by Ben Boswell
He spanked her ass. She yelped. A new sensation. The sharp pain, quickly receding to a dull throb. Spank! Now to be renewed on the other cheek. Back and forth he went, pounding her ass, hammering her cheeks. She was clawing at the bed, tearing off the sheets, screaming until she felt hoarse, and still he went on and on, until with one last savage thrust she felt him pulse his hot jism in her ass and then collapse onto her, both of them gasps, sweaty, and spent.
***
So tender. In the shower. He bathed her, massaged her sore butt cheeks. He bent low and gently kissed her battered asshole. Everything hurt and yet, she wanted him again. Heather stood him up and guided him to her wet pussy, and they slowly made love beneath the hot water.
Then in bed. So different from before, but just as good. Slow thrusts. Kissing. Tender caresses.
She came again and again. More than she’d thought possible. Each orgasm felt like her last, but then he’d work her slowly, slowly, gently circling her nipples, tenderly teasing her clit, rubbing her shoulders…. And the kisses. Oh God, the kisses. Varied. Soft, butterfly pecks, and those long, deep kisses that really and truly felt like they touched her soul.
I don’t know if I can live without this.
And then immediately the images that banished that thought. Ally. Becky. Bobby. Rexi, the stupidest fucking lab in the world. And most of all Jeff. Kind, gentle, caring Jeff. He didn’t deserve this, his wife giving herself to another man, wholly completely, counting down the hours until they parted. Jeff was considerate and….
This isn’t about Jeff. It’s about me.
What did that really mean? Heather wasn’t sure. But she was sure it wasn’t about Jeff, though she knew he would find that hard to believe. How could he not see this as a rebuke?
“You okay, Soccer Mom?” Damon asked from beside her.
“Yeah, why?”
She was wrapped in a sheet, staring at the ceiling.
“Because you’re not bending my ear.”
She giggled. “Are you saying I am overly talkative?”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Aren’t all women?”
“Yeah, it would be better if we just shut up, right? Just be available for sex. Oh wait… they make those. Maybe you should get yourself a blowup doll.”
He nodded pensively. “Maybe I should.”
She rolled over toward him. “So that’s what I am to you? Just some convenient holes?”
“I’m just a walking dildo to you,” he countered with a grin.
“No. Damon, you’re not,” she replied simply.
He became serious. “Yeah?”
She reached down and gripped his prick. “Dildos don’t get soft.”
He laughed. “Jesus, you’re insatiable.”
She giggled again. “Actually, no, I need a little break.”
After a moment, he renewed his question. “So, are you okay?”
She nodded. And then shook her head. She smiled, but she felt her eyes tear up.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Then after a pause, “What would you do if I showed up on your doorstep one night?”
“Change my locks?”
Her crestfallen expression chastened him.
“I’m kidding,” he insisted. “What are you saying? You want to leave your husband?”
“Want?” She seemed to nod.
“Will?” She shook her head.
Or was it the reverse.
“I don’t know how I can go back to things….” She said sadly.
“I’m not… I’m not the key variable, am I? Will I be there?”
Heather paused. Was he? What if Damon said he was madly in love with her? Would that make a difference?
“No… maybe… I don’t know.”
He raised up on his elbow, baring his chest. Was it weird that Heather couldn’t help admiring his muscular arm, his lean stomach?
“Heather, you don’t really want this. You have a real life, and me, I’m just a distraction.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t be there?”
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I want it. I want what you have….”
“But just not with me.”
“Of course with you… if you were me.”
“Huh? Narcissism? Or bi-curious?”
He laughed. “You know what I mean. If you were some single woman and we met like this and had this chemistry, yeah, fuck, I would move heaven and earth to make sure we had a shot. But you’re not, and I can’t… I don’t want to be the man who fucks up the lives of five people.”
“Six.”
“You, hubby, three kids?”
“You forgot the dog.”
He grinned. “Six, then.”
“So I need to kill them first.”
“You’re a crazy bitch.”
“I’m not, you know.”
He stroked her hair.
“I know, Heather. And that’s why I’m starting to feel real guilty about this. I… It was just supposed to be a fling, you know. And now….”
“It’s still just a fling,” she reassured him. “I don’t expect anything of you.”
He grimaced. “Ouch.”
“That’s not what I meant. Well, I did. But not in a bad way. The hypothetical isn’t fair. I get that. I’m just looking for a way out.”
“Of your marriage?”
“No, of this weird situation. These weird feelings.”
“And what is that? Me telling you I’d kick you to the curb?”
She grinned. “Well, it would help. That’s my problem. Neither of the men in my life are assholes enough to make it easy for me.”
Damon looked her right in the eye. “Soccer Mom, you are nothing to me but a set of wonderfully enjoyable holes. Okay?”
She laughed. “Nice try.”
