by Sean Geist
Vegas, Last April
Robin hesitated before sending the text. She had just said goodbye to her husband. She could still taste him in her mouth.
She felt a chill run up her back, her skin was still dripping wet from her shower and flushed from pink to red at the thought of fucking another man. For the first time in eight years a strange cock was going to invade her, fill her in ways she wasn't used to.
She didn't even bother to get dressed. Instead she brushed her teeth, hoping to wash away any hint of her husband from her mouth. She wanted to be clean for her lover. A light breeze of guilt wafted over her at the thought, but it quickly passed. Even though it felt wrong, Robin was intoxicated with erotic thoughts and she let it slide.
She had left Peter satisfied; she let him cum in her mouth for the first time. For him, that was. She had let Scott do it the night before, when she sucked him off, instead of fucking him.
Maybe saying she let him do it was too kind. Scott hadn't asked if it was okay; he took her mouth and claimed it. She was proud she was able to swallow it all. Her whole life she believed a proper woman didn't let men come in her mouth; it was base and dirty. Funny, how having a cock erupt on your tongue can change your whole perspective. The sudden salty load felt slimy against the back of her throat, but looking up at the glow of satisfaction on her man's face was worth it.
She was sorry she had denied Peter all these years. Giving Scott a blow job wasn't what made Robin feel bad, feel guilty, it was knowing she should have been doing this with Peter all along.
After rinsing her mouth, she sent the text, letting Scott know Peter was back at the conference. She got a quick reply.
- Be up in 5.
Robin grabbed a silk robe and threw it on. It didn't cover much. Her hard nipples were easily visible through the semi-transparent material, although the Japanese floral pattern did hide them somewhat. In the back it barely covered half her ass cheeks. The robe was mostly for adding a hint of modesty when walking to the pool in her bikini. Right now it would serve as a little bit of wrapping for Scott to remove.
She sat down on the couch and fidgeted. She tried a sensual pose, laying sideways with her legs stretched out. She quickly moved to an eager pose, back straight, knees tucked under her body. Lastly, she took a wanton pose, sitting back, feet on the floor, knees split wide exposing her dripping pussy.
She realized she was getting carried away – being silly. Scott didn't have a key to the room. She was going to have to meet him at the door.
The anticipation made her giddy, like a kid waiting for Christmas or the end of school. She looked over at the kitchen area and saw the mess she had made setting up her lunch date with Peter. The cutting board and knife she used to cut the vegetables and cheeses she laid on her naked body was sitting on the counter, as was the jar of cherries.
Suddenly all the eagerness fled and for the first time, Robin really thought about what she was doing. She had spent more time with a stranger on this trip than with Peter, and she hadn't noticed the affect the man had on her. Scott made Robin feel desired in a way her husband couldn't.
Peter was comfortable and loving and a perfect mate for her. Why was she willing to risk that for one sexual encounter? Robin couldn't come up with an answer for that question. She only knew she was going to do it. She was going to have her affair - sew her oats - then go back to Phoenix, with only memories and a willingness to be more adventurous in bed with her husband.
So, even he was getting a benefit out of her infidelity, and he'd never have to know the source.
Robin was rationalizing her cheating away when Scott knocked on the door. At that moment all thoughts of Peter and her marriage and her life back in Phoenix left her.
She answered the door in her robe and a smile and nothing else. Her heart was racing, sending a mix of hormones throughout her body. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she thought about how naughty she was being. She was nervous, stepping out of her comfort zone, but so anxious to do it. Her fingers fumbled with the door handle and her pussy throbbed in anticipation. She could feel a few drops of wetness trickle down her thigh as her body prepared to receive her lover.
Scott entered the room and stepped into Robin's awaiting arms. They kissed, their lips consuming the passion that radiated from their bodies. Her hands were around his torso, her fingers digging into the silk fabric of the shirt he wore. He took her face in his hands as his tongue explored her mouth. The aroma of her arousal - musky and loud - filled the small space between them.
They moved to the bedroom, never separating, but somehow removing their clothes as they went.
Robin lay naked on the bed pinned beneath Scott's larger, stronger body. She basked in the feeling of his smooth skin pressed against her breasts, her nipples hardened by the contact. Goosebumps dotted the skin across her chest.
She could feel his erection rubbing against her wet and aching opening. She was ready to be filled. She reached for his cock and pulled her hands across it's taut surface. A moan escaped Scott's lips. His head was next to hers and he whispered, “Put it in.” It was a command, one she was eager to comply with, but she hadn't lost all control.
“Did you bring them?” she said, speaking of the condoms he bought last night. She wasn't sure she had the strength to call off their coupling if he had forgotten them. Luckily, he hadn't.
Scott momentarily parted from Robin and reached for his pants. She sighed as his body moved away from her, already missing the contact.
The brief separation made her remember that what she was doing was wrong. She knew Peter would be devastated if he ever found out. She didn't want that. She would make sure her affair was never discovered. It was a wild fling, a time-out, one that would end and only live on in her memories and dreams. She was sure Peter would never find out and would never be hurt.
