by C. C. Morian
After her divorce she had slowly learned the difference, she could spot it right away. It didn’t keep her from wild escapades, but she recognized them for what they were. Most of those men were totally inconsiderate and selfish outside of the bedroom.
Often selfish inside the bedroom as well, but in a way that Janet enjoyed.
Still, men like Brad, and Brad in particular, had always done something to her, they had made her feel so much like a woman, so feminine, so aware of the primal needs of sex, a means of directly and immediately not only meeting those needs, but finding new ones, discovering secrets that, once revealed, became stepping stones to more discovery.
Brad had shown her a few of those secrets, positions and acts she’d never experienced, and since marriage, had packed away, like one did with photos and letters of old boyfriends. Now the memories and the sensations came rushing back, like she had opened a box of those photos and saw herself with a man, seeing in herself a radiance she no longer saw in the mirror.
Her skin tingled, just as it had when Brad had brushed her arm earlier, not in an overtly sexual way, and yet his fingers had raised the hairs on her arm, had brought a flush to her face, because in the past every touch from Brad had been sexual, it was why they had been together. Back then, if he had touched her in a crowded room it had been nothing except a sexual link. Or a message, let’s get out of here and go fuck.
Janet shifted in the bed, the movement brushing the sheet against her breast, a poor substitute for the graze of a man’s hand, and yet it was enough, right then, to excite her. She shivered, cold and yet hot, a warmth rising in her loins. She’d never be able to sleep now, she needed to see this through.
She slipped her hand surreptitiously down the bed, under her panties, pressing gently, stopping to listen for Mason’s breathing. She knew what she should do, she should just turn to him, wake him up, make him a part of this. He was her husband, he was the man she should be doing this with, who she wanted to do this with.
Too long, it would take too long, the need was on her.
She pushed her middle finger between the lips of her pussy, not at all surprised to find herself wet. She’d be quick, like taking medicine, get it over with, get these thoughts out of her head. She concentrated on Mason, his gentle touch, his careful exploration of her with his hands, trying so hard to please her, often too careful, afraid of breaking her.
Right now Janet was too worked up for that, just as she had so many times in the past she needed more, more confidence, more assuredness, more skill. Rougher. Even selfish.
With her fingers she squeezed her engorged clit, expecting pain, but it was never the same when she did it herself. Not like when Brad had done it, when he had squeezed her like that, and now she did bite her lip, just pretending it was Brad’s fingers there made it all different, the good hurt, the breathless anticipation of what might come next.
Was it a sin to be masturbating next to your sleeping husband while thinking of another man?
She should turn to face Mason, to gently cuddle with him, to bring her back to reality, to grab onto the anchor.
Again, two competing needs, one psychological, one physical. To stay rooted in the marriage, the relationship that had been good for her, that was still good for her, that had rescued her from a life of alternating passion and loneliness, from intensities so strong they scared her. Yet those other needs, the sexual ones, so wonderful, so fulfilling in a totally different way.
She was in her bed with her husband, he was right there, under the same sheet. And yet, in some ways, a world away.
Everything that was safe and good, weighed against what she needed. Or what she needed against what she wanted. Her mind against her body.
Tonight, it was no contest, her body steamrolling over her mind just as Brad would have crushed her objections with his virulent power, his confidence.
Her fingers moved on their own, filled with independent confidence. Within seconds she was making too much noise, now regretting not being in the shower, alone with her thoughts.
Instead of rubbing she squeezed harder, needing this so much, the blood rushing into her clit, and she gasped, whether from the memory or the luscious pain she couldn’t tell.
“You didn’t ask me where I was.”
The voice, flat, cold, freezing her hand in place like instant ice.
How long had Mason been awake? If she moved a muscle she feared he would know she had been masturbating. Or maybe he already knew.
Janet didn’t bother to make some excuse, to say she thought he was sleeping; she’d been so caught up in her thoughts she had no idea what Mason had seen her do or had felt in the bed.
“I figured you were too busy.” Her own voice sounded odd, it was impossible to feign indifference with your hand between your legs.
“I said I would be there. I promised. When have I ever not done something I had promised to do?”
And now the guilt washed over her, his words giving Janet’s mind the ammunition to push back against her lust. Mason always did what he promised. And that’s why she was with him, not Brad, or the men like Brad, whose promises only held worth in the bedroom.
“You’re right,” she said. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
That normally would have been enough, she just needed to lean over and kiss him, say she was sorry, he’d be happy. She turned, using the shift to hide the movement of her hand out of her panties, the wetness on her fingers another stab of guilt. But instead of facing her, Mason turned away.
“I was there,” he said.
“What?” Now Janet was confused, the perplexity for a moment overshadowing any other thoughts.
“At the gallery. I was there.”
Mason’s voice was no longer flat, it held another tone, something Janet rarely heard, a barely under control anger.
“I don’t understand. I didn’t see you. Couldn’t you find me?”
