Love and Trust Betrayed Ch. 01

He betrayed her love and trust when he crawled into bed with someone else. He recognized his mistake and wanted his wife back. He was not prepared to let her go and had no problem in using coercion, intimidation, force and even stalking in a questionable attempt to reignite her affections.

He loved her and despite everything, she still loved him. Would this be enough to reunite them?

*********************

I had reached a point in my life when I felt trapped in a maze like a rat.

I grew up in a family of high achievers, the middle son of a prosperous and domineering man. My Father had been a complicated man and things weren't always emotionally easy for our mother or us boys. Hell, he treated all of us as his possessions. My youth was one of measured privilege, but the unquenchable thirst for achievement, the need to gain my Father's approval while always struggling to break free of his dominance and control overshadowed everything. I've come to understand that my relationship with my Father influenced so many things in my adult life. In hindsight, I can see my reaction to my wife's rejection was in character with my upbringing and was inevitable.

My life's trajectory first started veering off course as I approached my mid-teens. In and out of trouble with the cops, constant fighting with my father, nothing I seemed to do could ever please him, and so I finally gave up and left him, the family, and the whole damn situation.

I bummed around for a year or so before joining the military and after surviving three tours of duty in various "conflicts", I returned home. Without skipping a beat, I picked up where I had left off, and within a few weeks of my return, the old evils of drinking, indiscriminate sex, drugs, questionable women, fighting, etc., were regular occurrences, and I again found myself embroiled in trouble with the police.

*****

Feeling the warmth of the morning light, I opened my eyes and looked at the clock that irritably blinked 7:00 am.

I sensed someone lying next to me and rolled over to see an attractive bleach-blonde woman beside me. My first thought was "who the fuck is she?" but then, what did it matter? I had awakened more than once in someone's bed or found a stranger in mine.

I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. When finished I came out and glanced at her sleeping form, I didn't remember her name and only vaguely recalled the night before.

Wanting her gone, waking her I none to politely told her it was time for her to go.

Within fifteen minutes I was walking an extremely pissed off woman to the front door, reassuring her that I would call her later in the day. Of course, this was a lie; I very rarely saw one of these women after the first encounter.

It was around this time that I ran into Tiffany Reynolds. For several months, Tiff and my older brother Matt had been a couple. He'd cheat on her; she'd cheat on him, they'd fight and then get back together. When I got out of jail for the second time in six months, she offered me a temporary place to stay, and I jumped at the opportunity.

Though I liked Tiffany and felt a strong sexual attraction to her, I initially wanted this to be a platonic business arrangement. I tried to keep it that way, but Tiffany could be a very enticing temptation. Even though she had already been with my brother, we both knew our coupling was inevitable. I remember how it was that first time. We had been playing around, teasing, light fondling and brief kisses for a while. These intimacies had gradually increased and intensified until that morning I walked in on her when she was in the bathroom getting ready to shower. "I'm sorry, I gotta go, can't wait," I said sighing with relief as the warm, spray of urine streamed into the bowl. She smiled, eying my humongous morning wood. As the last warm drops of pee began to fall, she lowered herself to her knees, and taking my cock in her hand pressed it to her lips enveloping my rapidly hardening member. I stood there in a state of pleasant surprise as my legs began to tremble and Tiffany coaxed me to sit down. With my dick still in her mouth, she opened my thighs wider and buried her face in my crotch, sucking, licking and slurping with abandon.

To my embarrassment, I could hear myself moaning and whimpering with pleasure, like a fucking schoolboy, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to cum as hard as I could down Tiffany's throat. Damn, but it felt good. I sat there, an eager object of her attention.

"Tiffany, oh my god Tiff, I'm cumming!" I groaned as I gave into her ministrations. Engrossed in the sensations, I felt the pressure building as cum filled my balls, seeking escape. I moaned from deep in my chest when cum sprayed out of my cock's tip into the warm, tight moistness of her mouth.

