Franny's Magic (infidelity stories)

WARNING: The contents of this story are certainly not for everybody. It is highly sexual and not all that polite. The characters in this story are not, by any means, normal, nor heroic. They are full of embarrassment and strangeness. The New York Times book review, would not review a story like this. It's too real and accurate for them and their hypocrisy! As for the Deep South book review, should such a thing exist,this short tale would probably just be ... completely burned out of it, and sent to the Deep South God Squad to be analyzed and then the author of it condemned. Of course, we here at The Old WOrld Oracle could give a rats ass for the TImes or those conservative losers in the Dirty South w/ their God Squad. Just know: You have been warned! 

BEGIN:

I walked in the door. Everything in the house was dark but you could hear the TV was blasting, some movie playing. I knew my wife was mad at me, because the argument we had gotten into the night before was pretty bad. She does not like to forgive quickly: ever since I've married her, if there's one thing she knows how to do, it's hold a grudge. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Cracked it open and took a few sips. I would need to be prepared for whatever apology I was trying to think up. I had avoided texting her all day while I was at work. I didn't want to piss her off again.

I went towards the sliding glass door of the living room, and that's when I saw it: She had brought him over. Well, a new him. That's how mad I had made her. I didn't think she saw me so, being nervous to see her with a lover, I went to duck right back around the door, to hide and walk off to my room. I didn't realize I had made her that angry. About a year ago she had sworn off lovers, and said she didn't care to do it anymore. When it first began I hadn't cared. I have Frannys name tattooed three times on my body: my wrist, my chest, and the back of my leg. I love this woman deeply...id let her get away with murder. So the lovers she brought around, at first, I didn't think would be a problem. Then I started getting jealous though and I told her she was getting carried away. She got pregnant with one of the guys kids and would have had it and I would have been raising it too, cept for a miscarriage. She was making me sleep in the back room and she’d have him spending nights with her, in the master bedroom of the house. This was something that, in the beginning, we had sworn “it will never reach that level”. It had, however...quickly.

 It was after the miscarriage, though, when Franny sorta lost interest in the lifestyle. She got depressive. “I just wanna be with you now. I don't think I care for lovers. It was getting weird.”

It didn’t really matter to me, in a way, I mean I was never vehemently opposed to the lovers, so I just said, yea, ok, enough is enough, it’s over. It’s just you and I now. The topic was not really brought up again, if at all, and the times we even referenced the old lovers , they were few and far between. She had a new gig she was working w/ her sister at a nail salon and I was working with my cousins at his business he had just started. We were busy, mostly, and when we saw each other, we hung out and went places together or saw movies ,etcetc. We went to a lot of concerts in Philly. We hadn’t really gotten into many fights or arguments.And usually, when the lovers would be referenced again, Franny woudl always kinda assure me that, if she wanted to do it again, she would tell me. When we got marrried we were both anti- “secret” cheaters.

BUt then, the night before all this now, we had gotten, as I said, into a very terrible argument. She had shattered a lamp, and then I had punched a hole right throught the wall and almost  crashed the caar when I had gone speeding off in it, around the corner. It had been a really bad argument and we had just lost control; we were lucky the kids weren’t with us, but staying at her mommas for the week. This had probably been one of the reasons the argument had boiled up to such a point as it did though. Usually if the kids are around, we keep it quiet, you know?

I couldn’t believe she had called a lover now, however. I couldn’t even believe she had known one who she could call. I kind of came to a realization, that FRanny had probaly been lying the entire time, the whole year. She had not really stopped with lovers. She had just said it and kept it under wraps. She had done it outside the house, like the vrey beginning, all over again, and now the argument had made her bring him over.

I went to walk off to go hide in my room. But then I heard her voice. She had seen me.

“You home asshole?” She said. She sounded angry.

I stood for a moment in silence.

“Ya.”

“Living room is off limits to you tonight, asshole.”

I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I was feeling it, the sadness. I just wanted to walk off to my room and sulk alone, lock my door and sit in the dark. I started to walk away again. Franny shouted out again.

“Hey you fucking asshole, don’t just walk away from me. Come over here. Open the door. Look at me in the face when I talk to you, you fucking piece of shit.”

I wondered what her man was thinking. I had not gotten a good look at him; and I did not want to see him. I have been attacked twice by Franny’s lovers.That was a long time ago though, she was so young, she didn’t really “mean” for it to happen. It just sort of happened.