“It took a while, you were hiding. And you seemed kind of busy. With that guy.”
“Hiding? I wasn’t hiding—.” And now the reality of it crashed down on her, overwhelming the confusion. “Were you spying on me?” The accusation foolish, dripping with her guilt, an automatic defense mechanism, the words out before she could think.
“Why? You have something to hide?” Mason still hadn’t turned, but his tone was clear.
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Then, fighting for control, Janet added in a softer tone, “Mason? What’s the matter?”
“Who was that guy?”
Janet bit off her first response, What guy? It would be more defense, more foolishness. She wasn’t going to lie, she had married this man just so she didn’t have to lie, didn’t have to deal with being lied to. “His name is Brad. He’s an old friend I just happened to run into. I hadn’t seen him in years.” Way too much information, she sounded guilty of something.
She wanted Mason to turn to her, and yet she dreaded him turning.
When he did Janet was shocked by the flare in his eyes, the set of his mouth, his anger overcoming even the dim room. “You were fucking all over him.”
Mason’s words slammed into her, he was so rarely angry, she couldn’t remember the last time he had sworn. Her defenses rose up to protect her. “I wasn’t doing anything. We were just talking.”
“Talking about what? You practically had him pinned to the wall.”
“I told you I hadn’t seen him in years. We were just catching up.”
“On what? Old times together?”
“If you were so concerned why were you hiding somewhere spying? Why didn’t you just come over?” Immediately realizing how her words so highlighted the difference between Mason and Brad, between Mason and men like Brad. If any of those men had seen her with another guy, they would have certainly approached, they would have made it clear Janet was with someone, they would have claimed her, their very presence scaring off the potential suitor. She’d seen it happen.
Mason was not weak, that
wasn’t it. He was just so—accepting of her independence. He would have the power to reclaim her, to show she was his, but he’d never use it, because he would never think he should have to.
That was another reason she had married him.
And yet—
“You seemed awfully busy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You wouldn’t have been disturbing me. You’re my husband. If I didn’t want you there tonight, I wouldn’t have asked.” Janet again sounding guilty without meaning to, implying she might at other times not want Mason around. Deep down inside something was forcing these words out with hidden meanings, totally obvious codes of some kind of guilt.
“Why didn’t you call me, or text? Didn’t you at least wonder where I was?”
Janet had only the wrong answers for that. “Mason—.”
“You had something with him, didn’t you?” Mason’s words cut like a knife.
Janet didn’t bother to deny it. “It was a long time ago.” She searched his eyes in the dim light, her words had done nothing to smother his emotion. “Mason, you don’t think I’m cheating, do you? I swear I haven’t seen him since before we were married.”
“And that’s why you were throwing yourself at him?”
Janet had no time to think, though she had felt guilty at her thoughts, she’d done nothing wrong. “I wasn’t doing anything of the sort. If I had wanted to be with Brad I had that chance a long time ago. I’m with you. Now. Right here.”
“Prove it,” Mason hissed.
“What?”
“Come on, prove it. Show me you want to be with me right now instead of him.”
“Of course I do, honey, come on.” What did Mason want? Janet had never seen him like this. She pulled herself next to him, sensing him tense up, confused signals, he wanted her, he didn’t want her. She owed him this, it was so little to ask, anyway. Janet reached for him, her hand on his hip, he just needed a little attention, he couldn’t possibly want sex, he was fuming. She’d show him she was willing, that should be enough. She buried her neck in his chest, her hand going to his crotch.
She was stunned to find him hard, his erection full, quivering with his anger and more. Amazed, she fingered him through his underwear, more to prove to herself that it was possible, he seemed so angry, what was this all about? She’d had her own share of anger turned to sex, but never with Mason, that had been with other men, men like Brad. . .
Janet freed his cock, stroking it, still not sure where this was going, and why it was even going anywhere.
“See?” she said, tentative. “I’m touching you. I want to be with you.”
“So I was right, wasn’t I? You had something with that guy. With Brad.”
“I told you I did, didn’t I? I know you had girlfriends before me. I don’t think anything of it.”
“So Brad was some kind of boyfriend?”
Boyfriend was the last word Janet would ever have used to describe Brad, or any man like him. Lover, taker, wolf. Any of those would be far more accurate. “If it bothers you so much, why are you hard?” She stopped stroking his cock.
“Why are you stopping? Did you stop with him? You were willing to jerk him off but not me?”
“Mason, come on, you’re not making sense.”
“I think I’m making perfect sense. You must have touched his cock.”
Janet was shaken, they’d never talked much about past relationships, certainly not any details. Sure, Mason knew all about her failed marriage, she knew about some of his girlfriends in a general sense. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t told Mason much about any other men, she’d tried to block them out so much from her own mind perhaps he hadn’t thought she’d been involved with many others.
“Do you really want to talk about this?” she asked.
“I do. He looked like a big handsome guy. I’ve seen men like that look at you. I know they want you.”
“What? When?”
