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Kendall sighed. He’d come to the villa to apologize and hopefully figure out a way to salvage his marriage, but as he sat here looking at his wife, he realized the naked truth—they were simply too opposite. They were not like-minded. Hell, maybe they’d never been compatible, sexually speaking.
He glanced around the living room. Over on the end table sat her Bible. And he realized in this very moment that it no longer mattered to him what she thought. He was no longer that invested in her thoughts of him. He knew he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life depriving himself of pleasure simply because Krista wouldn’t accept it.
And he didn’t expect her to. She was who she was. And he was who he was. He understood that his sexual tastes and appetite had evolved, whereas his wife’s hadn’t. Sad as it was, Kendall was finally able to accept it.
“You’re right, Kris. I did know. And I know now that withholding that part of who I am from you wasn’t fair to either of us. Truth is, I want more sexually than you are willing, able, to give. Being here has helped me accept who I am as a sexual being, as a heterosexual man. There is nothing wrong with my desires. And I’m no longer going to be embarrassed or be made to feel ashamed about them. I’d done both for long enough. I enjoyed making love to you, Krista, because you were my wife and I loved you. But I always felt lonely in my desires for something more.”
“You selfish-bastard,” Krista hissed over gritted teeth.
Kendall cringed. He had been selfish, for good cause, he believed. But he knew that he’d been wrong for doing so.
“Maybe if you went to church and gave your life over to Christ, we could work through this,” Krista offered. “You know, you could repent your sins and let Reverend Lynch pray those sexual demons out of you.”
Kendall gave her an incredulous look. “I don’t need an exorcism. And I have no interest in participating in any organized religion. What I desire sexually is not a sin, maybe to you. But I’m good.”
Then he paused, still staring at her, his eyes oddly sympathetic. “I want you to be happy, Krista. You’re a good woman. If you want a divorce, I won’t fight you on it. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I’m not looking to beef with you, or make your life difficult. But, trust me, baby. My sexual wants and desires have nothing to do with this.”
Tears pricked Krista’s eyelids. “You have some other bitch, is that it, Kendall?” She shot up from her seat, slamming a hand up on her hip. “Which one of those filthy whores been licking your ass, since we’ve been here, huh? That slutty therapist-bitch, or that nasty Nairobia-bitch. I saw you with her. Did you fuck her? Did you let that scuzzy whore stick you in your ass?”
Kendall sighed, shaking his head. “All I ever wanted, Krista, is for you to open your mind, be more adventurous—with me, for me,” he said, ignoring her questions. No. They hadn’t fucked. But—for fuck’s sake—he had wanted to. Badl
y. But Nairobia had had him so turned on by all of her promises of licking his balls and bathing his hole with her tongue and sucking his dick deep into her pussy that he’d shot his load the moment she stroked his dick in her hand.
“All I ever wanted was for you and I to explore our freaky sides together,” Kendall continued. “Sex between us was supposed to get better over time, be more fun, more exciting. But it wasn’t. It was the same ole thing. Yes, we had lots of sex, but that’s all it was. Sex. Nothing exciting. All I ever wanted was to help you find your inner slut, baby. But I know that isn’t possible. So whatever it is that is stopping you from doing that is what has come between us. Not my desires. But your rigid mindset when it comes to pleasing your man and allowing your man to please you.”
“Fuck you, Kendall,” she yelled. “You are not going to blame me for your freaky homosexual acts. No, motherfucker! So just get the fuck out!” She stomped over toward the door and swung it open.
Kendall inhaled, then pushed out a frustrated breath. He stared at Krista for a moment and then moved toward the door. A part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her, but his pride and ego wouldn’t allow it.
So he walked out.
“If you want a finger in your ass or some slutty bitch to fuck you in it, then go be with her,” she shouted in back of him. “I’ll have all of your shit packed by the—”
Mortified, Krista stopped herself midsentence. There stood LaQuandra and Brenda down below, their mouths ajar, their eyes wide with surprise and speculation. The last thing Krista wanted was for those two scandalous bitches to be witness to any of her personal business.
Brenda managed to close her mouth long enough to lick over her lips, before taking Kendall in with a new-found appreciation in spite of the embarrassed look on his face as he descended the stairs.
LaQuandra, however, tilted her head and give Krista a look that said, “Bitch. I knew it,” just as Krista slammed the door in their faces.
She hadn’t slept in spite of taking two sleeping pills, and now she was barely functioning after two cups of coffee—black, no sugar.
For most of the night, Krista had paced, wondering how she had gotten to this point, to this aching realization that her marriage was over.
She tried to tell herself this would all be okay. That going home without Kendall was okay. That losing her marriage would be okay. But it wasn’t. None of it was.
And yet the frightening image of Kendall with a finger in his ass kept playing over and over in her head, like that of a horror movie. His words—that he loved a finger in his ass, that he loved a woman licking over his hole, rang in her ears.
Krista loved him. God knew she did. But not enough to accept that he liked being fingered. There. Playing in his ass like some baboon. Like, like . . . some damn—
Ugh.
She was sick with grief, with hurt. She couldn’t stop the image from playing in her head. Krista wished she had a reset button, but she didn’t. And that despicable image was there—haunting her. His hard dick, his finger in his ass, him jerking himself off while fucking himself—it was all too much for her.
And Krista didn’t give a hot goddamn about Kendall’s ramblings about being straight or Dr. Dangerfield’s previous rhetoric on the sexual benefits of prostate stimulation for a man. As far as she was concerned, Kendall was suspect. And that bitch had managed to ruin her marriage; filling Kendall’s head up with all those freak-nasty ideas and cosigning this ass play shit. Then turning him against her, making her out to be the problem.
There was nothing normal about a man wanting things pushed in his ass—finger or not. A straight man’s pleasure wasn’t coming from his ass.
No, no. No man, no husband, of hers would be fingering himself. Ever. And she couldn’t stay with a man who did. His ass-fingering and ass-licking behaviors were unacceptable.
