0 comments/  17445 views/  0 favorites

Mistakes

By: VeraGem



“We all make mistakes I suppose.”  Sharon raised the glass of Merlot to her lips, her eyes fixed, almost glazed, somewhere between the next table and the tacky wallpaper behind the waitress station some twenty feet away.  A sip, then half the glass drained.  “I’ve made a few mistakes.”

Her fingers tapped the tabletop; she bit her lip.  Her bright green eyes darted this way and that as if to catalogue everything in the room.  She had the look of a little girl in a confessional, ready to spill everything.  I sat in silence, wondering if I really wanted to know.  I watched the candlelight reflected in her eyes, lit my third cigarette.  The person who speaks first loses.

“You know,” she pushed her long brown hair behind one ear, folded her hands on the table, “sometimes I wonder if anything really matters.”

“How do you mean?”  I tapped an ash into the tray.

Sharon wiggled in her chair, pushed aside the remains of a half-eaten Greek salad.  “I mean,” a little frown leant a crease to her cheek, “I mean, you devote your life to believing in something – in someone – and you think everything’s fine.  But then…”

I waited; my cigarette sent long blue trails into the dark.  Sharon drew a deep breath, as if she were planning to sink below the surface of the overly unnecessary fishpond next to the doorway and hide there.

“But then, you find yourself doing something stupid: something you never saw yourself doing – something you told yourself you’d never, ever do.”

“Is everything OK?”  The waitress appeared as if from a dense fog.  Sharon jumped, almost spilled her Merlot, raised the glass to her bow-red lips and drained it.

“Wonderful, but I think we’re ready for another round.”  I gestured to indicate Sharon’s empty glass.  “Are the two-thousand Bordeaux’s out yet?”

“Yes, but we have a hard time keeping stock.  The reds are all gone.  We still have a few bottles of the white, it’s a Mouton Cadet.”

“Sounds lovely.”  I didn’t sound convincing so much as a tad petulant.  Sharon didn’t look like she cared.  “-But I think we’ll stick with the Merlot.”  I was irritated by the interruption but pasted a warm smile on my lips.  The waitress hurried back to the bar.  Sharon and I sat, eyes locked, until the waitress returned with a fresh bottle and clean glasses, balanced our used dinnerware on one hand and disappeared.

I stubbed out my cigarette, waited for the tale to continue.  Sharon took another deep breath and resumed.

“I never planned it, you know.  I never thought about it, never went looking for it.  It just happened.”  A drop of wine escaped the rim of the glass.  It trailed down her chin to splash on the top of her breast and then disappeared into her blouse, unnoticed.  I lit my fourth cigarette, listened to it crackling in the dark.

“I cheated on him.”  She leaned into the table, lowered her voice to a whisper.  “I cheated on him and I loved it.  Do you really want to hear this?  I hope you do, because I really need to tell someone – someone who won’t judge me for it.”

“We all make mistakes.”  I set my cigarette in the ashtray, took her hands in mine.  Cool and wet, still trembling.  “-And if you think it’ll make you feel better, I’m happy to listen.”  I loved to hear her talk.

The beginnings of a tear misted her eye; she released my hands, rubbed it away, locked her fingers on the edge of the table.  Little folds in the cloth radiated outward from her fingers like a web.  She looked around the room once more.  We seemed the only customers left in the place.

“It’s been years since Bill and I slept in the same bed, though we still fuck now and again.  Nothing dramatic – just kind of mechanical.  We don’t talk much either.  Hello, goodbye, I love you: all just empty words.  I don’t think either of us feel much anymore, and if not for the kids we’d have called it quits years ago.  Still, having sex with someone else was something I never seriously considered.  I was raised a good Catholic girl – your marriage is what it is and it’s forever - no option out.

“I knew Steve from work.  He was a client, traffic manager for one of my biggest accounts.  We went to lunch once a month, but it wasn’t like work – I really enjoyed his company; he talked to my eyes, not to my tits.  We liked the same movies; the same tired old classic rock.  He was fun to be with, that was all.  He’s married too, you know.”

Sharon drained her glass again.  I poured another.

“Everything was fine for a couple of years.  Everything would still be fine if not for the snowstorm.  It was a freak – starting in the middle of the day and all.  We were trapped in traffic for hours, only moving inches at a time, barely able to see a few feet beyond the front bumper.  I never should have taken the goddamn expressway.  I’m like an idiot at times.

“So there we were, stuck and running out of gas.  We both tried to phone home, but the network was overloaded and our batteries died trying.  It was nearly midnight when the motor gave its last gasp.  We rolled up the windows to keep in the heat but it was useless.  Before long we could see our breath – the windows were completely fogged.  I was shivering, trying to pull my coat around me – but it was no use.”

Sharon took a long, uneven breath.  I could see her nipples beginning to push against the thin fabric of her blouse as she squirmed against the long, leather bench-seat.  She caught my eyes, looked at the table then back at me and continued.

“Finally I asked him to do it.  “Can we sit closer?” I asked.  “I’m freezing,” I said to him.  He looked a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t need to talk him into it.  Our lips must have been turning blue and we weren’t dressed for a walk out of there.  He was wearing street-shoes, I had a knee-length skirt and pumps and the snow was bumper deep and still falling and there was nothing, no one around for miles and miles.

“I slid from behind the wheel.  We were hip-to-hip; he slipped an arm around my shoulders, I held his other hand in both of mine.  His hand felt hot.  I could smell his after-shave, could smell the wind on his jacket and that kind of familiar coming-out-of-the-cold scent took me back to my dad coming home late from work in the Wintertime.  I was warming up a little.  I felt safe.

“We sat like that for a while: me rubbing his hand, his other hand rubbing my shoulder.  We talked about all kinds of things.   We talked about things we shouldn’t have talked about.  Somehow, I ended up telling him I hadn’t slept with Bill in over three years.  Stupid of me, don’t you think?”

I broke my silence, refilled our glasses. “Well, it was an unusual situation, Sharon.”  The bottle was half gone.  She swirled her wine around in the bottom of her glass.  He cheeks were beginning to show some extra colour.

“We started talking about sex then.  He didn’t down-talk his wife at all, but I could read between the lines.  Turns out his wife wasn’t exactly a sexual adventurer.  Man-on-top, in and out and over with, that sort of thing.  I wanted to comfort him – no, I’m full of shit – I wanted to comfort myself.  I let one of my hands rest on his knee.

“He stiffened a bit, but didn’t make any move to break contact.  I hadn’t planned for any of this to happen, still wasn’t really planning anything at all.  On the other hand, I wasn’t planning for it not to happen either.  I could feel myself getting wet down there, and try as I might I couldn’t keep from squirming around in my seat.  I let my fingers trace little circles on his knee.  We moved closer.  I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm and sweet.  The air felt warmer too; I couldn’t see my breath anymore.

“We sat that way for what seemed like hours, not talking, just cuddling.  I was sure he could hear my heart beating.  I began to wonder if he was getting as aroused as I was – my panties were soaking.  I knew I should be doing something to stop what was happening, but my body was pushing my common sense into the background.  I jumped a bit when his hand came to rest on my knee but I didn’t push him away.  At that point I began to imagine myself on my hands and knees.

“It was like an electric shock, when his lips touched my neck.  Like a feather, sending hot shivers down my spine that went straight through my pussy.  I gasped, tilted my head back, let his tongue flick up and down my neck, my ear - oh god, I didn’t want him to stop and I didn’t want him to keep doing it and the next thing I knew our lips locked together and out tongues began to dance.  I let my hand run up his thigh and I felt him stiffen to my touch.  My hips started to flex and tense as if they had a mind of their own.  His hand drifted higher on my inner thigh – I parted my legs slightly and moaned into his mouth.

“I broke our kiss then, panting.  “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered.  I acted like I didn’t want to, but I didn’t move away either.  I could feel the blood rushing to my pussy; I wanted him touch me there but I couldn’t believe what I was doing.  What if Bill found out?  My marriage would be over.  Still, I couldn’t take my hand away from his cock.  I could feel him throbbing through his pants.  I couldn’t get the image of him fucking me out of my head.  I was anticipating every inch he had sliding deep inside me – it had been so long since I’d been filled that way.

“I’ll stop if you will,” he said.  We backed away for a moment – that was all.  It was like watching myself from a distance as I inched his zipper down and fumbled inside his boxers.  He raised his hips off the seat and suddenly it popped out and my eyes locked on his swollen member as I pumped it up and down.  He moaned, and a drop of clear, sticky fluid oozed out of the tip.  I rubbed it over the head until it glistened in the dim light.  It was amazing, like he was fucking my hand while I jacked him off right there in the front seat of my Saturn.  He closed his eyes, and suddenly his fingers were kneading my pussy through my nylons and panties.  I thought I’d been wet before that, but now I was gushing.  I could feel the tender flesh engorging, and every time his fingers came near my clit I’d let out a little gasp or moan.

“I broke contact then, but any intention of stopping what we were doing was buried beneath my need to have him.  I arched my hips off the seat, hiked my skirt to my waist and yanked my nylons and panties to my ankles in one motion.  As if in a dream I heard myself telling him to shove me down and eat me.

“He did.  Oh god, he almost slammed me into the door.  I was on my back, my head against the door-handle, one hand over the seat and the other locked on the steering wheel and my skirt bunched up around my waist.  The cold air slapped against my bare pussy as he kissed his way up one trembling thigh and then the other.  I could see his cock hanging, straight and stiff, out of his fly.  It brushed against one of my shoes and - and left behind a little trail of pre-come on the polished leather.  I managed to kick off the shoes and take his cock between my nylon-clad feet just as I felt his hot breath on my pussy for the first time.

