Keep Her

Good day to you, sir,

My name is Frank. It is likely that upon you receiving this letter that you’ve no idea who I am. However, we do share somebody in common — the woman you are currently dating. News came got to my ear of your impending marriage to Ashley a month from today. This is what prompted me into writing to you, to sort of clear the air between us (even though I hold no animosity towards you). This letter, however, is my chance to sort of clear my soul from the burden that’s weighted in my heart ever since the day I lost Ashley to you.

Yes, possibly now you have some idea of who I am. I don’t know if you did back then when Ashley was sneaking behind my back to come and spend time with you. Possibly she did tell you about me: about her small, pathetic, louse of a husband who often gripped about her spending hours away from home.

Yes, I am that Frank.

It would do me plenty of good to say that it was you that stole my wife from me. Believe me, I would certainly get some pleasure spreading that sort of news around. But I’m not going to do that. You see, I have had plenty months of quiet times, including therapy, to gaze into the mess that was my marriage with Ashley. Years went by, but I have come to realise that in actual fact, you did me the best service any husband can ask for when it comes to managing the issues of his woman. I will explain in depth what I mean, but first let me take the time to express my feelings of gratitude towards you and for the overwhelming assistance you gave to me. Believe me, your actions did help to save my life at a time when I seriously needed saving.

Don’t get me wrong, Ashley is a good woman. I have no doubt that she will make a good wife to you as she once did to me. It was never her fault for wanting to be with you, as I reckon it wasn’t your intention to make our marriage go sour — life happens, and when it does, there’s no actual right or wrong. I can admit that it was inevitable that our relationship would end where yours began. Yes, I do know that.

I quit paying much attention to Ashley when I began hitting the bottle hard. Often back then, I would return from work sluiced and smelling of Jack Daniels. I ignored Ashley, including the warning signs that she wasn’t getting any measure of manliness in the house, let alone satisfaction from me. When you love your alcohol too much, the last thing you can do is want to return home and get hard to fuck some pussy. The funny thing was that she never did hide her intention to cheat from me. Yes, she did tell me about wanting to do something of that line. But I gave it little to no thought at all.

Then she met you. How you and her met, I have no idea. Ashley was never inclined to sharing that information with me. Not that it would have changed anything; our marriage had run its course around that time. But she didn’t need to tell me that she was sneaking you over to the house. I knew about that one time when I returned early from work and spied you both making love in the living room.

This occurred two years ago, back in May. I don’t know if you’d remember, because after all, you’ve been to my then house a number of times. You probably know it in and out, so I won’t worry about describing the exact date. What you should know is that I spied you with Ashley through the living room window; I was surprised neither of you spotted me.

I could have busted into the house and surprised you both. I hurried back to my car and grabbed my .45 automatic, came back and emptied a full clip into you — and maybe into Ashley, too, for been the cheating whore that she was — believe me, I was well in my right to do that.

Except I didn’t.

Instead I crept round the house and eased myself in through the back door. I stayed listening in on the two of you making out in the living room before Ashley then decided that you should both take it upstairs. I waited some minutes before coming up the stairs. Yes, I did peep in on you laying pipe into my then wife. She appeared to be loving it, too, from the racket she was making. Been a long time since I heard her made such kind of noise whenever we made love. Not that I can remember when that was anymore. I returned downstairs, got into my car, and then drove to a quiet spot that I often go whenever I needed a drink. I didn’t return home till near midnight. Ashley was asleep by then. I passed out in the living room and woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover. Ashley never asked where I had gone that night; she had long stopped asking about whatever I do with myself.

Ashley did file for divorce, but demanded nothing from me. There was no fuss between us at all. We settled things amicably, and I spent months wallowing in self-pity and righteous anger with myself. I was mad at you back then. But I guess I’ve already made that part known to you already.

That is all in the past now. I have made peace with my demons, and like I said earlier, I sort of owe it to you and Ashley for it. Had Ashley not had the decency to leave my wretched ass and be with a man who truly appreciates her, I probably would have self-destructed by now. As it turns out, I have cleaned up my life, and have stayed sober since. My life has improved for the better. This is why I humbly implore you to keep Ashley, and make her into the terrific woman that she is. I know she will cherish you in return, too. It is obvious you’re both meant for each other.

I’m sorry if this letter of mine has been long and winding for you to read. But I am glad you’ve made it this far. My address is written on the envelope’s back, but you needn’t respond if you don’t want to. Believe me, I will appreciate me a lot more if you don’t. Just know that I wish you well, and that I am happy for you and Ashley being in love with each other.

Take care, and good luck to your marriage.

Regards,

Frank.

Thank you for enjoying this erotic tale. Don’t forget to check out my latest book: Couples of South Pointe Lake.