0 comments/ 12871 views/ 2 favorites Shatter By: dark whisper The sound of the opening door getting lost in the crash of lead crystal against the Italian marble floor. A hissed "fuck" as I watch the glittering shards spread in a wide circle, skittering and tumbling in wild abandon. Shaking my head and reaching for the small whiskbroom and dustpan kept beneath the modern sink in a well appointed kitchen. Crouching down carefully, His white dress-shirt gaping open at the hem as strong thighs bend and strain the fasten of a single button. Mind only half on the task as carefully, I sweep up the prisms of crystal light, and scoop them away. I never even heard Your footsteps. "Don't move, pet. I'd hate for you to get… cut." Your voice comes right behind my ear and nearly sends me jerking into the remnants of sharp crystal fragments. "Oh… yes Sir." the words nearly breathed as a long fingered hand reaches around my back to slip beneath the crisp cotton and seek the rapidly stiffening nipple. The reality of my posture swims through my mind as You lean slowly against my back. The pressure building and tilting as I try to remain on balance. Every sound intensified now. I can hear Your breath behind me, can even hear the rub of denim covered thighs against the softness of my flesh while You lean further into me, and slowly push me forward. Every instinct screaming at me to move - to push back against the pressure as I struggle for breath and realize that You want me on hands and knees in the field of dangerously sharp slivers. But I don't dare. I can't do anything but snap out my hands to the floor and suck at the air as tiny pieces of expensive crystal slice into my palms. I can feel the rush of heat into my cheeks as You nearly purr from above and behind. "That's it, pet. Obey me. Always." Shifting back a bit to relieve the stinging pressure of flat palms, and nearly whimpering as You lift the hem of crisp white to expose the pale pink and smooth panties stretched over the firmness of my ass. A deep breath punctuates the sudden silence as long fingers curl into the waistband and pull slowly downward. More and more of the creamy flesh is exposed with every agonizingly slow inch. The elastic digs into the outside of thighs where You leave the rolled panties. The split of cunt glistening and flexing along with the tiny pucker of darker flesh at the entrance to my ass. Trying to keep still - awareness of the pain in my hands threatening to steal my focus. Two fingers slide up the puffed split of flesh, teasing and drawing over the twitching nub of my clit as I struggle to remain still on the painful floor. A deep plunge forward and the fingers plunge deeply into the velvet clutch of wet sex. Heavy breaths explode as my body responds instinctually… unconsciously. Rocking back and nearly whimpering as You pull Your fingers from deep inside. The depth of Your voice nearly startling. "I said be STILL, cunt!" No longer is Your voice teasing, but snapping through me as every muscle goes taut. Hot tears gather in my eyes and threaten to spill. The need now slamming through my soul. "Yes Sirrrrrr!" huffing out the words as every muscle locks in place. Hands sticky and slippery against the Italian tile as You lean back over me and I feel the unmistakable pressure of Your cock nudging at the tiny pucker of my star. Pinching fingers settle around one straining nipple as You feed me the girth and length of cock. Stabbing pain… intense pleasure as You methodically bury the hot meat inside of me. Thrust… squeeze… using the body before You as You see fit, while I quiver and whimper at the rush of emotions and my own intensifying hunger. Each forward thrust stealing into my conscious mind even as my soul begins… to fly. Eyes rolling at the lust surging through me, and yet I remain as frozen as You begin to thrust faster and deeper - impaling my ass with the thickness of Your manhood. Taking the slut You have claimed as Yours, and sending both on a wild roller coaster ride of decadent hungers. Hot grunts play through the air - mine? Yours? With every moment the feelings grow stronger - the craving more intense. Yet it is clear that I am at Your mercy completely, and only You have the power to allow the hunger to explode. When the permission comes, I can barely breathe through the lusty need. "Cum, bitch!" Your roar fills my ears even as You twitch and fill my ass with hot spurts of fire and seed. Deeply, You plunge forward and I shudder and jerk around You, clenching muscles nearly strangling in their power as they clamp down hard and fast - milking You of every precious drop of thick white. And we rock… together. Slowly, You pull away and gather my twitching body close. Hot lips settle to my neck - sucking warm and gentle over the wild pulse left throbbing beneath the thin layer of flesh. Low murmurs against my throat as You hold me tight and reach for the smeared hands… holding them tenderly. The pain is worth it. Everything… is worth it. Yours. Shatter The sky was bluer than anything she'd remembered as she drove the car out through long dusty lanes, looking for the horse ranch that stabled the mare she was looking at buying. The music blared, a mixture of country and some hip-hop thrown in there to mix it up. Green pastures were on both sides of her now and she rolled the windows down, opening the sunroof to inhale the sweet grassy smell that always struck a chord inside her from early in her childhood. A small frown furrowed her brow, as she saw no sign of stables. The road curved and the sunlight blared through the windshield causing her to slow down and just as the sun wasn't so blindingly there, she saw the stables and a smile lit her face. The car slowed to a crawl as she admired them from afar, now seeing the horses as they grazed leisurely in the pasture closest to the stables. Turning down the radio, she pulled into the long and winding drive that brought her straight up to the barn, a mammoth creation of beauty and taste, making the horses look as if they lived in a palace. She couldn't believe that she had driven this far to see a horse especially since she'd never owned a horse before. But the bloodline was a good one and she'd been saving for something, she just didn't know what. How was she to know that fate was about to take a hand in her life. Stepping from the car, she slid her palms down the snug jeans and slid her sunglasses up to perch atop her head. Reddish curls highlighted with dark gold streaks were pulled up in a clip, a few errant curls framing her face delightedly. She looked around and saw no one although a truck was parked off to the side. With steady strides, she walked to the fence and hooked her boot on the lowest rung, looking out over the pasture and horses, a smile on her face as the sun warmed her, a breeze teasing at the back of her neck. So lost in the serenity of the scene, she never heard the man walk up behind her, only felt the shadow as it fell across her back. With a lazy grace, He leaned against the fence beside her and looked out over the field and smiled, speaking softly, almost as if raising His voice would destroy the peace there. "You must be Spring. I saw you drive up." With a smile, she turned her face towards Him and drew a long breath, taken aback by the cowboy that stood next to her. "Yes.. I was afraid that I'd gotten lost." She offered her hand to Him, the delicate pink nails winking in the sunlight. She was tanned but she paled as the larger hand engulfed hers, sending a thrill through her at the strength it carried in that grip. Her eyes lifted to His and she fell into something she couldn't name. And she didn't think she wanted to. His amusement was evident on His face as He kept hold of her hand even when she tried to pull it away delicately. "I'm Rusty. You've come to look at Shatter. She's a beautiful mare and from the looks of you, she'll suit you well." His smile was slow and easy as she merely nodded, finally able to tear her gaze away, looking out over the pasture. "Is she there? Among the others?" She waved her hand indicating the milling horses in the field. "No, I have her stabled because I knew you were on your way. If you'll come with me." Not once had He let her hand go and she felt the warmth seep into her body, dismissing it as only the warming of the sun. He brought her into the shadowed stables, the smell of hay and horseflesh assaulting her senses. She took a deep breath and smiled, unconsciously giving His hand a squeeze. His cowboy hat was low on His forehead and He studied her from a sidelong angle, taking in the planes of her face, the softly rounded and lush body that walked so casually beside Him. A smile played on His lips as He'd been waiting for this moment for a long time. You see, they'd been talking long before she decided to buy the horse, having met through a mutual friend, immediately taking a liking to one another. The air around them fairly sizzled when they were together and anyone who didn't know better, would have thought them to be lovers although they hadn't yet reached that level of their relationship. He could see the pulse beat in her neck, a rapid little patter giving away her nervousness. "You know, Spring, we don't have to pretend that we don't know each other." Giving her a little tug so that she'd fall off balance and into Him. Her laughter sounded like a light melody, as sparkling blue gray eyes looked up into His, hands bracing on His chest, feeling the muscle that was there, something she'd dreamed of touching for the longest time. "No, we don't have to pretend, Rusty. Although you have to admit it was a little fun at the beginning. Being so formal with one another." She relaxed visibly into Him and smiled up to Him, her tongue darting out to moisten her dried lips, feeling as if the ground had just dropped out from beneath her. His hands caressed up and down her arms and she was content for the moment to just feel, allowing the touch to seep into her, warm her. His hands slid down to settle on her hips, drawing her closer against Him and she had no choice but to let her own hands travel up, feeling every plain of muscle until her fingers linked behind His neck, her thumbs rubbing small circles into the muscles there, finally able to do what they had only been able to talk about before. Her breathing was slow and shallow as she felt the closeness of Him; smelling the mixture of His male scent, sweat from work and horses. His voice was soft as He commanded gently to her. "Look at me, Spring." And she couldn't ignore this Man. This One who she'd called Master for some time now. It seemed like an eternity before she lifted her head, her five foot frame making her tip her head back to look up at Him, a whole foot taller than she was He. One hand left her hip and glided up her ribcage, brushing the outer swell of her breast, tracing the collar bone that was visible due to the low cut tank top that she wore. With aching tenderness, that hand traveled up the column of her throat, circling it, resting around her neck for a moment, never once letting His eyes leave hers. One fingertip skimmed the gentle dip in her neck, traveled up the slender column and along her jaw line to the right then back again, over the left. Up and over her chin, His mere touch made her ache as her lips parted and a soft moan escaped, eliciting a soft laugh from Him. The pad of His thumb slid over her full lower lip, teasing until she moved her head and caught His thumb between her lips, sucking it gently. She reveled in the swift intake of breath He made, her teeth grazing the thumb before letting it go reluctantly from her lips, her eyes ablaze like blue fire. His smile was breathtaking, robbing her of sense and sensibility as she fairly melted against Him, never imagining that His touches would be that potent. She felt the hard bulge in His jeans and her own lips lifted at the corners in a smile, small and knowing. She sensuously moved against Him, knowing full well that she was giving as much torment in this slow seduction that He was giving to her. A soft groan passed His lips and His eyes darkened slightly, His hand dropping, taking hers and linking fingers with His own. "Come." She didn't know if it was on purpose or if He had merely forgotten that He'd trained her from afar to cum on command, her body going rigid as it fell against His, the hot spasms rocking her as her breath caught in her throat, small whimpers escaping her as she muffled them against His chest. He laughed softly and shook His head, commenting softly. "Good girl, my darling pet." And before she could gather her senses, He'd led her to an even more shadowed tack room, His hands roaming her body as He kicked the door closed with His boot. Once in the quiet private confines of the room, she couldn't resist and flew to His arms, her kisses raining wildly over His face and neck, murmuring softly against His skin. "I've waited so long, Master, to do this. So long to touch You, kiss You." Her teeth scraped over His neck lightly and she heard Him moan, her tongue sweeping up the cords in His neck, teeth latching on to His earlobe, knowing it would be His downfall. Hearing His harsh groan of pleasure, she laughed softly, warm breath washing over the ear that she was nibbling, licking, sucking on, and teasing Him even further. Neither knew who started tearing at clothing first, only that the needs to feel skin against skin over rode any sane thought that either of them had. His hand slipped down from her shoulder, down over her breast, the calloused palm scraping lightly in teasing, bringing a soft moan to her lips, from deep in her throat. He rolled a nipple between His thumb and forefinger, tugging and twisting, steadily applying pressure, tugging harder, twisting harder until she was writhing against Him. He marveled at how she responded and He'd only just begun. He backed her up until she was leaning against a low cabinet of sorts, His mouth fused to hers, barely letting her breathe for the kisses He gave her. A total claiming, plundering the warm sweet confines of her mouth with His tongue. Soft small keening whimpers escaped as her fingers tips and nails dragged over His arms, up and down His ribcage over the flat of His abdomen to come up and tease His nipples into small hardened points, loving the feel of Him beneath her touch. Tongues battled and the air fairly sizzled between them. His lips left her, blazing a heated trail down over her jaw line, skimming kisses there as He made His way down her throat, her head falling back in bliss as His lips traveled ever downward, taking the hardened peak of her nipple into His mouth, His teeth gnawing on it gently as moans and soft cries escaped her. Leaving one nipple, He kissed the valley between her breasts to the other globe, giving that nipple the same attention that the other had received. The cool air brushed over her aching buds as His lips stole down over her abdomen, her fingers sinking into His hair, body trembling as He fell to His knees, His hands parting her thighs. His tongue dipped into the intimate dimple of her navel and then slid downward to the top of her mound. She moaned and writhed, His large hands lifting her so that she sat upon the edge of the cabinet, her thighs falling far apart in abandon. Teasing, flitting kisses were given to her inner thighs, searing her as He teased around her core, the sweet smell of her sex incensing Him until He flickered His tongue over the hidden pearl of her folds. Her body went rigid as the bud of her sex was teased, a rough finger gently parted her silken lips and slid into the hot channel, a groan escaping Him as His lips closed on her clit, the rumble of His groan bringing an echo throughout her body. Honey flowed, coating His finger as He slowly pumped it in and out of her, crooking it upwards to hit that sensitive Gspot that always seemed ever elusive. His assault on her body was slow and thorough, His own awareness of the sexual tension in His body beating at Him. His cock was harder than marble and throbbed with the need to be buried deep inside her. But He held back, coaxing her with His mouth and finger, bringing her to another crest of pleasure, her head thrown back, her hands holding His head tightly between them as she shook and cried out with the power of her orgasm. Drinking in her juices, He rose swiftly and with one hard thrust, slid that marble hard cock into her to the hilt, both of them groaning with the delicious feel of His taking of her. His lean hips began a steady rhythm, sliding out to the very tip of His penis then delving back inside with gentle but urgent insistency. She writhed against Him, moaning softly and a smile passed over His lips, knowing what she wanted but determined to control this as He had controlled her for these past months. Her legs slid up, wrapping around Him, tightening with every thrust, pulling Him deeper into her as she arched her back and bucked against Him, grinding hard and fast. His fingers bit into her hips, His speed picking up as He thrust into her hard and faster, knowing that is how she wanted it. His mouth came down on hers in a searing and branding kiss then moved down to suckle her nipples one then the other, back and forth, nips and kisses and licks given, driving her wild. He felt His balls tighten, her nails dug into His shoulders, a soft cry of alarm as He withdrew completely from her. His voice was strained, a raw whisper. "Down. Turn around and lean on the cabinet, pet. Now." And she did, on quivering legs, almost unable to hold herself up, thankful for the sturdy cabinet to hold her weight, her nipples barely grazing the roughened top, eliciting moans from her before He had even touched her again. Before she knew what He was about, she felt the first stinging blow of His hand on her upturned ass, a cry issuing from kiss swollen lips. Again and again, His hand came down, her body drowning in pain and pleasure as heat spread through her. Juices trickled down her inner thighs, her ass burned as she felt each blow deep into her soul. Tears slid down her cheeks and she wasn't even aware of the fact that He'd stopped and was massaging the angry red flesh. The tip of His cock nudged at the swollen slick lips of her sex and coated itself in her essence. She pushed back, hoping to have Him slip into the heated channel, wanting nothing more than to have Him buried deep inside her once more but that wasn't what He'd had mind. Guiding His cock with His hand, He pushed the smooth head over the tight pucker of her ass, making her shudder in delicious anticipation, a long soft "ohhhhh" coming from deep inside her. He pushed, watching as the smooth glistening head of His cock pressed against the tight ring, His precum acting as lubricant as well as her own juices. Slowly pushing, He felt the tight ring give way and the head of His cock disappear into her anus, feeling the deep shudder go through her, the soft pulse of her pussy at the initial penetration of her ass. Slowly, inch-by-inch, He slid His cock into her ass until His balls slapped her pussy, feeling the hot wet stickiness of her juices. With infinite slowness and tenderness, He pulled out only to plunge deep inside her again. Her back arched, her bottom pushing back against Him, gasping softly as He stretched her with His length and girth. One hand grasped her breast, kneading it, rubbing the nipple between His thumb and forefinger, the other drifting down to her pussy, fingers deftly circling her clit, feeling the dew on the lips of her sex, coaxing her to cum once more. Her moans filled the tack room, and far away it seemed, she heard the whicker of Shatter, the horse that she'd come to look at. The scent of sex mingled with the smells of the stables, the grunts and groans from Rusty and Spring sounded abnormally loud in the small room as He rode her hard and fast, stretching that tight little ass, His hand coming down again and again against the soft rounded mounds of her buttocks. His lips grazed the back of her neck and His tongue tickled her ear, His whisper soft as the word sounded as if He had screamed it. "Cum, pet." And she did, her whole body convulsing in shivers and shakes, her pussy throbbing as juices trickled down her thighs, her tight ring of muscle clenching painfully around His cock as it slammed in to the hilt, spilling His seed deep within her. She collapsed on the cabinet and was thankful for its support, His body laying atop her, slick with sweat, breathing harsh and quick. They lay there, locked together for the longest time, His cock still deep inside her before He slid from her, eliciting a groan from her at the loss. Straightening, He smiled and took her hand, leading her to the wall where a hook was mounted. "Grab the hook pet. Let me take care of You now." Her body seemed leaden but she managed to raise her arms, her hands grabbing the hook, wondering what it was He was going to do to her. With a soft moan of delight, she felt the warm soapy water cascading down her body as He sponged her down, just as if He were washing