“I screamed when his tongue parted my lips.  He began to lick slowly, back and forth along the slit, coming near my clit but not touching.  I was going crazy, bucking and moaning and holding his cock tight between my feet.  The man can eat pussy, I mean, he’s a master at it.  I could feel the tension in my clit building higher and higher, could feel his cock throbbing as he fucked my feet.  When he finally found the little man in the boat I all but blacked out.  I just locked my hands behind his head, ground myself into his face and came and came and came.

“He disengaged his cock from my feet, kissed his way back down my thighs until he reached my ankles, then slid off my nylons and panties – tossed them into the back seat.  I began to work on his belt buckle like a madwoman; I think I almost hurt him but he wasn’t complaining when I pushed him back into the seat and took him in my mouth.

“Damn, the noises he made!  You’d think he’d never had his cock sucked before!”

I chuckled, but said nothing – I didn’t want to interrupt her.  The wine was almost gone now, and I was squirming in my chair.  In a more private setting I’d have been hard-pressed not to begin stroking myself to her graphic narrative.  With great effort, I feigned patience and waited as she wet her mouth with a little more wine and continued her tale.

“He seemed to swell even tighter as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock.  His musky scent seemed to fill the world – so similar to my husband yet so very different, so very wrong.  Do you know what I mean?  He tasted like – like cheating, if that makes any sense.  It set me on fire, sucking his cock.  I’d just come in his mouth and now I was getting hot all over again as his hips thrust back and forth, fucking my mouth.  He reached a hand behind me and began to stroke my tender opening.  I began to fuck against him, faster and faster, knowing we were both building to climax.  I pulled back then – I wanted him inside me.

“Climbing astride his lap, I felt the tip of his raging hard-on nestle between the lips of my pussy.  My head was spinning – I was about to fuck a guy other than my husband for the first time since we’d married all those years ago.  I felt like a cheap slut, but I loved it.  Don’t look shocked either, I know you’re pretending.  We moved together like that for a while, his hardness sliding between my lips but not penetrating, the fine hairs and veins along his shaft stroking my clit like tiny fingers, setting me on fire.  Our mouths locked, tongues dancing, tasting ourselves on each other’s lips and suddenly, the head of his cock began to stretch me open.

“God, it was good, to have a hard cock inside me again, to feel him press ever deeper in one long, slow, unstoppable thrust.  To feel him fill me – it was so wild, like the first time I’d been made love to.  I don’t know what it was, the newness, the wrongness, or what.  All I know is I wasn’t thinking about the cold, I wasn’t thinking about Bill, I wasn’t thinking about anything but Steve’s cock and out tongues wrestling and my clit grinding in his hair and the smell of our sex filling the air.

“Fuck me, I told him, breaking our kiss.  Just fuck me.  I leaned back against the dash, my knees on the seat, holding the rear-view mirror as if I was trying to pull it off.  Our tempo increased.  You could hear our bodies slap together as our sexes collided again and again and again.  He reached for me, tore open my coat began to undo the buttons on my blouse, one after the other until it hug loose by my sides.  He leaned into me, still thrusting, and kissed his way from my collarbone to the valley between my breasts.  When he finally undid my bra I was thanking the lord for front-clasps.  He sucked one swollen nipple into my mouth and then the other, back and forth.  When he cupped my breast and pinched my nipple between his teeth I lost it – grunting and screaming and coming, impaled on his rock-hard cock that began to twitch and throb, spilling his hot seed inside my still spasming cunt.  The sounds he made were incredible.  It was the first time in years I’d felt like someone was actually enjoying my body.  I can’t describe how good that felt.

“Anyway, we pulled our clothes back on and snuggled in each other’s arms until we were awakened by a state trooper knocking on the window.  A can of gas and a tow-truck later we were on our way home.  I dropped him at his office, kissed him goodbye with a promise to call for another lunch-date in the near future.”

The wine was gone and the hour was late, and my pants were having a tough time with my reaction to her story.  I finally broke my silence.

“How about Bill?  Any problems?”

She smiled; tiny laugh-lines appeared at the corners of her eyes.  She looked delicious.

“No problems with Bill, I just tell him I’m out with you.  Sometimes I wonder if he cares at all.  Sometimes I wonder if I care.  In any case, my lunch-dates with Steve more than make up for it.  I think I’m as close to happy now as I’ve ever been.  Do you think that’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t.  Isn’t that why you tell me all this stuff?”

She smiled, tossed her hair.  “Just a quick trip to the ladies room, then we’d better hit the road.”  She reached for the check, but I grabbed it first.

“I got it.”

Our footprints made fresh tracks in the snow as we crossed the parking lot to her car.  She stuck out her tongue with closed eyes.  A deep breath and a smile.  She batted her eyes at me with a mock-coquettish grin.

“It’s snowing, you know.”

“I can see that.”

“You’d better be careful, I might get a chance to convert you.”

“If anyone could, it would be you sweetie – it would be you.”

We drove off, together, into the night.

Copyright ©2002 Veragem, all rights reserved.  Not to be reprinted or re-posted in whole or in part without the consent of the author.

Mistakes



"Someone called for you today, a woman named Nia. Do you know her?" Kimani asked innocently as she diced tomatoes. 

Harrison, her husband, just shrugged and Kimani continued, 

"Well, she seems to know you real well. So I'm going to ask you one more time. Do you know her?" 

 Harrison looked up in confusion only to find Kimani holding a knife and looking pissed. Kimani was beautiful. She had sun-kissed caramel skin, hazel eyes, deep dimples, and a banging body even after giving birth to their son, Amir, but an angry knife wielding Kimani was not a pretty sight. 

 Kimani looked at Harrison with disgust. He sat across from her, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, putting on like he was innocent. And just like she expected he would, Harrison stuck fast to that defense. 

"No, I don't know her." 

 Kimani put the knife down because him lying was causing her to contemplate homicide. She stared at him and wondered how she hadn't known that he could be so deceitful. 

 But then she noted how handsome he was and knew exactly why. He had always reminded her of Boris Kodjoe and she had given him the star treatment ever since they had met. That's why she couldn't believe he would do this. 

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Kimani asked angrily. 

Harrison quickly told her no but she dismissed it. 

"No! You must think I am because you just told a bold faced lie! You think I don't know you sneak out of our bedroom at night when you think I'm sleeping and that I haven't noticed that you jump directly in the shower everyday after work. Which is odd because you have an office job and we have an at home gym, so that 'I went to the gym after work' excuse won't work." 

Harrison saw Kimani's anger building and he tried to calm her but it was too late she was on a roll. 

"Oh, but let me not forget that you've let your phone become your goddamn Siamese twin. Because you're always on it. But its crazy because you walk away from me to answer it, put it away when I'm around, and have even put a lock on it." 

Harrison tried to interject and was deflected easily. "Babe, I" 

"Don't 'Babe' me! I want to know are you cheating on me?" 

 Harrison looked at Kimani and weighed his options. He could A) Tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may or B) Deny everything. 

 Harrison took a deep breath and Kimani thought he was about to confess but much to Kimani's dismay he did the complete opposite. He denied it all. 

"No. I'm not cheating on you. I would never cheat on you and for you to even accuse me shows where we stand." 

Kimani groaned at his dramatics. "Where do we stand Harrison?" 

"We're standing on a ground that's shaking because you just broke our foundation. Our trust." 

 Harrison shook his head at Kimani and she felt ashamed by her accusations. Her husband would never do that to her? Would he? Could he? Did he? She watched Harrison walk away from her as these questions swirled around in her head. Even as she cooked and cleaned those questions wouldn't give her peace. So she had to get an answer that would make sense. 

 Harrison pushed his food around his plate, not trusting that it wasn't poisoned, and allowed his mind to wonder to his earlier conversation with Kimani. He felt guilty for lying and shifting the blame to her but it had to be done. 

 Yes, he had lied, but for her own good. She didn't need to know that he had gotten addicted to the sex of another woman. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her was how he looked at it. He looked up and found her coaxing Amir to eat his peas. 

"C'mon Amir, one pea for mommy?" 

Amir kicked and pushed her hand away as he whined a high pitched "Nooo!!!" 

"Ok, then I'll eat them." Kimani said taking his plate. 

She ate a spoonful of peas and moaned her assent. 

"Mmm! Your peas are so good Amir!" She exclaimed. 

 Amir was three but was in an extended terrible two stage of childhood which included the "Mine!" phase and Kimani was a pro at using it to get him to do what she said. 

 Harrison watched as Amir took back his plate of peas and began eating them heartily. Simply so Kimani wouldn't have   them. Harrison laughed out loud and Kimani looked up in surprise. 

 And they became locked in a staring contest, silently challenging each other, and as the tension grew thicker even a fidgety Amir became still. Kimani wanted to start their previous conversation up again but she didn't want to fight in front of their son. Likewise Harrison didn't want to speak because the truth was on the tip of his tongue. And just when he was about to open his mouth she spoke first. 

"You eat your peas too. I want Amir to always follow your example." 

Harrison's mouth went dry as conviction hit him. He had to get out of there. 

"Babe, I have to go. I just remembered I left something at the office." 

Harrison got up from the table and Kimani knew the truth. 

"If you leave don't come back." 