After allowing me to regain my composure and the ability to walk, Tiff took my hand and led me into her bedroom. My erection had returned, harder and stronger than before. Tiff pushed me onto my back, rolled on top of me, and began rubbing my cock head between her wonderfully wet, slippery slit. My cock started to leak when she continued to rub and grind her pussy against my hot, throbbing tool. Tiff positioned her pussy and slowly lowered herself down my dick pole, making me feel wonderfully swollen and big inside her.

"Ok?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

A light sheen of sweat had formed and glistened on her forehead, "Don't cum," she admonished in her excitement, "do you understand?"

"Yeah," I said in a choked voice, intuitively moving my hips my cock rubbing up and down inside her pussy. I watched the changing expression on her face, as she raised and lowered her pussy on my cock, working toward her orgasm.

Despite her obviously wanting to be in control, my male instincts took over and I rolled her over onto her back and began fucking her slow and hard. I could feel her pussy trying to grab and hold my thrusting cock.

That was the first of many sexual encounters with Tiffany, that is until I met Bryce.

*****

Bryce and I moved in together a little over two years ago. It had always been good for us, emotionally, temperamentally, personally and beyond all expectations sexually. My little, quiet, conservative Bryce had turned out to be all the woman I could ever have wanted.

I first met Bryce through a mutual acquaintance. One night she was out with a couple of her girlfriends, and they came into Phineas', a dark, little bar out on Highway 92. She told me after we had gotten to know each other that when they had pulled up in front and parked the car that night, she was surprised by the ramshackle appearance of the place. It was a real dive, a motorcycle bar actually, not the kind of place that she would have normally gone to, let alone been seen.

"I didn't want to go in and even suggested the others go on in, and I would call a cab and head home," she said. Finally, amid feigned protests and good hearted cries of 'goody two shoes,' she had relented and let them persuade her to go inside for just one drink.

The bar was dark, dank smelling and crowded, with an old "Steely Dan" vocal blasting in the background. There were a few women in the place, but the majority of the patrons were rough, burly men clad in dirty denim jeans, head kerchiefs, vests, motorcycle jackets, long hair, beards or stubbly chins. You name the stereotype, and it was there that night.

I stood at the far side of the bar having a drink with a now occasional booty call, named Tiffany Reynolds. I saw Bryce come through the door looking beautiful, uncomfortable and terribly out of place. She couldn't have been any more than 5'4" and maybe 115 lbs., with high, firm breasts, small waist, and a tight ass. I didn't mean to stare, but when she walked pass the group of us at the bar, I could appreciate her beautiful large green eyes, her full sensual mouth, and the thick, auburn colored hair that curled about her face.

Her friend Jean spotted an empty table, and the small group made their way to the table chatting and laughing. They sat down, ordered their drinks and I watched her as she nervously looked around the room and at the strange grouping of people having what I'm sure, they considered a good time.

I eyed the girl, laughing and talking with her friends and wondered what her laughter sounded like. Unexpectedly, I felt my business twitch between my legs and then that all too familiar male throbbing began. It was a pleasant sensation, something I hadn't felt on seeing a woman for the first time in a very long while. I'd meet a woman, fuck her, send her on her way and that was that. This girl was different, though. I didn't know why, just that she was, and that I wanted to meet her.

I asked Zoe, her waitress what the new girl's her name was and Zoe said it was Bryce Grisham and that she was a friend of Pam's, one of the bar regulars and coincidentally an acquaintance of mine. I sent drinks over to her and her friends and continued to hang back and watch her for another fifteen minutes or so before I walked over to her table.

"Hey Pam, how's it shaking," I said as I approached their table and pulled over an empty chair making room next to Bryce. I immediately began talking with Pam. Whenever I would direct a question to Bryce, she would reply with short, brief responses giving the impression of being impatient and standoffish.

"Hi, my name is Jace, Jace Mitchell . . . would you like another drink?" I asked having turned to face Bryce.

She looked at me with a piercing stare, as if by scrutinizing my face she could determine my character and trustworthiness.

"Huh, no I don't think so, I'm leaving in a few minutes, but thank you," she said in a voice that reminded me of a warm, whisper in bed.

However, she didn't leave, and I guess this thing between us started that night. I think we both felt a strong magnetism and within days of our meeting, we were seriously dating.