down a horse, infinite care and gentleness. A soft towel came next as He rubbed her down, oiled her until she was glistening, His smile of satisfaction glowing from the inside out. Each and every caress of His hands on her body brought forth a soft sigh on her lips, her body aching as He had finally claimed her in the flesh. Her reddened ass glowed from the spanking she'd been given and His hands were gentle and tender as He caressed over the globes softly, soothingly. Standing so close behind her, He drew her against the hard length of His body, feeling her melt back against Him, her hands not once moving from the hook until He gave her leave. His whisper made her shiver; brought a quivering anticipating smile to her lips. "You know you'll have to come regularly to learn how to care for Shatter. I'll give you lessons. Remember to schedule enough time for each lesson. It seems this first one took a while." His sensual male laughter invaded her body as she let go of the hook and leaned back against Him, her own laughter mingling with His. "No worries, Master. I intend on learning everything I can.. I will be the devoted and rapt student." She turned and her bare body pressed against His, molding there as if it were made for Him and Him alone. They stood there kissing for what seemed an eternity before He pulled back and smiled, issuing orders to her to get dressed and fix herself up before walking out, her laughter answering each order. She had once told Him that she'd probably laugh whenever He gave her orders or was angry with her and sure enough. Here she was laughing. It didn't take long though before He brought her out and introduced her to Shatter, the sweet little mare she was buying. The dappled gray horse was beautiful and looked just as her name sounded. Shatter. Rusty kissed her, touched her at each and every moment He could for the time she was there, enjoying the feeling of her, the scent of her. He walked her to her car and leaned down, kissing her softly, giving her nipple a light squeeze, applying pressure until her lips parted and she gasped softly. "Remember.. clinch twenty five times every five minutes for thirty minutes. Everytime you squirm in your seat because of your reddened ass, remember Me. Love you, pet. See you next week and talk to you tomorrow." Her breathing was soft and shallow as she nodded and kissed back, trying to catch her breath from the nipple tweak and the thought of clenching that many times! But with grace and a soft sweetness, she smiled to Him. "Yes, Master. Don't work too hard. You've already worked hard enough today. And take care of my Shatter until I see her next week, please. Love You too." And she drove off, the first meeting with her Master going far better than she ever thought, the glow of sex on her body, His scent filling her senses lasted until she got home, a smile on her face and in her soul. Shattered The cries of two people in the throes of passion served as the harmony, while the sound of wet flesh slapping against flesh provided the frantic rhythm. The musky scent of sex and sweat lingered in the air. The woman straddled her legs across the muscular man's waist, riding the large phallus. His cock glistened with her juices in the ambient lighting as it plunged deeper insider her. She leaned forward, placing her hands upon his shoulders so that she could support herself while impaling herself on the man's cock willingly. His big, strong hands held her by the hips so as to offer added support. Her large breasts swung like pendulum, which he tried to capture with his mouth. Breathlessly, the woman cried out, "My god, I never knew sex could be like this!" She whimpered out a moan of pleasure, "I've wasted twenty years of my life! Your cock is so big!" Her voice went up an octave with that last word. Her fingers dug into the man's shoulders as her body trembled and quivered, experiencing an orgasm -- maybe for the first time or at least, the first time this night. Given that neither one showed any signs of hesitation or slowing down, it was very possible that this was a first of many things to come. "Your pussy is so tight. It's like you're a virgin! Are you sure you had sex before meeting me?" retorted the man while thrusting upward with his cock. The added thrusting caused her eyes to roll back into her head, making it quite different for her to form any coherent thought. She simply answered the question with a guttural groan of ecstasy. ***** His cry broke the silence of the dark, lonely room. The white cotton sheet, soaked with sweat, clung to his body as he jerked himself awake. The nightmares have gotten worse. His insecurities have been wrecking havoc on his memories, altering the witnessed event with visions and dialogue fueling his self-doubts and bruised male ego. Covering his eyes with his hands, Steve tried to catch his breath and regain a sense of his surroundings. As reality set in, the hope of his wife's infidelity being a horrible nightmare faded away, no matter how hard he tried to gouge out his eyes. Why? The first of many questions flooded his thoughts as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Was I not man enough for her? Did I not satisfy her in bed? Did she need the attention of another man, a better man? Why would she throw away twenty years of marriage for a fling? Did she no longer love me? Has she fallen in love with someone else? Was it something that I did? Was it something that I said? Was it just one very bad thing, or a culmination of many little things? What did I do that was so wrong that it would make her rush into the arms of another man? Unfortunately for Steve, the quiet of the hotel room did not provide any answers and offered very little solace. The relentless buzzing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. He swore he turned the damned thing off; however, he must have set it for vibrate. Another thing that I can't do right, he told himself while fighting back feelings of dread. He was not ready to talk to her. The problem with asking questions was that there were going to be answers. He was not sure if he was ready to hear those answers. Dread consumed him as his heart sank into his stomach. At that moment, he regretted eating Mexican for dinner as his stomach churned. With trepidation, Steve rolled out of bed to spy the caller ID on his phone. The lesser of two evils reared its ugly head as the phone number for the hospital, where worked was displayed. "It's 3 o'clock in the morning. The sky better be falling," answered Steve without any regard to who was on the other end. "Hey bud, I'm sorry to be waking you up this early in the morning, but the central switch crashed. The entire hospital is down, and the ER has a head trauma patient getting a cat scan. With the switch down, we can't send images across the Internet," explained Eric, one of Steve's sub-ordinates. Steve immediately shot out of bed in an effort to get dressed quickly as he responded, "All right. The PACS system is on its own segmented network. Go ahead and route the firewall to the PACS router, bypassing the central switch. This should allow the rad tech to send the images to our night radiology group. The rest of the hospital will have to go to paper until we can get the switch back up and going. Tell the night supervisor that I'll be there in about ten minutes." "Good call! I didn't even think of that," Eric replied with a sound of relief. Unfortunately for Steve, life did not stop for a broken heart. He was needed at the hospital regardless of his state of mind. ***** Steve was born and raised in a Catholic family. His parents insisted on him going to a private school for his education. Unfortunately, in rural America, the class sizes for a private Catholic school were relatively small. Even worse, the same students were in the same classes together unless someone flunked a grade or moved away. This meant that a social faux pas would brand a kid for life, or at least twelve years of primary and secondary education. For Steve, he was labeled as a nerd early on. There could be several different reasons for how Steve got branded as this social pariah. It could be the fact that math came easy to him, and he did not have to try very hard in school at all. Or it could be the fact that unlike most of the students, he did not belong to a rich family. His clothes were common and certainly not name brand. Or, it could have been when he had a horrible crush on the most popular girl in school. In an attempt to win her affection, Steve wrote a love poem. It was from the heart, but having never read Cyrano de Bergerac in grade school, his words fell short. The poem was passed around his entire class so that they could share in his humiliation. He became the laughing stock of his fifth grade class. Needless to say, his confidence in approaching girls was shattered. Having to endure the same group of students for the next seven years, Steve accepted his role as a nerd and a social outcast. He delved into this new technology called computers, learning all he could. One of the first things he learned was that a mistake could be easily fixed or corrected, unlike matters of the heart and social interaction with girls. Obviously, Steve looked forward to graduating high school and moving on to college. A new set of friends and the ability to escape twelve years of Hell was just the tip of the iceberg. Having graduated with honors, Steve intended to go to the best college for computer science. He would get his degree and then find employment with a huge software company. That was until life decided to step in. While on a retreat for high school seniors held by his church, Steve met Jill. The awkward and socially inept boy and the gangly and homely girl fumbled their way through their first date. For Steve, the fact that any girl showed an interest in him was exciting and made his heart race. For Jill, it was the first time that a boy didn't try to feel her up or compare her to the popular girls in school. More importantly, they both enjoyed the other person's personality. They found it easy to communicate on a personal level. It wasn't long before the two fell in love. And it wasn't too much longer after that, that the two awkward teenagers fumbled their way through making love. Although they were Catholic, society placed too much pressure on them to not remain celibate. Raging hormones also played a major role in their attempt to express their undying love for one another. Unfortunately, their desire to pick and choose which laws or commandments that they wanted to follow did not supersede the laws of nature. Jill became pregnant a few short months after their retreat. For whatever reason, adhering to their Catholic upbringing was paramount this time around. Rather than abort the child, the two decided to become a family. Steve's plans for going on to college were dashed into smithereens from the wink of a pretty girl's eye. Instead, he opted to work at an electronics store, serving as one of their computer technicians. In his spare time, he attended classes at the local community college with the hopes of obtaining an Associate's degree in computer information systems. Steve accepted his new role of being a provider for his family and his fate without hesitation or putting up a fight. It was expected of him to take accountability for his actions. His dreams, his ambitions, and his goals fell to the wayside, so that he could be a husband and a father. ***** The music blaring from the worn out speakers competed with the growling hum of the car's engine that was pushing two hundred thousand miles. Typically, Steve kept the volume up to drown out the fact that he was driving a used car that was in dire need of a tune up and a new muffler; however, it was decided long ago that Jill would get the better car because of family priorities. The beat up car served its purpose well of getting from Point A to Point B with as little fuel consumption as possible. For Steve, the car was like an old tee shirt that has a paint stain here or a bleach stain there, but it fit just right. There was comfort to be found in the car. Steve knew the limitations of the car, and never pushed the car beyond those limits. The driver's seat or the mirrors never had to be adjusted. Everything was where it was supposed to be. The radio gods had other plans. Regardless of what station, the night deejay opted to play love songs. The only relief from the love songs was the commercials; however, they catered to lonely singles looking for an exciting adventure and suggested that they stay in tonight and call their party line. It was as if the sultry feminine voice taunted and tormented Steve. In frustration, Steve slammed the power button of the radio so that he could rid himself of the agony. Steve was outnumbered, though. In the silence of his car, his thoughts resumed full force. Why didn't you do something? Steve berated himself. You just stood there and watched that man run his hands all over your wife's naked body! You're a wimp! You're a wuss! You could have done something, but no! You simply walked away. You didn't even put up a fight! Steve always shied away from confrontation. He was not some covert operations specialist, or an Army Ranger. He certainly was not an ultimate fighter champion, though in his younger years, he may have played one or two in video games. Steve was an inch or two over six feet tall and weighed over two hundred and thirty pounds. Most of that weight, circling around his waistline, was acquired from years of sticking to his fast food diet. Hitting the gym was not in Steve's vocabulary. The most strenuous thing that Steve participated in was golf, if you call hitting the ball into the wrong fairway as playing golf. Steve rebutted his own thoughts. You saw the guy's arms. They were twice my size. He'd probably snap me in half. I'm already humiliated by the fact that he's giving my wife more pleasure than I ever have. To get my ass handed to me on a silver platter would only make my humiliation worse. Besides, at that point, what's the point of even fighting? She's already in his arms. Do you really want to endure physical pain along with a broken heart? As luck would have it, Steve paid more attention to his thoughts than the traffic lights, especially the red light that he drove through without any hint of slowing down. He never would have known he had done such a thing, if it were not for the flashing red and blue lights in his rear view mirror. In a bout with frustration, Steve slammed his forehead against his steering wheel a couple of times. He peered towards the ceiling of his car as if he can see into the heavens. Are you done? I don't know what I did to piss you off, but I'll be more than happy to recite fifty Hail Marys and fifty Our Fathers if you stop it from getting any worse. It got worse. ***** It was not unusual to experience sudden thundershowers during the month of April. While the farmlands and the gardens of pretentious neighbors appreciated the rain, stranded motorists with flat tires typically did not. Even more so, should the motorist's cell phone have a dead battery and does not own a car charger. To compound the issue, the motorist in question decided to wear a fashionable cotton summer dress due to the unseasonably warmer temperatures. Although she was able to pull the mini-van off to the shoulder of the busy thoroughfare, any attempt to get out and examine the situation required getting completely drenched from the downpour and from the spray of on-coming cars. Time treated Jill quite well. No longer was she the homely teenager trying to get comfortable with her body. Being a late bloomer coupled with the baby fat obtained during pregnancy, Jill developed feminine curves that made men of all ages turn their heads. With the hope of retaining her youth, the middle-aged housewife colored her honey golden hair to hide those pesky grey strands that never seemed to go away. Make-up and creams were in constant demand so that the mother of two could hide the crow's feet and the laugh lines that come with age. By all classification standards, Jill was your standard MILF. Fortunately for the despondent woman, one of the local patrolmen drove past and made every effort to turn around to offer aid. For Officer Jim Rickman, he always made every effort to provide assistance to damsels in distress with the hopes of them showing him some level of gratitude. There was very little crime in the one horse town, so Officer Rickman spent most of his time pulling over drivers caught speeding. For good looking women, flirting was all it took to get out of the speeding ticket. The six foot two, two hundred twenty pound muscle bound womanizer spent most of his off duty hours working out at the local gym, hitting the weights or trolling outside the Pilates class like a vulture. Rather than call a tow truck, Officer Rickman changed out the tire for the helpless housewife. He even offered to follow her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Having been taught to show hospitality and gratitude, Jill welcomed the policeman into her home so that he could get a towel to dry off and have a cup of hot tea as a token of her appreciation and gratitude for his help. The invitation allowed Officer Rickman to leer at Jill, imagining the purring sounds that she made before, during and after having sex. Over tea, the two were able to catch up and reminisce about the old times. Officer Rickman was the younger brother of Eddie Rickman. As a teenager, Jill fantasized about Eddie falling in love with her, sweeping her off her feet, and whisking her away to a romantic getaway or at least to lover's lane. Officer Rickman, or as Jill called him "Little Jimmy", explained that his older brother was laid off work since the local factory is shutting its doors and relocating to Mexico. Jill silently thanked God for not answering her numerous prayers back then. Leaving behind another stressful day at work, Steve looked forward to getting home to his wife and relaxing for the evening. The need to relax dissipated, though, as he noticed the police car parked in his drive way. Unable to pull his car into the garage, he parked his car on the street and quickly ran into the house to see if everything was all right. "Honey, this is Little Jimmy. You remember Eddie's little brother, don't you?" inquired his lovely wife. Showing his alpha male tendencies, Officer Rickman corrected Jill, "I'm not so little now." A flex of his muscles emphasized his meaning. When he finally recognized Steve, he guffawed. He turned his attention away from the concerned husband and said to Jill, "You married Rooster? Are you kidding me?" Jill could not help but emit a tiny giggle, "Oh! I completely forgot about that nickname!" Rolling his eyes, Steve looked past the police man and asked his wife, "Are you ok? Did you get hurt? Did something happen?" Jill waved her hand dismissively, "It's nothing, hon-" "I protected her from harm, and got her home safe and sound. You don't need to worry about her, but you may want to check the air pressure in her tires next time. I can't believe you let her drive on balding tires that could use a few pounds of air," interrupted the officer in a condescending tone. Steve tried to rebut the condescending tone, but Jill stepped in. "Jimmy changed the tire on my mini-van and made sure I got home safe. I invited him in for a cup of tea to show my thanks." The predatory look upon Officer Rickman's face spoke volumes. It was clear that Officer Rickman had different ideas on how Jill could give him a proper thanking. "I should get back to my patrols. If you need anything else, Jill-Billy, you let me know," said Jim Rickman. He then peered down his nose to Steve, "See ya, Rooster." Remembering the nickname that was used to tease her about having a flat chest and living out in the country, Jill laughed with mirth, "Oh my! It's been forever since anyone called me that." She straightened her back so that she could showcase her large breasts. She basked in pride with the look she received from the younger man. "There's no mistaking me for a boy now, is there?" Steve finally spoke up and exerted himself by escorting Jim to the door, "Good bye, Jimmy." ***** The silence deafened the interior of Steve's car, which only intensified the feeling of dread as he watched the police officer slowly take his time in approaching the car. Steve did not have to look in the rear view mirror to know who it was that would be tapping on his window. Fate already determined the worst case scenario for him and deemed it necessary to inflict it upon him. Wanting to get through this as quickly as possible, Steve prepared his license and registration as the inevitable knocked. "Where's the fire, chief?" questioned the arrogant, familiar voice. I hope you're laughing your ass off. Steve stared up to the ceiling before offering up his license and registration, "Jimmy, the hospital's network is down. I don't have time to be fucking around." Officer Rickman shook his head with