Harrison looked at Kimani in confusion. 

"Don't play dumb Harrison! You're going to go see her. So if you go don't bring yo black ass back." 

Harrison rolled his eyes before saying, "I'll be right back." 

Then he kissed Amir and left. 

**************************************************

 Nia didn't understand why Harrison was so upset. So she had called his house. How was she supposed to know that he had a wife. He had forgotten to relay that message in the time that they'd been together, so if anyone had a reason to be mad she felt it was her. 

 He had been using her and then going back to his happy home like they were nothing. Like she was nothing. But she wouldn't get angry because Harrison knew the truth. She had the goods. 

 Her pussy was like the apple and she was Eve, offering up that apple to Adam, or in this case Harrison, so that man could fall. Fall in love. And he would when he saw her. She unwrapped her red robe and let it drop in a pool around her feet. 

 She checked herself out in her full length mirror and liked what she saw. Her dark chocolate skin was silky smooth thanks to cocoa butter and herbal oils. Her shape was the perfect coke bottle, complete with perky double Ds, trim waist, and an apple bottom that was made for the jeans. Her hair was thick and luscious just like her thick thighs and kissable lips. Yes she was sexy, better than the Stepford wife Harrison didn't even claim. That bitch didn't even stand a chance. 

**************************************************

Kimani lay in bed with Amir tucked in her arms and she was fighting tears. She looked at her bedside clock again and it read 1:34 am. "Yeah, right back my ass." she muttered. Kimani stared at her ceiling and let the tears fall. 

 What the hell was she doing waiting for him? He wasn't coming home. More than likely he was sleeping because he had just fucked that bitch's brains out. Just the image of them together lit her fuse and she was ready to go like a rocket. 

 Kimani dressed she and Amir quickly and jumped in her car. As she drove to her twin sister Kilani's house she answered Amir's questions to the best of her ability. Although he was only three he was very intelligent and inquisitive, and was working her nerves beyond belief. 

"Mommy," 

"Go back to sleep, baby. We're just going on a little trip." 

"Where we goin?" 

Kimani tried to sound chipper but she could hear the edge in her voice as she spoke. 

"You're going to Tete Lani's and I'm going to find Daddy." And kill him she thought to herself. 

Amir yawned before asking, "Where Daddy? He lost?" 

Kimani pulled into Kilani's driveway and looked at his innocent face. "Yeah, baby but not for long." 

 Kilani took Amir for Kimani but made her promise to explain when she came back to get him, then Kimani was speeding out like a bat out of hell to go get what was hers.

**************************************************

 Nia awoke to the siren that she called a doorbell. Who in the hell would be ringing her doorbell this damn early. She heard it buzz again and was officially done. Nia angrily walked to her door all the while thinking, "Whoever it was, was about to be dead." 

 The door finally opened and Kimani was taken aback. This woman was gorgeous. She looked like an off brand Serena Williams and had the body to match. 

"What the fuck are you doing on my goddamn doorstep at 3:00am?! Didn't yo mama teach you to call people before you just show up! My man is in the back sleeping and you almost woke him up! So what do you want lady?!" 

Kimani's mind clicked off when Nia said, "My man." How dare that donkey bodied jiggaboo claim what wasn't hers. 

"Yes, I'm sorry. I just need you to sign for this package." 

Nia looked at Kimani in confusion before asking, "What package?" 

"This one bitch."

And then Kimani's fist connected with Nia's nose, sending her flying back into the house. 

"That is my husband you stank ass bitch." 

 Nia held her bleeding nose as she looked at Harrison's crazy ass bitch of a wife. I guess Stepford wife was the wrong assumption of the bitch because she had ran up on her like a real G. But Nia would be damned if she was going to let this hollytroll bitch punk her in her own house. 

 So she lunged at her taking her down with a spear to the gut. Kimani covered her face as Nia scratched at her and she quickly manuevered to a position where she was on top of her, bashing Nia's face in. The girl was bleeding and digging her nails into Kimani's arms but she just couldn't stop. She wanted to kill her and she would have, had Harrison not forcibly removed her from Nia's body. 

Harrison held his wife tight in his arms as she struggled against him. 

"Let me fucking go, you piece of shit! Let me go!" 

He held her until she stopped fighting and then let her go. 

Kimani turned toward him and gave Harrison a resounding slap to the face. 

"This is what you ruin your family for?!" 

She couldn't stop the tears from falling as she looked at his pathetic ass. 

"I loved you and you just lied to my face and cheated behind my back! I gave you everything! My love, my loyalty, I even gave you your goddamn son and this is what you do?! Spit in my face with a rotten bitch like her!" 

Harrison felt so stupid as his wife cried. How had he gotten so caught up? 

"Baby, I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen." 

"Save it! I want a divorce." 

Harrison looked at Kimani in disbelief. "You don't mean that. You're just angry right now." 

"Yes, Harrison I'm angry. I just found out my husband has been cheating on me, for God knows how long, with a fucking slut. Am I not supposed to be upset?!" 

"Yes, but a divorce? You're going to throw all that we've built away over one mistake?" 

 Kimani thought of her declaration and she realized she did mean it because he didn't understand what his affair meant and how wrong it was. 

"It wasn't just one mistake Harrison. You cheated and lied multiple times and then tried to point the finger at me. You betrayed me and there's no going back from that." 

Kimani turned to walk away and felt his hand on her shoulder. 

"Kimani don't do this." He pleaded. 

 Kimani brushed his hand aside and looked at him. She could tell he was sorry but she couldn't tell if it was for what he had done or for getting caught. She shook her head at him. 

"You should have thought about this before you were doing her." 

 And with that she left. When she arrived at Kilani's house she was a hot mess. She had cried the entire drive over and was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. Kilani took one look at her sister and felt her heart break. "What happened?" Kimani felt the tears well up in her eyes and Kilani took charge. 

"C'mon girl. Let's get you some sleep." 

 Kilani ushered Kimani into her home and to the guest room where Amir was already sleeping soundly. And although she didn't believe she would be able to sleep with all that was on her mind, when she hit the sheets and wrapped Amir in her arms she instantly fell asleep. 

**************************************************

 Harrison couldn't believe what had just happened. A divorce? He never thought his actions would lead to this. As he dressed to go he tried to avoid Nia's nagging voice in his ear but she was playing Russian roulette with her words and she was just about of free shots. 

"Oh, when I see that dusty, wack-ass Stepford wife I'm gone Sharkeisha her ass right in the face! Look what that bitch did to me Harrison!" 

 Harrison looked up and assessed the damages. Harrison winced at the sight. Kimani had done a number on Nia's face. He shook his head. He should've warned her that Kimani had been doing boxing, mixed martial arts, karate, tae kwon do, jiu jitsu, all that crap since the age of six, and that she would ultimately kiss her ass anyday anytime, but Nia's face proved it was too late. Nia had a black eye, busted lip, and possibly a broken nose and Harrison felt like shit. This was all his fault. 

"I'm pressing charges so the police can lock that beast away. How could you let someone so violent be around your son?" 

"Shut the fuck up Nia! Damn! That's my fucking wife!" 

"You weren't claiming her last night! Or any other time before that, so what changed Harrison?! Is it because she's leaving you huh?! Let her go! You two are done and were done way before me or we wouldn't have started this in the first place." 

Harrison glared at Nia as he pondered her logic. Maybe his and Kimani's relationship was broken before he cheated. 

"Harrison, all I'm saying is that it's been a long time coming. I know you love her but can you truly say you're still in love with her?" 

By the end of her monologue Nia had maneuvered herself to stand directly in front of Harrison. 

"I love you, appreciate you, and want to be with you, while she wants to leave. I'd never give up on you." 

  Nia kissed Harrison soft and sensually, allowing her words to resonate with him mentally and physically. Harrison tried to resist temptation. He really did, but Nia did something to him. She awoke the beast inside and it wouldn't be tamed. 

Harrison deepened their kiss and Nia knew she had him. It might have taken her getting her ass beat to have him but he   was officially hers.

 Harrison ran his hands down Nia's dark velvet skin to grab her spectacular ass. He loved her ass and all he wanted to be was in it. He roughly turned her around and began massaging her beautiful chocolate globes. Nia knew where this was going and was dripping her anticipation. Seeing Nia's obvious arousal Harrison unzipped his pants to reveal his handsome cock and taking advantage of her wetness, he began lathering his dick and her pert asshole with her juices. 

Nia moaned as Harrison's dick grinded against her pussy, but that sensation was short-lived because Harrison quickly switched to probing her back-door and after knocking a few times barged right on in. Nia cried out with Harrison's harsh entry but was set ablaze by his intensity as he began fucking her ass in earnest.

 She loved Harrison fucking her in the ass and she wasn't going to stop him just because he was being rough, instead she encouraged him. 

"Fuck me in the ass! Harder! Yeah, like that! Just like that!" She moaned as he slammed into her ass over and over again. 

 Harrison pulled her hair and fucked Nia until she was screaming for him to stop. But he wouldn't stop. He wanted to punish her for making him do this, making him want this. He smacked her ass until he could feel the welts form on her skin. And even after she had come he still pounded into her while rubbing her swollen and throbbing clit. Harrison was a man possessed and wouldn't, couldn't stop until he had exorcised his demons. 

 Nia on the other hand thought Harrison had lost his damn mind. He was fucking her like shit didn't hurt and when she screamed for him to stop, it was like he was deaf. So she let him have his way, no matter the pain. She cried aloud, letting the tears fall even as her body suffered and shuttered from ecstasy and agony. 

