by Kim Corum
Oh, God! That drove me crazy! What was I? The keeper of the green socks? And who wears green socks?! I figured the best course of action would be to ignore him.
‘Sandy?’ he asked and stared at me.
It was like he thought, ‘A wife should always help her husband find his green socks and never, ever ignore him. This is one of the worst things a wife can do.’
I was so pissed off I could have slapped him. I continued to ignore him and he started rummaging around looking for the green socks.
He snapped, ‘Huh? Did you hear me?’
I said calmly, ‘I have no idea where your fucking socks are.’
‘What’s up your ass?’
Oh, like he would listen anyway. I glared at him.
‘Huh!’ he yelled, his eyes blazing like he didn’t have time for this. I could just tell that’s what he was thinking. He didn’t have time for anything! But I should always drop everything and help him to find his green fucking socks or his misplaced pen or hat or whatever the fuck he couldn’t keep up with. Fuck that. Maybe if he’d come home in a good mood every once in a while, I’d help him out. But once he got home, he’d act flighty and agitated and it would really piss me off.
‘Sandy…’ he groaned and tapped his foot.
Fine! I’d tell the fucker like it was. I said, again in a calm manner, ‘You have a helluva lot of nerve.’
‘What are you talking about?!’
‘The fact that you expect me to drop everything and help you find your fucking green socks!’
‘Excuse me. I didn’t realize you were that busy.’
‘You’re excused.’
He stomped out of the room. I went back to my magazine. I couldn’t concentrate on it anymore and threw it across the room. I mean, if he’s going to be gone all the time, fine, but he didn’t need to act like I should drop everything when he decides to come home. Agitating the shit out of me. His green socks, his green socks! Fuck his green socks. And fuck him. He forgot our anniversary. The building took every memory cell in his pea brain. He became consumed by it.”
I took a breath. She was right. I did ignore her when it was going on. I tried not to, but I knew this was the project that would make me and we’d be set for life if it turned out good.
All of a sudden, that building didn’t mean anything to me anymore.
“At least Peter listened to me. At least he cared. However, I never gave Bruce a reason to suspect. But sometimes I wanted him to know. Maybe I thought it would jar him a little and make him realize I was around and needed attention. And sex! I needed sex!
I remember once going downstairs into the kitchen and he was standing over the table, poring over some stupid blueprints.
We didn’t say a word to each other.
I sighed, picked up my gym bag, my purse, my keys and a grocery list. That’s when he glanced up.
‘Where are you going?’
I held out my hands with all the stuff in them. ‘I’ve got a few things to do.’
He gave a slight nod. I rolled my eyes and started to the back door.
He said, ‘Remember, we’ve got that thing tonight.’
I turned and gave him a disbelieving look. Don’t succumb to anger! Don’t succumb to anger! Fuck it! I hissed, ‘I know, shithead, I arranged it and that thing happens to be our anniversary which you fucking forgot last fucking year!’
He just stared at me.
I snapped, ‘Do I know you?’
‘Don’t start.’
“Okay! Bye!’
And I slammed the door on my way out. I cancelled our anniversary date and we didn’t make up for three weeks.
So, I had to have something to focus on. I focused on Peter. I had him over one night and gave him a good striptease, just like I used to give Bruce before he turned into the invisible man.
I took him into Bruce’s office while he was away on business. I half-hoped he’d come home and catch us. I knew he wouldn’t. He would have probably said, ‘Uh, please don’t mess anything up in there. I’ve got to work.’”
What the fuck?! How could she have brought him into our house?! I would have beaten the shit out of that guy if I had seen him in my house!
“Anyway, what I did was put on some really, really good music and I had it blaring. Bruce hated when I blared the stereo. ‘You’ll blow the speakers out!’ He was always onto me to turn it down. Which, of course, made me turn it up.
He wasn’t there, so whatever.
I stood by the office chair and I began to dance around it, swinging my hips back and forth. Peter stood in the door and grinned at me. I winked at him and pushed the chair over to him. He got in it and I went over and began to dance around him, taking my clothes off slowly. I didn’t have a chance to finish the song. He grabbed me, threw me on Bruce’s desk and tore my clothes off.
‘Hold on, I’m not finished,’ I told him.
‘I can’t wait,’ he breathed and began to kiss me.
I loved the way he kissed me, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. After he had my clothes off and I was naked and squirming on top of the desk, he began to touch my body. He ran his hand between my legs and opened them up. I moaned. This was the part I liked best. He kneeled down and got between them and just looked at me down there, all swollen and wet and hot. I wanted him to touch me so bad.
He ran one finger down, then into my pussy, as if he were studying it before he could kiss it. I could feel his hot breath on it and that made me warmer.
‘Come on,’ I said and raised my hips up so that my pussy was right in his face.
He pushed my hips back down and shook his head. He kept staring at me and his fingers began to play with my clit, gently stoking it until it throbbed and burned.
‘Oh, God, come on!” I moaned and raised my hips again.
He pushed them back down and smiled at me. ‘You’re so swollen and wet.’
I stared down at him and nodded.