“Men look at you all the time. The same way he was looking at you.”
Janet was at a loss, her mind jerking from guilt to anger to confusion, and now back to guilt. Brad had been looking at her that way, and her husband, seeing it, was angry, his reaction not surprising, but yet he was aroused. His hard shaft was proof enough. Unsure of exactly what to do, she resumed her stroking.
“That’s better,” said Mason. “What else did you and Brad do? Did you suck his cock?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me the truth! Did you suck his cock?”
“I already told you we were involved. We had sex. Is that what you want to hear?” Her voice rising, a little surprise, some anger.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?” What did Mason think, that she was a virgin? Yet there was no disbelief in his voice, no challenge, he didn’t suspect her of cheating, that wasn’t it at all. She’d never sensed this level of emotion from him, it was—strangely refreshing. A passion she’d never felt from Mason. The fullness of his cock in her fingers suggested it was not anger, but a sexual passion. But if she was wrong about that, the next words she uttered could spell disaster. She had to be careful. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just tell me the truth. I always want the truth, you know that.”
“This kind of truth?”
“What other kind is there?”
The kind that could hurt, Janet thought. Did being truthful with your husband mean that you told him everything? “I don’t want to say anything to hurt you.”
“I’m hurting already, but not because of what you might say.” Mason’s voice changed, still filled with emotion, yet less anger. “I just want to hear what you did. Can’t you tell how much I want it?”
And she could, Mason’s cock stiff with desire. Even with her wealth of sexual experiences, she’d never done anything like this with any other man, ever. Never talked about one man while being with another. And yet, Mason’s excitement was contagious.
And she had been thinking about Brad. That was the truth. But the truth was hard to verbalize. “I can’t say it.”
“Then show me.”
Unsure about everything except his heat, and her growing desire, Janet pulled off the sheets and twisted her body so she could take him in her mouth. Usually she’d be gentle with Mason, his way of doing things, loving. Tonight his passion grabbed at her, her mouth tighter than usual, her hands faster, her tongue more persistent.
Mason sighed, To Janet, it wasn’t a sigh of despair, or anger, or relief, but almost in amazement, like a curtain had revealed an impossibly beautiful painting. “Is that how you sucked on Brad?”
It was, and it wasn’t. She and Brad would never have spent even ten minutes in bed without being all over each other, lying in bed was something to do after sex, not before it. She’d never be in this particular position either.
Janet swung her legs down the bed until she was on her knees, her ass in the air, the position that hinted of both total surrender and yet complete control, a man’s most delicate appendage against her teeth. “Like this,” she whispered around Mason’s cock.
Why was this turning her on so much? Mason’s desire had combined with her sinful thoughts of Brad, her guilt long since devoured. She was with Mason, it was his cock in her mouth, yet Mason was demanding that she think about Brad.
“What else would he do? He’d fuck you, wouldn’t he?”
She suspected what Mason would ask for next, and before he had a chance to open his mouth she yanked off her bottoms, lifting her hips over him, guiding his cock into her already opened pussy, even wetter now than when she had been touching herself.
Mason’s eyes opened wide, more in awe than excitement, watching her as she fucked him, her hips sliding forward, taking him deep, her pussy finally getting the attention it demanded. She dropped her hands to his chest, using her arms to lever herself.
“I love watching you,” said Mason, and now his voice was dreamy. He reached up with one hand
and grasped her breast, feeling for her nipple, the hardness of it seeming to surprise him. With his free hand he removed one of hers from his chest and pulled it toward his lips.
The hand she had been masturbating with.
He kissed her fingers, and then her palm, his eyes widening again. “I can smell you. You were touching yourself, weren’t you?”
Janet nodded sharply, there was no way to deny it. Mason’s fingers tightened around her breast, harder than he had ever grabbed her, bringing back so many memories, so many needs. . .
“Tonight, in bed? When you thought I was sleeping?”
She nodded again, her hips still moving, his energy flowing through his chest, up her arm.
“Were you thinking of Brad? Is that why you were masturbating?”
That same mix in his voice, a little anger, a hint of something else on the edge. Janet didn’t answer, she had gone down this path as far as she could, now there was nothing but an abyss ahead.
She shook her head, instinctively, not trusting her voice, how could she lie to a man whose cock was in her?
“It’s okay, you can tell me, you were thinking of him, weren’t you? That’s why you are so wet, you wanted him, you wanted to suck his cock, you wanted him to fuck you, didn’t you?”
Janet squeezed her lips together, she didn’t trust herself to say anything, either a lie or the truth. She wanted nothing other than to touch herself, she hadn’t been so aroused in—since before she had married Mason.
Mason perhaps sensed her need, but instead of releasing her hand he gripped it harder, licking her fingers, thrusting his hips up to meet her, making it impossible for her to let go her hold on his chest, she’d be thrown off.
Mason fucked her with a fury she’d never seen in him, all the time his eyes on her, waiting for her confession, her orgasm.