marriage, wrested complete control from her husband; control of the finances, control of the house, control in the bedroom, control over their very life together. This had started, of course, even before their marriage, during their on-again, off-again engagement. She had fucked an array guys in college, most of them only once. A few boyfriends stuck around for a while. David was the one who stuck the longest... and had the patience to wait for her while she worked through her "slut phase." He was tame; he'd be an ideal husband she thought, not understanding then nor up to now, how this very tameness could make her so miserable. She cheated, he suspected, he did nothing. He might be cheating too, but she was long past caring about that. Truth be told, she enjoyed masturbation much more than her own husband: It was simple, convenient, and non-messy... and with practice almost guaranteed to get her off--all the attributes in which David came up short.

What she experienced now, worshipping at the cock of this strange wild man, was completely different. Though she didn't fully appreciate it yet, she was not in charge. She didn't even have a vote with Adam. And it was this precise lack of control that made her so completely giddy, drunk less on Pinot Grigio than on his simple, unflappable masculinity. She greedily sucked and slurped and licked and stroked Adam's phallus. Adam rewarded her with an occasional gratifying moan himself. Her free left hand dropped down to her pussy where she gently stimulated her moist clit though her panties. She wondered in fact if she was having a slight incontinence problem. Her pussy was literally dripping with moisture. Adam managed to get his shirt off, step out of his shoes, and wiggle out of his pants and underwear. She looked up at him as some sort of god. There was simply no give in his cock. "How to you keep it so hard?" She took one great lick from the bottom of his balls to the very tip of his glans.

"Well, I've had 4 days' rest..." Adam deadpanned.

"Mmmm," she slurped. "Do you wanna cum in my mouth?"

Adam was taken aback. He hadn't really thought about such a thing for many years. His wife went down on him all the time, but it was always in foreplay, even if quite stimulating foreplay, and always in view of something so much greater. Why would he cum in her mouth, of all things?

"No way. I'm Catholic," Adam said. "Cum goes only in the approved orifice!"

"Wow... I never knew Catholicism could be so damn sexy!" She actually meant it. She had an approved orifice, she reasoned... and the thought of getting it plowed by this specimen was only ratcheting up her desire. Time to get in from the room's foyer and onto the bed.

Carly stood up and gave a gentle tug on Adam's dick in the direction of the bed. She undid her bra and tossed it on the floor. "Do you like doggy style?" She asked, kicking off her heels.

"It's my favorite," Adam admitted. She reached into her small clutch purse and pulled out a condom. She was so accustomed to "safe sex", it never even occurred to her that there might be another way... or rather that there was never really any such thing as "safe sex."

"Can I put it on for you?" Carly pled. She had a condom in her clutch? On a business trip?

"Here, let me," Adam said. He took the package and gave it a look over. No condom had ever touched his dick. He wouldn't have known how to put one on if his life depended on it. He opened it and took out the strange latex disk. He raised it to his mouth. Carly had no idea what he was doing, but was certain it would be fun to watch. He bit hard on the ring, and tore the rest away, fully shredding the thin membrane.

"Do you wanna fuck... or only pretend to fuck?" he demanded. There were some lines even bad Catholics in the throes of mortal sin would not cross.

Carly was simultaneously shocked, embarrassed, and driven to new heights of ecstasy... It had been ages since she raw dogged it. Yes, I remember... that's what cocks and pussies are for! "Oh, yes!" she replied. "Fuck me... fuck me hard... fuck the hell out of me!!"

She assumed the position on the end of the bed, gently pushing her tiny string to the left side and baring her shithole as well as her vulnerable cunt. From this vantage point, access was easy for Adam standing up at the bed's end. He rubbed his head longitudinally along her wet slit and then entered. Carly squealed and then moaned with delight. The sensation of skin against skin was wild to her, and his girth seemed as if it would split her in half. If it hadn't been for her excessive lubrication this night, it might very well have been painful. She had never bore a child, and tho' she had rode a few cocks, she had probably spent more time pleasuring herself externally on her clit, than pleasuring others with her whole vagina.