 When Harrison finally came Nia collapsed in relief as he collapsed in release and after a while Harrison pulled out and lay on his back. He allowed his mind to drift to Kimani. Where was she? What was she thinking? Was she serious? He was so caught up in these questions that he almost forgot Nia was there until he heard her sniffling. 

"Baby?" 

Nia quickly wiped her face wincing at the contact with her injuries. 

"It's nothing. I'm fine." 

Harrison drew Nia into his arms as he spoke. "I'm so sorry, babe. I know I was rough with you but I just don't know how to handle this. I just...I never meant to hurt anyone. Not you, not her, I don't know what else to say. I really don't."

"Say that you love me Harrison." 

  Harrison nearly choked on his breath when Nia said the "L" word. Love? In the eight months they'd been sneaking around, love had never been a topic of conversation. He loved the sex yeah, but could he truly say he loved her. He didn't know.

 When they first met it was a chance encounter. He was at the bar after a long day at work and a long fight with Kimani when she approached him. He wasn't shocked by her advances since his resemblance to Boris Kodjoe garnered those a lot but he was surprised that she wasn't just a pretty face. She had a quick wit and great sense of humor too. They ended up talking, drinking, and laughing all the way up to until closing. And when she gave him her number to call he was actually excited. 

 But when he went home he realized his situation, he was married, and no matter how fun the night had been he loved his wife and that was it. He didn't even give much thought to the number until a few weeks later when he went through his phone and saw her name. Then he remembered her smile, her conversation, her ass, and the little devil on his shoulder straight kicked the little angel on his other shoulder off a cliff, and persuaded him to call.

 After that they talked and texted everyday for three weeks and when they finally decided to meet for lunch instead of just eating food, he ended up eating her. And since then he couldn't get enough.

  Her taste, her smell, her everything turned him on in a way that he had never felt for Kimani but he chucked that up to lust only not love. He enjoyed her company and even preferred it over Kimani's sometimes but love? 

 Nia was under his skin but he couldn't definitely say she was in his heart. 

"I care about you Nia I do but I won't lie to you and tell you I love you if I don't." 

 Nia felt her heart break as he spoke his truth. She was in love with a man that didn't love her and that knowledge hurt worst than any physical pain that Kimani had bestowed upon her. Nia felt the tears welling up inside of her and she couldn't, wouldn't let him see her fall apart. 

"I have to go to the bathroom." She said quickly before rushing to her adjoining bathroom. 

Harrison heard her crying through the door and felt like the biggest asshole on Earth. It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning yet and he had managed to break two women's hearts in the span of a few hours. Harrison rubbed his hand over his face as he cursed. "Shit, this is gonna be a long day." 

**************************************************

 Kimani didn't know how long she had slept but when she awoke it was mid-afternoon. She groaned as she made her   way to the bathroom and cringed when she saw her reflection. She had bags under her eyes and scratches all over her face and arms, her hair was a rat's nest, and she was in desperate need of a shower, but more than anything she wanted coffee. 

When Kimani walked into her sister's kitchen Kilani smiled at her. 

"Hey sleepy head. Glad to see you're awake I thought you were dead for a second there." 




Mistakes



Kimani muttered an, "I wish I were," as she poured a cup of joe. 

Kilani looked at her sister warily. She had never seen Kimani so broken before and was angered that Harrison had hurt her so. "Mani, what happened?" 

Kimani sighed and took a sip of coffee. When she had downed half the cup Kimani looked up to find Kilani still awaiting an answer.

"Harrison is cheating on me." She said calmly. 

Kilani was shocked. She knew that Kimani and Harrison had problems but she couldn't believe he would go to that extreme. 

"How do you know?" 

Kimani took another sip before answering, "His mistress called." 

"What?!" Kilani yelled. "This cannot be real. Who would be stupid enough to do that? Didn't he tell her you were crazy?" 

Kimani just shook her head. "I guess not."

"What'd she say?" 

"Well, she called and asked for him then I asked who was calling and she told me her name. And I told her Harrison didn't know anyone by that name and she laughed before saying of course he did because she was his girlfriend." 

Kilani threw her hand over her mouth and Kimani nodded her head before continuing,

"Yep, his girlfriend. So I asked if she knew who I was and she said yes, I was his housekeeper. Yeah, she said that Harrison had told her that his phone would be off and that she could reach him at that number and if a woman picked up it was just the help." 

"No." 

"Mmm huh. So I politely informed her that I was not the help but I was indeed his wife of seven years and the mother of his child. And you know what this bitch said to me?" 

Kilani shook her head and Kimani put down her cup. 

"This bitch had the nerve to say, 'So?'" Kimani could feel her anger building as she spoke, "So, Kilani! She said So! She didn't give a damn. Didn't have an ounce of remorse. She went on to say that they were together and had been together for a while and would be even after our little conversation. So I hung up in her face before I said something I could regret." 

"Damn, Mani what did Harrison say?" 

Kimani rolled her eyes. "His dumb ass denied it all, then tried to flip it on me, saying I was breaking our foundation with my insecurities, and I would've believed him too if he hadn't left dinner and gone to be with her." 

"Mmph, what the hell Mani? Then how'd you and Amir end up over here?"

"Well, he had been gone hours and I decided I was gone find his ass. So I used the tracking app I secretly placed on his phone, got his location, dropped Amir off with you, and went over to her place. She opened the door in a red silk robe, talking about I almost woke her man. So I punched her in the face and kept hitting until Harrison pulled me off. Then I slapped the shit out of him and asked for a divorce." 

"Mani no! Are you sure?" 

Hell no. Kimani thought to herself. In spite of everything he had done she still loved him with all of her being. They had been together since they're junior year in college and had gotten married right after graduation. 

 Seven years and a baby later and she still loved him the same way she had back then. Would she really let one mistake erase almost ten years together?

"Yeah, I'm sure Lani." Kimani said sadly. 

If she let him get away with this it would set the precedent for the rest of their lives. She had a son to think about. What would she be teaching Amir if she just let Harrison disrespect and devalue her? She knew. She would be teaching him that women deserved less and there were no consequences for his actions and she'd be damned I'd she raised her son to have that mindset. Amir came in the room then and jumped in her lap. "Mommy, where Daddy? He still lost?" Kimani broke down in tears. She felt Amir's tiny hands wiping her face. "Don't cry mommy. We find Daddy. Is okay." Kimani held Amir tight and kissed him on the forehead. Everything would be okay.



Mistakes



This is just a bit of fun. It was supposed to be quite short, but it sort of got away from me. It pokes a little fun at the cuckold stories on the site. As such it could have found a home in 'Loving Wives' but I think that would put the emphasis in the wrong place. 

It could have gone into 'Humour and Satire', I suppose. Yes, I agree the tale is a little far fetched, and the moral issues raised are complex, but don't let that spoil your fun! If it does - stop reading: there is enough suffering in the world without punishing yourself!

I would have thought that the plot line would have been used before. I searched at some length, but could not find one. Apologies to any author who has preempted me. This tale is the product of my own deranged imagination.

It's longish, but I'm taking the risk of not splitting it into parts but posting it whole. It's in chapters for those who can't stomach reading the whole thing in one sitting.

All characters, including the narrator, and all companies are fictitious apart from Bill Bailey, comedian and musician, who is in my opinion a genius. Joseph Holt and his beer are also thankfully very real. 

All engaged in carnal activity are over eighteen years old, but not necessarily very wise.

*****

CHAPTER ONE

It might have been a mistake, but it wasn't all my fault. I've had plenty of time to think it through, and I'm sure it really wasn't my fault, though it did me a real favour - eventually. Some mistakes are like that. 

It was Gary. That's whose mistake it was, and yes, it was his fault.

"Rod, old son," he said to me that dark cold March evening in the pub, "It's a chance you've always dreamed about. Now you can have it."

"It?" I'm afraid I shouted, and other patrons glanced my way. So more quietly: "It is a She!"

"Ssh!" he said. "People are looking."

"Rachel is your wife," I said more quietly and with exaggerated patience. "I always thought marriage was in some sense about faithfulness - you know - not going off shagging other people?"

"Look Rod," he said with a show of almost as much patience as I had demonstrated, "Modern marriage is more varied, more flexible. Couples decide for themselves what they do. After four years of marriage and six years together, Rache and I want to have new experiences."

"But you are saying you want to get her to sleep with another man! You want it. Does she?"

"She isn't totally convinced," he said, "but I've done a lot of research on this. Lots of men get a real buzz out of knowing their wives are fucking someone else - some other bloke is pushing his cock into his wife, and once the women get the taste for it, they love it. Variety, Rod, variety. She just needs to try it and she'll be won over."

"And what's in it for you?" I asked him. "Do you get the chance to shag other women?"

"Well, yeah, but only if she wants me to."

"So?" I was lost for words (except that one).

"As a cuckold husband I get to experience all sorts of things - jealousy, uncertainty, powerlessness, and a big erotic charge. There's also the thing that while you get to shag her, she always comes home to me. I'm the one she wants to be with for ever. Just talking about it with you is getting me hard!"

I shook my head. "I don't get it," I said.

"If you go along with me you will get it!" he laughed.

"Her."

"Yes - her."

"I need to think about this," I said. "Ring me tomorrow."

I should have been more explicit. I should have said "No Way!"

