by Lexie Ray
And then they fucked – oh, did they fuck.
He pushed the head of his phallus against her entrance and pushed. She thought it would hurt, she thought it would tear her apart, but she was so wet that it slipped right in. There was no pain, only a feeling of fullness. He held her hips and started to pound into her. Something within her sent shivers over her clit, and she was moaning, arching towards him, her body stiffening completely. She was nearly at the point of climax; she couldn’t believe it. They had just started. Just as she felt the wave begin its pursuit – just as she was about to lose control – he stopped.
“No way, you’re not cumming yet,” he ordered. “I’ve been waiting for this for way too long.” She grabbed a fistful of his hair, stared into his eyes intensely. “Fuck me, Joseph. Please…”
His eyes widened in surprise, and he hesitated. She could tell he was uncertain, but just as she was about to plead again to reassure him, he did as she requested. He flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hindquarters up, and aggressively took her from behind. Pleasure and pain cracked her wide open, and she moaned loudly.
As he thrust into her with violence, albeit the perfect amount of violence for the moment, his fingers reached clumsily around her front to fondle her swollen clit. She wanted to laugh at how cute he was. He wasn’t her husband, and she loved it. He obviously wasn’t very experienced, which made this even more special.
Clumsily he pulled out and flipped her to her back once again. He grabbed his cock and led it towards her wet center once again. She wrapped her legs around him and started to move her hips again. He felt so good. Thrusting up, he met her hips forcefully. The roll of his pubic bone against her mound, and his cock deeper within her, caused a sudden spike in desire to shoot up and across her body. Tingles began to vibrate across her spine, and she gasped his name. He smiled, seemingly more confident in his ministrations, and he did it again
Not only did his confidence seem to heighten to repeat his actions, but he also smiled devilishly and quickened his pace. She grabbed a hold of the top of the countertop, seeking a sense of security, but he didn’t let her. His lips found her neck, and she moaned as soon as his hot breath met her flesh. Hearing the sounds that escaped her seemed to encourage him even further, and he plowed into her even harder.
He darkly pleaded for her to continue as he grabbed her hair roughly and pulled her in for a deep kiss. “Joseph, I need you!” she screamed through their lustful, wet kisses. He looked at her and smiled seductively. “And I need you,” he said, pumping into her faster and faster until her name once again escaped his lips in one deep, fulfilling moan. She would never admit it to him, but she was in pain; that fuck fest had surely left her bruised. Another thing that she’d probably never admit was that she actually loved it.
His body against hers ignited a great fire within her as she came. Her orgasm nearly ripped every ounce of breath from her. He followed shortly after, and in his final thrust, pounded against her sharply and yelled her name aloud. There was something in the way that he said her name. It wasn’t overly desperate and needy, but it held great cause. She felt an importance within herself as he called her name. Maybe she was just feeling the moment, but his voice sounded like something she hadn’t heard in a long time – and she couldn’t really pinpoint what it was.
He dropped to the floor, taking her with him, and he collapsed against the steel prepping table and just looked at her, all breath seemingly abandoned from his body. Normally his staring would have creeped her out a bit, but it didn’t. Not this time, and not with him. It was Joseph. Joseph was sweet, and it wasn’t a creepy sort of eat-slash-wear your flesh type of stare. It was a longingly deep, appreciative stare. It was a forget-the-surroundings-you’re-the-center-of-all-creation type of stare. She smiled back at him and replayed the moment they just shared together, the act between lovers.
A part of her felt immeasurably guilty at the situation, but the other part of her felt liberated and full of life. Which part was right? She didn’t know. She was still married, and to her a marriage was binding until death. A fucking contract one enters into when young and naïve; of course it’s for life. And the thing about it was, she didn’t feel so cynical about it all before Preston fucked up.
She had been happily married. Yes, of course they had their problems. All marriages did, but she thought hers and Preston’s were few and far between. Hell, the only thing she knew they had problems with was their sex life, but she didn’t deem that a reason to stray. She wondered, though, when her sexual flames finally relit, had it been too late?
When exactly did he and Haley begin their deceitful relationship? And why? Was it truly because she had been withholding sex? And that in itself brought about a whole other slew of questions, starting with the singular one regarding his communication skills. Were his communication skills really that lost? Preston had never been one to shy away from confrontation. He had always brought up his unhappiness; or at least, she thought so.
Preston voicing his issues with people and situations was an ongoing occurrence. She knew he was a bit perturbed by the lack of sex, but she didn’t realize it was to a degree worthy of cheating. She never knew it was that bad. Let alone bad enough to cheat with the fucking nanny, someone you saw every day, someone your wife saw every day, someone your children saw every fucking day. What the hell was he thinking?
You would think that if he hadn’t wanted to get caught, he would have found some one trick pony of a floozy and met a couple times a week in a motel room far away from the house, someone that no one knew. You would think that if it was only sex that he craved, that he’d find one that didn’t look his wife in the face every day – or his children, his sweet children.