The sound of ripping foil brought her wandering mind back to the moment. She watched in fascination as Scott deftly rolled the latex condom over his beautiful shaft. It was a good sized cock. Not much longer than Peter's, an inch or so maybe, it was definitely thicker and would fill her in ways she hadn't experienced before – ever. When he was fully sheathed, Scott returned to bear down on Robin, his cock poised at her awaiting entrance.
She looked up into his eyes, ignoring everything else: his strong chest, tight abs and intriguing dragon tattoo around his left nipple. She was totally under his control, she would do anything he asked.
“Put it in.” Again, the demand was eagerly received.
Robin reached down and grasped his cock, guiding it to her dripping wet slit. She rubbed the tip against her engorged clitoris and sparks of lust and desire shot through her. She slipped it past her puffy lips and let it go – allowing her lover to take control. With three or four slow steady thrusts he was in – to the hilt – and Robin was filled with sexual bliss. Her vaginal muscles clenched tight as Scott pumped his cock in and out.
“Oh, Scott. That feels. So. Good,” Robin said. She was just able to get the words out between each hard push. Each time he bottomed out she could feel his pelvic bone rub her clit and she sensed her climax quickly approaching.
“Oh, God.. Scott. I'm cumming.” And she did, hard and completely. Her eyes snapped shut and her entire existence was the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs that were sending wild and crazy signals to her brain. She let out a scream, or at least she thought she did. Her climax was her world. She was vaguely aware that Scott kept pumping – riding her through her orgasm. When she was finished, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.
“Was it good for you?” he asked. A sweet smile shone on his face.
She tensed her pussy walls around his still hard member.
“I guess that means yes,” her lover said. “Ready for more?”
Robin's eyes bulged in surprised when she realized Scott hadn't come yet. She nodded.
Scott withdrew and flipped her over, pulling her up to her knees and entered her from behind. He drove
his cock into her for a good five minutes until she felt it pulse inside her. Scott let out a few deep grunts as he filled the condom.
The couple rested for a bit and then got a new condom for another round. This time Scott went slower. Robin came three more times before her lover had his release. They lay back together spread out on the bed.
Robin was the first to regain her senses. She got off the bed and gathered up the stray wrappers and used condoms. While she was doing this, Scott kept groping her and kissing her neck and generally slowing her down.
“You gotta leave, Scott,” she said. “I have to meet my husband for dinner.”
“Make an excuse. Come have dinner with me.” Scott's face was nestled on her shoulder. His warm breath excited the hairs on her neck as he spoke.
“Tempting, but no.” she said and firmly pushed him away. She loved Peter, nothing would change that. She needed to make sure he never found out about this affair.
She tucked the evidence of their debauchery into a plastic bag and handed it to Scott as she pushed him out the door.
“Could you get rid of this please?” she said.
“Gladly,” he said. “It's a small price to pay for the privilege of making love to you. Will I see you again?”
She wasn't sure. She wanted to, and maybe even planned to, but she wasn't willing to lose Peter. “Maybe,” she said. “I'll call you.”
With a quick kiss he was gone.
Robin slumped against the door as it closed and looked into the room. Like a rubber band stretched past the point of breaking, the guilt hit her. The pain and regret of giving her body over to another man slammed into her heart, causing her stomach to churn and making her slightly nauseous.
Scott was a temptation she had to resist. She decided to stick close to Peter for the rest of the trip. It was her third anniversary, after all. She didn't want it to be her last.
Peter
It was around four in the afternoon when I rounded the last curve and saw Cathedral Rock glowing red-orange in the evening sun.
Sedona is a unique place – a town tucked away next to the Verde River in North Cental Arizona. It's surrounded by national forest and is accessible by just three two-lane roads. It's known mainly for it's red-rock formations – buttes and mesas with obvious names like Bell Rock and Castle Rock and the aforementioned Cathedral Rock. They're formed from red sandstone found nowhere else.
Because of this uniqueness, Sedona is a magnet for an amazing assortment of tourists. Some are drawn for the beauty: artists, photographers and nature lovers. Some come to visit the historic native sites. Others come for the mystical atmosphere created by the one-of-a-kind geography. You can't take five steps through downtown without passing an art gallery, new age shop or native craft store. Often, one shop will cater to all three types of visitors.
Where there are tourists there'll be a massive hospitality industry close behind: restaurants, gas stations, many hotels and resorts and, of course, my wife's new spa.
The Spirt Spa (that's what I'm calling it from now on) was located on the site of one those resorts. I passed it on the way to Robin's house - the house Scott, her boss and lover, bought her. It didn't occur to me until that moment, that this might be the last time I visited her here.
I turned up one of the steep roads that branched off the main highway through town. Her house, their house, was located on a high plot that afforded a beautiful view of the river basin below. Since my mind was pre-occupied with the discussion I knew was coming, the beauty was lost on me.