a condescending glance. "Rooster, that doesn't exclude you from obeying the traffic laws of this fine city. Do you even know why I pulled you over?" Because you're an asshole who gets off on being such a prick? Steve let out an exasperated sigh, "I have no clue. For speeding, I guess?" "Whoa, what's up with the attitude, Rooster? You just need to cool your jets. I'm trying to help you, so you don't kill someone tonight. We already had one accident tonight just outside of town. Some slut was giving a guy a blow job while he was driving, and they swerved right off the road." Officer Rickman chuckled at the thought. He, then, returned to the conversation at hand, "I was on my way to Denny's to find out more of the details when you blew right through that stop light. You do know that red means stop, right?" "Whatever. Just write me the ticket. Otherwise, they need me at the hospital," retorted Steve. What does she even see in guys like you? Besides the six pack abs, biceps as big as Texas, and the perfectly coifed hair, that is. I bet if I lived in the gym, I'd look like that. Well, maybe not the hair, but I could have rock hard abs. Fine, if that's the kind of guy she's going to drool over, I can do that. Starting tomorrow, I'll get a membership at the gym and start working out. I'll be just like Dick for Brains here. Officer Rickman shook his head, again, in disgust, "Rooster, you're not winning yourself any favors here. I was going to cut you some slack and let you off with a warning, but not anymore." Shattered Oh, please. The only way you'd let me go is if I had big tits and a low neckline. Steve sighed and tried to alter his tone of voice to hide his irritation, "Jimmy, I'm sorry. It's 3am and I haven't had any caffeine. I just want to get to the hospital, fix the problem, and then get back to bed." "I guess I can understand that. If Jill was waiting in my bed, I'd be the same way," Officer Rickman replied with a far off gaze, remembering the last time he saw Jill. "Alright, get your ass out of here and on to the hospital. Tell your hottie of a wife that I said hello." ***** The smoky, hickory smell of barbeque wafted on the gentle summer breeze, attempting to lure unsuspecting victims into Steve's backyard. The sound of classic rock and roll music mixed with the sound of splashing hinted at the festive atmosphere of the pool party taking place at his residence. Every year, Steve held a barbeque to commemorate the beginning of summer. Hot dogs, hamburgers and brats cooked to perfection. Mashed potatoes, baked beans and grilled corn on the cob complimented the main dishes. Invitees were responsible for desserts or potato chips. Typically, Steve performed the cooking duties while his guests enjoyed the ice cold beer and homemade wine. Jill served as the hostess, making sure that everyone had enough to eat. However, today was different. Even though the event was held on a Sunday, Steve got called into the hospital. Jerry, the weekend support tech, went to Saint Louis for the weekend to see a ball game rather than perform his job duties. Although he would address this with Jerry on Monday, the fact remained that the hospital needed some technical assistance now. Disappointment and frustration marred his demeanor as he slammed his way out the front door. While Steve worked on a faulty wireless access point in the Emergency Department, Jill convinced Dan to serve as the grill master of the party. Although Dan was married to Gloria, he was known for his wandering eye. It was no coincidence that Dan did a lot of his yard work at the same time that Jill basked in the sun, working on her tan. So it was no surprise that Dan agreed to work the grill, especially since Jill opted to wear a bikini. A transparent sarong wrapped around her waist and offered a mild sense of propriety, decorum, and modesty. That did not stop Dan from imagining his neighbor's wife in a thong or even less. Jill spent most of the early part of the year getting in shape for bikini season. She worked off the cellulite and the paunch around her belly. Fortunately, she maintained the extra weight in her breasts and did not lose the curvature of her hips and rear. Many of the men at the party noticed her hard work. Some of the women noticed as well, though their looks were more of jealousy rather than filled with lust. The more aggressive vultures lingered around the bikini-clad housewife, offering to do some 'heavy lifting' to show off their machismo. One such vulture was the police officer, Jimmy Rickman. Being in a playful mood, he grabbed Jill by the arms and threatened to push her into the pool. She giggled and pleaded for mercy, knowing that she would not be able to break free. She leaned her body back into Jimmy's body in an effort to stop his pushing motion. This was Jimmy's strategy all along. He could feel the soft swell of the woman's ass against his crotch, and he was sure that she could feel the bulge he was hiding in his swim trunks. However, he was not going to let this woman win the battle of the sexes. With one strong step forward, he shoved Jill into the pool. It was every man's fantasy to make her wet. Jimmy is the only one that can say he made her soaking wet, though maybe not in the manner that their perverted minds intended. Unbeknownst to Jimmy and Jill, Steve returned just in time to see his wife laughing and pushing her scantily clad body against the chiseled physique of the police officer. He heard her squeal as she prepared herself for the chilly temperatures of the swimming pool. He observed the sarong fall away from her body as she dove underwater. He noticed the hungry stares of the men attending the party as his wife climbed out of the pool, with their eyes glued to her ass. The fact that he was married to a beautiful woman and could turn the heads of the men around her gave Steve a sense of pride. Reaching for a towel, Jill greeted her husband, "Hi, honey. People are saying that this is the best barbeque by far!" She beamed with pride, allowing her smile to grow from ear to ear. She did not recognize the look on her husband's face as one of concern. Was it the best because he was not there? ***** The fluorescent lighting of the hospital's waiting room made everything look pristine and unnaturally bright. The waiting room is supposed to be welcoming and comforting to those in pain, knowing that there is relief just a few feet away in one of the exam rooms. However, Steve was not a patient. There was no solace, no comfort, and no cure for what ailed him. All of the warmth that the room provided came across as superficial and fake. Steve adjusted the strap for his laptop's carry case as he dredged his way towards the evening admitting clerk. "I've always said that they made morning way too early. I thought that morning should happen around noon; however, this is just crazy," grumbled Steve with a slight smirk on his face. He was always ready with a joke or a witty comment. Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cry and you will cry alone. His personal life was private, and certainly not the domain of the hospital or the gossip mongers that lurk around every corner and every desk. The red head behind the desk giggled at his remark, "You know you miss me, now that I'm working nights." Amber was a single mother at the young age of twenty two, burdened with the task of raising a child on her own after the dead beat sperm donor skipped town shortly after hearing the news that he was going to be a father. With working the night shift, her hourly wage increased due to shift differential. Unlike other girls her age, Amber realized that she had a responsibility to tending to her child's needs and could no longer be the party girl. After all, being the party girl is what put her in this predicament now. Steve silently appreciated Amber's motivation. He also appreciated her feminine features as well, but never voiced his admiration or acted upon his thoughts. He may not be able to touch, but he can certainly look. He's married, not dead. However, fantasy is just that: fantasy. It is not real, nor is it meant to become real. "You caught me," Steve said with his hands in the air. If I wasn't married, I'd probably be on call a lot more. Steve paused for a moment to dwell on his thoughts. Well, in a few months, you may not be married. You'd be able to ask her out. Again, another pause as his mental conversation continued. Not that she would be interested in an old fart like me. I'm almost twice her age. Initially, Amber reacted with mirth. Her smile touched her eyes. But she sensed that something was on Steve's mind, and that mirth was replaced with concern and care. "Anyway, they're still evaluating her. I'm sure she'll be fine. If you want to have a seat, I'll let you know when you can see her." His heart was in his throat and his stomach twisted into knots. Steve tried to mask the pain from his broken heart with confusion, "Evaluating her?" He shook his head, narrowing his eyes, "I'm here to help Eric get those x-rays to Nighthawk. What are you talking about?" "Oh." Amber paused. She looked like a doe in headlights, trying to find some escape route to avoid the uncomfortable feeling. Uneasily, she asked, "You don't know?" The look on Steve's face compelled her to continue. "Your wife was in an accident. She was admitted a half an hour ago." Steve stood there speechless, unable to formulate words. However, his thoughts were moving a mile a minute. Was she the stupid slut that was giving some asshole a blowjob? The fucking bitch would never give me a damned blowjob. She said it was disgusting. She said she'd never put her mouth where a guy pisses from. No, that can't be my whore of a wife. "Steve, the nurses are going to take good care of her. She'll be ok," Amber did her best to console; however, the sincerity in her words did a poor job of hiding her concern of the rumors that would be spreading throughout the hospital. Great, now everyone knows that my 'loving' wife is fucking someone else. Steve looked at Amber, scrutinizing her and her body language. When she failed to maintain eye contact, he knew that she knew. I guess I won't be asking her out. After this shit, she probably knows that I can't keep a woman satisfied in bed, and what woman in her right mind would want to date someone like that? Hell, how can I face anyone here at the hospital? "I'll be in my office," Steve said tersely, leaving the admitting room without looking back. If he would have, he would have seen Amber shedding a tear for him. ***** The bright lights and shimmering tinsel overpowered the fake pine spray and the dull artificial Christmas trees, trying to promote the holiday good cheer and obscure the cheap budget from view. Unfortunately, the smell of honey glazed ham was not associated with this festive party, as one might expect during the Christmas season. No, the hospital was a politically correct facility and did not wish to offend the Muslims who abstained from having pork in their diet. Instead, the main entrée for the holiday dinner was a chicken breast basted with creamy garlic butter and served over a bed of fettuccine. Having a choice of entrées would have added an extra and unneeded expense. Even the entertainment for the evening was an amateur deejay who earned the gig because he was someone's relative and wasn't that expensive. His selection in music was quite limited, either the redneck beer drinking partying songs or the melodramatic tear jerking slow melodies. He didn't even have any Christmas music to play during the course of the dinner. The lights that he used on the dance floor oscillated between the different colored bulbs at the same rate, regardless if it was an upbeat and fast tempo song or a slow dancing ballad. When administration and hospital officials attempted to use the deejay's microphone, the speaker was constantly fighting reverb and that horrible ringing sound that is possibly worse than scraping nails on a chalkboard. One of the administration staff was Steve's boss, Jonathan. Not John or Johnny. The full name Jonathan sounded more distinguished, and gave him the illusion of being old money. This blowhard was certainly a wizard in terms of finances and finding the gray areas in the GAAP standards to keep the hospital in the black. However, he truly excelled in politics and spinning events in his favor. During such celebrations, he would let everyone know that spending money on the employees was a big morale booster and was worth every penny spent; however, the next day, he would scrutinize every receipt and question the cost and the reasoning behind the spending. The chief financial officer aged like a five dollar bottle of wine. His salt and pepper hair was mostly salt with a touch of pepper. His skin has been bronzed from countless hours out on the golf course and attending the country club's social functions. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his wife. Diagnosed with terminal cancer, it was only a matter of time before she would pass away. Jonathan, of course, played up the supportive husband and demanded the best from the hospital staff when she came in for x-rays. However, it was at these social gatherings where Jonathan's true character was exhibited. Anything in a dress and had a shapely figure was fair game. In this rural setting, the holiday celebration was very much like an adult version of a high school prom. Women were allowed to take a half day off to get their hair done. Finding the perfect evening dress required shopping in malls hundreds of miles away, so that no one would have the exact same dress. Jill was no different than the rest of the women. For the housewife and mother of two, the holiday celebration was the one time out of the year when she could dress up and hold adult conversations with people her own age, rather than her children and her children's friends. She made sure to always look nice for her husband, as her appearance would be a reflection of her husband. The perfect curl in her hair, the right shimmer in her little black dress, and the right adjustment to her posture by her high heels culminated the appropriate look for a devoted and supportive wife. It was those pesky pounds that always bothered her. Taking walks, drinking water, and working out to exercise videos failed to rid her of that spare tire around her belly and hips. Back in October, Jill realized that the holiday season was fast approaching, with bikini season waiting in the wings. Bound and determined to finally rid herself of the cellulite and fat, Jill joined a gym and enrolled in one of their weight training sessions. If obese people on a reality show could lose weight, then Jill was going to do it as well. Jill tried to get Steve to enroll with her, so that they could lose weight together; however, Steve always found an excuse as to why he could not go. Whether it was work, family, or yard work, Steve refrained from being by her side. Disappointed, Jill reluctantly accepted Steve's excuses, but refused to use them herself. After three months, Jill showed signs of healthy weight loss. Jill rewarded herself by buying a new evening dress. She needed a new dress because her old, tried, but true dress no longer fit. She dropped a couple of dress sizes. Jill made sure to reward herself with anything, but food. It was the heart of the holiday season, and she was not about to succumb to temptation now. Jill's sheath dress conformed to the soft swell of her bosom and the gentle form of her feminine curves. The wide V neckline offered a modest glimpse of cleavage, though the plunging necklace helped with attracting attention to the valley hidden from view. Jonathan made his rounds to all the tables, greeting the directors and their spouses in political fashion prior to making a hasty exit. No Christmas bonuses meant unhappy employees, but hitting the bottom line meant a hefty bonus for the chief financial officer. His intentions shifted gears upon seeing Steve's wife. The deejay changed the tempo of the dance floor to a slow, love song. It was one of Jill's favorite songs and was in the process of standing up in order to drag her husband out to the floor. Steve had no objections until Jonathan asked for a dance. Steve wanted to say no, but it was his boss. Steve and Jill exchanged helpless glances. Not wishing to create a scene or a social faux pas, Jill accepted Jonathan's invitation to the dance floor. Jonathan had the advantage of being taller than Jill, and allowed his eyes to sneak glances down the woman's dress as the slow song played on. His hands drifted south, coming to rest upon the woman's ass while pressing his body against hers. Such brazen actions in front of all the people in attendance stunned Jill into inaction. Her voice did not protest the placement of his hands. Her hands did not enlarge the gap between the two dancing bodies. Her widened eyes tried to communicate that she was highly embarrassed, but Jonathan did not care about her feelings, only what he was feeling. Fortunately, Steve recognized the plea for help from his wife. He gracious tapped Jonathan on the shoulder and asked, "May I cut in, Jonathan? I believe there was a board member looking for you in the bar." "You have a lovely wife, Steve. I hope you have a wonderful evening," Jonathan said in a polite manner, but showed signs of wanting to make a hasty exit in order to press palms with the board members. Although Steve may have acted quickly on his feet to rescue his wife, the damage from the transgression was done. Rumors and exaggerated tales of the chief financial officer groping Steve's wife, and her lack of resistance, spread throughout the hospital the next day. ***** The darkness of Steve's home away from home shrouded him and hid his presence from the world. Stacks of paper, organized in crisscrossed fashion, served as reminders of projects that are close to their deadlines, uncaring of his personal life. The life that he built within these four walls balanced precariously on the world that's crumbling all around him. Only the soft glow of his laptop illuminated his world, keeping him focused on the task at hand. The hospital needed him to solve a technical problem. The emergency room doctor required Steve's assistance, so that he could give the quality care to his patients. Only that the patient in dire need is a cheating bitch. She deserves to suffer. She deserves to endure more pain than she's causing me right now. Each thought got stronger and more hateful. Steve looked away from the screen in disdain. A sneer formed upon his lips as he exploded from his chair, releasing emotion and anger. The snap from the sudden movement caused the chair to topple over with a crash. Some of the organized mess found on Steve's desk joined the chair on the floor. Not realizing his harsh action would put his work in such disarray, Steve kicked his chair in frustration before bending down to pick up the scattered papers, emails, and quotes. It was from this new perspective that Steve realized that his office was a satellite of memories. His home may have been destroyed; however, family pictures were strategically placed upon his work space. Fate must have placed the picture of him playing catch with his two boys, so that it would catch the light of the laptop just right. Or that some cosmic being, so great and powerful, positioned the photo of Jill's fortieth birthday party at just the right angle so that the love his children have for their mother would not be missed. Or perhaps the hand of God touched the arrangement, so that a quiet guidance could be whispered into the ear of the lost. They need their mother. Closing his eyes in resignation, Steve quickly picked up the papers and resumed his position in front of his laptop. However, before he could enter another keystroke or another command, the door to his office flew open. "Bud, is everything ok in here? I heard this huge crash," Eric asked with some concern. Steve sighed with a heavy heart while typing on his keyboard, "Yea, I'm fine. I'm just a little frustrated and tired at the moment." Eric shook his head, sounding confused, "Why are you here? I fixed the problem like you said on the phone. Images are going across as we speak. That was pretty ingenious." It was Steve's turn to sound confused, "They are? You reconfigured the firewall and the router?" Not waiting for a response, Steve ran the configuration command to verify that Eric did indeed rectify the problem. "They are. Things are cool, bud. Now, get upstairs and go see your wife," Eric paused for a moment. It was in that brief second that Steve could sense that Eric was struggling with something. An expectant look from Steve caused Eric to continue. "But if it were me? I would scorch the Earth where she stood if she did that to me." Steve rolled his eyes, sinking back into his misery. "Yea, I need to make a couple of phone calls. I'm sure the boys will want to know about their mother's condition." I wonder how the asshole is doing that ruined my life. I hope she bit his cock off during the crash. It would be such poetic justice. Please, God, if you're listening? Just once, answer this prayer. I beg of you. "Hey, Eric, is there any word on the other passenger from the wreck?" Steve tried so hard to hide his animosity; however, he was fooling nobody. Shattered Eric shrugged helplessly, "I don't think so. I think he was wearing his seat belt." Steve rolled his eyes and then looked to the ceiling. You really don't like me, do you? I don't know what I did, but whatever it was, I'm sorry. With a cleansing exhaled breath, Steve told Eric, "Well, go home and get some rest. I got a few phone calls to make. I probably won't be in due to all of this mess happening." Eric closed the door behind him, allowing Steve the privacy he needed to make those few phone calls. He called his sons, then her parents, and then her sister. After getting past the emotional trauma, Steve kept up the guise of not knowing the circumstances of the crash. He reserved the joy of explaining the injuries to the family to his wife. I would love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. Too bad I won't be there. One final number was dialed. When the person on the other end answered, Steve said, "Hey, I'm sorry to wake you, but I could really use a friend right now." He thought he would be able to keep himself composed. He thought wrong. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Would you like to meet me for some coffee? I'll buy." Shattered The following story is mostly true. I changed the names for the sake of privacy and maybe spiced up the details a bit. A little background about me: my name is Brian, although when dressed i feminize me name to Brianna. I was a closet crossdressing sissy. I had always been effeminate growing up and a bit confused sexually. I never really dated girls. Instead I would fantasize about being femme and dressing up and being with a man. I even slept with a guy, but I was young and ashamed of these feelings and fled into a marriage to try and stop it. But even then my feelings were too strong. Whenever I had a chance i would dress up with makeup, chat online, or make love to my wife's dildo. Slowly in the closet, i began to accept I wasn't a real man but gay sissy boi. I was never much of a man, tall but slender with thin arms, shoulders and waists. Nor well endowed, I was only about 4 or 5 inches when hard. But as I began to accept my femme side, all these things became assets. I couldn't hold it in anymore: I wanted dress and be with a man. I put up a personals ad online and tried to be as honest about my situation as possible. Closeted, married, etc. Then my whole world changed when I met Jeremy. I had chatted with a few men but Jeremy and I had a natural connection. He was a few years older than me and recently divorce. His wife had found out about his attraction to sissies and left him after that. I admired how he knew what he wanted. Most of all he was so understanding of my need for discretion. But he still reminded me from time to time: "You need to tell your wife." Despite that, however, it wasn't long before he was traveling to me so we could meet for the first time. I was so excited knowing we would be together soon. In my day to day life, things looked mostly normal. By now though my marriage was suffering a bit. I couldn't perform in bed and tried to get excuses from pleasing my wife. And when we did have sex, I had to think of Jeremy to get me through it. I felt so guilty but it helped me understand that I couldn't be the man my wife needed. Finally the night arrived when Jeremy would be in town. I felt a trilling mix of excitement and sheer terror. I had bought several sexy outfits and some makeup for just this evening and secured a motel room at the edge of town. I showered and shaved my body hair and lotioned afterwards, i felt so smooth and sexy. My naturally femininity was pouring out. My wrists went limp and my hips swayed as I got ready. I applied makeup, and without a wig cropped my hair into a sexy short pixie look. Finally I slipped into black lace stockings, panties and a badydoll sheer top. I took a good look in the mirror and loved what I saw. When Jeremy arrived, a wrapped myself into a robe and held my breath as I answered the door. And there he was. He looked like a handsome Ron Pearlman: ruggedly handsome with a square jaw and taller then me at six feet four inches. I nearly lost my self in him smiling. I regained myself. "Hi, Baby," I said. "Hello yourself," his eyes lit up as he saw my made up face. "Come in, I have drinks," I beamed. I poured us some wine to loosen us up a bit, and we just started talking like online or the phone. Laughing and trading stories, especially about being in the closet. Then, without me realizing it, he was undoing my robe and seeing my lacy lingerie. I looked up at him and our lips met. We began to run our hands over each other. Finally our bodies were rubbing and grinding together and i could feel his bulge against my thigh. I reached down and caressed his growing bulge. Then I left his embrace and began to unbuttoned his shirt and pants. I was almost trembling as I gently took out his hard cock from his underwear. I quickly locked eyes with him, "oh Jeremy, you're so hard baby." His hard eight inch cock throbbed in my hand, "Suck it baby, you know you want to." He was right. I opened wide and licked the head with my tongue. Then closing my mouth, swirled my tongue around. I licked up and down his shaft, his cock like warm velvet in my mouth. Mmmmmmm and a salty hint of wet precum. He tasted soooo good, I couldn't help but caress my bulging panties, my little sissy cock throbbing in its panty prison. He smiled, "Brianna, that's soo good. Only a sissy faggot knows how to suck like that." I moaned, "Baby I wanna your sissy fag bitch so bad." With that, I stroked his hard cock while licking and gently sucking his balls. God I was so horny and and becoming such a sissy I couldn't help it. All the while Jeremy took photos of me sucking and slobbering on his cock with his phone and i posed like a good slut. I looked up at my man, taking his cock out of mouth, "Baby, I want you inside me." He smiled, stood me up and kissed me his hard cock rubbing against me. I slipped between my thights, pulled down my panties and caressed my smooth little dick and balls. "Ohhhhhhh yes", I cooed. He bent be onto the bed, on all fours with my ass raised and presented to him. He peeled down my panties. My mind was reeling. I was about to be filled by a real man and a man I want. I wanted him inside me in the worst way, to fuck and hump every last bit of my manhood away and leave me a total and complete femme sissy faggot. My ass wiggled for him and my four inch clitty was hard and wet with precum. He ran his cock up and down the crack of my ass. "You want it, Brianna?" "Oh god, yes, please!" "Beg for it, sissy." "Please, baby, FUCK ME! FUCK MY TIGHT BOI PUSSY!" He began lubing his cock and my ass, as grinded against his finger, "Yeah, you know I know I love your tight gay little sissy pussyass." And with that he began pushing his big slick dick into my wanting hole. I had practiced countless times before with my wife's dildo, but nothing compares to the warm throb of my man's cock. He pushed in slowly, stretching me slowly and I loved every inch and every thrust. I dug my nails into the bed and began to squeal. "Oh baby! Yes! Fuck my asshole! MMMMMMMM!" I repeated and moaned. "Oh yeah," he grunted, "Gonna stretch that ass, baby." The feeling was incredible as I felt myself taken and owned by a real man. His cock drilling into me until he was balls deep. He took my hips and began to pound my ass hard, his balls slapping against my ass cheeks. My sissy cock was bouncing back and forth from the force of his thrusts and began to shrivel like the useless appendage it was. But it was still so sensitive I dared not to touch it for fear of cumming too soon. We were in the throws of pure ecstasy when my worst nightmare unfold. I heard the door to the motel room unlock and the door begin to open. At this point, I was so horny and well fucked I didn't care. I wanted everyone to see what sexy sissy bitch I was getting filled by her man. But fate put that to the test and appearing in the doorway was my wife. Her eyes were like fire and mouth wide open. In front of her was her her husband of five years, on all fours, in sexy black lingerie and made up like a girl being barebacked up the ass by a hunky man. At began to feel numb when she began. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRIAN?" I was so shocked and feeling numb I choked on my words and my lover continued to pound my ass in front of her. I knew it was over, was so ashamed and at that moment I truly embraced my sissy self. I began to regain myself and gave into my feelings. "Yes! Fuck Me, baby! I love it!" "Yeah, you love getting fucked up the ass don't you, Brianna?" Jeremy chimed in. "I do!" I cooed. My wife gasped and wave her hand, "I cant watch this." And with that she left. I later learned that Jeremy had texted those camera phone photos to her of me sucking his cock. After she left, Jeremy pulled out of my asshole, and closed the door. I collapsed on the bed filled with shame. Jeremy could sense my mood. He came onto the bed and pin me down on my back and kissed me deeply. Our tongues intwined and he had never tasted so good. I was on the verge of tears as he spoke. "Baby, it's ok. I'm your man now. I'm gonna take care of you." Then he spread my legs out wide and presented my asshole to him. His hard cock slipped easily into my stretch fucked boi pussy. The warmth and fullness of his cock was so good inside me. At that point, we stopped fucking and starting making love. our bodies moved in unison as my hips met the gently long thrusts of his cock. Our mouth locked and tongues together while I had my hands on his hips and ass. "Oh god fuck me! Fuck me till you cum inside me, baby!" I moaned. I started pounded my ass hard again. He was close and so was I. I could feel my orgasm building from inside. As my half limp cock bounced back and forth from his thrusts, even that was too much and i knew i was was going to cum. I was terrified as I was going to cum with a man up my ass, but I knew I wanted it. "Oh god I'm gonna cum!" I said breathlessly, "I'm gonna CUM!" Even without being hard I shot load after load of cream sissy juice all over myself and my babydoll. I spasmed and jerked as I came while impaled on Jeremy's cock, squealing like a total sissy. As my ass tightened, Jeremy lost control. He grabbed my hips and pounded my ass as he blew his hot load and warm seed into my pussy ass. I was so good feeling his cock pulsing and trusting every least drop into my ass. He stayed inside for while we continued to kiss an make love, eventually dosing off with him still inside me. The next morning was hard. I knew I would have to face my wife again, but having Jeremy there made all the difference. Epilogue: After that wonderful and horrific night, my wife and I fought and agreed on divorce the next day. I took a few of my things and left with Jeremy. He had been offering to let me live with him for months should something like this ever happen. And then he divulged to me how he had texted her the photos and are whereabouts. I was only a little angry, but he saw me suffering in the closet and forced me out. I was ashamed of myself, but it wasn't long before my wife found a real man to be with and I knew we were both better off. Since then Jeremy and I have been best friends and lovers. I live most of the time as a woman now, although I love the sissy look, so people know were gay couple. In the meantime, I keep pestering Jeremy to move us to a state where gay marriage in legal. Can't wait to be a gay sissy wife! Brianna Shattered It had been a long day at work and I sighed as I turned the key in my front door, happy to be home and done for the weekend. Flipping on the light next to the door, I locked it behind me and tossed my keys on the side table. Setting down my bags, I slipped my heels off and padded barefoot towards the kitchen. Grabbing a wine glass I set it on the counter before grabbing the chilled wine from the fridge. Pouring a generous amount, I moaned out loud as the cool liquid finally hit my lips. This long week at work over, I could now relax. Replacing the wine bottle in the fridge, I turned off the light and headed down the hallway towards my bedroom. As I passed the guest bedroom and bathroom doors, I was about to turn into my bedroom as a strong hand came around my neck and clamped against my mouth. My wine glass dropped from my hand, shattering against the tile. Trying to scream, I fought against the unknown body behind me, one arm tightening around my waist as the hand covering my mouth held me speechless. "Quiet. Now." The low, grating voice was close to my ear. My heart was racing, my mind reeling with fear, thinking about how to get out of this vise-like embrace. Pushing me forward into my bedroom, my legs shaking with the effort, I started thinking about how I was possibly going to get out of this. I turned and twisted against his body, assuming these muscular arms were male, attempting to get free. "Stop wiggling. I can, and will, hurt you." I gasped against his hand, a single tear rolling down my cheek. "I am going to take my hand away from your mouth. Do not scream or I will give you something to scream about, got it?" I nodded slightly, shaking. He moved his hand and I drew in a shaky breath, attempting to turn around to see this man. His hands came up and a dark scarf was placed over my eyes, blinding me even further in the darkness. "What do you want? I.....I have money......What do you want?" I stammered, as he pushed me forward, my knees hitting against my bed before I fell forward onto it. "I said quiet." He grumbled. I could hear rustling behind me. Tears were now flowing freely, as it began to sink in that I was trapped here, in my own home, with a man who has yet to tell me what he wants from me. I felt large hands slide up my bare legs, pausing at the edge of my skirt. "Nooooo......oh God please No...." I cried, fully understanding now that his plans were not to rob me. A million thoughts pulsed through my brain. Would he rape me? Would he hurt me? Would he kill me? "This will go a lot smoother if you behave." I didn't recognize his voice. His hands grabbed my skirt and with a hard yank, pulled it down my legs and off. Lying there, now clad only in a lacy red thong from the waist down, I feared for my life. "Oh, very nice." His hand trailed up my leg and slid across my naked ass. With a resounding slap he smacked my cheeks, hard, causing me to tear up again and gasp in pain. It was a wake-up call. My mind reeling, I started to move, quickly, spinning onto my back and kicking my legs up at my would-be attacker. I felt my foot connect with something soft and tried to push myself up on the bed to run out of the room. A large hand grabbed my foot and flung me back onto the bed. "Bitch." He growled, his body leaning down to cover mine. "You are going to regret that." His hands came to my blouse, and pulling suddenly, he yanked it apart, scattering buttons and ripping it from my body. I could feel his breath on my neck as his teeth sunk into the side of my throat, biting hard then releasing to move down further and biting again. Each flinch of pain caused me to gasp, my body trembling with fear. I cursed myself as these little bites sent bolts of tingling feelings to the pit of my stomach and my pussy started to ache. There is no way I could possibly be enjoying this. My body was betraying me on every level. My attacker was now straddling my hips, his hands sliding down my shoulders, and I felt a cold, metallic sharpness against my skin. "Oh fuck, please, please don't hurt me!" I cried out, fearful that it was a knife against my skin. "Listen slut, I'm not going to hurt you unless you try that escaping bullshit again. So behave and everything will be just fine." I could feel the knife slip between my breasts and with a sudden tearing sound, my bra was gone. His large hands mauled my tits, pinching my nipples painfully as I cried out. He alternated slapping my tits and tugging the nipples hard. I could feel his erection through his jeans, large and throbbing, against my belly. My body was stiffening and I could feel my pussy dripping. I started to get angry. Angry at myself, for letting this get to me in any sort of arousing manner, and angrier at him for being here, forcing me in this way. "It's time for you to suck, bitch." I could hear his zipper going down, his legs inching up my chest until he was straddling my tits. Grabbing my hair roughly, he pulled my head towards my chest and I felt the head of a cock coming between my lips. "No biting. You will pay. Suck. And suck hard." He thrust forward and his cock was forced along my tongue and into my throat. It's too big, was my first thought, this thick cock pushing harder and harder against my lips, being forced further down my throat. I tried to relax so that I did not gag on it, but he kept pushing, his hands tangled in my hair as he fucked my face. Spit dribbling out of the corner of my mouth, I tried to suck this cock, but he was beyond caring. Harder and harder he forced it down my throat. I tried to draw in quick breaths through my nose as he pounded my face. "Fuck yes!" He cried as I felt his cock stiffen and hot cum shoot down my throat. Reflexively I swallowed, not wanting to choke. He pumped in and out of my lips a few more times before releasing my head and allowing it to fall back onto the bed. I took a few long, deep breaths, trying to will my heart to slow down. He got up off the bed and I popped up, hoping we were done. "Lay down. Now." His hard voice offered my no options. I felt his hard hands come up my legs again, yanking my thong down my legs. Grabbing my legs, he spread them wide and I could feel him standing between them. "Oh. Nice bare pussy slut. You are quite the little whore aren't you? I can see your pussy dripping. Enjoying this slut?" His hands on my thighs he pushed my legs even further apart. With a force he didn't need to exert, he suddenly thrust two fingers deep in my tight pussy. "FUCK!" I screamed, shocked at the invasion and pain. He sawed his fingers in and out of my dripping pussy, his other hand coming up to press against my mound, his thumb finding my peaked clit. Flicking his thumb against it hard, thrusting his fingers in deeper, I was unprepared when he pulled them out and unceremoniously thrust them deep into my virgin ass. I could feel his erection, stiff and hot, against my thighs. His assault on my ass continued, his fingers painfully stretching my tiny hole as his thumb ground painfully against my clit. His hands left me suddenly. I relaxed on the bed for a second, grateful the assault on my aching pussy and ass was over. Without notice, his cock, thick and long, thrust deep inside me, his hands grabbing my hips to hold me immobile. Arching my back, I cried out. The pain was unreal, his cock stretching me and hitting deep inside me. Without pause, he pounded against me, his cock plunging deeper and deeper inside me. His hands traveled up my body and twisted my nipples hard, causing me to gasp. My breath was unsteady, coming out in panting whimpers, as he possessed me. His cock punished me. His hands came down and pressed on the insides of my thighs, forcing my legs apart, allowing more room for him to pound his cock inside me. I lost count of his thrusts, over and over, he impaled me with his cock. My body shook with his abuse, and when he finally groaned and pulsed inside me, I couldn't help but be happy it was over. He pulled his cock out of my pussy, throbbing in pain and I could hear him pull on his jeans and zip them up. "See? You behaved and you didn't get hurt. I'm leaving. You tell anyone about this and I WILL find you. Understand?" His words emphasized by the feel of a cold steel blade against my face. Almost imperceptibly I nodded. I could hear his steps as he left the room and continued down the hallway. Waiting to breathe freely, I heard my door being unlocked and then shut loudly. I ripped the blindfold off my eyes and looked around in fear. Grabbing the blanket off my bed, I wrapped it around my ravaged body and ran to my door to lock it securely again. Collapsing against the door, I slumped back on my heels and let the tears flow. Shaken and afraid, I didn't know what to do. My body ached, my nipples red and painful, my pussy and ass broken and sore. When I heard footsteps, I screamed out, before looking up and seeing you. "Baby......" Your voice washed over me like a calming, reassuring sigh. I jumped up and ran into your arms, wanting to feel safe. Then something in my brain finally clicked and I pushed away from you. You were here. In my house. Did you know? Did you see? My thoughts whirled inside my head. You had a sly smile on your face. "Don't be mad. You always said it was a fantasy of yours. And trust me, baby, it was HOT." You said sheepishly, looking into my eyes. I stared at you in disbelief. You had set this all up. You had watched as some stranger raped me. We had talked about our fantasies before, but I never believed that this would ever come to fruition. Stepping back into your arms, I laid my head against your chest as you held me close. "You, Sir, are an asshole." Shattered Author's Note: This one is dedicated to goodhusband. * THAT SATURDAY AFTERNOON Putting the last of the grocery bags on the counter, Suzanne set her handbag down and collapsed into a chair. It was hot out! She savored the cool of the kitchen as she slipped her sandals off; then she quickly sorted through the groceries and got the things that needed refrigeration into the fridge. Leaving the rest, she headed down the hall, savoring the feel of the cool thick carpeting under her bare toes. Rich's car was in the garage, so he obviously hadn't gone off to play golf today. He'd been asleep when she left an hour earlier, but his dirty dishes in the sink meant he'd gotten up and eaten breakfast already. Suzanne heard an unfamiliar sound as she approached the open door of Rich's study. It almost sounded like crying? She took a step inside and was astonished--frozen--by what she saw. Her husband was sitting in his desk chair and he was crying violently, his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving with his sobs. On the computer screen in front of him she saw a photo of the face of an attractive dark-haired woman, a man's large erect penis stuck deep in her mouth. The woman was wearing a sleep mask but Suzanne instantly recognized herself: the small birthmark on her right cheek was clearly visible in the photo. She gasped, disbelieving. Before her brain could even begin to process what had happened, Rich lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were red and his face was streaked with tears. "How could you?" he said quietly, almost whispering, his anguish apparent in every syllable. "Suzanne, how could you?" ********************** ********************** BEFORE THAT SATURDAY AFTERNOON They'd met, actually, while Suzanne was still married to her first husband. Arnie had taken her along to rent a bulldozer--he had plans for a backyard pool and wanted to do the digging himself, save some money. Rich had been the manager of the heavy-equipment rental facility. They hadn't done much more than smile at one another and exchange a few polite sentences, but Rich remembered her. He approached her, a little shyly, in a Starbucks nearly five years later. