My Woman His Wife Saga

by Anna J.

  “Let’s go,” Jazz’s father said to me with a straight face, looking like he would hate to have to repeat himself. I struggled from my seat, not even remembering sitting down, the effects of the ass-whipping they gave me earlier starting to show in a small limp and a thumping pain behind my right eye. I was sure this was probably nothing compared to what Jazz was feeling, so I wasn’t about to complain.

  “Were you in the accident as well?” the nurse asked me as I walked by, but all I could do was shake my head no as I moved toward where I assumed Jazz and the kids were located. I couldn’t breathe, for real this time, and I was starting to feel lightheaded as we headed down the hall.

  “Are you okay?” the nurse asked as she stopped to prop me against the wall. I didn’t answer, instead shaking my head in a quick side to side motion in an attempt to gather myself, and I could see Jazz’s uncles looking like they were ready to jump on me if I didn’t get it together quick. Taking heed to the threat, I straightened up and got it together.

  “I’m fine, just take me to my wife,” I managed to squeak out in a low tone as I stood up on wobbly legs and forced one foot to step in front of the other.

  The tension in the hallway was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and I was sure both the nurse and the doctor felt it. I was psyching myself up so that I could face the inevitable, trying to make myself believe that it’s not that bad even though we’re in the intensive care unit. It could just be that they wanted to keep a close eye out on her. All of that went out the window when I got my first glimpse of Jasmine through the glass separating her from the hall traffic. Damn, I wasn’t prepared at all for this.

  “You’re in the right place to die, homeboy,” Jazz’s uncle said close to my ear to ensure that I heard every word. “Straighten the hell up before you go in.”

  Nothing could have prepared me for what I was going to see when I approached Jazz’s room. I knew she was going to be a mess, but this was nothing like the stuff I saw on television. I was expecting a bandaged head, maybe a little bruising on the jaw line, and even a cast-covered leg being supported by something hanging from the ceiling. I would have even gone for the arm being wrapped up and looking like a chicken wing. Just looking through the glass, all the tubes and bandages brought tears to my eyes. This shit just got serious real quick. With blurry vision I stumbled over to the bed where my wife lay comatose, and cried. Her face was covered with twisted shades of blues and deep purples, and her lips appeared to be sliced to shreds. I held her hand in mine, and kissed every scar from her bandaged fingertips up to where her elbow and hospital gown met. What the hell did I do?

  “Jazz, if you wake up I promise to make everything right. I love you, baby. Please don’t leave me like this,” I whispered in her ear as my tears soaked the material covering her shoulder. This was crazy, and I just couldn’t believe it.

  I wished I had the power to change places with my wife. Only difference was I would have wanted them to pull the plug on me. She didn’t deserve a constant fuck up like me in her life, and I was even considering leaving the marriage once she came through. Jazz deserved someone who would love her unconditionally and would be there for her always. At one time I thought I was that man, but now I was not so sure.

  Monica: Bird’s-eye View

  Standing on the balcony, taking in the sights of the city, I gathered the fluffy terry cloth bathrobe around my shoulders courtesy of the hotel, as I sipped a cup of mint tea from a cute little coffee mug I found at the airport gift shop on my way to Philadelphia. Every so often the wind would pick up, violently swirling the snow around as sleet turned the streets into a humungous ice skating rink. My mom used to always say that when the weather was bad like this, God was angry with us. I could definitely see the truth in that. I personally played a lot into His anger as an adult.

  My mind was spinning with all kinds of thoughts, and I didn’t know where to start. What if I never found them? What if Jazz decided to try to fight me or something? Furthermore, what if we fell back into the same situation we had before? It was different, kind of, when it was just the two kids, but a five piece? That was a lot to juggle, and I wasn’t willing to stretch my time or patience like that no matter how good the orgasm was. Furthermore, I couldn’t bear being that close to my son without parenting him either. That was just too much at one time.