During the two hour drive from Phoenix, I ran over all the arguments I thought she might have. I couldn't think of any that would convince me to leave Sedona content with how our relationship – how our marriage – had changed. Bottom line was, I wanted to be the only man she loved and that meant Scott had to go.
I pulled up to the house. Robin's SUV was in the drive so I parked on the road. There were no other cars nearby, that, at least, was a good sign.
I walked up to the front door and knocked. It wasn't my house; I didn't have a key. There was no answer right away. After a moment, I knocked again and tried the door handle. It was unlocked so I entered.
This was the first time I'd been in the house. When I dropped off Robin the last time, I stayed in the car. The house was small and sparsely furnished. A couch and coffee table facing a small television on a roll-away cart made up most of the living room décor. The attached dining room had a small round table with four chairs around it. A bookcase sat against the far wall next to a doorway I assumed led to the kitchen. A hallway went off to the right.
There appeared to be no one home, but I knew my wife had to be here. I called out to her, “Robin?” There was no answer. Maybe Scott was here, maybe she was out with him checking out the spa, or having dinner at some local restaurant, or maybe pulled over in some forest clearing, fucking away like teenagers in the back of his rental car.
That was stupid. They had a bed here – I assumed – why sneak way. It's not like they have to hide from me.
I pulled out my phone and called Robin's number. After a short pause, I heard a familiar tune coming from down the hall. It was the opening bars to Reminiscing by the Little River Band. It was our song. It was also the ringtone Robin attached to my number. I disconnected and the tune stopped.
“I'm coming back,” I said as I went down the hall. “Hope you're decent,” I added, half joking.
I found Robin in the largest of the two bedrooms. She was laying, fully-clothed, face down on the bed, her head in her hands. There was a half-empty glass of red wine on the nightstand and what looked like a fully-empty bottle in the trash can next to it. The only other things in the room were a couple of my wife's suitcases.
“Honey, are you alright?” I said. She wasn't moving, but she appeared to be breathing. I gave her a tap on the shoulder and she jumped, pushing her torso up off the mattress.
“Wha?” she said. She saw me and relaxed a bit. “You got here. Good.”
Robin's face was a mess. Her eye's were bloodshot, she had lines of dried tears down her cheeks, and what little mascara she had on was badly smudged.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Sure, sure. I just need a drink.” She reached for the glass, but I grabbed it before she did. I drained it myself. It was a cabernet, very fruit forward. “What the hell, you do that for?” Robin pulled her eyes tight.
“I needed a drink, too,” I said. I looked down at the empty bottle in the trash. “I'll go get you some water.”
I went to the kitchen and got us both a glass of water. As I passed the kitchen table I noticed a small drugstore bag. I didn't look inside.
Robin was in the bathroom when I returned. I heard the faucet running.
“I got your water.”
“Thanks.”
I sat down on the bed and took a sip. The water had a mineral taste that I didn't like. I had been spoiled with treated city water. I grimaced and took another sip while I waited for my wife to re-appear.
Robin looked much better when she came out of the bathroom, at least physically. Her brown hair was brushed back and held out of her face with a hair band. It had been almost six months since she had cut it short and she was allowing it to grow back, a decision I greatly approved of, if it mattered. Her eyes were a little clearer and the errant make-up had been removed.
She sat down next to me and took a couple gulps of water, draining half the glass.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No,” she said. It was an answer I was expecting, but still shocked to actually hear. When most people are asked that question, the immediate response is some variation of 'I'm fine,' even if they're not. Saying no just begs for the follow-up.
“What's wrong?”
Robin stared ahead. I waited, hoping she was just trying to formulate the right answer. She took another drink – this time only a sip. She turned to look at me; her eyes were unsure. Her lips parted as if she was going to say something, but s
he didn't.
I was getting nervous. “Robin, what's the matter?”
She looked at me and shook her head.
“Is it the spa?”
She kept shaking her head, but with more vigor. She meant no. It was good to get an actual response. This was progress.
“Is it about us?”
She still moved her head back and forth, but with less emphasis.
“Is it about Scott?”
Still shaking, but her speed slowed until it was almost imperceptible.
I was feeling a bit queasy. I thought she might be trying to work up the courage to tell me she had chosen Scott. I didn't want to ask any more questions, but I had to know. It was why I was in Sedona to begin with. This was no time to given in.
“So it does have something to do with Scott?” I tried to keep the tinge of anger out of my voice, but I wasn't sure I succeeded.
Robin's eyes opened a little bit wider and her expression turned hesitant – not like she had been very forthcoming up to this point anyway. Eventually she started nodding.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was cracking, she took another sip of water. “And it does kinda concern you, too.”
This is it, I thought. She's going to tell me to call a lawyer.
“I'm pregnant.” Robin said.
I dropped my glass. That was not what I was expecting at all.
***
The water spilled on the floor, but luckily the glass didn't break; it hit the padded carpet.
“How?” It was all I could say. She was on birth control, we'd been using condoms for the last month and I assumed she was doing the same with Scott. Scott. He was the... He impregnated my wife.