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he said with a hesitant smile, his coffee cup in his hand, "but is your name Suzanne?" She looked up and felt sure she knew him, though she had no idea from where. "Yes, but I'm afraid I don't ..." He said, "no reason you should, actually. Your husband rented a bulldozer from my store--it must be several years ago now. We met then." They looked at each other, assessing. Rich thought she looked fantastic: more mature, shapely, with beautiful dark eyes and an intelligent face. He also noticed that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Suzanne started to remember, a little. Rich was older, but he was tall and strong-looking and had a lovely smile. "Ex-husband, actually," she said. "We ... well, let's just say we never got that pool built." "I'm sorry," he said, not feeling sorry at all. Then she smiled and said, "would you like to join me?" "If I'm not intruding ..." He sat down and they started to talk. About nothing much, at first. Heavy machinery, then her job at an insurance agency. Baseball--it turned out they were both Cub fans though they lived in southern Ohio. They talked for nearly two hours. Rich asked her out to dinner that weekend and she accepted. On their fourth date she asked him to stay over in her apartment, and they made love pretty much all weekend. Three months later he asked her to marry him; eight months after that, just before Labor Day, they were married. ********************** The age difference was an issue--for Rich more than for Suzanne. He brought it up several times while they were dating, and they had a long talk about it a couple of weeks before he surprised her with a ring. (Though she wasn't really all that surprised.) That day at the Starbucks she had been 29, and Rich about to turn 42. He worried about it in his own head, and knew he had to discuss it with her. "Honey, if we were to ... well, if we were together for a long time--" Suzanne was sitting on his lap, on his couch. She kissed him and said, "why Rich, I can't POSSIBLY imagine what you might be talking about!" Grinning, he said, "wise guy! It's just that, well--look, I'm nearly 13 years older. That doesn't seem to bother you now, but in the future it might. "I'm going to get old first, going to slow down first, not be as energetic as you are. You're such a fireball, and ..." He stopped talking because he found a tongue in his mouth that wasn't his. They kissed passionately, and before long he was on top of her in the bedroom, riding her hard, Suzanne's legs pulled back up and pressed against his waist, and she was gasping and moaning beneath him. It was a fast, exciting fuck, and when it was over and they'd caught their breath she said, "are you going to stop wanting to do that to me, five or ten or twenty years from now?" "No baby, never--" And before he could continue she kissed him again and said, "then there's nothing to worry about." Rich sat up and took her in his arms. "It's not that simple, Suze. I'm always going to want you--but my sex drive is going to go down, sooner or later, no matter what I do. My dick isn't going to be as hard, and it's not going to be inside you as often. "What happens when I'm 70, say, and you're a beautiful, horny 57-year old who's still drawing men like flies to honey?" Suzanne knew he was serious, knew she couldn't tease him out of this. "Rich, I love you. I love you in bed--in fact I adore you in bed--but I love you out of bed too. Everybody slows down. It doesn't mean we won't be able to cuddle and kiss, and snuggle up together--and even fuck from time to time. "Besides," she said, grinning now, "haven't you ever heard of Viagra? I'll start saving my pennies now and buy you a lifetime supply!" Rich laughed, and that was the end of their discussion. His private worries didn't disappear, but they didn't stop him from going out and getting her the ring. ********************** Now they'd been a happily married couple for more than eight years. Rich was 51, the prosperous and successful owner-manager of his own company. He was thicker through the body than he'd been in his twenties, but still a big, strong, fit man. He worked out in the gym regularly, he played golf most weekends and tennis from time to time, and in general felt he was holding up pretty damn well for his age. At 38 Suzanne was a beauty. Her figure still drew lots of attention, for her large breasts and her shapely hips and ass. She wore her dark hair straight down over her shoulders, and the long dangling earrings she favored set off her face and drew attention to her lovely eyes. They'd never had kids--in fact her inability to bear children had contributed to the end of her first marriage, though mainly that had been about her asshole husband's inability to keep his dick in his pants. But they had enough nephews and nieces to get their fill of kids, and Rich and Suzanne enjoyed their privacy and the flexibility of being able to drive up to Chicago, or even to fly off for a weekend in New York, on short notice. They loved each other, they trusted and respected each other; and they had fun together. Suzanne thought Rich was the kindest, most thoughtful man she'd ever known--even including her late father, whom she had adored. It was a good marriage. And their sex life? If you'd gotten her under oath Suzanne would have said, "it's pretty good. Fine, really. We still do it about once or twice a week, and we both enjoy it. I guess I miss the excitement of those hard, intense, pile-driving fucks we had a lot of back when we were dating; we don't seem to do that more than a few times a year anymore. Frankly, Rich is older and he doesn't get as hard, or as fierce, as he used to get." Then she'd shrug and say, "I guess that's to be expected. It's still fine, though." And she might blush a little and say, "and when we play our fantasy games--that's still a lot of fun. Maybe the most fun, 'cause he gets so turned-on then!" If he'd had his hand on a Bible, Rich would have said, "I still really love sex with Suzanne, and her body still turns me on a lot. We probably average a little more than once a week, and I wish it was more. In my head I maybe want it every other day--but to tell the truth, the dick doesn't pop up as often as it used to, and when it does it doesn't get as hard. "I'd definitely like some more oral. Suzanne knows that, but she's just not that into it--either way. She lets me lick her when I insist, but she'd rather just fuck. And as for blowjobs, I get them a couple of times a year if I ask really nice. I think she feels guilty about it, but they're just not her thing." Then he'd smile, a little sheepishly. "In the last couple of years we've done some fantasy playing, and that's been really fun. We don't do it all the time, but when we do it really spices things up, you know? It's a little embarrassing, some of it ... But I guess, hell, we're married, we're both adults, we're not hurting anyone." The games had started perhaps three years earlier, after Rich accidentally left a website open on his computer and Suzanne happened to see it. Like every man--certainly most of them--he looked at pornography from time to time. Maybe Suzanne was having her period and he was feeling horny; or she'd gone to bed early; or he knew, in the way that every husband who pays attention knows, that on a particular night the chances of sex with his wife were between slim and none--actually closer to none. So like millions of other guys Rich had poked around on the web and found some sites that got a rise out of him. His favorite was called AdultAmateurAction.com; it was a site where ordinary people posted photos and videos of themselves having sex. Fucking, blowjobs, pussy-eating, anal sex, and occasionally weirder stuff with vegetables or pissing. What amazed him was that so many of the couples posting were no more attractive than average. There were some true hotties, of both sexes, but it was mainly regular-looking people, from their 20s to their 70s, with all the wrinkles, the flabby thighs, the oversized bellies and the droopy tits that you'd expect. None of this bothered Rich at all. Sure, he preferred the hot women to the ones built like NFL defensive linemen, but it was all good. Kind of cool, actually, to see unattractive people being so unselfconscious about fucking in front of a camera. After a few times visiting the site, Rich began to notice what particularly turned him on. It was cheating wives, secretly fucking other guys; or wives openly cuckolding their husbands, fucking other men while the husbands waited at home or even stood in the same room holding the camera. It was strange, and disturbing to him, the way he reacted. Rich knew that fucking was fucking, to some extent--everybody was shoving the same body part in and out of the few possible openings. When he was watching some woman bounce on top of a guy, moaning while he pulled on her tits, what did it matter that she was with her lover rather than with her husband? He wouldn't even have known the difference if the caption beneath the video hadn't said "Wife cucking her husband" or something like that. But it did matter to him, a lot. Many of the sex videos were at least mildly arousing, but the ones where wives were screwing men other than their husbands got him much more turned-on. Sometimes watching those led Rich to come all over himself far sooner than he'd intended, his planned 15-20 minute session of stroking reduced to just a couple of minutes. This embarrassed him and confused him; but it didn't stop him from continuing to look at those videos. Privately, of course--Suzanne didn't know a thing about it. Until the night he forgot to clear the browser before going to bed. ********************** On a Saturday afternoon Suzanne had needed Rich's pen-knife to open a package, and as she reached into his desk drawer she bumped his computer's mouse and the screen came to life. She stared. It was a shot of a man standing, leaning back against a wall naked, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. On her knees in front of him, a voluptuous blonde with really large tits had his cock all the way down her throat. The caption read, "She deepthroats her boyfriend while I'm away on business!" She wasn't the least surprised to find porn on Rich's computer, though it amused her that he'd neglected to log off the site--after all, she occasionally used his computer for shopping or email. She sat down and went back through his browser history, looking at what he'd been looking at the night before, and her package was soon completely forgotten. When Rich came home from his golf game, around 5:30, he was greeted by Suzanne wearing nothing but one of his wife beaters. She pushed the door shut behind him and pulled him into a long, sloppy kiss, pressing her big breasts into his chest. "Baby, I hope you're not too hungry because I need something right now...." She dragged an amazed Rich by the hand into the bedroom, pushed him down on the bed and yanked his clothes off, all the time kissing and stroking his body. "I need to be FUCKED!" she murmured into his ear, and pulled him down on top of her. He wasted no time pushing his hard-on into her, finding that she was already soaking wet. She moaned and pulled on his hips and ass as he rode her; it was a hard, intense fuck that lasted no longer than 4-5 minutes, ending with big orgasms for both of them. "Wow!" he said to her a few minutes later, kissing her hair as they lay twined together. "I don't know what that was all about, honey, but I'd like a copy of the recipe!" She laughed, and licked his nipple. She'd been wondering what she would tell him--whether to tell him anything--but she was feeling happy, sexy, and relaxed, so she plunged ahead. "Well, big guy, I stumbled over something that got me a bit, uh, worked-up. As you noticed!" She kissed him. "I didn't look on purpose, honest. But I went to get your pen-knife and there on your screen--" He tensed up, almost involuntarily, looking down at her anxiously. "Shh," she said, "it's fine, really. Everybody looks at porn; I wasn't surprised, and I wasn't upset. But as I looked at what you'd been looking at, I ..." She sat up to look at him, holding his hand. "You don't mind my asking about it, do you honey? You seem to be seriously into wives who cuckold or cheat on their husbands." Rich looked away, feeling himself blushing. "I don't know, Suze, it's .... I don't .... "Listen," he said, very seriously. "It's all just fantasy. I would never want you to have sex with another man, ever. I don't even know why I look at that stuff. It's just ...." He broke off, shaking his head, and she squeezed his hand gently, giving him a smile that meant, "I love you, and you can trust me." "It's just that there's something about a wife with another guy that, I don't know, gets me going. Watching a wife fucking her husband, no big deal--but watching a wife fuck her lover, either behind the husband's back or even if he knows about it--it turns me on. It's so humiliating to think about, the husband either knowingly or unknowingly letting another man pleasure the woman he loves, the woman who's pledged herself to him alone." His face was uncertain, confused. "I don't know what this means--what's wrong with me. I mean, I--" "Baby." She kissed him, putting her arms around his neck. "This is such a common fantasy--I've read and heard about it everywhere. Lots of men seem to get turned-on by the idea of wife-sharing, or even wives having affairs. There's not a thing wrong with you. "And I want to tell you, looking through some of those videos really turned ME on too--as I guess you noticed!" She grinned at him. "I just loved that housewife in her twenties being fucked from behind by the 58-year old neighbor--that one was really hot!" "Can we try something?" she said. He nodded, hesitantly, and she continued, "just lie back." She began to caress his body, starting with his chest, with long strokes of both hands. "I'm a wife," she said, "and I'm SO bad. I'm here with my lover, in his bed, while my husband is at work." She saw Rich's flaccid cock give a noticeable twitch, so she went on. "I love my husband, but you turn me on so much, lover--I've just got to have you again!" Her hands had reached Rich's thighs and his cock, which was growing fast, and she began to play with it. "There's something about cheating on him that's SO damn hot! I've got to--" She plunged her mouth down over his erection, sucking enthusiastically, and Rich groaned. Within a few minutes she had him hard and throbbing between her lips, and she sat back. "Now, baby," she said, climbing over him. "Fill me with your big hard cock while my husband is out there making his living. Make me your cheating slut!" Rich pulled her down on top of him, pushing his cock in her as deep as it would go. Grabbing her shoulders he pulled her face down to his, and they kissed deeply while Suzanne started rotating her hips. In no time they were plunging, thrusting, kissing, and groaning, both of them on fire. Rich held her tight and rolled over on top of her, pressing Suzanne's knees back to her chest and plunging even deeper inside her heated cunt. "Ah, ah ..." she moaned, humping back at him. "C'mon, baby, do me--make me forget all about my poor husband!" With a low growl, Rich fucked her even harder, thrusting with all his force, making the bed crash rhythmically against the wall. He lasted only another half-minute before coming inside Suzanne as hard as he ever had, crying out, pushing in so deep she thought he'd hit her tonsils from the inside. It was an amazing fuck. They collapsed together, breathing hard, still holding one another tight. After a few minutes Suzanne realized Rich wasn't looking at her. "Honey, are you okay?" He sat up, putting his feet on the floor, facing away from her. "Honey?" She stroked his back. "Suze, I'm ... I guess I'm just embarrassed." She sat up and put her arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing herself against his broad back. "Don't be. DON'T be. That was amazing. I loved it!" He turned back to her, full of dismay. "What's wrong with me? Do I want you to cuckold me, to cheat on me? Hell no--I would go insane if you fucked someone else! And yet the idea of it ... "What we just did excited me so much it scares me to death." Still holding him, her cheek against his back, she said softly, "that's why they call it a fantasy, baby. Everyone has them. I love it so much that you let me play that one with you." "Really?" He turned around to face her, looking dubious. "Really. That was so much fun!" She kissed him. "And maybe next time we can try one of mine." Rich's eyebrows went up, and he said, "you have fantasies too?" "Uh-huh--sexy ones. How about we go make dinner and have some wine and I'll tell you about a couple of them?" ********************** For a few months after that, their sex-life shifted into high gear. Almost every week they played some kind of game. Suzanne suggested several different ones: the high-school principal with the student caught cheating, the speeding driver and the policeman, the lonely woman on a business trip being picked up by a stranger in a bar. All of them were fun. But Rich's favorites were always about a wife and her lover. Sometimes HE was the lover, and Suzanne crooned to him about how much better he was at sex than her husband; but much more often she was the wife who had just come home from her boyfriend's bed, and was now letting her husband have her. Shattered Those episodes made Rich crazy--just wild with desire and fear. If they were playing a cuckold game she'd diminish him: she'd say, "oh, baby, Teddy was so good tonight, he fucked me so hard and deep; do your best, okay? You can't match what he does to me but you're still my guy, I'll still always come home to you and let you have his sloppy seconds." If she were being a cheater it was different. She'd seduce him, maybe suck him for a while, then get him to lick her pussy, whispering "can you taste him, baby? This is so hot, you licking the pussy where my boyfriend's cock has just been, never suspecting a thing. God, there's nothing hotter than two men in the same night, and me being the only one who knows about it." Her words always drove Rich into a frenzy. He'd lick and suck at her cunt until she was writhing and screaming; then he'd pounce on her and fuck her as hard as he could, aware of his pounding heart. He knew that mixed in with his excitement was a kind of