  It’d been four years since I’d laid eyes on my son, and to be perfectly honest, I was scared of the outcome. Did he even know that I was his mother? He was practically forced on the Cinques, so if they never divulged that information to him it’s only right, and there wasn’t much I could say about it. They’d been more of a parent to him than I ever could’ve been then and now. I had the papers drawn up granting sole custody and everything. All they had to do was sign on the dotted line.

  When I first split, James would send me picture messages of my boy growing up and walking around. I would cry just looking at them because I should have been there for all of those moments, but I was selfish and scared. What was I going to do with a baby? I was a mover and shaker, and I couldn’t do that with a diaper bag on my hip. It got to be too overwhelming watching the videos and looking at the pictures, so without notice to him I changed my number.

  I couldn’t deal with the constant reminder that I might have made the biggest mistake in my life. The easiest thing to do was ignore it, and so I did. I’d lived my life for the last four years like I didn’t have a child. I saw sending out checks to the Cinques for him like a bill I paid monthly. It was nothing to it: write the check, address the envelope, lick the stamp, and drop the shit into the mail. Easy as 1–2–3–4.

  Pretty soon he wasn’t even a thought and I moved on autopilot. Making sure my sister didn’t crash and burn was a job in itself, and with running Safe Haven and my new art gallery my life was pretty full. A child wouldn’t have fit in my plans anyway, or so I kept convincing myself. Yeah, leaving him here was the best move possible. Jasmine would love him like her own, and James would show him the ropes. Just the way it should be.

  Why did the checks start coming back though? That was like the million dollar question in my head right now. Up until a few months ago the checks were being cashed and everything was good. I sent them more than enough to make sure my boy was properly fed, and clothed. Hell, the Cinques weren’t exactly broke so he would have been good regardless of whether I sent a check or not.

  I was even more surprised when I called James for the scoop and the number I had for him didn’t work. Feeling desperate, I called Jazz already knowing the answer . . . Her number was changed as well. I had a friend of mine—more of a spy than a friend, honestly—go over to the house to see if they even lived there and it was reported back that the property had a for sale sign on it and the house was already empty. That was nothing but Jasmine’s doing, but “why?” was the question.

  So I called myself, using the voluptuous Jaydah B as a distraction, but she proved to be more of a distraction than I wanted her to be in an annoying way. I really couldn’t enjoy her company the way I wanted to because I was trying to decide if I needed to show my face in Philly. She was just interested in achieving multiple orgasms. Rightfully so, after all, that was what she came to the ATL for, but damn. Who knows, maybe I’ll give her another chance when I’m less distracted, but I feel like my son needs me. I’ve never felt like this before, and I’m not sure why I’m feeling this now. I just hope I won’t have to act a fool down here. Right now I come in peace; let’s just hope I can leave the same way.

  James

  A Midwinter’s Night Dream

  “James, pull some of it out, baby. I’ll let you put it back in,” Monica moaned into my ear while I deep stroked her to death. She wanted me to go deep, and I had no problem meeting her request. The warmth that surrounded us was like we were wrapped in a cocoon near a hot spring, and the shit was driving me crazy. I hadn’t had Monica in ages, and I almost melted when I slid into her.

  “James, pull it out, baby. Please
, pull it out,” she pleaded into my ear, following it up with a low moan that made goose bumps crawl down my back in the same spot where her nails just scratched my skin. I wanted to oblige, but it felt so damn good. Jasmine’s pussy never felt like this.

  “I’ll pull some of it out, but I have to push it back in, understand?” I spoke into her ear as I went deep one more time.

  “Yes . . . yes . . . yes. I understand, James.”

  She tightened her walls around my length, and wrapped her legs around my back, pulling me in deeper in spite of her request for me to pull out. I pushed her legs back so that she could let me go, and after scooting up on my knees I slowly slid my snake from her cave, causing her to shiver all over. With the head of my dick sitting just at her opening, I felt her pulsate as honey oozed from her opening, making the head feel slippery. I had to count sheep to keep my cool, and take control of the situation before we crashed it. She was about to get dicked down something serious, whether she was ready or not.