You would think. You would think. You would fucking think. But then again, had he thought? Had he rationalized it at all? Did he even care? Did he want to get caught? Hell, was it something deeper than sex? Did he love her? If he didn’t, you would think he’d choose someone without a moral compass. Haley was pure sweetness, and her morality was far above anyone else’s she had ever met.
At least, that’s what Marissa had initially thought. She was different, obviously, and she had caught onto her differing behavior, but she didn’t know how different it was until she spilled the beans. Those beans were hot, steamy, foul smelling, and stained everything they touched. Those beans were larger than any other bean on the fucking planet. Those beans were of a magnitude of their own, and Marissa wondered if they could even be classified as a bean or even a legume. They were fucking meteor-sized beans that Haley spilled all over Marissa’s living room, destroying everything in their wake. Those were the beans Haley spilled.
She had to give her some sort of credit though. She came clean. Not only had she came clean, she had looked her in the eye. Not many cheating floozies would have had the guts to do something like that. She looked at her, and even though Marissa didn’t want to return the gaze, and even though she had tried to turn away immediately before she lost all control – she did see Haley’s eyes. They were filled with regret and confusion. They were filled with many emotions that Marissa couldn’t even fathom, nor guess. She didn’t know everything, she was sure of that. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to know either.
She still loved Haley. She did not like her, and she didn’t know if she could ever trust her or even want to share her life with her again – but she still cared. She knew that if anything ever happened to Haley, she would be upset. She would mourn, not only for an old friend, but for a sibling of sorts. She would mourn for the woman.
Hell, admittedly, she was already mourning for the woman. She was already immeasurably upset by the way it all turned out. She had told Haley she was sorry too, and she was. Not because she did anything wrong, but because she cared – she hated that she did, but she did. She was sorry that she had to let go of a relationship twelve years in the making. She had to let go, and dammit, she hated it. She was sorry she had to, but she just had to.
; “Are you OK?” She heard a voice through the cloud of images glazing her eyes. “Marissa?”
Shit. She remembered where she was and that she had faded away, lost in thoughts. “I’m fine,” she tried to reassure him as he looked to her with concern. She knew there was really nothing she could say to sway his mind from what he probably thought in that moment.
“I knew this was a mistake,” he began before she physically shushed him with her lips. Yes, this all started with guilty feelings, but it was only part of her, and only for a moment. She was married, yes, but she knew the marriage was over. For the first time, she completely regarded it as such. She knew there was no saving it now. There was nothing left to salvage. The trust was completely gone. She wanted to forgive him, and maybe she could one day – but she would never fully trust him.
He hadn’t had a one night stand with a floozy he didn’t really know. He had a relationship with a woman as close to them as family. He had wandered to a darkened forest of sinister beginnings and endings, to a place so dreadfully horrifying that she would have never attempted to go. He had not only strayed, but he had tempted fate and betrayed everyone that cared for him in some way or another. He had chosen Haley. Preston never did anything he didn’t want to do, and his logic never allowed him to fall victim to anything. He knew what he was doing. The real question was whether or not he fell in love with Haley, and by then it was too late; but if he hadn’t, then he truly betrayed everything with and within himself and his life. If it had only be an affair, he had wronged everyone.
She felt herself falling. She was drifting slowly at first, and then all at once she was sucked into an abyss of nothingness, an abyss of sadness, a fucking black hole of despair. She recalled some of her father’s wisdom when she was a little girl, and a whole new bout of emotions flooded in.
She and her father had always played baseball together. She was the son he never had. Growing up a tomboy, unlike her sister, she was usually the scapegoat when her dad needed “guy time”. While they played catch one evening out back, he had said some words that she wasn’t quite sure of before: “You never know what’s coming until you see it yourself.”
It sounded like a lot of mumbo jumbo bullshit feigning some sort of philosophical words of wisdom. She remembered having been thinking about it so hard that she didn’t notice the ball reach her – and it smacked her square in the nose. Hard.
She remembered the blood and forgot what he had told her for so many years – until now. Her father wasn’t what many would call a brilliant man, but he was smart in his own way. He was country, and simple – but he knew the world. And what he meant by his words was that no one knew what the future held. No one knew until they saw it for themselves. Even if someone else told you, you’d never know for certain until you saw it for yourself.
She knew her dad had been correct, and she had always thought she abided by what he taught her. She was always daddy’s girl. She never wanted to disappoint him. So she took pride in always doing as he told. She thought she had, with Preston. Her dad was always wary of Preston – and she knew now that despite his fondness after time – he had always had a bit of questioning nature towards him. She should have known, but like he said – it didn’t matter – she wouldn’t have seen it coming merely by his suspicion. She had to see it for herself.
She felt sad at the memory of her dad. She wondered if he would be proud of her. She was about to be a divorcee. She wondered if he would agree, because even though he said those words, she had already married Preston, and her father believed in the sanctity of marriage. He believed in forever. He believed in “until death do you part”. Would he agree with her climbing decision of divorcing Preston? Would he agree with the infidelity she was committing, even though Preston had done it first and they were separated? Was she letting him down? Even with his passing, she couldn’t bear the thought of that.