raw terror--he didn't understand it but the whole thing combined to nearly make his head explode when he came. And Suzanne, who on most regular nights of sex wasn't all that interested in his tongue between his legs, always totally abandoned herself to the pleasure of it. Afterwards, Rich often grew a little withdrawn, a little quiet. Suzanne always reassured him: "it's just a game, baby, something fun we do to turn each other on." She would always take his face in her hands, look into his eyes lovingly. "You are all mine and I am all yours--no one else's, get it?" And then she'd laugh and kiss him and say, "and you are one hell of a fuck, old man!" and he'd pull her into his arms, the relief and the love surging through him. Inevitably, things slowed down after a while--both because they'd been married so long and because Rich was nearly 50. They mostly had routine sex, still pleasurable and intimate but nothing special. The fantasy games came less frequently, and at times Rich was more reluctant to play the cheating or cuckolding wife ones, though Suzanne didn't seem to notice. Nor did she seem fully aware that when they did play them, Rich sometimes brooded for a day or two afterwards. She would have said that they were doing fine, in the bedroom as elsewhere. Rich would have agreed. But he might have hesitated a little bit first. And then came her affair. ********************** Bradley Marshall turned up at just the right time, or the wrong time. Like so many unfaithful spouses, Suzanne had had absolutely no intention of sleeping with someone new. She and Rich had just had the hottest three-day weekend in years. Over the Memorial Day holiday they'd spent the whole time alone, most of it in bed. They'd had two fantasy sessions and a total of four intense fucks. During the last one she had pushed especially hard to humiliate her "cuckolded" husband. It was no more than an extension of what they'd done in the past, and the whole weekend had been so hot, it never occurred to be careful. So she'd had Rich eat her pussy while she told him all about what her boyfriend had been doing to her. "He doesn't ask, baby--he's not polite and loving like you, he just takes me. He had me bent over his kitchen table not two minutes after I got into his apartment, and his cock was like a baseball bat! He fucked me and fucked me, pushing me flat, my tits against the cold table, yanking me back at him by the hips. "I came and came--God, I must have been screaming for half an hour by the time he shot his stuff inside me. Your tongue feels so good, honey, so soothing. He just wore me out! The second time was on my back in his bed, my ankles up over his shoulders, just pounding me, hard and steady, and I couldn't stop coming. "We both know you can't fuck me as good as he does, Richie--you're not as big and not as hard. But your tongue is so nice, baby, it's ... ooh, that's good, just like that, oh God oh God!" She came hard on his face, writhing and jerking around. When she'd relaxed she smiled at him and said, "thank you, honey. Now come get your reward for loving me so good--and for letting me have Teddy to play with. Come fuck me and have your own fun, it'll feel good. I won't come with you, but I love you and I want you to have your fun too." Suzanne had never ever pushed Rich so hard in a fantasy session, never ladled out so much humiliation. And Rich gave no sign it was bothering him--he licked her in a frenzy, then fucked her hard, frantically, thrusting into her and burying his head into her neck, squeezing her so tight when he came that she almost couldn't breathe. Afterwards they showered, first her and then him; and though he was quiet and a little preoccupied during dinner, Suzanne was feeling so satisfied and mellow, so pleased with her husband, that she didn't notice. They watched the fireworks together from their back yard, spent some time watching Law & Order, and went to sleep. That last Memorial Day fuck had two effects. It made Rich uneasy, unsure; and it left Suzanne unusually revved-up. Over the next couple of weeks various routine life issues seemed to get in the way of their sexual intimacy--a problem at his office, a quick visit by Suzanne to see her ailing mother, the A/C breaking in the house. For Rich this time turned out to be a welcome breather, while it left Suzanne increasingly horny and frustrated. On June 18 Suzanne had drinks with three of her best friends from the office. It was a Thursday, and Rich had had to drive up to Toledo to attend to some equipment repairs that weren't being taken care of. He wouldn't be back until Saturday afternoon. Alison was regaling Suzanne and the other girls with a funny story about a recent disastrous blind date when she suddenly said, "oh my God--Bradley??" She jumped to her feet and ran over to a tall young man, throwing her arms around him. She brought him back to their table and said, "Jennie, Beth, Suzanne, this is my favorite cousin Bradley. We grew up together in Memphis. Bradley, these are my very best friends from work." Bradley was happy to join them and have a couple of drinks. He was 26 years old, a few years younger than Alison, and a sales rep for W.B. Mason. He was based in California, but had been transferred to Ohio for six months to participate in a training seminar for younger, recently hired salespeople. Bradley and Alison entertained the others for a while with, "it's so great to see you ... how is Uncle Tony, is he still married to that little blonde girl ... have you kept in touch with Cousin Martin ..." and so forth. And then, as drinks continued to be drunk, the conversation grew more general and the level of laughter increased. A little before 9, Suzanne's cell phone rang and she went to a quiet corner. It was Rich, just calling to say hello from Toledo. They chatted for a few minutes, Suzanne explaining she was out with the girls, and then said good night. At around 9:30 Jennie said she needed to get home and the party started to break up. Bradley had just begun his third vodka martini and Suzanne had no one to rush home to, so she volunteered to stay while he finished his drink; soon it was just the two of them at the table, laughing and chatting about nothing in particular. It hadn't escaped her notice how attractive Bradley was, slim but solid, with wavy hair and a wonderful smile; nor that he had begun to flirt with her, in a low-key, humorous way that was very flattering. She knew she was a little tipsy. She thought she'd only had three Cosmopolitans, though it had actually been five. When they left the bar at about 10:15 Bradley was telling her about a terrifying plane flight he'd had once, using his hand to show the plane swooping and plunging, and Suzanne was laughing so hard she stumbled. She had to grab his arm to steady herself, and he supported her as they walked to her car. "Suzanne, I'm not sure it's such a great idea for you to drive home." There was a smile on his face, but also a look of sincere concern. "That's okay, Bradley, I'm really ... really ..." She broke off and started to laugh. Something was funny but she wasn't sure what it was. He said, "Seriously--let me drive you. You can come back in a taxi for your car tomorrow." And she said, "I guess that would be a good idea--thanks." As he drove her across town they continued to talk and joke. Suzanne was feeling so relaxed, and it occurred to her that she was getting turned-on. She pulled her blouse a little tighter over her breasts, and subtly sat up straighter to push them forward a little bit. Only it wasn't so subtle. Bradley glanced over and realized what she was doing. He casually slid his hand over onto her thigh just above the knee, just leaving it there, not moving it. She sighed--it felt so nice and warm, so strong! Without thinking about it too much she put her hand down on top of his, holding it there. Bradley managed to drive the car, keep the conversation going and--after a minute--slide his hand up a little at time under Suzanne's skirt. He stopped a good three inches short of her panties, but he could feel the heat of her on his fingers. Suzanne smiled to herself, thinking it sure is fun to flirt a little with a handsome, sexy man! When she glanced at his crotch she was startled to see a considerable erection bulging there--it looked enormous! At a red light, Bradley gently removed his hand from Suzanne's leg, took her left hand, and placed it on top of his bulge. He smiled at her, saying nothing--letting her decide. Her arousal jumped, and she couldn't stop herself from sliding her hand around his cloth-covered dick, exploring its dimensions. It seemed very big, and so hard! She looked down, watching her hand as it played over his dick. The light changed and the car moved forward. Bradley said nothing, just enjoying the feel of her hand on him. After a minute he said, "my apartment is just four blocks from here--would you like to see it?" Suzanne knew exactly what that meant, but she hesitated only briefly, the cock under her hand making more of an impression in her tipsy head than the little voice that was saying, "no, Suzanne, no!" "Sure, that would be great," she said, smiling at him, squeezing his dick a little more firmly. When they got to the apartment Bradley took charge. They were barely inside with the door closed before he pulled Suzanne into his arms and kissed her hard, pushing her back against the wall with his body. Drunkenly she submitted to his probing tongue and his hands all over her body. It was so sexy, to be pushed and pulled and have her clothes taken off her like this! He got the two of them naked and on his bed, and then he took her. Missionary position, no frills, hard and fast. His cock was hot and it seemed as hard as stone, and he plunged it into her unceasingly, forcefully. She was whimpering into his mouth, then crying out as she came, her thighs squeezing him, her head whipping back and forth. After they finished she was asleep in minutes, lying on her side, her mouth open, snoring a little bit. She half-awoke in the middle of the night to find him fucking her again, on their sides from behind, more gently this time. When he realized she was awake he began stroking and playing with her large breasts, kissing her on the neck. Too sleepy to care about an orgasm, she just relaxed and enjoyed letting him take her, relishing the faster, harder pumping that led to his cum spurting into her again. Once more they slept. ********************** ********************** AFTER THAT SATURDAY AFTERNOON Rich wasn't angry. That was maybe the worst part. No, she thought--all of it was the worst part. His hangdog looks, the way he wouldn't talk to her about it, the way he avoided her, spending time by himself in the yard or staying late at work. And how sick with guilt she felt. She hadn't meant it to happen, hadn't planned it. She knew it was wrong, knew in fact that it was a terrible idea. And yet .... There was a part of her that had thought, "well, he's so turned-on by cheating fantasies. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad--if he found out. I mean, I won't tell him, he'll never know, but ... maybe he'd actually like it?" ********************** Alison had never seen Suzanne so upset. She was trembling, clutching her glass tightly in both hands, tears drifting down her cheeks as she told the story. "Rich is just destroyed--shattered. I want him to get angry, you know? To shout at me, throw things, I don't know. Even if he said he was going to divorce me, I would understand it. Then I could beg him, plead with him not to. "But all he does is avoid me. He's ... he's ...." She trailed off and started to cry. Alison reached across the table and took her friend's hand. "Baby--start from the beginning, okay? You had an affair and Rich caught you--that's about all I can figure out. Could you just tell me the story?" Suzanne wiped her face with a napkin. "It was ... it was Bradley--your cousin." "Bradley?! But he's only--" "Twenty-six, yeah, I know." Suzanne smiled sadly. "A 'younger man.' I'm such a fucking cliché. "It started the night he met us here in the bar, you remember? Rich was away for a couple of days, we were all sitting around laughing and drinking, and all of you guys left first so I stayed while Bradley finished his drink. I was drunker than I realized, and we ended up in his apartment." Silence. Alison watched her friend. "It was exciting. I mean, I'd never cheated before, never even dreamed of it. And Bradley is a hunk, and he really wanted me, and... And. And I was a fucking idiot, Al!" Suzanne pounded the table with her palm. "An idiot!" Alison said, "did it continue, after that night?" Suzanne nodded. "One more time. Bradley kept texting me; I mostly ignored them, but about two weeks later Rich had to go up to Chicago and I was really horny and I just ... I just texted Bradley back and said I'd go over there. And that's when he must have taken those damn photographs." "Wait a minute, what? What photographs?" Alison looked at Suzanne in alarm. Suzanne smiled crookedly. "Sorry Al, I'm screwing up the story. That's how Rich found out--that asshole Bradley emailed him photographs." Alison just stared at her. "Bradley--why?" "I'm telling it out of order--sorry. The second time I was with him, Bradley talked me into getting a little kinky. He had me put on a sleep mask so I couldn't see anything, and then he gave me orders. Nothing too weird, just 'get down on your knees,' or 'suck me off,' or 'bend over the bed.' It was fun, actually--being totally in the dark like that, and told what to do. It turned me on." She looked embarrassed. "But I had no idea he was taking photographs, that prick. And then a few days later when I wouldn't answer his texts he got really nasty. He kept after me to see him again, and I called him and said No, that was it, I wasn't going to cheat on Rich any more. "And Bradley got furious and started threatening me, said he wasn't the kind of guy I could just dump, and unless I kept fucking him I'd regret it. But he didn't say what he was going to do. I got mad and told him he was an asshole and hung up on him. "I figured that would be the end of it. But then ten days ago I came home and found Rich in his office, sobbing. And there was a picture of me on his computer, naked, wearing the mask and sucking Bradley's cock. That son-of-a-bitch got Rich's email address and sent him a bunch of pictures, along with a nasty little note about 'bet you didn't know what your wife is doing behind your back'." "Oh my God, Suzanne, he didn't?" Suzanne just nodded; then she suddenly began to weep again. "And now he, he's like an old man--defeated, crushed. I don't know how to reach him! "He's suffering and he blames himself and he won't let me talk to him, to explain or apologize or anything." "Why does he blame himself?" Even in her misery, Suzanne realized that she'd gone too far. She wouldn't tell Alison about Rich's fantasies--that wouldn't be fair to him. She said, "I don't know exactly--I think because he's older and, you know, less vigorous than he used to be. He has always worried about the age difference between us." "And is that the reason?" Suzanne looked even more unhappy, if that was possible. "I don't know, Al. God knows I've thought about it enough, how I could have done such a stupid, awful thing. But I don't know. Bradley's kind of sexy, and I'd been drinking... And yes, Rich is 52 and we've slowed down some. But I really don't know." She sighed. "Unless it's that I'm just a self-centered, shallow, unfeeling bitch." And she suddenly burst into tears again. Alison slid out of the booth and went around to Suzanne's side, sitting down and putting an arm around her consolingly. ********************** She caught him by surprise. Rich had been coming to bed late, waiting until he was sure Suzanne was asleep, but this time when he climbed into bed she got up, turned the bedside light on, and pulled a chair over between him and the door. She sat down on it and said, "Rich, we're going to talk." Avoiding her eyes he said, "honey, I'm kinda tired..." "I don't care. I don't care if you get angry and beat the crap out of me, we're not going on like this any more." "Why would I beat the crap out of you?" He looked genuinely surprised. "Rich! I cheated on you, I hurt you and humiliated you! You should be yelling at me, divorcing me ... SOMETHING! Instead of shuffling around the house like a whipped dog." She stared at him, waiting--willing him to speak. He stared at the floor, and when he spoke she hardly heard him at first. "I know why you did it ... how can I yell at you when it's my fault? I mean ... I mean, what kind of man am I? Not just old, but weak ... "There I am with my pussy fantasies, all those fantasies of another man fucking the hell out of you, making you come like crazy. Turning you inside out like I could never do ... "It was bad enough when I kept those thoughts to myself, jacking off in the study late at night. But then when ..." He started to cry. "But then when we played those cheating games, those cuckold games-- "I mean, what else could you think? It was just what I deserved, right? Your pansy husband gets turned-on by the idea of you fucking somebody else, so you fuck somebody else!" His voice was thick with tears. "How can I expect you to be faithful to a useless wimp like me?" "No!" she cried. She dropped to her knees in front of him, putting her head on his lap and her arms tightly around his middle. "You are NOT a wimp, you are not a pansy, you are my strong, wonderful loving husband!" She held him and stroked his back; she spoke lovingly and reassuringly to him, apologized over and over, told him how sorry she was for hurting him, for her selfishness. He continued to cry, and they cried together. Finally she turned the light off and spooned up against him tightly, holding him close to her, and they eventually fell asleep. ********************** Alison didn't give up. She knocked and waited, knocked again, then again, her friends Jennie and Beth standing just behind her in the hallway. She was knocking for the fifth time when the door swung open a few inches. Bradley was wearing just a pair of sweatpants, and he looked annoyed. "Hey Alison, it's not really such a good--" The three women pushed past him into the apartment without a word. Looking around, they headed straight for the bedroom. "Hey, wait a minute, you guys can't just come barging in and--" Sitting up in bed with the covers pulled around her and a wary look on her face was an attractive dark-haired woman, probably in her late thirties. Alison saw she was wearing a wedding ring. "Another slut fucking around on her husband, eh?" Alison spoke in a sneering voice. Shattered The woman said, "now wait a minute, why the hell is this any of your--" "Did he blindfold you and take photos yet?" The woman's indignant face suddenly turned startled. Bradley was grabbing Alison's arm, trying angrily to pull her back out of the bedroom. Suddenly there was a thud and he was on the floor, stunned. Beth stood over him holding a heavy purse, with which she'd just smacked him. The woman said, "he didn't take any pictures! But, uh, we did--" "Oh, he took pictures all right. Where's the computer?" Jennie said, "it's in the other bedroom, Alison." "Get your clothes on and get the hell out of here," Alison told the woman in the bed. "And consider yourself lucky. We'll take care of the pictures." Bradley was starting to get to his feet and Jennie said, "just stay there, asshole. Beth has her purse but I brought a baseball bat." "Listen," he said, a little uncertainly, "you three can't just come in here and--" "Shut the FUCK up, you asshole." Alison whirled around and shouted at him, venom in her voice. "We know all about what you did to Suzanne, you dishonest, selfish prick. You're lucky we don't beat you to death and toss your naked body out the window." She turned and went into the other room, leaving Jennie and Beth standing over Bradley who was still a bit woozy. The dark-haired woman had hastily dressed and was headed out the door without another word. There were a number of crashing sounds from the other room, and after a couple of minutes Alison returned, a camera in one hand and what looked like an external hard-drive under her arm. "What the hell did you do, Alison? If you--" Bradley started to his feet but was knocked back down, stunned by a blow to the kidney from Jennie's bat. "I'm liberating your camera and your hard drive, you little shit. I didn't find any extra memory sticks, and your computer is now history. And if there are any other copies of your photo stash they'd better not ever see the light of day." She bent down and looked him right in the face. "Fucking married women? Blackmailing them for sex? Exposing them to their husbands?" She slapped him hard across the face. "And you used to be my favorite cousin." The women headed for the apartment door. As they left Alison called back, "I wouldn't be expecting any more invitations to family Christmas if I were you." ********************** "I've