Gary and I had been at school together. Gary and I were mates. Rachel was in our class, and she was gorgeous! Dark lustrous hair, green eyes, captivating face, long neck and perfect figure, and slim shapely legs. Gary was one of the lucky sods who got to date her. There were a few who did date her, but none of them for long. She was clearly very choosy.

As far as pairing off is concerned Rachel and I were non-starters - she didn't look twice at me, and I never talked with her. I'm one of the average guys; her time, and probably she herself, was more than filled by one or two of the handsome, athletic jocks who clustered round her. 

Gary was always winningly handsome in a roguish sort of way; still is. He did date her in upper sixth form, and they were together for a while, but it finished as teenage romances do; they both moved on to other partners.

Gary and I went off to different universities, and it transpired that Rachel went to a third. Then Rachel and Gary both returned to our hometown immediately after graduating, while I got a job in computing ninety miles away. They took up again, lived together for a couple of years and then got married. 

Gary had a managerial job in a light engineering firm and was making good money, with prospects of rising to the top of that particular tree. Rachel was an assistant manager in a department store, and from what Gary told me was in line for a store manager's job. He told me all about their brand new cottage-style home. It looked very small and cramped to me. In Britain 'cottage' means 'cramped'! (It does mean other things as well, but not in this story).

After I'd been five years with the firm, we opened a division back home and I was offered a directorship in charge of customer support and bespoke innovation - very important in software sales - and a move back home. It included adapting existing programmes to perform different or extended tasks according to a customer's needs, but was mainly dealing with helping customers with more complex problems than those resolved by 'turn it off and on again', or 'try plugging it in'.

I was very young for such promotion, but that was life in computing, everyone seems to get promoted young, and though I say it myself, I was very good at what I did, both solving problems and organising a team for more complex tasks. 

The increase in salary and the share options were mind-blowing for me at that age, and I was able to buy myself a very roomy third floor flat with great views over a golf course to the hills beyond: spacious hallway, three bedrooms, living/dining room, kitchen, large bathroom with wet shower area as well as a bath, etc. Each of the rooms, I reckoned with slight exaggeration, were bigger than the total floor area of Gary's and Rachel's 'cottage'. The flat was expensive, but now I could easily afford it. Life was good. 

Gary was ecstatic I was back, and we took up again, though we only met in the pub or in my flat; I was seldom invited to their house, and when I was so invited, Rachel seemed to make herself scarce. Sometimes she would make polite conversation, you know, asking me how the job was going, that sort of thing, but she seemed distant and the exchanges were brief. They didn't seem to invite people for meals. I laughed to myself that there wasn't room to get everyone round a table in their dining room! I never invited them either. 

Strangely it never occurred to me to wonder why. It was a 'guy' thing I suppose: we were drinking companions. I had a busy life at work and socially. Gary and I had no real interests in common: he talked football and cars and I listened and commented. We also commented on the attributes of my various girlfriends, and he crowed about his sexpot wife, so there was plenty to talk and joke about while out on the booze.

So now, after a settled couple of years of regular drinking with him, I was faced with this new situation. I didn't think very clearly if I remember. 

First of all, I'd always fancied Rachel, but it was clear that she did not fancy me at all, and as I said, I never made any attempt to date her at school. I'm not sure she even liked me; our meetings were never what you would call warm or friendly. 

In any case, Gary got to her first and mates don't poach their mates' women, do they? I must have told him he was a lucky bastard, though now it seemed he took that to mean I fancied her rotten, which I did, though very morally, hopelessly, and at a great distance.

So getting to shag the woman was very enticing at a visceral level: she was far better looking than any of the women I'd ever had. Come to think of it, she was far better looking than any women I'd ever seen. Realistically she would never go for it, and even if she did, morally I found the whole thing unsettling and frankly wrong. 

Though she had a lively dating life in the last year of high school, and it was common knowledge that while she must have had sex, she was not 'easy' like some of the girls - the girls I went with. She had to date a boy for some weeks before they became intimate, and she was known never to cheat on the lad she was seeing. As a result only a few, which included Gary, actually got to date her. I assumed she still had those morals and would not betray her marriage.

Finally, I was not short of female companionship and I didn't need the complication of a married woman, even one as pretty as Rachel. While at university I did the one night stand routines, some of which extended into two weeks or a month. 

However in third year, I had given up the casual liaisons and had two serious relationships. The first girl, Abigail, was hot. She and I had a stupendous sexual relationship, but that was all we had. We lived together in each other's rooms, but had few interests in common. Mind you, with all the sex we didn't have time for much else. 

It took us two months to realise that we were going nowhere, and finals were on the distant horizon. We parted without resentment.

A month later I fell for the other end of the alphabet, Zoë. With her it was the reverse of Abi. We had everything in common, we had the same interests, the same likes and dislikes. 

Though constrained by the need to prepare for finals, we supported each other through those last months at university. We studied better in each other's company, and seemed to know when we needed a break. Sex was simple and loving; it had meaning for us beyond physical performance. We were perfect for each other.

The trouble came as the offers of jobs came through. I was offered the aforesaid opportunity I couldn't turn down about ninety miles from my home town, she had a similar offer but in Germany. She was a languages and business studies student, I was in science and computing.

We were realistic about it and took the jobs, and parted with great sadness and regret after graduating.

After the bereavement of parting from Zoë, I buried myself in my new job, and made rapid progress. It was eighteen months later that opportunities for relationships began to present themselves. Nothing deep or serious - the girls were career orientated as I was - and we had sex sporadically as recreation and fun. 

Once I had moved and been promoted, opportunities for flings, one night stands or weekends, multiplied. For one thing I was back on home turf. I did not date anyone from work, but there were plenty of opportunities in the pubs and clubs. In my mid twenties, I was not looking for a life-time companion.

So climbing onto my high moral horse was easy: Rachel did not fancy me, and I had all the female interest I needed. I would refuse Gary's offer. He could get some other mug to tup his wife.

That done, I forgot all about it and mentally got on with the mundanities of life. So trusting! I believe the term used is blindsided. I was blindsided.

The next day Gary phoned me at work.

"Call by on Thursday?" he asked.

"Ok," I replied. "How did Rachel take it?" 

"She seemed ok with it," he said, though I thought I detected some uncertainty in his tone.

"Ok," I said, "We can talk about it on Thursday. See you then."

He rang off.

Gary and I had got into a pattern when going out on the booze. I would call by his place and pick him up, and then take him back to my place where I would park the car and we'd go to my local. After an evening drinking, he'd either get a taxi or we'd go back to my place where he'd get Rachel to pick him up. She'd ring the door bell at the outer entrance to the block, and he'd go down. She never came up, it was, after all, the third floor, though there was a lift.

On Thursday I had a surprise waiting for me. I drove up to the house, parked outside on the road as usual and touched the horn. I was not looking toward the house but ogling a rather pretty young woman across the street and wondering how she had managed to get into such skin-tight jeans, when the car door opened and Rachel got in the car.

The shock must have shown on my face. 

"Rachel!" I said, rather fatuously. She looked annoyed, nay, angry.

"Come on Rod!" she snapped. "Drive. Let's get this over with."

"Sorry?" I said, still trying to cope.

"You? Sorry?" she spat. "I'm the one who's sorry. You're getting to fuck me it appears!"

"Wait, Rachel," I said but I got no further.

"I said drive!" she shouted at me. By now she really was very angry. "Back to your place I suppose, or have you booked some seedy flea-ridden hotel?"

I put the car in gear and drove. I was starting to catch on. Gary had indeed blindsided me, probably realising that I would refuse if he didn't pull a fast one. 

He clearly hoped that her physical allure would be too much for me to resist. He'd led me to believe I was picking him up, and sent Rachel out instead. She thought I was in on his little plan. 

It was a pleasant evening but only as far as the weather went, though it was dark by then, so I drove to a favourite beauty spot of mine and parked the car. It was on a hill and overlooked the town, the lights of which were very pretty, though not as pretty as Rachel, even when she was angry. Up till then, she had sat in sullen silence, which I was loth to break.

"What are you doing Rod?" she growled. "I'm not doing it in the-"

"Shut up, Rachel!" I shouted over her. "Shut your mouth and listen to me." 

The surprise on her face and her silence showed how much I shocked her, so I was able to get a word in edgeways.

"I was under the impression that I was picking Gary up tonight," I began, "so I could tell him I was not going along with any harebrained scheme involving you committing adultery for his excitement. 

"I just don't understand why he'd want to prostitute you like that. You are gorgeous and I'm sure if it were me you were married to, I'd never want you to go with anyone else. Ever. I don't think I could even let you out of my sight! You are more than enough for any man for a number of lifetimes. He's insane!

"Then you get in the car and start slagging me off. I've done nothing, Rachel, and I'm not going to do anything with you. OK?" I shouted the last word for emphasis, and with a sneer.

She sat next to me looking at me with her mouth open. Then she became aware it was open, and closed it. I'd not noticed before, but she had good teeth.

"But..." she began, and stopped.

"He said..." again she stopped.

"You're not..." and again. I began to wonder if she would ever get a complete sentence out at all.

"Rachel," I said more gently, since she now seemed to be in shock, "I have fancied you rotten ever since we were in school together, but you have always been way out of my league. You have never ever showed the slightest interest in me at school: you were into the football players, and Gary - the good looking lads. I never arrived on your radar, did I?" 

She looked puzzled. I ploughed on.