*****

I smile to myself when I think back to the pre "penis in pussy" dance that Bryce and I tortured ourselves with in the beginning. From the first time I was alone with her, I'd tried to get into her panties, but being the "good girl" that she was, she proved to be an experienced little tease, you know, getting me all worked up but not letting me put it in. During that first couple of weeks (yes, I said weeks) every once in a while when I would be so swollen and hard I felt like my dick would burst, she'd let me put it in her mouth, but she wouldn't let me cum in her mouth. I suppose it was enough to give me some relief, but never any real satisfaction.

Fortunately, this situation did not last very longer.

In the few weeks we had been together, the sexual tension between us had intensified with each day's passing. We had come back to my place from a party one night and granted I had probably had too much to drink, and we'd argued about her not wanting to give me sex. I had had it with her and her prudishness . . . after all, we weren't kids, but two adults with needs.

"I've had enough of this bullshit Bryce!" I had shouted, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around to face me.

"I'm a grown man, and I can't keep on like this. I think you know how I feel about you. If you want to find out if there's anything worth pursuing between us, then we need to move on to the next level and get the sex thing out of the way, or it's over," I threatened.

She looked up at me and tried to pull away, but I held her wrist tighter. "Do you understand?" I asked, my tone demanding a reply. Her eyes began to water and for a moment, I thought I saw a look of terror flicker across her face, and then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

She stood in front of me silently examining, searching my face and I remember at the time thinking she was the most beautiful, desirable woman I had ever met. I desperately wanted to be with her, inside her. Her reluctance slipping away, Bryce looked into my eyes and smiled. She reached up and caressed my face with her soft hand, letting her lithe fingers play across my lips. There was a sudden intake of my breath when Bryce leaned close to me; the pressure of her lower body against my swelling member was undeniable. She tilted her head back and offered her mouth to me, and I kissed her hungrily.

Bryce deftly undid my jeans, and her small, warm hand slipped effortlessly into my shorts. She had me so excited; I was leaking pre-cum before she actually touched my dick.

Without a word, I took the clips from her hair, releasing her hair and allowing it to fall into sensual disarray about her shoulders. Taking handfuls of her hair in my hands, I pulled her head down onto my cock and slid it into her mouth, my swollen cockhead filling her throat. I began to move my hips in and out, and with each stroke, I could feel the warm, moist sensation of her mouth tightening around my cock. I trembled as my thick cumload spewed into her mouth and slowly down her throat.

*****

I leisurely undressed her, marveling at her beauty. Despite her acquiescence, I sensed her uneasiness and with whispered words of reassurance, I lifted her in my arms and carried her to my bed.

Placing her on her back, I spread her legs and lifted them up, resting them on my shoulders. I guided my cock to her now exposed pussy, smearing pre-cum around her opening and over my cockhead. I pushed my hips forward and with a deep sigh of pleasure, pressed my cock inside her tightness, coaxing her pussy to accommodate my engorged, veiny cock. Once inside her, I had to pause and gloat at my physical dominance of her and her willing submission to me. I think only a man can understand and appreciate what it's like when you penetrate a woman you've lusted after for the first time.

With only half my cock buried in her, I pumped slowly, increasing my depth and speed. Bryce instinctively began moving her hips up and down helping me ease my full length further into her. Just as my dick roughly caressed her cervix, a groan from deep in my chest erupted and I unloaded high-up inside her pussy. I spasmed and grunted in primordial delight as my balls were emptied, filling her warm, welcoming sheath with thick, white cum. With my explosion at its peak, Bryce began to buck under me and scream with the orgasmic pleasure that flooded her body.

*****

We talked that night for what seemed like hours. Bryce confided in me her deepest secret, which she hoped, would explain her reluctance to becoming intimate with me before tonight.

Taking a deep breath, she began:

"I grew up in an extremely dysfunctional family, my father, mother and two older brothers. Daddy was Grant W. Grisham, one of the most influential men in that part of the state back then."