  Monica held on to the headboard for dear life, tapping out because she couldn’t handle it. I ignored her taps, slowly inching myself back into her wetness. My dick was brick hard right now, and I swore it felt like it was still growing the closer I got to an orgasm. I would push it in a little more each time, and pull all the way out until just the head was in. The feel of her opening clinching the tip and trying to suck me back in was driving me crazy. She was losing her damn mind, and on the low so was I. I loved a kinky chick in the bedroom, and Monica was all for it. All this shit talking and ass smacking had me feeling some kind of way. Damn, I think I love this girl.

  “James, push it deeper, baby,” Monica requested in between pulses. She didn’t know what the hell she wanted me to do, and from the way she thrashed back and forth, causing her hair to halo around her, I could tell she was in on the verge of an explosion and that shit was turning me all the way the fuck on. I leveled my body above hers and used my feet to brace myself as I pushed into her until it felt like my balls could squeeze in. A gush of warmth coated my dick with a gooey stickiness that made me moan out loud my damn self. Oh, she was playing hardball tonight, but I was ready.

  “You like this dick all up in you?” I asked her as I slow stroked her into another orgasm. The light scratching of her nails against my back, and her pleading for me to “take it” was answer enough. I went from an extremely slow pace to almost pounding her brains out, back to a slow crawl. I hadn’t gotten fucked good by my wife in years, so I was going to make this shit count.

  “James, please . . .”

  “Please what?” I asked her, pulling all the way out. I stroked my dick in a lazy up-and-down motion as it pulsated in my hand. This bad boy was about to blow! Rubbing her creamy juices in, I leaned back on my knees so that I could catch my breath. I wasn’t ready to bust just yet, but if she kept clinching up on my dick the way she was it was about to be a wrap.

  “Please put it back in,” she responded, panting loudly, trying to catch her breath as well.

  Damn, she still had a gorgeous body, and I still loved her dark-chocolate nipples. She palmed her left breast, and pulled her nipple into her mouth, circling the tight bud with her tongue. I wanted so badly to be her tongue at that moment. I remembered when Jazz used to be freaky like that. Monica was making it her business for me to forget Jazz, if only for this moment, and I was all for it.

  “What else you want to do with that tongue?” I asked her, pulling my legs from under me, and lying back on the bed, stretching out so that she could see all this dick up close and personal. Oh, I was gonna wear her ass out!

  She had a wicked grin on her face as she switched positions in the bed, and rested her body between my legs, taking me all the way into her mouth down to my balls. I loved that she didn’t have a gag reflex. Closing my eyes I let Monica enjoy my chocolate stick, pumping slowly into her mouth as she slurped me in. I cupped the back of her head to maintain control, but that shit wasn’t working at all.

  “Yeah, suck daddy’s dick,” I said in a low tone as I took hold of the back of her head a little tighter and guided the way. She ran a finger up the crack of my ass and pressed into the space under my balls, causing me to practically jump up from the bed. Damn, that shit felt good. Yeah, she’s definitely a keeper.

  Releasing the vacuum-like suction from the head of my dick, Monica stood up on the bed with her legs on both sides of me. Squatting down, she took me into her tightness, accepting my girth on the way in and juicing my dick with her walls on the way out. Lawd, how did I luck up on this?

  “You gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” I asked her while lightly pinching her nipples with one hand, and fingering her clit with my other. She was sloppy wet, and the friction from me smearing her juices across her clit was causing her body to tremor slightly. Seemed as if Miss Lady was losing her composure.

  “Yes . . . yes . . . yes,” she moaned as she swirled slowly on my pole. The heat emanating from her core had my dick like ten degrees warmer than the rest of my body.

  “Yeah? Am I the best?” I asked her, taking full advantage of her weak state. She was grinding down hard, and I could feel my cream slowly rising to the top. She would rise up off of it, and then grind down onto it in a beat that was probably in her head.

  “Yes, James, you’re the best,” she responded in a low tone that sounded extra deep for some reason.