"Gary talked about a chance I'd always wanted, now I could 'have it'. I kept telling him you are a 'she' not an 'it'. You are a woman - I have noticed - and you have feelings, and if you wanted to swing or cuckold him, you would never in a million years want to do it with me."

She opened her mouth but I was in full spate.

"In any case, I do have some morals, and even if you asked me yourself, I would refuse you. You are married, committed, and should be faithful to Gary, no matter how stupid he is! 

"Does that make it any clearer to you?" I'm afraid the tone was sarcastic.

"Yes, Rod, it does," she said, rather chastened. There followed a lengthy silence while we looked out over the beautiful valley below our parking spot.

"Rod, I never knew," she said quietly. "You were always gentle and thoughtful. The other girls adored you. You were - are - clever, very clever. I used to hear you discussing music, politics and chess and stuff. I learned to play chess because of you."

Now it was my turn to be amazed.

"Oh?" I managed.

Another long silence.

At length she spoke again, turning towards me and taking my hand. Zap! Electricity!

"I'm very upset with Gary," she said. "He's been going on about this for weeks. I have no interest in other men or sex for the sake of it. I had enough cocks at school and at uni, I don't need variety - really I didn't then either. 

"Sex wasn't that good usually, and it isn't the ruling factor in my life now, and I don't think it is for most girls. Now romance! That's a different matter. Does your girlfriend want to play around?"

"No girlfriend at the moment," I responded. 

"Oh," she said with surprise, "That's another reason I was angry. I thought you would be cheating on your girlfriend. I assumed someone like you would be spoken for. Gary keeps going on about most of the men we meet. Here she gave a passable imitation of Gary:

"Oh, Rache! Bet you'd like him between the sheets!"

Another silence; it was getting to be a habit in this conversation.

"So," I said at length, "Where do you want to go from here? Shall I take you home, tell him I'm not interested? What do you want to do?"

"Well," she said, thoughtfully, "If I tell him you won't go along with it, he'll find someone else. He's obsessed and I haven't a clue why."

I made a suggestion, "He's saying to the other man, 'You can experience my wife sexually, so you can see how brilliant it is to fuck her, but I get to make the rules and she stays mine. She always comes back to me. You don't get her. I do.' It's the alpha male crowing over what he owns and what others can't have."

"Like I'm some sort of possession," she said thoughtfully. "'It' instead of 'she'."

"So what do you suggest?" I prodded. 

"Well," she said again, "I know I can trust you, and I already like your company. Gary doesn't have to know what I do with you. I can tell him you use condoms, and I can make it look like I've had sex. Could we just meet? I want him to suffer for this, and I don't want him trying to find me another man. We could meet for longer and longer until he gets upset and calls it off."

"Ok," I said, liking the idea instantly: who wouldn't with Rachel? "I can take you out for meals, we could go to the theatre, or concerts. We could go for walks now the weather is getting warmer. We could simply doss at my place. How does that sound?"

"Oh, Roddy," she smiled, those arresting eyes shining, "That would be lovely. Gary takes me out for meals but he doesn't like the theatre, or concerts. He doesn't even like going for walks. I'd love that!"

"I think you need to give him a chance to back down," I said. "Tell him we only talked tonight, and then spell out what this cuckolding will mean. He might just be thinking about a once for all meeting. We meet, have sex, and that's it. He has to know that he'll lose control completely. It will be long term."

She thought about that. 

"Yes," she said. "He has to appreciate the risks - that I might want to carry on with our 'affaire' long after he has had enough. And I will carry on! I'll teach him!" she added meaningfully.

"I'll take you back home," I said, "and you can tell him. Acquaint him with the risk he's running. You might get such a taste for 'various men' that he'll be sidelined."

"Will you come in with me?" she asked as we arrived at the house. I nodded.




Mistakes



"Sit down, Gary," I said as we entered and he stood at the door of the living room, a sizeable tent in his trousers and an eager expression on his face. He looked puzzled, but went and sat down. Rachel sat next to him and took his hand.

"Gary you tricked me," I began, showing my annoyance. "You knew full well that I wanted to talk with you before making any moves with Rachel. It was stupid of you to send her out without warning."

"But-"

"Just listen Gary," said Rachel. "Rod and I have done nothing tonight. We went somewhere and had a talk - the talk you should have been having with Rod. We don't think you fully understand the risk you're taking here."

She looked at me. I continued.

"Once this starts it's out of your hands. So far you've organised Rachel and me, you've been in charge, but once you give the go ahead, you will be powerless."

"I know," he said, "that's part of the buzz."

"What Rod is saying," added Rachel, "is that when you've had your fun and want it to stop, I may not want to stop, and if that's the case, be sure of this Gary, I won't stop. You need to be very clear about that. Rod may give me an appetite for sampling a lot more men and if that's the case, I won't stop."

"You should also consider that your relationship with Rachel will never be the same after this," I put in. "It could damage it beyond repair. You are taking a big risk here, Gary. Personally I think you're making a huge mistake. We wanted you to understand that clearly. This could wreck your life together."

"That's a bit heavy, Rod," he said with a confident smile. He knew he was far better looking than me. "It's just a bit of fun between friends to enhance our love life. That's all it is. You get to have sex with a beautiful woman, I get to experience all the cuckold feelings, and Rachel gets sex from two men instead of one. Everyone wins; no one gets left out.

"I know that Rachel won't leave me, we have too deep a relationship for that to happen. It'll be ok! So don't worry you two, nothing bad will happen, believe me. I've read a lot about this, and it is exciting. Rachel will always come home to me and get some really hot loving after you've had her. Ok?"

"Ok," I said, "but don't say I didn't warn you."

With that I stood up. Rachel came to me and kissed me on the lips. I heard an 'Oh, yeah!' from Gary. 

"Saturday evening?" I asked her. "Six thirty?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Great!" Gary commented.

We went to a Symphony Concert on the Saturday, her favourite composers as it turned out.

"You know he wanted to watch me getting ready for you?" she laughed. "Though you won't see them, I've got the sexiest bra and knickers on under here, and stockings! I never wear stockings. He had the biggest hard on and tried to take me, but I told him to lay off - this was for you first. He took it well. I told him not to play with himself while I was out." Another laugh.

"You're beginning to enjoy this!" I said with a grin. "Be careful. Keep to the plan."

We spent the interval plotting an account of what we'd done in bed that evening. 

We had walked side by side to the concert hall, but on the way back to the car, she tucked her arm in mine. I looked at her and smiled, and she smiled back. No comment from either of us, but a tacit agreement that walking like that was allowed.

When I dropped her off, she kissed my cheek and said she'd had a wonderful time. I went home and took care of my erection.

On Monday morning she rang me at the office to tell me he'd been like a man possessed after she told him the story. He had been disappointed that 'I'd used a condom', but her efforts with her vulva had fooled him.

Two weeks later I got tickets for a play at the Exchange Theatre, and again Rachel was delighted. At the interval, I asked her if she wanted to talk about what we 'did' tonight, but she said she could take care of that. Once again she excused herself after the performance and attended to herself. We didn't mention Gary all night.

As we returned to the car she took my hand and we walked hand in hand. Every now and then she gave a little squeeze and smiled at me. I smiled back, and the agreement that holding hands was legitimate was again tacit, but when I dropped her off at her house she asked me to walk her to the door.

"Gary will be watching," she said quietly. "Kiss me hard."

So I did. My arms went round her and hers were against my chest, holding me off. Even so she had an immediate effect on my nether regions, and as her hands went round my neck she pressed and ground herself against me, so I knew she could feel it, and suspected she wanted to feel it. Eventually we withdrew our tongues and broke the embrace.

"Thanks," she said with a smile I could not interpret, and went inside. I hobbled back to the car and drove home, immediately stripping off in the bedroom and relieving my frustration manually once again.

We went ten-pin bowling the following week, which got her in a fine sweat, and I delivered her in that state early to their place, the two of us walking from the Bowling Alley arm in arm. Again at the door there was the steamy kiss and the press against my chest and my groin. She moaned into my mouth and was panting when we broke, then she looked worriedly at me, turned and went indoors. 

Two more weeks passed - the Easter Weekend, and I wondered if Gary's little excursion into cuckoldry had foundered. Then on the Friday of the second week she phoned me. 

"He's going to the match tomorrow," she said, and waited.

"You want to meet?" I asked. 

"I'd like to see you," she said, "Just to sit and chat. I can tell him we had a hot afternoon while he was enjoying himself."

"Come round to my place," I said. "I've nothing on tomorrow."

"I'll be fully dressed," she flirted, and laughed. It was a exaggeratedly dirty laugh and I realised my double entendre.

She was so beautiful when she arrived. She was wearing a short, short skirt, no tights and a crop top revealing a bare midriff and an adorable navel. She closed the front door behind her, turned and kissed my lips briefly.

"Hi!" she said. "You decided to get dressed then?"

"I thought it bad manners to expose myself to a married woman."

She laughed, but I saw a flash of worry cross her face.

When she sat down there was a lot of shapely thigh on view. I made it clear I was gawping at it and she looked shamefaced and gestured at her clothing. I didn't need my attention drawn to it.

"So I can go back to Gary," she explained, "show him what turned you on; how you took them off and ravished me!" 

She giggled. Entrancing. I mean the giggle, not the thigh view. On second thoughts, that too.

I nodded; I was not complaining.

"I don't understand him," she said. "You know, you've been around someone for years and married as well and you think you know them inside out, but you don't.

"Roddy," she sat forward, the skirt riding further up her delightful bare thighs. "I'm not really comfortable with this, you know. I think you've gathered that. This is a side of him I don't like. 