just about fuckin' had it with this shit—I don't know why I even bother coming!" Rich marched to the door, yanked it open and stalked out, slamming it hard behind him. There was a kind of charged silence left in the room behind him. Suzanne looked stunned, shaken; but Dr. Ross smiled at her reassuringly. "Well, I guess he's starting to get in touch with his anger," he said, and chuckled. It had taken Suzanne nearly two months to get Rich into Dr. Ross's office. Two months of pleading, apologizing, reassuring; of giving him space when he needed it, and cuddling up to him whenever he'd let her. Of telling him every day, twice or three times a day, how much she loved him, how sorry she was. As well nearly two months of no sex. She had begged, pleaded, for him to make love to her. But the one time they tried was a disaster—Rich's erection had disappeared as he tried to enter her, and nothing she tried would bring it back. After that he wouldn't let her get close to him. And for the first five or six appointments he'd hardly said a word, mostly just listened to Suzanne tell the story and talk about how terrible she felt. But today, Dr. Ross had turned the conversation to Rich, challenging him for the first time. "Rich, it's clear that the fault here is Suzanne's. She's the one who cheated—after you clearly told her that you wouldn't put up with her having sex with anyone else. Why do you continue to blame yourself?" No answer. Dr. Ross continued. "Suzanne has said that you were attracted to Internet porn that featured cuckolding or cheating wives. Do you think there's something wrong with that? Or that your being aroused by those fantasies means you're less than a man, somehow? "They are very common fantasies, you know. Why do you think there are so many websites devoted to them? Millions of men are excited by fantasies of their wives with other men, in a wide variety of settings and situations. You're certainly not the only one." Rich didn't move. He was sitting stiffly, looking straight at Dr. Ross, and Suzanne could see he was getting angry. "So what do you think is really going on? Why are you clinging to some view of yourself as a wimp, rather than acknowledging the enormous anger you must be feeling at what Suzanne did?" That did it—that's when Rich exploded, shouting back at the two of them and storming out the door. Suzanne was still trembling—from Rich's rage, from the loud sound of the door slamming. She said, "I don't understand—this was a GOOD thing?" The doctor nodded. He almost looked like a caricature of a therapist: middle-aged, neatly trimmed goatee, glasses, tweed jacket. "Yes, for several reasons. First, he's got to start to get straight the difference between fantasy and reality. Lots of people have fantasies—all of us do. Some women fantasize about being raped, for instance. But virtually none of them actually want to experience it—quite the contrary. "One of the best things about a loving marriage is when two people trust each other enough to be open about their fantasies, even the embarrassing ones. They can explore them and play with them, knowing that their partners will keep them safe by never taking things too far." Suzanne looked down. "Until I totally fucked it up." "Actually, yes," he said. "But you knew that already; you didn't need to come see me to figure that out. "Rich has been clinging to the belief that somehow HE caused you to do this. As crazy as it sounds, that has allowed him to be in some kind of control of it. He's chosen to see himself as a wimp because the alternative seems even worse to him: that he can't trust the woman he loves." "But he CAN! Of course he—" Suzanne broke off, her eyes filling with tears. "No, I guess he can't, can he? "I mean, I know that I'll never ever ever do anything like this ever again. I'd rather die than see him hurt this way." Dr. Ross nodded. "But it's going to take a while for him to believe that. And what he's got to go through in the meantime is accepting that you really did this, that it WASN'T his fault. And then, he's going to be really really angry. That's what started just now. "After that, if you two can get through it, there will be room for forgiveness and reconciliation. But you're going to need patience, and some good luck." ********************** When she got home Suzanne didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't silence. Rich didn't speak to her for three days. He didn't answer questions either, just stared at her with an aggressive blankness. They ate their meals together without a word from him, and then he disappeared outside or into his study. She didn't dare touch him—she was literally afraid he might hit her or throw her down. In fact it wasn't until the third night, when she said that to him, that Rich softened. He was in bed on his side, facing away from her. She was sad and desperate and wanted him to hold her. Without thinking she said, "I want to cuddle up with you, but I'm afraid you'll hit me." He rolled over and looked at her, startled. "I would never hit you—you know that." Suzanne started to cry. "But you're so angry! Not that I don't deserve it, but—" She put her face in her hands, overcome by sobs. Rich sat up and gently pulled Suzanne into his arms; she buried her head against his chest and cried hard, while he held her. When she was calmer he turned out the light and lay down behind her, spooning her gently as they fell asleep. The next morning at breakfast Rich had a strangely hangdog look. He let Suzanne kiss his cheek as she put his plate in front of him, but he said, "I'm still angry, you know." "Of course you are, honey. You should be—I fucked up! I did something absolutely awful—ME, just me, not you—and I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you. "So go ahead and be angry: yell at me, call me a cheating slut, ignore me, punish me. Only please don't leave me." She looked at him very seriously from across the table. "Please, please don't leave me," she said again, with tears on her face. ********************** It was five days later that she gave him a blow job. She and Dr. Ross had talked about it—or rather, about what strategies she could use to help him get through his anger and his hurt. "Among the million things he's feeling, Suzanne, one of them is surely a lot of doubt about whether you're still sexually attracted to him." "But we—" Dr. Ross waved his hands. "It doesn't matter. You cheating on him with Bradley changed everything. Now you'll need to convince him all over again. "And, frankly, he may resist intercourse with you for some time. He may fear, uh, further performance issues, for one thing. I would consider giving him fellatio, if he'll let you." Rich was still coming to bed late, but this time when he lay down Suzanne got up out of bed, came around to his side, and turned his bedside lamp back on. He saw she was wearing nothing but a sexy black teddy. His eyes widened, and he sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed onto the floor. In an angry voice he said, "I'm not having sex with you, Suzanne." She knelt in front of him, unfazed. "I know, baby. I'm desperate to have you make love to me again, but I don't deserve it. Yet." She bent her head and began to kiss his cock through his pajama bottoms, stroking his thighs with her hands. She kept her eyes down, so she missed seeing the struggle with himself that played out on Rich's features. She felt his leg muscles tighten as he prepared to stand up and push her away—and then he relaxed. "Why the fuck not?" he thought to himself. "It's not like I get so many blow jobs that I should be kicking one away." Suzanne made love to his dick through his pajamas until he was big and hard; then she slid them down off his legs, with Rich helping by lifting his hips. Then for the first time she dared to look up at his face—it was unsmiling and stern. Keeping her eyes on his, she licked up and down his cock, feeling it throb in her hands. Then she plunged it into her mouth and he gasped. She sucked him energetically, a little afraid he'd stop her; but Rich was lost in the pleasure. She slid her lips up and down his dick, then sucked hard while stroking with her hands, and within three minutes he groaned and arched himself into her mouth as he came. The whole thing was quick and dirty and totally unexpected. He loved it. Suzanne held him in her mouth as he softened, then cleaned him gently with her tongue. Finally she got his pajamas and helped him put them back on. Wordlessly she tucked him back into bed, turned off the light, then climbed in next to him and snuggled up tightly against him. In a gruff voice Rich said, "one fucking blow job doesn't mean you're forgiven, you know." He was a little embarrassed, hearing himself trying to sound angry. Suzanne nodded against his neck. "I know, honey," she said. Soon they were both asleep. ********************** Suzanne blew him for six straight days—each time the same way, late at night, on her knees before him on Rich's side of the bed. It was still not her favorite thing, but she admitted to herself that she was starting to like it more. Probably most of all because she loved him, because she felt terrible for what she'd done and she knew this was pleasing him. It was a way to say "sorry" and "I love you" and "I want to be with you." During the day they didn't speak about it. Rich had ended the silent treatment, and they at least kissed when he left for work and when he came home, but things were in some sort of strange limbo—not angry, but not relaxed and close either. One night at dinner it seemed to her things were starting to get back to normal—or closer, at least. Suzanne was talking about work, telling Rich a funny story about an annoying client she and her colleagues kept trying to pass off to one another. He was listening; and then he wasn't. She could see on his face that he had gone off somewhere else. Suddenly he said, "I really, really hate you. You know that?" She gasped, feeling it like a physical blow. He stared at her for another second, then got up and walked out of the room, leaving his half-eaten dinner on the table. Slowly, Suzanne stood up. She cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, all the while feeling too numb to cry. When she felt enough time had passed to dare go looking for Rich, she found the door to his study was closed. An hour later he found her in the living room. The TV was on but she couldn't have told you what she was watching. He sat down heavily at the other end of the couch and looked at her, waiting for her to turn towards him. He said, "I don't really hate you. I hate what you did, but I could never hate you, Suzanne." He seemed to be waiting for a reply. Her eyes were full of tears and she didn't know what to say. Finally she whispered, "okay, honey," nodding her head. She couldn't manage to say anything else, and after another minute he got up and left the room. ********************** "So you've been ... giving him fellatio?" Suzanne nodded, blushing a little. "He definitely likes it. But we don't talk about it, and his moods the rest of the time swing so wildly, I feel like I'm hanging on for dear life." She told Dr. Ross about the "I hate you" the previous night, and he nodded. "He must feel he's on a roller-coaster, so I'm not surprised you're feeling that way too. He loves you, and wants your happy relationship back. He's still blaming himself, I'm sure; and more and more he's blaming you and he's just furious. Feeling humiliated, betrayed ... wondering about whether his age is an issue, wondering whether he'll ever feel he can trust you again ..." Dr. Ross stopped. Gently he said, "I know I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." In a different tone of voice he asked, "does Rich know that you're still coming here?" She nodded. "We talked about it, a little. He doesn't mind, but he has no intention of coming anymore himself. At least for now." At the end of the hour Dr. Ross said, "try to keep one thing in mind, okay? There's no such thing as giving him too much love and affection and reassurance. Even if he throws some of it back in your face. The whole edifice of his trust in you and your love, if I can put it that way, has been knocked to the ground, and it will take a lot of work to put it back together again. "And it's worse—or at least more complicated—that the fantasy of being cheated on or cuckolded is an exciting one for him, because that leaves him struggling with the feeling that he brought this upon himself. "So you just have to hang in there," he concluded, with a smile and a little shrug. Suzanne nodded and smiled back. She liked Dr. Ross. Two nights later Rich stopped her when she kneeled in front of him, saying, "not tonight, baby—I'm bushed." She looked at him, worried, but he smiled and pulled her up into his arms for a hug. Then he spooned with her all night, and she slept better than she had in months. ********************** It wasn't a straight line, their getting over it. Anything but. There were good days, or good moments, and some absolutely terrible ones. One Saturday morning Rich went off to play golf and he just didn't come back. 4 pm, 5 pm, not a word. Finally she got a text from him, around 6:30. "Staying in a motel tonight—I'll be home tomorrow." She wrapped up the nice dinner that she'd cooked, put it away in the refrigerator, and made herself some soup and a tuna sandwich. Then she spent an hour or so talking to her friend Alison on the phone—Alison was such a patient listener, always sympathetic, never chewing her out for her stupidity. When he came in the door the next afternoon around 3, he stared at her aggressively, as if daring her to question him. She just hugged him and said, "welcome back, baby. We're having salmon for dinner tonight, that sound all right?" Then she left him alone for a couple of hours, and when they had dinner out on the deck they actually had a really nice time. He told her about his golf game, and what led to him getting so angry. "It was just one of those days, I couldn't putt worth a damn. I was hitting it okay, but I four-putted three of the first nine holes and my mood got worse and worse. The guys were teasing me, you know, the way guys do—if I spent less time in bed with my sexy wife and more time practicing, etc. "And then I started to think about all the Saturdays I've spent out on the golf course, and how many of them you could have been off getting fucked by some guy or another, and I just started to seethe." He broke off, seeing her face, and held up his hand. "You don't have to say it, Suzanne—I believe you. I believe that Bradley was the only one. "But that doesn't mean I don't fall into some really dark thoughts, sometimes. So I just felt like—like, fuck her, I don't feel like going home and making nice, being polite and sweet and pretending everything's fine. I went to the Marriott, had a mediocre steak dinner in the restaurant, and sat in my room drinking beer and watching the Reds for a while." He smiled. "It wasn't much fun, to tell you the truth. I would have had a better time being here with you—I was just too pissed-off." Telling her the whole story seemed to make him feel better, and they had a nice evening together, watching TV and snuggling a little. That night Suzanne gave him another blow job, trying to make it last, make it extra-loving, and when she had finished Rich pulled her up to him and kissed her for a long time—saying "thank you" without actually speaking it. A week or so later they fucked again for the first time since it all started. Actually Suzanne fucked him—she licked and sucked him for a while, like she'd been doing, but this time when he was achingly hard she stood up and carefully, watching his face, straddled his lap and guided his dick into her. She was ready to back off at any moment if he rejected her, but he let her do it. His cock felt enormous inside her. Nothing had been in there in months; Suzanne had diddled herself off in the shower a few times, but for some reason she had felt too guilty to masturbate using her dildo. So the feeling of Rich pushing up into her was just fantastic, and she groaned, pulling herself against him and feeling her breasts rubbing against his chest. Naturally enough, Rich wondered if he would lose his hard-on, but it stayed nice and firm. He savored the feeling of Suzanne's wet cunt around him, and then he started to bounce her on his lap, pulling her up and down by her hips. They only fucked for a couple of minutes before he came in her, but neither of them cared. When it was over, they held each other close, breathing heavily. They were both really, really happy. ********************** "I still feel like only half a man, sometimes." The words startled her, coming out of nowhere. They'd been relaxing on the couch with a drink, talking idly about planning a vacation, about work—about nothing in particular. "It wasn't you, baby," Suzanne said, for what felt to her like the thousandth time. "I was just stupid." She teared up a little. Leaning forward towards him, she said, "you know what I realized the other day, talking to Dr. Ross? It seems so obvious—I guess I knew it all along but it had never hit me, you know, right between the eyes?" Shattered Boundaries This is my first story and constructive criticism is most definitely appreciated. ------------------------------------------------------- Prologue: "What doesn't kill you... leaves you scarred and broken" Unknown NAU Soldier The year is 2114 and the world is in ruins. Nearly two decades ago the peoples of Earth were ready to celebrate the turn of the century, not knowing the terror that would befall their nations. It began with a botched assassination attempt at a time when nuclear proliferation was a fact of life on every continent. The United States of America was steadily losing ground to the emerging superpowers of Asia. China and India were spreading their influence across the world and the U.S could not sustain its military dominance for much longer. The only way to curb the growing influence of Asia was to create a disaster in their own backyards....Perhaps that is why it was so easy to blame the Americans... Despite all efforts, North Korea had never been successfully brought to heel and remained a powder keg waiting for the spark that would ignite it. That spark came on June 17, 2089 when the North Korean dictator, known simply as the Red Death, was performing an inspection of his troops. Unknown assassins had slipped in amongst the soldiers and waited for him. Nobody is sure exactly what occurred next, but the attempt was thwarted and a large explosion incinerated the bodies of the attackers. A wounded and very fearful dictator was the end result. Despite a lack of evidence, the United States was quickly blamed and before the other Asian nations could put a halt to its actions, North Korea launched its nuclear arsenal at America and South Korea. Despite the ensuing exchange, the war could have been contained to just the three countries. It was a malfunctioning American ICBM that set the course of the war in stone. Its target had been a North Korean military base just far enough from the Chinese border that it would not cause problems with the rival superpower. Unfortunately the internal computer had been set with the wrong coordinates and instead obliterated a small Chinese city on the wrong side of the border.... The Chinese quickly retaliated, but with America still holding a far larger nuclear arsenal they knew destruction would be inevitable. In an effort to keep the surrounding nations from annexing what was to remain of China, both Russia and India were attacked. The same mentality held for each subsequent nation that was attacked, creating a domino effect that engulfed every major country. The advanced nuclear weaponry created Electromagnetic pulses of such size and power that communications from each country hit were quickly lost. Attempts to rely on communications satellites were also in vain as they were a prime military targets. If communications had not been lost so quickly and completely, the nations that attacked the United States would have been far fewer in number. A highly classified project by the Americans saw two new secret weapons being produced and deployed around the nation, both on land and in space. A variance on the rail gun theory had led to a magnetic projectile weapon that would launch munitions at unheard of velocities. The second weapon, that was far more effective against nuclear missiles, was stumbled upon when researchers were attempting to develop a targeting system for the aforementioned MP weapons. They termed it as a magnetic "laser", although it had little to do with lasers in the traditional sense. The most easily understood explanation was that the weapon could project a small but intense magnetic field on a target. It served its original purpose by drawing the oppositely charged rounds of MP weapons to the target, but was also found to disrupt even the most shielded circuitry in military ordinance. Magnetic