“I’m serious,” he continued. “You’re a whore. A slut. A cum dumpster. You’re just a place for me to drop some vacation loads, get it?”
She laughed. He was so transparent. Trying to make her choice easy. And in doing that, he just made it harder.
“Fuck, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“You really are a crazy bitch.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Heather woke up. She glanced at the alarm. 7:15am. Three hours… less… left. But the franticness was gone. It was over, or almost, and there was nothing to do about it. Soon, she’d been on an airplane, still sore all over, with nothing to do except sort out how she planned to deal with Jeff. Damon would be just a memory.
But he wasn’t yet. Breaking into a grin she dropped beneath the covers and slurped his heavy and still flaccid dong deep into her mouth. And when he was hard, she rolled onto her back and pulled him on top of her between her spread legs.
They made love, slowly tenderly, kissing continually. Heather let her hands roam over his body, trying to imprint upon her memory the feel of him, his shaved head, his broad shoulders, his powerful ass clenching as he filled her again and again with his unbelievable cock. They came together like old lovers. She kissed him again.
“You need to go now,” she said simply.
He nodded. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I am. I… I’ll never forget this, but well, the clock is up.”
“Yup, my flight is this morning too.”
Oh. She hadn’t focused on that before. It made her grin.
***
Heather checked out and rolled her suitcase out front. There was the hotel van to the airport, already half-full with other departing guests.
She heard him laugh. “I guess we’ll end this like it began.” He nodded at the van.
She turned toward him. “Unless….”
Heather raised an eyebrow and inclined her head toward a black limo also parked in the driveway.
“Yeah?” he asked.
She giggled. “I’ll get in. You find the driver.”
She ducked quickly into the back of the limo. Tinted windows. Soft leather. And best of all a partiti
on between the passengers and the chauffeur. She moved quickly, stripping off her dress and her panties, sitting naked now in the back.
When the door opened, Heather chuckled at the wide-eyed expression she got from Damon and from the driver holding the door open for him. Damon slid in beside her and chuckled himself as the driver took his time shutting the door.
“Damn, Soccer Mom, you’re full of surprises.”
She grinned as she leapt off the cushions and onto her knees between his thighs.
“You ever gotten sucked off in the back of a limo?”
“Once or twice,” he replied.
“Really?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Good. I’d like to think I’d give you at least one new experience this trip.”
She unzipped him. He was already beginning to stiffen again. She began to lick him up and down as the car pulled out of the drive. She sucked on his foreskin, swirled her tongue around the head of his prick.
When he was hard, he coaxed her into his lap, and she impaled herself on his cock with a loud sigh. He began thrust up inside her. Heather gasped.
And the she heard it. A whirring sound. It made her shiver. The sound of the partition coming down.
She felt him pull her cheeks apart and then his long finger slide deep into her asshole. She squealed in delight. At the sensation of his thick cock stretching her out, at his finger churning into her butt, and now at the realization that their driver could see it all.
Heather came suddenly, dizzingly. And when she recovered she slid back down to her knees. She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and jerked his shaft up and down with two hands until he flooded her mouth with his hot seed.
There were no more words. She dressed and they just sat holding hands. And when they reached the airport, a quick hug, a knowing grin from the driver, and they went their own way to their separate boarding gates.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Heather was greeted by squeals when she stepped through the security doors into the terminal.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Ally and Becky pealed in unison, apparently competing for who could scream the loudest. Bobby was there too, toddling unsteadily, mouth opened in something closer to a screech than actual words.
Heather dropped down to one knee and wrapped up her children into a group hug.
Snippets of phrases. Words shouted into her ear. Greetings quickly turning into complaints, tattletales, confused stories that merged into a general cacophony of sounds. Heather sighed. She was home.
She looked up at Jeff, smiling above her. She shed the children and let him take her into an embrace.
“Welcome home, honey,” he said happily. “You look great, by the way.”
She blushed. “I broke the bank,” she said, admitting the least of her sins.
“Worth it,” he replied.
She doubted he’d feel that way when she told him the rest, because she realized now she’d have to.
It had struck her the moment she boarded the plane. The connection to Damon severed, finally, and no choice but to think about the future. Illusions quickly fading away. The recklessness of what she’d done washing over her in waves of guilt.
She was on the pill, but that wasn’t foolproof. So there was that risk. Worse, much worse, was the issue of STIs. He’d told her he had “papers.” But she’d never looked at them, and anyway, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make heads or tails of whatever he showed her.
But more than all of that, she knew that she couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to live a lie with Jeff. It would hurt. She’d have to make it up. Rebuild trust. But ever minute she delayed in coming clean, every lie she told to cover up, would be another wound when it came out.