"He's extremely turned on, more than before, after he thinks we've been together, but I think it demeans him. I lie there and he bangs furiously away at me; I don't think he's aware of my feelings or notices my reaction or lack of it; it's a sort of frenzy."

"You want to call the whole thing off?" I asked, fearing the response. I felt disappointed that our meetings might be over. I loved being around her.

She thought for a moment. 

"No," she said decisively, "I'm enjoying myself too much. Gary doesn't like classical music or the theatre, so it's years since I did either of those. It's been great."

She hesitated. "The only thing is, I feel guilty for using you like this."

"Don't," I said. "I'm enjoying doing these things with you, and if anyone's using me, it's Gary. Does he want to carry on?"

"He tried to get me to ask you to meet more than once in a week," she said wryly, "I refused. He moped for a day after that." She laughed at the memory, then became serious.

"You sure?" she asked with a frown. "I'm taking up a lot of your time."

"I'm sure," I said. "Why Gary - or anyone - would want to share you, I can't think. I wouldn't. But I'm not grumbling; I love having you with me. Now, in three weeks Bill Bailey is on at the Palace, want to go?"

We had discussed our favourite comedians during the interval at the Exchange, and he was one of her favourites. She was enthusiastic.

We played chess that afternoon. First game she beat me. Another game, and she beat me again. She looked apologetic, and I laughed.

"From now on," I said, "I leave all strategy to you!"

The afternoon passed peacefully and cheerfully. We did a crossword together. She wanted beans on toast for tea before going home. 

At the door she kissed me. She kissed me at some length, as she had when acting on the doorstep for Gary, but there was no Gary in my hallway. I kissed her back - for goodness' sake, I'm only human! She had her arms round my neck and mine made contact with her bare midriff. She then looked puzzled at her own action, then gave a self-conscious half-smile. I just stood there.

"Thank you, Roddy, for everything," she said.

Again I said nothing, my confusion must have been obvious. 

"Well, 'bye," she said, kissing me again but briefly, and turning, left me standing at my door, with the memory of that skin to skin contact. Hard again and in need of relief.

I spent the rest of the evening wondering what was going on. It took a while before I realised that of the many possible explanations for the kiss, only she could provide the accurate answer and I would have her all to myself at the Bill Bailey gig to find out. I put it out of my mind. I am good at that.

She phoned the following Wednesday, and invited me out for lunch. How could I refuse? We met at a middling restaurant and while we were waiting for the main course, she looked uncomfortable and then launched into an apology.

"I want to apologise for my behaviour on Saturday," she said, colouring up beautifully. "I mean that kiss. It just seemed so natural after spending the afternoon with you and having such a good time. I forgot myself and I don't want to give you the wrong idea."

"Don't worry about it," I said, "I enjoyed every moment of it. Who wouldn't enjoy kissing a beautiful woman?" I winced at my cheesy remark, but she seemed to like it.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she flirted and returned the cheddar, "and I loved kissing this handsome man."

"Still," I said, "Perhaps it's not such a good idea; I don't want to come between you and Gary."

I expected her to say that I wouldn't, but instead she stared into my eyes, saying nothing. We broke the stare and ate our lunch, talking about everything else, everything but that.

There was no meeting that weekend, apparently they were visiting her parents. I visited mine in retaliation.

She phoned early the following week, and asked if we could have an evening in at my place. I obviously agreed and said I would cook for us. She laughed and said she would tell Gary I was cooking for her and he would have to get his own supper. We agreed Friday.

I cooked my own version of stew and dumplings, using red wine and balsamic vinegar, along with boiled baby potatoes, sauteed carrots with cumin and ginger, and buttered french beans. She was very appreciative of the food and about the home made chocolate torte and cream to follow. She had quite an appetite that girl, and not a pound overweight.

We watched a DVD of some romantic film, I think it was 'Pretty Woman' (no comment) sitting side by side on the sofa, my arm round her and she snuggling against my chest. At the end of the film, she sighed, kissed my neck sending shivers through me, and said she should be going.

She paid a visit to the bathroom, "To rough myself up." 

I wished it could be for real (or at least that I could watch), but kept my unrealistic and immoral desires to myself. On leaving, this time she hugged me with another brief kiss and she was gone. I felt relief. I got relief.

Bill Bailey was his usual surreal self and very, very funny as well as brilliantly musical. His musical talent is amazing. Afterwards we went for a drink, so that Rachel could use the ladies to 'roughen up' herself.

"Wonderful show," she enthused, "I don't understand why Gary won't go; he'll watch a DVD of a comedian, but he never wants to go to a live show."

I said nothing, but I wondered if there was anything Gary liked doing at all! Everything Rachel and I had done, Gary didn't like doing.

"Next week," I suggested, "Perhaps if it's fine we could go for a drive and perhaps a bit of a walk in the hills?"

"I'd love that," she said. "Gary can't see any fun in walking, though he'll spend an hour at the gym running on a treadmill. I'll enjoy a hike. By the way, the team are playing away next week; he'll be gone all day and won't get back until late."

She would come to my place on Saturday morning.

When one goes hiking in the hills of Derbyshire, the Peak District, there is little room for considered speech. It is the effort of climbing, of the wind, of the walking. One does not do it arm in arm, or holding hands. So it was when we stopped at a pub after the hike, she began to talk, looking apprehensively at my face for my reaction.

"Roddy," she said earnestly, "Gary and I had a row last night. I told him I was going to spend all day with you while he was out, and for the first time he flipped. He said I didn't need to spend all day with you, all I was supposed to be doing was having a quick fuck and then come straight home. He said we were getting too 'pally', and he didn't want me seeing you any more. He told me - get that - told me to ring you and cancel.

"I shouted it was all his own fault. I didn't want a quick fuck, I wanted a good time. He had been warned, and no way was I going to cancel. I'm afraid I told him you gave me something he didn't. If he wanted to end the arrangement he had to do it with you, and that I'd carry on seeing you unless you agreed to stop.

"So I think," she finished, "He'll be coming to see you."

My spirits dropped. I knew I'd miss her time with me. We talked and talked about what we'd enjoyed and all sorts of other things. Still I had been expecting it as she ratcheted up the time spent with me at his expense, largely, she told me, to provoke him into precisely this action.

"Rachel," I said quietly, "I'm sorry. I never wanted this in the first place and I know you didn't. We haven't broken your marriage vows, though I have to admit, some of those kisses were disturbing and came close, but we have deceived Gary, and I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with that. I've enjoyed our time together more than with anyone else that I can remember. You are a wonderful companion.

"What do you want?" I asked. "I'll abide by your decision, but personally I think that if you were to continue with me, it will harm your relationship with Gary very badly. You made no vows to me, only to Gary."

She was silent for a few moments. Then she sighed deeply.

"You know I don't want to stop, don't you?" she said sadly. "We have had so much fun, but I knew it couldn't last. I share your misgivings about our deception. Gary was so excited at first but the excitement has been waning. So I suppose..."

That was my answer. 

"I'll take you back home," I said, standing. She stood and we left the pub. It was mid-afternoon. I drove her back home, and she invited me inside the door. She stood in close, and put her arms round my neck, so I held her waist.

"You won't tell him what we've really been doing, will you?" she begged. "No matter what he says or how much he riles you?"

"You think he will?"

"I think he'll want to re-stake his claim to me as his wife, and reduce you to a fuck-toy."

"I'll know he's wrong," I said. "I wasn't your lover, let alone your fuck toy - or his, come to that."

"I think you've been-" she abruptly changed tack, "I've loved your friendship and your companionship," she said. "We had a good time, didn't we?"

"Yes, my darling, we had a really good time. In fact, I think we've got a lot closer than if we had slept together. I've loved being with you, and sharing so much."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I'll miss you," she mumbled. "I'll miss you a lot."

"Me too," I said.

"Kiss me?"

We kissed. This time it was unashamedly sexual, passionate and erotic. I could feel every contour of her body, and she, I am sure, could feel every inch of my solid erection. It was open-mouthed and our tongues duelled with each other. Her hands were round my neck, tearing through my hair, playing with my ears, and neck, and mine were stroking her back. She kissed my neck and I kissed hers, nibbling at each other. Eventually we parted and this time we were both panting from the emotion and lust we had engendered.

I turned and left the house, walking briskly back to the car, carrying all before me. Thankfully there were no neighbours to see my trousers. I did not look back. I felt guilty as hell, and hoped she did.

The following Wednesday I got the phone call at work.

"Rod, I want to see you. Tonight." The tone was belligerent.

"You know where I live."

"Not there, neutral ground."

"Where then?"

"The usual pub."

"Ok, eight thirty."

He disconnected.

I got there first and bought my pint of bitter, but did not buy him a pint, not knowing if he was driving. 

I had finished my first when he arrived half an hour late. He was going to get a taxi home, so I got him a pint for himself and another for me. The pub was quite empty, Wednesday being a slack evening, so we were able to sit by ourselves a good distance from anyone else.

There was no general chat; he got straight down to it.

"Rachel and I have had a chat about you, and we've decided to call your meetings to a halt."

I found his use of pronouns interesting after my conversation with Rachel, but I nodded, saying nothing. There was nothing to say on my part, though Gary obviously felt the need to say more.

"She never really wanted to do this with you, you know."

"Neither did I," I replied. "This was your idea. I seem to rememb-"

"Don't tell me you didn't want it!" he growled. "You've been fucking her for weeks. I know how good she is. You did want it."