Projectile cannons were deployed around the coasts of the nation and Magnetic Laser equipped satellites were launched in a ring around the continental U.S. a few years before the start of the war. When the smoke had cleared from humanities most coordinated attempt at inducing Armageddon, only three neighboring nations were still known to stand. The ring of defensive satellites had not only protected the continental United States, but had extended as far north as the populated areas of Canada, and as far south as Mexico city. Initially, a good number of Caribbean nations had also survived but with the three North American nations hoarding all food and materials, their governments quickly collapsed in the face of sweeping famines and riots. The North American nations had not come out of the war unscathed though. Every major city south of the Mexican capital had been hit with Brazilian, and the occasional Argentinean, nuclear weapons. America had lost communication with its forces that had not made it back to the country in time while also losing Hawaii and much of Alaska to intense bombardment by Asian nuclear submarines and stealth bombers. Canada's civilian population was relatively unharmed but the majority of its armed forces were lost in Europe in defense of its allies. America was the first of the three remaining nations to institute martial law. The sudden loss of trade, coupled with the collapse of the economy had the nation in chaos. The others quickly mimicked these actions and all essentially became police states. Five years later, America and Canada became sufficiently stable that their governments began resembling their prewar democracies. Mexico was not so lucky, not due to internal forces, but due to the heavy influx of refugees from the South American continent. The country's resources were strained to the limit in the attempt to keep itself secure, allowing the refugees to enter would quickly collapse their reconstructed economy and deplete their food stores. The U.S saw the implications of a fallen Mexico, and quickly moved to assist its neighbor in exchange for a reinstitution of the North American Free Trade Agreement. In two years time, the continental divide had been secured with the occupation of Central America by the two new allies. Canada had been growing increasingly wary of its southern neighbors as the level of cooperation between them had reached the point that Mexico seemed to become more like another region of the United States on the level of New England or the Midwest, rather than an independent nation. It seemed that a new conflict was going to erupt as Canada had many resources that its neighbors lacked and was still nursing its depleted military. Tensions were growing and the Canadian government saw the writing on the wall. While they still had bargaining power left, they quickly drafted and sent a diplomatic proposal that surprised the populations of all three nations. The proposal outlined a union of the continent. It suggested that the current national governments be dissolved and a new government be elected from all three nations. In an effort to appeal to the Americans, the processes and structure of the new government closely mirrored the current American model. Although it was termed as a union of the three nations, everyone saw it for what it was. The Americans would eventually attempt to annex Canada, but this way they would at least be represented in the ruling government. Though there was a long period of debate and fine tuning, the proposal was eventually accepted and the North American Union was born... ******************** Chapter One: "WE DID EVERYTHING WE COULD DAMMIT!!!" Last words of an Irish politician. Executed immediately after by a mob of his countrymen. "Son of a Bitch, MREs again? When are we going to get some real food?!" Private First Class Jonathan White complained to his squad mates. "Shut up and eat, at least we got it better than the poor souls in that last town", Corporal Thomas Anderson retorted and then shuddered at the memory of the people clinging to him and begging for food. He did not speak French but one did not need a translator to understand what they so desperately wanted. Their distended bellies and emaciated bodies plucked at his heart strings, but it was those sunken eyes, that held a rekindled spark of hope at their presence, that haunted him. Their march through the town had raised the spirits of its inhabitants but they had been destined to be crushed once more when the soldiers kept moving through. "Just hope those Drapeau Bleu units we're scouting for have some extra food with them", Anderson muttered. The mood around the camp fire now somber, the North American soldiers ate in silence. Their squad was a scout unit attached to the 34th infantry regiment of the NAU. The demand for more soldiers meant that everyone in the division, including their squad, was originally a conscript with little formal military training. Their presence in Europe was an effort to provide the western coast of France with a stable government, though the reasoning behind this was far less noble than it appeared. A few of the city states and regional governments that had cropped up were producing ships and attempting to raid the North American coast for desperately needed food. At this point in time they were easily caught far away from the mainland, but it was only a matter of time before the ships were being produced in enough numbers that some would slip through. Anderson's squad was on loan to the French government that had been selected as the "legitimate" government of former France. They were called the Drapeau Bleu, Blue Flag, due to their adoption of a nearly solid blue standard. The entire 34th was expendable, that was the only reason they were sent to assist the French so closely. At the moment they were searching for the town that some raiders were using as a base of operations. The raiders were organized enough that it was suspected that they had at least a couple ex-military men in the group. Whether or not it turned out to be true though, they were causing enough damage to concern the Bleu's. "Ok boys, put that fire out. It's getting close to dark and we don't need to be giving our position away", Staff Sergeant Scott ordered as he rejoined his men. "Anderson, you and White have first watch." "With all due respect Sir, why are we holing up so early?" one of the men asked. "Because the enemy knows the lay of the land a hell of a lot better than we do and I don't want to get my ass shot off, private" the Sergeant growled. Gesturing to White, Anderson and his squad mate climbed into nearby trees to get a good vantage point over the surrounding area. Even though large swaths of France had become uninhabited, the land was still tame enough that a patrolling soldier was easy to spot. Anderson settled into a relatively comfortable position and activated his retinal displays. The NAU government might not be willing to pay up for proper training and armaments but the cerebral implants each soldier carried inside were worth many times their weight in gold. In the eyes of the government they were worth being installed in each soldier because they saved untold billions on having to equip and transport replacements for dead soldiers on the front lines. Anderson did not like the idea that the bureaucrats were more interested in keeping costs down than protecting his fellow soldiers, but he could not complain about the usefulness of the implants. Ranging in abilities from providing night vision and health readouts, to tracking squad positions and providing targeting information, they were the wet dreams of soldiers from previous eras. At the moment he was not detecting anything on the night vision or infrared displays so he took the time to go over their mission specs again. The raiders they were trying to track seemed to have retreated pretty far inland. Division Command had ordered them to follow as far as the outskirts of Paris if necessary, but they were not to enter the ruined city for fear of radiation poisoning or continue any deeper into the country. He had no problem with those orders, being cutoff from any supplies on a continent where a loaf of bread was more valuable than a thousand rounds of ammo was not his idea of a good time. As for the raiders themselves, there was not a lot of information. The only description they had was from a half crazed witness that kept telling Anderson's squad about a pack of grotesque looking creatures. The story was complete bullshit of course, animals do not slice the throats of men with knives and then lay them out in neat little rows. Amidst his reverie, the corporal's retinal displays suddenly flashed an alert. It had detected movement by a relatively large object but had been unable to track it. Looking at the spot where the motion had been recorded, he could not pick up anything even with infrared. He was wary though, there was a dip in the land where a small stream ran through nearby. Any person could easily have hidden there. Sending an alert to White, Anderson considered waking his sergeant or some of the other squad members. His displays did not lie but they very well could have just been tripped by a large piece of trash blowing in the wind. A few more minutes passed in silence and he had just begun to relax again when another alert popped up. His retinal displays had tracked the target just long enough to confirm that it was not simply a piece of trash blowing in the wind. Hefting his rifle into position, Anderson immediately sent alerts to his squad mate in the other tree and his sergeant sleeping down below. Confirmation signals were quickly sent in response and the corporal centered himself, as the sensations of the cool wind playing against his bare neck and the rough bark of the tree digging into his skin faded away. Patiently he kept the rifle leveled on the area that he had last seen motion in and he was soon rewarded. Breaking from cover, a large indistinguishable form charged at his comrades on the ground. It ran on four feet but was easily larger than most full grown humans. Low thuds shook the ground at each step, a testament to the creature's weight. Anderson did not pause for anymore proof of intent. Whatever it was, it was hostile and Anderson squeezed the trigger on his rifle. The animal went down in a heap while his once sleeping squad grabbed their weapons and dove for cover at the sound of his gunshots. After the sudden flurry of movement, everything went quiet again. The soldiers remained motionless and scanned for any other threats but none presented themselves. Now that the danger to his men seemed to be over, Sergeant Scott began issuing orders. "Rodriguez and Lee, check out that... whatever the hell it is, but don't get too near, goddamn sensors won't confirm whether it's dead or not. As for the rest of you, spread out and keep watch, the gunfire might have attracted some unwanted attention." The men moved to follow orders and as the two soldiers approached the carcass of the hopefully dead animal they were struck by its unearthliness. The creature was completely furless but was vaguely reminiscent of a gigantic bulldog. The hide was leathery and covered in various growths and pockmarks, with the head seeming far to large for the body. As their eyes continued their inspection, the soldiers winced when they came to the joints, there was no way that they were meant to bend correctly. They came to the most disturbing feature last though. Where its eyes should be, there was simply a thick fold of skin that spilled over its snout. The damned thing was blind but had still gone directly for them! Completing their inspection, the two men turned and began walking back to the group. At their first step all hell broke loose. Everyone's vision was suddenly lit up like a fireworks display by a flood of motion alerts. It seemed the night itself had come alive as more of the creatures charged at them from out of the darkness. Due to their perches in the treetops, White and Anderson were the first to begin shooting. Their rounds ripped into the creatures chasing down Rodriquez and Lee, but the attack had caught everyone off guard and they reached the unfortunate soldiers by sheer weight of numbers. The remaining squad members opened fire and a hail of bullets and magnetic projectiles tore the animals apart, but everyone knew it was far too late. "GODDAMIT!!" The Sergeant yelled into the night sky. Taking a second to regain his composure he continued speaking, "Whoever has the area motion sensors, toss them up to Anderson and White, nobody move a fucking inch until they're online." Anderson and White caught the sensor packages as they were tossed up to them. The range was better the higher up they were and they would send alerts directly to each squad member. They were more useful than the built in sensors each soldier had included in his cerebral implant package, as they did not to be facing a particular direction to discern movement. The downside was that the squad only had a limited amount of battery packs for them. Using their combat knives, the two lookouts cut into the tree bark and proceeded to force in steel stakes which would attach to the base of the sensors. They took roughly fifteen minutes setting and calibrating the equipment, with the soldiers below them holding still so as not to attract more attention. "Ready Sarge", White whispered down. "Alright then, I need a volunteer to disconnect from the SquadNet and take a stroll around the perimeter", the Sergeant said to his men. One of the soldiers silently raised his hand and the sergeant nodded his head to the affirmative. Disconnected from the network that allowed the squad to exchange information, as well as obtaining the alerts from the motion sensors, the volunteer quickly showed up as an unknown entity. He walked near the edge of the sensors' range for a couple minutes in order to confirm their functionality. When the Sergeant motioned for him to return, the soldier ran back to cover as if he felt more of the creatures at his heels Now that they would have a reasonable warning time, the men moved to the piles of flesh where the animals had reached their squad mates. The sergeant reached them first and a string of curses flowed from his mouth. The second soldier to reach the spot had an even more violent reaction as his skin grew pale and he dashed away. Retching noises were heard soon after from his direction, which in turn slowed the approach of the others. As they bore witness to the carnage that had occurred in the seconds before they slaughtered the beasts, they too seemed in danger of joining their vomiting comrade. The damage to what could be recognized as their fallen brothers was horrific. Amorphous lumps littered the ground with ivory shards of bone poking out from them. The broken equipment and pieces of cloth were the only items that bore testament to the former presence of a human being. "Start digging men. We might not have a priest to give them a proper burial, but I'll be damned if leave Lee and Rodriguez to rot in the middle of these goddamn animals", the Sergeant spat out. His rage held at a steady boil after seeing what had befallen his men. He had not survived countless battles in Central America by letting his emotions get the better of him though, and he knew that none of them were in any kind of state to be marching around in the middle of the night. Looking around at his men he saw varying degrees of physical fatigue from lack of sleep. Others moved stiffly with expressionless eyes at the shock of losing their comrades in such a horrendous fashion. The Sergeant hoped that some sleep would help them, because they were too far from the Drapeau Bleu lines for much more. "Cameron and Reichert, I need you two to replace Anderson and White up in the trees", The Sergeant called out to his men. Addressing the two soldiers that had just finished climbing down from the trees, " Get some rest. And Anderson, there was nothing more that you could do." Shattered Boundaries Chapter One - Surrender I was barely out of my teens when I met Jim. I was drunk, stumbling half naked around a sleazy bathhouse, being chased by horny men who kept grabbing at my ass. Jim however, calmly stood in the doorway of his room and waited for me to come to him. I cruised by him several times, fascinated by the large bulge beneath his towel. Finally he made his move and coaxed me into his room. Once inside I was shocked to see leather gear and sex toys lined up ready to be used. When I turned to bolt out of the room, Jim dropped his towel. I stopped in my tracks. Jim was a small man but he was hung like of a porn superstar. Later I found out his nick name was "Big Jim." The shaft of his cock was incredibly thick and beefy, marbled with pulsing veins. His seemingly endless shaft narrowed only slightly before ballooning out to a full strong cock-head, shaped like a torpedo. His cock was so huge it looked like something you might see in the XXXL section of a dildo sex shop. I had only seen a few hard cocks but by far it was the most impressive cock I had ever seen. I reached out to touch it but Jim stopped me. "On your knees first" he said, adding "And use only your tongue." I willingly dropped to my knees, stuck out my tongue and took my first taste of Jim's massive manhood. I will never forget my excitement as my tongue slowly licked inch after inch up the length of Jim's cock. I greedily took a second lick then stretched my mouth open wide to attempt to swallow the head of his cock into my hungry mouth. That is when Jim grabbed me by the hair and pulled me off his cock and said, "I said only with your tongue, now you have to be punished!" He slapped me once across the face with his hard cock, then he paused as if to judge my reaction. He slapped me again only harder, leaving my cheek burning red. I guess my face gave away my emotions, it excited me beyond words to have his huge hulking piece of meat smack me hard across the face. I closed my eyes and waited, longing for the feel of the next hard slap of his cock. "You like that don't you, boy?" he joked. He yanked me to my feet and wrenched my hands behind my back. He slipped on a pair of leather gloves and began to inspect every inch of my trembling naked body. The feel of his strong leather covered hands gliding across my naked flesh drove me crazy. When his gloved hand ran up the inside of my thigh, my cock jumped. He grabbed me hard by the balls and announced, "If you lost some baby fat, you'd be a hot little leather-boy." "One more thing. Bend over and grab your ankles ...and don't let go until I tell you." He instructed. I obeyed and a second later he buried his face between my buttocks. His tongue immediately started darting in and out of my rosebud. His gloved hands spread my ass cheeks wide, opening up my hole so he could thrust his tongue deeper and deeper into me. He ate out my ass like a starving man eats his first hot meal. I moaned repeatedly as he forced his tongue further into my asshole. I began to feel I would either climax or pass out. Then without warning he withdrew his tongue and stabbed a leather covered finger into my asshole. It was all I could do not to scream. I grabbed hard onto my ankles, determined not to disobey Jim's orders as his finger explored deep into my asshole. "Good boy!" he said withdrawing his finger from my asshole, "You've got a tight hole but I can fix that." He stood me upright and handed me a pair of black speedos, asking me to put them on. I soon learned Jim had a huge speedo fetish. The speedo fit me tight, my hard cock and balls clearly visible beneath the thin black material. I reached around and discovered a hole cut out of the back of the suit which left my ass exposed. I looked like a slut with my goodies on display but I was so incredibly turned on, I would have done whatever Jim wanted me to do. Jim returned me to my knees then stuffed his large balls into my mouth and told me not to let them slip from my mouth. Jim then smacked me in the face with his big cock, I could feel my cock grow harder, straining against the confines of the tight speedo. Jim smacked me again and asked me if I wanted him to stop, I shook my head, no. He smacked me again and told me that if I wanted him to continue, I would first need to surrender myself to his control. I felt confused and humiliated but the more Jim's hard cock smacked me in the face, the faster my heart pounded in my chest, the harder my cock throbbed and the less I could deny my sexually arousal. He smacked me again and asked, " If you surrender you would belong to me. Do you want to belong to me, boy?" My hard throbbing cock told me the answer. There was only one answer I could give to a man who had only met me minutes before but who already understood me so well. I was very innocent and knew nothing of the BDSM scene but I knew that my life had changed forever. I nodded yes and began my training as Jim's boy that first night in the baths. To Be Continued in Chapter Two