She wasn’t only saddened by the memory of her dad, though. She was also saddened by all of it. She loved Preston. Despite herself, she loved him. He may have become an asshole over the years, and he may have been deceitful, but dammit, she loved him. She loved his striking features, his quirky dramatics, his attentiveness and attention to detail; she loved his instincts – and she wasn’t sure she could ever stop.
She was sad because she said forever, and she meant forever with him. Now every thought that she had about her future was gone. Every expectation that she had grown to have and possess as a standard for herself was just obliterated into nothingness. It was sinking, along with her, in this tortuous suction of gravity. It was dwelling within the same abysmal existence as she was.
She honestly didn’t know what to do. She knew that Joseph’s embrace as she kissed him was comforting, and a part of her hoped it was all that it was. But the other part, probably the biggest part, hoped it wasn’t all it was. She cared about him. She never wanted to hurt him, and he was good. She needed good in her life.
She felt his hands move across her body in a different way. This was different than a caring embrace, which was what he had been doing. As she kissed him – initially just to reassure him, but eventually more passionately – she felt him return without reciprocating the lustful passion. That was only at first, though.
He kissed her tenderly, with reassuring purpose. She thought she had been reassuring him, but in fact, he was doing the same to her. She guessed it was because he too felt guilty. He felt as if he was taking advantage, and as he kissed her tenderly, she knew that wasn’t the case. If she hadn’t already known that before, she definitely would have after feeling the care behind the loving kiss. That was the kiss of someone who cared.
After she had gotten comfortable with the tender pace, though, something changed. And it changed suddenly. She felt his hands explore her body as they had before they tussled into their very first sexual encounter just moments before. This time, it was him in control. She felt his kisses trail off of her lips and to her neck, but they didn’t stop there.
His kisses continued downwards. She knew where this was headed. She knew what he was doing. She felt him reach her hips, and she looked down just in enough time to see him nip at her bone. It was light, but deliberate. She felt the bite, but it didn’t hurt. It felt good and fueled her fires once again.
She felt the heat rise to the core of her womanhood and drip a fluidy substance. She was embarrassed to be seen from the angle, and to be as turned on as she was, but she wanted him to continue. There was no way she would have asked him to stop. She felt him lay a kiss over the spot where he had bitten her so wonderfully, and she hissed. She wanted more.
He continued down, past her clit and even her entrance. He was traveling over her legs until he reached her knees. She wasn’t used to a man passing up the area they deemed golden and jewel-ridden. In fact, in that moment, he did something different than any man had ever had, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was necessary foreplay, but damn was it appreciated. He pressed a kiss to her bare flesh on the spot just below her knee. After a couple of moments of hesitation in reveling at the feel of his lips on her skin, she bent down to grab his head and move it to the spots she craved to be kissed: her fruitful mound, and then to her clit.
Moments ticked by in accordance with the clock on the wall, but she wouldn’t dare even try to keep up with them. She felt her body begin to tremble, and a tightness in her stomach that hadn’t been there before was ever present, and she liked it. It was pleasant.
Every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue built a little more pleasure than the previous, until there was so much that she could barely stand it. Her blood boiled with an intense and unfathomable desire as moans fell from her lips. Marissa twisted his hair in her hands as she arched her pubis up towards his face.
It was overwhelming – all of it – and she knew that she wouldn’t last long. He was perfection, after all, with his dark hair and large dark eyes that never left her own as his head bobbed over her clit. “Fuck, Joseph...” she muttered, taking a
fistful of hair into her hands again. Her fingers caught some of his pomade as she muddled with his pompadour and ran her fingers through his silky chestnut strands.
She felt his tongue run along the length of her clit before enveloping it completely and inserting a fingertip – and only a fingertip – into her dripping hole. She squirmed beneath him and tried to force his finger deeper within her. But he wouldn’t have it; he pulled it out and teased at her. He rubbed slow and deliberate circles across her opening and continued to suckle at her tiny knob. “Faster, please!” she screamed.
Perhaps it was the newness of it all, or maybe it was just that he was so damn good – she didn’t know. All she knew was that the pleasure was something she had never dreamed of – even with Preston – and here he was: Joseph, in all of his glory, giving it to her. And her continual begging must have been the passcode to getting what she wanted, because as soon as she begged him, he obeyed, and she felt her walls crumble around her as she fell into an oblivion as she came. “Yes! Oh, yes!” she screamed, giving a final thrust to his face.
“My turn.” The words left her lips in a sultry tone that she was surprised she even possessed. What was it about screwing a man that made her so slutty? She loved it, and she loved it even more when he immediately gave in and she took his entire length into her mouth.
She hadn’t been sucking long before she felt him buck his hips harder against her face and yank her head back and forth by her long, flowing blonde locks. His butt clenched as he thrust his cock into her mouth, repeatedly and with his aggression, increasing with every forward motion.
The noises of pleasure and discomfort – perhaps a bit of pain as well – brought him closer to orgasm with each violent thrust. She could tell. He voiced his pleasure with every one of her slurps, and his body was beginning to stiffen more and more. She loved feeling his cock glide against her tongue.