Still. She seemed pretty mad. I didn’t want to make a wrong move and get my lights knocked out. I just wnated to go to bed in the bacrkoom.

“Get your fucking as sover here NOW.” she shouted again.

I ..did it. I walked over and looked into the living room. It was dark in there too, buit the big screen TV I had recently put up in there was illuminating everything quite nicelty, including the nice velvet couches she and the man were laying on. Well, she was laying down, and he was sitting up. He had no shirt on and no pants, just boxer shorts, and Frannys head was in his lap. He was running his hands through her hair. It was obvious he was enormous. Frannys lovers are, as a rule, always enormous and much bgger than me. “It wouldn’t really make sense to go with a guy exactly ike my husband.” was what she always said. I gess shes right. They’re attractive men.

I stood looking at them not saying anything.

“This is Carmelo.” she said to me, now in a nice voice, “and he will probably be here for, oh, about a week or so.”

Carmelo looked at me, then back to the TV. He didn’t say anything.

“I Don’t wanna argue with you anymore.” she said.

“OK.”

“So just leave me alone for this week. Can you do that, hubby?”

“OK.”

“Good.” she smiled, running her hand up Carmelo’s muscled chest. I could feel my penis getting a little harder. This was what she wanted. It was not what I wanted.

“Go away now.” she said. “And shut the slide door all the way, please.”

“OK.”

She laughed. “Say yes Franny, I will shut the slide door all the wa,y and yes, Franny, I will not bother you all week. Yes FRanny.”

I said it, quickly, because its not worth it, like I tell you, to start problems: “Yes Franny, I will shut the slide door all the way and yes Franny, I will not bother you all week. Yes Franny.”

I went finally back to my little backroom then. I shut and locked the door behind me, then I turned all the lights on. I saw what Franny had left for me to find in there, right away: There were two used condoms, full of semen, on my pillow, and next to it there was a black skirt of Franny’s, with white cum stains all over it. Then there were three yellow post it notes she had left on the nightstand:

Was I mean to you just now? Shush. Sorry baby. You know how your wife gets. I love you and you know that don’t you? Kisses and love.. -- Franny

She had drawn a big heart on one of them with colored marker. Franny is actually an excellent artist; she designed the tattoos I have of her name.

I cuold feel my penis now of course. It was as hard as a rock. I really wished it wasn’t. It...grossed me out, often when I thought about it, and remembered how I used to get so ‘turned on” by Franny being with other men, and as I looked at the used condoms, I told myself I should be even more disgusted. But, some other sick part of me, I knew, was not disgusted, but elated and happy, that Franny had done this. I sat in silence for a moment looking at them; I felt my hand run down to my crotch, I began to rub. I went to the door now, and put my ear up against its side, to listen. I did this often in the old days. I couldn’t really hear much ,just that TV. I was fantasizing though now about Franny with the guy, with the brief image of him and his body that I had in my mind.

I was starting to feel the rush I used to always get thinking of Franny with her men. It's like you're on a drug. Your whole body goes warm. I start to get sweaty and need to sit down, can't focus. I took a look over at the condoms and the black skirt . I didn't even want to touch it. I wanted to grab something to get it all off the bed with. But it was like Franny had done something to it all. Like she had made it magnetic. Her voice was in my head. Talking in a way she hadn't to me in so long. “Aren't you just the cutest little cum slut? Isn't your lil plaid skirt so pretty? You like your red  lipstick , Franny?”

Franny calls me Franny , or at least she did. “Sometimes I think we aren't husband and wife. We're just twin sisters. Two Frannies.”

I didn't want to give into the emotion. But I'm weak and can't control anything. So I went and sudfenly reached out and grabbed the black skirt, to bring it up to my face and smell it. I couldn't help myself. And when I grabbed it off the bed, I saw Franny had left other little post it notes underneath it. I couldn't believe it. Everything ...everythin with her is always meticulously done like this. Always. Like she's working it as its happening to you. Like some sort of witch--- which she often jokes she is. I read the notes . One was again about how much she loved me , how deep her love went , with an even bigger heart on it, and our names entwined in it, and then the other one told me to go look in the closet, for my special gift she had left. I was legitimately afraid of the gift. But of course I couldn't help myself….

---- end