He pressed his face between my legs and breathed me in. His tongue came out and began to stroke my clit. I began to tremble. I was going to come. He pulled back and ran his finger down again, this time all the way back to my ass. One finger went in back there and the other stayed on my clit and stroked it for a moment until it went into my pussy and he began to stroke it, like he was beckoning me. He had found my spot.
I gasped and felt myself grow extremely hot. I was so hot down there, I burned.
He pressed his face against my pussy again and began to suck on it. I was going to die it felt so good. One finger in my ass and the other in my pussy and his mouth on my clit. It was too much. I squeezed my breast and moaned. I began to ride his face and he kept it up until I was nearly bouncing off the desk. I rose up and grabbed onto his head and humped his face, taking everything he had. His fingers and mouth kept working and worked that orgasm right out of me and it was a good one, a huge one. I screamed as I came. He didn’t stop and I rode it out until I fell back on the desk and whimpered.
He came up to my mouth and I took his face and began to suck on his mouth, tasting myself. I licked at him and helped him put his hard cock in me. He rode me hard, so hard I couldn’t keep up at first. It was like something took him over and he couldn’t help himself and he couldn’t stop. I know I couldn’t. I wanted so much then. I wanted his hands and his fingers and his lips and his dick all at once.
‘Come on, baby,’ he whispered and licked on my ear. ‘Give me another orgasm.’
I was near exhaustion but I could try. He held still and put one of my legs up on his shoulder and began to fuck me. Then he did it. He hit bottom. I felt his dick way down deep inside me, pounding so hard. I nearly rose up off the desk and I began to squirm a little and moved against him, staring into his eyes. He had the most beautiful fuck face. I stared at him and sucked his cock into me and I fucked him. He grinned and nodded and before I could help it, I was coming again, this time it was harder, a down deep in my pussy orgasm that reverberated inside of me before it exploded.
/> I dug my nails into his ass and screamed, ‘Come on! Fuck me hard!’
He fucked me hard. This intensified the orgasm and I held onto it until he collapsed against me. I continued to come, feeling the aftershocks of it for a minute.
And I always refer to that as the ‘All Time Best Peter Fuck Ever.’ I can’t look at Bruce’s desk without thinking about it.”
Sweat was dripping from my forehead. I was completely enraged. I began to shake. “Fuck!”
I jumped up from the couch and paced. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down! I couldn’t calm down. I yelled, Shit!”
Before I knew what I was doing, I had the journal torn in half and had started on the living room. I threw a lamp across the room. It went into the wall. I kicked an end table.
I stopped myself and took a breath before I could completely tear the room apart. I know I was a hypocrite and I know she only fucked him to get back at me, but it ate me up inside. I felt betrayed, infuriated. I knew I was going to lose it.
So, I left the house, got in my car and went to a bar, having every intention of picking up a hot woman and taking her back to a hotel when I realized what I was doing. No. I wasn’t succumbing to this.
I went back home, taped the journal back together and started reading again.
“I almost let the cat out of the bag once. I went home one day right after a Peter session and to my utter astonishment, Bruce was working on his computer in his office.
I didn’t even hear him. I went by the door and glanced in, kept walking, stopped, backtracked and said, ‘You’re home?’
He didn’t even glance up. ‘Yeah.’
I felt so bad. He was such a hard worker and I was cheating on him. Guilt began to eat at me and I just felt so bad, like such a bad, bad person. What was I doing? Why was I doing this? He didn’t deserve this. I was bad, that’s all. And I needed to rectify the situation. I’d end it with Peter, I would. It would be for the best.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked sweetly, hoping for a smile or for him to at least recognize my existence.
He didn’t even glance up. ‘Working.’
I almost burst into tears. He was so indifferent to me. It was as if I really didn’t exist in any realm other than to pick up things for him and to be there when he needed me. He didn’t seem to notice me anymore and that killed me. That’s when I realized Peter was just a revenge fuck. I was fucking him to get back at Bruce. It wasn’t right but it was the only thing I could do then. But it ate at me, making me feel bad. What could I do?
He glanced up at me. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No, I just got done working out and am really fucked.’
‘Fucked?’
‘I mean, tired. I mean…’ He wasn’t paying attention. He was back at work. I mumbled, ‘Nothing.’
He called, ‘Did you pick up my suit from the cleaners?’
No, I hadn’t. Without answering, I turned and walked away.
As I walked away, he called, ‘Well, did you?’
I didn’t bother responding. Later on, I told Peter about all this.
He said, ‘What an asshole.’
‘I know! He thinks because I don’t work that I can just jaunt off on every little errand. And, the fact is, I don’t mind, but he could do something for himself sometimes! I mean, I’m not his secretary!’
I paused and thought about that. Was he fucking his secretary?”
No. I never did that. Given the fact that she was as old as my mother, and that her grandchildren stopped by to see her all the time, might have been the reason.
“Peter asked, ‘Is he working this weekend?’
I said, ‘Yup.’
‘We on?’
‘We on.’ I leaned over and kissed him. ‘You know what else pisses me off about him?’
He was all ears. I loved that. But then I felt a surge of guilt. So, I changed my mind and decided to change the subject. We’d talked enough about my marital problems.