Also, she had to admit… what had happened with Damon was more than just a meaningless fling. Not so much Damon, per se, but what it said about her. She always told herself that her life was fulfilling, that she couldn’t imagine doing anything other than caring for her children, for her husband, for her home. And yet, somehow that had always been a rationalization. Necessity turning into virtue. But that had been a lie or at least incomplete. Happy, fulfilled, satisfied women don’t turn into raging whores on vacation. Damon was a symptom, not the problem, and unless she, and Jeff, dealt with it, things would only get worse.
Still, surrounded by her family clamoring after her, she realized again how hard it would be. It would break Jeff’s heart, and she knew the kids, even though they were self-centered little monsters, would sense the tension between Mommy and Daddy.
They picked up Chinese on the way home. Dinner dominated by the kids and their stories, their fights, their need to be the center of attention. She was extra attentive, knowing that they were starved for their mother’s attention, and that they’d be super needy for the next few days. But she also kept glancing over at Jeff, realizing her was observing her closely.
He’d noticed her hair, and her new dress. Did he see the see the makeup she wore? Recognize her glow as something more than just the sun? Her anxiety as more than just guilt at having left the kids for a few days?
Jeff cleaned up and Heather took over the bedtime routines. She changed, cuddled, and settled Bobby down with his favorite stuffies, the brown dog on his left, the yellow one on his right, the mother cat and her family of kittens above his head. She read to Becky, all of her favorites, books she still clamored for – Goodnight Moon, Nora’s Room, and her very favorite, The Gruffalo, which Heather could recite from memory. Then Ally. Her big girl. She liked to put herself to bed, reading books to her dolls, but she still let Heather tuck her in and “do the poem.”
Good night, sleep tight…
Heather virtually stumbled into the bedroom, suddenly exhausted. Travel always knocked her out… and it didn’t help that she hadn’t gotten a real night’s sleep in three days, just naps between sex. She shivered. What in the fucking world had come over her?
Jeff was in the bedroom, pulling clean clothes out of a basket, folding them one at a time.
She took a deep breath. Oh God. Here goes.
“Jeff –
“Hey, honey, wanna help?”
She looked down at the basket. “Um yeah, but we need to talk first.”
“You can’t talk while you fold?” he asked with a grin.
“Please…” She insisted.
He looked up at her and got serious.
“What’s the matter? Is everything okay? Didn’t you have fun?”
Shut up! Shut the fuck up, Jeff, and let me talk! Why was he making this so hard? Couldn’t he just listen.
“I… Jeff… I’m so sorry, but I… I met another man.”
He frowned. Just for a moment. Then he grinned. “You had an affair?”
She nodded.
He laughed. “I warned you about those Mexican Don Juans.”
“He wasn’t Mexican –“
“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “You actually have a man in mind. Okay….”
“His name is…. Wait, you don’t believe me?”
He closed in on her. “Of course I do. Go ahead, tell me all about this handsome stranger who swept you off your feet. And maybe we can, erm, relive it, eh?”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He thought she was just playing.
“No, Jesus. Jeff. No,” she said as she pushed him away. “This isn’t a game. It….”
She could see uncertainty creeping across his face. And shock. And sadness. An instant, but it felt like an hour, and it was as if, suddenly, in that moment she could see the road diverging ahead of her.
“Heather?”
And then it hit her. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t admit what she’d done.
She tilted her head to the side and looked up at him with what she hoped was a saucy smile.
“I just couldn’t help myself,” she said.
It worked. He grinned. “Oh, is that so?”
“He was just so charming and handsome. I just wanted to please him.”
Jeff had forgotten about the laundry. He was staring up at his wife open-mouthed. His throat suddenly dry, his voice hoarse, he asked, “What did you do for him?”
“You won’t be upset, will you?” she asked.
When he shook his head, she continued, “I have something to show you.”
It was so wrong, but somehow it felt so right. She was being honest, in a way, and yet, not. But the hungry look on Jeff’s face was all the reinforcement she needed. He hadn’t looked at her that way in… ever.
She reached under her dress and pulled down her panties. She slid them down slowly, relishing the look of shock on her husband’s face. She tossed them into the clothes basket.
Jeff looked at his wife’s panties.
“Oh, sorry, honey,” Heather cooed. “I guess I shouldn’t put my dirty panties in your clean clothes.”
Jeff shivered with excitement. He looked up at Heather, but his gaze moved quickly back to her hands, now grabbing the hem of her dress. She knew he’d be shocked, but she couldn’t be sure whether it would be good shock or bad. Her trepidation added to the tease. Hands trembling and hesitant, she had his complete attention. Slowly, slowly she raised the fabric, exposing her knees, then thighs, and then….
“Oh God, Heather.”
He was staring at her shaved snatch, seeing it like that for the first time in his life. His gaze was so intense that it was unsettling. What was he thinking? Was it just that he was seeing her in a new light? Was he still thinking of her “admission”?
And then suddenly he was lunging forward. His hands squeezed her ass painfully, and Heather screeched as he threw her onto the bed. But that quickly turned to gasps as he attacked her pussy with his mouth.