  “The neighbors can’t hear you,” I threw out there as I pinched her clit between my thumb and forefinger, causing her body to convulse uncontrollably until I let it go.

  “James, you’re the best, baby,” Monica moaned out, trying to catch her breath in the process.

  “Damn, girl, take that dick,” I responded as I tried to keep my nut in my sac a little longer. I was about to plant a thick nut up in her that would permanently knock the back out her pussy.

  “Mr. Cinque, it’s time to wake up,” Monica spoke to me, but her voice sounded like a man’s.

  When I opened my eyes everything was a blur, and all I could feel was the warmth of her pussy wrapped around my dick. I didn’t know what was going on, but I was still trying to get my nut, fuck that.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and it felt like someone was shaking me, but I refused to open my eyes. I hadn’t been stroked like this in ages, and I was going for mine. I could hear a man’s voice talking to me, and Monica was steadily slipping away. I tried to hold on to her, but I couldn’t.

  “Mr. Cinque, wake up.”

  When I opened my eyes, standing before me was the doctor that was handling Jasmine’s case. I was fully clothed with an evident hard-on. Sliding up into the chair, I tried to hide my erection and my embarrassment as he updated me on my wife’s status with a look of disdain on his face. I already felt bad about what happened, and this man frowning down on me didn’t make me feel any better.

  Through the room I could see Jazz’s family still sleeping on the uncomfortable set of chairs just outside the room. I guessed we all eventually dozed off some time during the night. Taking a peek at my watch, I saw that it was now seven o’clock in the morning. Looking over at Jasmine as the doctor listed her prognoses, I felt a little better knowing that Jazz had a good chance of survival, and that they were keeping her heavily sedated until the swelling around her brain went down.

  “We will have to take her into surgery at the end of the day to wire her left jaw. The bone was dislocated in the accident, and will need to be mended in order to set properly. I do want to make you aware that Mrs. Cinque may be a little out of it when she first awakens because of the impact to her left frontal lobe,” the doctor explained as I went into a zone.

  As I listened to him tell me how the quality of life for Jasmine may potentially change, all I could do was stare at her. I mean, Jazz could be a real bitch sometimes, but she handled her business almost effortlessly, and I couldn’t imagine her operating in any other fashion.

  “Because of the head trauma, she will have pain accompanied by the discomfort from wiring of the jaw
. We will have to assess her motor skills once she is awake and moving around, but she is responsive to touch in the state that she’s in now,” the doctor informed me as he continued to write in her chart, periodically making eye contact with me.

  “There’s a possibility that she may not remember who you are at first. In cases like this we often see some short-term memory issue that may or may not correct itself. Either she will remember you, or most of her memories will be from things that happened years ago.”

  He droned on and on about what to expect, and what type of help was offered to make the transition smooth. I wanted him to stop talking, but for a second I couldn’t form any words.

  “There is therapy for people with head injuries that will definitely aid in getting your wife’s mind back on track, but as already said, we have to wait for her to wake up to see where she is in her mental state.”

  “Doc, I just need to know . . .” I said to him in a solemn voice. All of this was too much to handle at one time.

  “What is it, Mr. Cinque?”

  “Can you tell me where my kids are?”

  Monica

  Plan A

  Morning came all too soon, and I hated that I neglected to pull the shade closed all the way. A sliver of sunlight beamed through the crack, and right into my eyes. I usually slept with a mask covering them, but I had forgotten to pack it in my haste to get Jaydah out of my house, and back in Philly. I decided, since my sleep was disturbed, I might as well get up and get going with my day. I had some investigating to do, and I wouldn’t get anything done being laid up in the bed all day.

  It was early, but I knew if I made a few phone calls I was bound to get things moving at least. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew Judge Stenton would have to be my first call. Not that I planned to disrupt anything at the Cinques on purpose. If I needed to get my son and roll out I knew I would need some paperwork. Was I ready to be a mom? Hell no, but if I had to step up to the plate it was a now-or-never situation.