‘Nothing,’ I said and snuggled up against him. ‘Talk to me about you. I always talk.’
He shrugged. ‘Not much to say, baby.’
I cracked up. ‘That’s what I like about you, Peter. You’re so uncomplicated.’
‘Is that an insult?’
‘You know it isn’t. I mean, you take life as it is and you don’t fuck with it. I like that.’
He smiled at me. He had such a nice smile.
I grinned and lay down beside him. He moved his hand along my naked hip and then under the sheet, which was covering me. His hand went lower and it settled between my legs and began to play with me. I moaned.
‘That feel good, baby?’
‘Better than good. Oh, right there…Ohhhhhh…’ I moved against his hand and came right then and there. It felt so good. When I was done, I pulled him on top of me and fucked him. He stared at me, taking me in with his eyes. I always felt so at ease with Peter. He always made me feel so good about everything.
But he wasn’t Bruce and I wanted Bruce. I missed him so much.”
Like hell she did.
My Depraved Life
“Howdy!
Kelsey called earlier. She has gotten a job with another airline and they’re transferring her to Miami. Lucky girl. She told me she’s going to rent this little beach house and that I should visit. I’m considering it.
Anyway, back to my depraved life.
The affair with Peter went on a little longer than I anticipated. I should have broken it off sooner, but something in me really enjoyed being the bad girl. Maybe I enjoyed playing both Peter and my husband at the same time. I loved being mischievous. I hate to admit that but I did. I enjoyed the fact that I was a woman and was allowed, to a certain extent, to play them like that.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I threw the journal across the room and ran up the stairs. Her clothes were still in a pile. I grabbed a pair of her jeans and started to rip them apart. Then I remembered the last time she’d worn them. We were out shopping and she bent over to pick something up off the bottom shelf and paused to look at the label on a can of green beans or something. Her ass looked so good that I had to take her home and fuck her silly.
“What’s gotten into you?” she laughed after we were done.
“Your ass,” I said. “I love your ass.”
She threw her head back and roared with laughter.
I stared at the clothes now then looked away towards the bathroom. I could see her standing there, putting on her moisturizer in the morning. Her head wrapped in a towel. She would glance over at me, still in bed, and smile, and then go back to her reflection.
She was a bit of a narcissist.
God, I wished she was in there. I’d get up and go to her, drop to my knees and hug her waist. I’d press my face in her belly and breathe in her smell. She always smelled so good, so fresh like she had just taken a bath. She smelled like home. She’d run her hands through my hair and ask me if there was anything wrong. I’d say no and we’d stand like that for a long time until she moved away from me to do something else.
I climbed in bed and grabbed her pillow and held it to my chest. I ached for her. I wished it would go away, but then again, if it did, I knew I’d really be alone.
I fell asleep and dreamed of her. She was in the kitchen, dressed in a short, black slip that clung to her every curve. She was frying chicken. I came in, loosened my tie.
She smiled over at me. “Hey, boopie.”
I didn’t respond. I walked over behind her, pulled her head back and began to suck on her neck. She moaned and her hands came up to play in my hair. She pulled me closer. I bent and pulled the slip up and ran my hand along her wet cunt. She moaned and widened her stance.
I turned her around and kissed her almost violently. She responded by gasping and ripped my shirt off. Buttons flew everywhere. I ripped the slip from her body and she stood before me naked, standing in four inch heels. She stared back at me and nodded.
I grabbed her and threw her down on th
e table. Pots and pans went everywhere. I ate her pussy until she came, grabbing onto my hair and pulling some of it out. Then I mounted her and fucked her as she laid there gasping and coming with a very verbal orgasm.
“Oh, yes, baby, don’t stoooooppppp!”
I didn’t stop until I came. When I pulled away, I stood, zipped my pants and started out of the room.
“Supper’s almost ready!” she called.
I ignored her and started out of the house. I got to the door just as the phone rang.
I woke with a start. I glanced over at the phone. It stopped ringing just as I reached for it. The number came up “unknown” on the caller ID.
Savannah
“Peter and I made plans to go away to Savannah for a weekend. I told Bruce I was going down there with Elise for some festival. I don’t even know if they have festivals in Savannah. But it sounded good.
I ran down the stairs with my overnight bag, remembered that I had forgotten my make-up bag, ran back upstairs, retrieved it and when I got back downstairs, Bruce was standing next to my bag, staring at it. It was Saturday morning.
‘Did I miss something?’ he asked.
‘Don’t you always?’
‘Where are you going?’
‘With Elise. To Savannah? I told you.’
‘You did?’
‘I did. Two weeks ago. Oh! That’s right! The building was having plumbing problems. Yeah, I understand how you could have forgotten.’
I gave him a little glare, crossed my arms and just hoped he’d have the nerve to tell me not to go. He didn’t. He dropped his head and looked really sad. And that made me feel…really bad.
‘I’m free this weekend,’ he said hopefully.
‘You’re free now. In an hour, you’ll get a call. Remember, you’re overscheduled and anything could happen.’
He’d said those very words to me a week earlier when I asked him to go to the lake with me so we could spend an afternoon swimming. I went alone.
‘Well, why don’t I go with you?’ he asked pitifully.