Bryce grew very quiet, and after a long pause, she took a deep breath and began her story. "My Dad was always possessive and proprietary with my Mother, and then towards me as I became older. I guess most people thought he was a good father and husband, but what they didn't know was that he was always touching and fondling me. It got to a point where he would do it in front of my brothers, which was very embarrassing and humiliating," she explained.

Bryce gave a tired, cynical laugh, "he definitely had no problem with touching me if he felt the urge."

"Couldn't you go to your Mother for help?" I asked.

"No," was her short, succinct response.

"Why?" I asked her, "It sounds like your Mother was in the same situation as you. If nothing else you'd think she would have wanted to protect you."

"Well, that's not the way it was. When Daddy would start, Mom would pretend not to see and turn away or leave the room."

She lay next to me and began to cry as she continued describing what her childhood had been like.

"I was never out of his sight or control for very long. He grew bolder, and by the time I turned eighteen, and my brothers had moved away, he no longer felt the need to hide what he was doing."

Bryce suddenly sat up but continued to talk even as large tears dropped onto her heaving naked breasts. "I had grown to hate and despise him. Sometimes he would want complete privacy. He . . . he would make me go with him when he went "fishing", telling my Mother to stay at the house until he got back. I'd come back from those trips quiet, withdrawn, a nervous wreck. I have no doubt my Mother, knew what he was doing to me. In hindsight, I guess she was just as afraid of him as I was and that's why she never said a word, not wanting to displease or anger him."

Bryce took a deep breath and rising from the bed walked naked across the room her firm, tight little ass begging to be kissed or better yet fucked. Totally innocent of her sexual allure she pulled a pale yellow camisole from the chest of drawers and slipped it over her head. Jace sighed in disappointment at her covering herself. Bryce came back to the bed and picked up her story where she had left off.

"After graduating high school, I enrolled at a local college, since he had already made it clear that he would not let me go away to school. I felt trapped."

Around this time, my father's younger brother Peter came to stay with us for an extended visit. Peter was the lead architect for Jacobson and Javitz and was here to supervise the final design and construction of a new office building and decided to stay with us instead of at a hotel.

From what Bryce told me, her Uncle Peter eventually confided that he had sensed something was not right from the beginning. Whatever was going on in the house made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

After a few weeks and unbeknownst to Grant, one night Peter had seen him coming out of Bryce's bedroom. Wondering what he was doing in her room at that hour, he had stood behind his partially opened bedroom door and listened. As Bryce's father left her room, Peter could hear her crying and Grant saying, "I've warned you Brycie, now be quiet, before your Mother hears you." Peter said all he could do was stare in disbelief and confusion as Grant closed the door, adjusted his clothes and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

Peter made a mental note to talk to Grant the next day, but despite a couple of overtures the following day, Grant was able to put him off each time. Afraid that Peter might be suspicious, Bryce's Father managed to keep himself under control and stay away from her, but I guess he couldn't maintain the façade for very long before things quickly came to a head.

Peter was again working late one night when voices arguing out in the hall caught his attention. Unable to concentrate, he went to the door and guardedly looked out. He saw Grant grab Bryce by the arm and try to pull her into her bedroom. From his tone of voice, it was evident, Grant was angry, and it was also obvious that he had a raging hard-on and was looking to get some relief.

"Come on, Brycie, just be nice to Daddy. Don't make me angry", he said menacingly. "Now get the fuck in there!"

"Hearing this, my Uncle Peter said he didn't know what came over him, but he stormed out of his room and pushed me into my room telling me to close and lock my door. As I closed my door, I saw the look on Daddy's face; he was livid with anger and indignation."

"You sorry bastard, who the fuck do you think you are?" Daddy shouted at Uncle Peter.

"Now, Uncle Peter was maybe 6' 2", and a big, athletic, muscular guy, more than an equal match for my father. Daddy took a wild swing at Uncle Peter and missed, but Uncle Peter's blow connected and Daddy went down hard on the hallway floor. Uncle Peter stood over him, and grabbing him by the front of his shirt screamed at him, "You crazy, sick son of a bitch, if you ever touch her again, I'll make sure you go to prison, or I'll kill your sorry ass myself. Do you understand? Do you understand?"