"We told you at the beginning. I did not want to do it and neither did she, for the damage it might do to your marriage. Obviously I've enjoyed my meetings with her since, and so has she!" I had to get that dig in. "But it was you that wanted it. It would never have happened if you-"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted, testily, "I wanted the experience. Well, I had it, and enjoyed it until you started wanting her to stay longer and longer."

"Gary," I snapped, "No one wanted any of this but you. You are the cause of this. Don't try loading any of this on me. If she asked me to stay longer, do more, I agreed. If she wanted to go home, I took her home. She called the shots, and I assumed so did you. None of this would have happened if you hadn't had your perverted little fetish." 

I drew breath and then carried on, having grown angry. "You want to stop Rachel seeing me? Fine. I really don't care. You're the one with his knickers in a twist. You had a perfectly happy marriage. You still have a beautiful and loving wife and you bugger it all up and what for? Some batty cuckold theory; more excitement for you, you selfish prick.

"So if she enjoyed our time together, and wanted to stay longer, what of it? Isn't she entitled to that? You were getting your rocks off on it, why not her? Why not me? I'm telling you I don't care what the pair of you do from here on.




Mistakes



"Tell you what: why don't you just fuck off and keep out of my life from now on. You're nothing but trouble. I don't need this."

I stood, drained my pint and left him sitting there. I walked home and put the whole thing out of my mind.

Who am I kidding? I seethed all the way home and all the rest of the evening. I'm still not clear at whom I was directing my anger, or why I was angry at all. I think it was the feeling that I'd been used, then cast aside and then blamed for the whole thing. It wasn't clear to me which of the two of them had used me more! 

Really who am I kidding? It was the loss of Rachel as a companion and her obvious growing affection for me. My affection for her was already fully grown!

However, that wasn't the time for rational thought, so I conveniently forgot that I invited Rachel to all the 'events' to which I took her.

It triggered the memory of the last parting with Rachel. She would miss me? She asked me to kiss her, and that kiss was not a kiss between friends but lovers, but we were not lovers - or were we? Whatever it was, it was wrong. As an advert used to say as its strap line, 'Naughty but Nice'.

Rachel and I talked and talked, we shared experiences of a wide and deep nature. We held hands, walked arm in arm, and of course there was that kiss that promised but would never deliver. Can you be lovers without sex? Were we in fact more lovers than many who only seek sex with each other? Interesting questions. I did not want to look too far for an answer: I felt guilty enough already.

Well, I was not about to go pining after that particular lady love. Move on; it had been a very pleasurable interlude, but now time to get on with my life. Let's face it I was used to that: the really beautiful, stunning girls never put out for me, but there were plenty who came close in looks, and would.

--

CHAPTER TWO

So it was back to work in earnest, having loosened my grip a little to entertain Rachel, and back to flirting with girls in clubs and those from other companies with whom we had dealings or socialised. Yes, I did take out my frustration on the willing and appreciative bodies of one or two pretty women. They howled out their climaxes so it was obviously not one-sided. They seemed to leave the flat happy and with 'that look' next day.

Two months went by and autumn was on the horizon. I think it was the first week in August, a Saturday. Deirdre was a well built blonde with whom I had seemed to hit it off, and who was with staff from another company at a meet at the local pub. She had been willing to return to my place the night before, where we had eventually got to sleep early in the morning. She had been athletic and voracious, very affectionate and indeed insatiable. Just how I liked them!

I awoke with my chest pressed against her formidable twin assets, and with my hand over a soft, generous and pliable buttock. Needless to say I was hard and it pressed against her stomach. 

She stirred, opened one eye, grinned and gasped, "Oh no! Not again!"

However, her lustful look, her roving hands over my bottom and her enthusiastic grasp of my willing and urgent penis belied her comment, and we fell into a clinch where she enfolded my cock within her lithe thighs, pressing me into her furrow and working gently to and fro. 

"Oh yes!" came from her lips. 

This (I meant my penis) could only go one way, I thought excitedly. 

I thought wrongly as it happened.

At the moment of entry there came a long ring at my doorbell. Perhaps it would go away, I thought as I moved keenly to enter her further.

The bell did not stop ringing. I withdrew the half inch I had progressed.

"Fuck!" mouthed Deirdre.

" 'Fraid not!" I said, getting out of bed, my prick waving in the air as I donned a dressing gown over my naked body, and went to the intercom.

"Yes?"

Sobbing.

"Who?"

"Oh, Roddy!" came the anguished cry.

It was Cassandra, my 'little' sister. I pressed the button and heard her clattering up the stairs. I opened the flat door. She didn't like lifts.

"Cassie, what the-"

"He's dumped me!" she wept, "this morning! Fucked me last night, then this morning said he'd fallen out of love. We needed to move on with our lives. The Bastard!" 

She swept past me into the kitchen, where she put the kettle to boil - a practical girl even in grief, our Cassie.

"I need tea!" she explained, "and breakfast. And help to move my stuff out of the bastard's flat."

This was not an unusual occurrence. Cassie had an unerring knack of picking handsome wastrels, users and liars. With her good looks I often wondered why she could not do better.

This was not the moment to deliver a little sermon on her deplorable lack of taste in men. I went to make the tea, while she sat at the kitchen table, sniffing.

"Tissues on the side there," I said, pouring the boiling water into the teapot. Then I went back to Deirdre while it brewed.

She had put on her micro skirt and tee shirt, without underwear as far as I could see, and that was pretty far.

"Who?" she asked diffidently. "Girlfriend?"

"Sister," I replied. "Cassie. Got dumped this morning."

"Oh, poor little kid!" she said.

This was amusing, since Cassie was twenty two, and Deirdre about twenty three. My bed partner didn't wait for correction, but sallied forth to the kitchen to administer woman to woman solace.

By the time I was shaved and dressed, the two of them were deep into some sort of female therapy involving a good deal of slating the male half of the race. Apparently we were 'all the same' and 'bastards', and they were 'better off without' us. I shrugged and made them toast for breakfast.

Over the simple meal the two chatted about their love-lorn lives and I kept quiet, refilling their mugs and providing more toast until they were both satisfied.

"Roddy?" Cassie said in that wheedling tone I knew so well.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can I stay with you for a while? I don't want to go back to my flat. I need company."

"Of course. You know my place is yours whenever you want to stay."

"Thanks." She came over and kissed me, smiling with gratitude.

Cassie was no trouble, and in other circumstances was always fun to have around. She more than pulled her weight round the flat and was a superb cook, which talent she always insisted on using to the full.

So I went shopping for food and household goods, while Deirdre went with Cassie to Colin's flat to collect her things. Cassie had phoned in advance and Colin said he would be there.

"What a prat!" exclaimed Deirdre, when they returned and Cassie was in her room unpacking, "staring at my legs the whole time he was talking to Cassie. I told her she was well rid of him - pervert."

"Dee," I chided her, "In a skirt that short, and with your legs, no man is going to be looking anywhere else! You did put your knickers on before you went, didn't you?"

She giggled and flipped her skirt to show her nakedness, "I hate wearing yesterday's knickers," she explained. I had a fleeting thought that Colin should not have been so lucky after what he did to Cassie.

Then Deirdre took her leave, giving Cassie a hug, and me a prolonged hug complete with a smouldering kiss before going on her way, throwing the comment over her shoulder that 'we must do this again sometime'. 

I agreed, she really was a lot of fun.

"She your latest?" asked Cassie, coming into the hallway.

"Just a friend," I said.

"Yeah, and then some!" scoffed Cassie. She obviously felt a lot better already. "She's nice," she added.

I said nothing.

So began three weeks of house sharing with my sister. She was very good, doing more than she needed to: cooking meals, waking me with tea in the morning, even doing my washing!

In return I took her out at least once a week. We went to a gig by a band she liked and another time took in a play and a concert. I remembered how alike our tastes are - she is very musical and is an accomplished pianist.

Towards the end of the three weeks, life took another unpredictable turn: three events.

The first was on a Thursday at the end of August. I had arrived home after work to find Cassie already cooking something with an Italian aroma - oregano figured, and garlic, and did I detect bacon or ham?

"Smells great!" I greeted her.

"Carbonara," she said.

I went to get changed and showered, and returned on her call that dinner was ready.

"Visitor this afternoon just before you arrived," she said.

"Mm?" I responded, deeply into the creamy tagliatelle dish; she really is a great cook!

"Some woman," she said. "One of your 'friends' perhaps? Looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her. She obviously didn't know me."

"Oh?" I replied, looking up from my meal as an invitation for her to continue.

"She looked surprised to see me, then said she had wanted a chat with you, but that it didn't really matter; not that important. Then she turned and walked away."

"Didn't leave her name?"

"No. Brown hair, very pretty face, slim, nice coat, really good legs. Business suit underneath the coat, I think."

It didn't ring any bells, as I mentally trawled through 'women I have known'.

"Well, if she really wants to talk, she can phone or come back," I said.

The matter dropped, we went on to other things.

The second event seems unconnected, but I think it affected my state of mind later in the year, due to the stress it brought. The CEO, Declan Briggs, called me to the office and introduced a woman who exuded power and dress sense, Deborah Wheeler by name, and a big wheel in a large transport company, Transit International Uk Ltd.

"Call me Deborah," she said shaking hands. I told her to call me Rod. Seemed a fair exchange, big wheel engaging with smaller cog.

"We have a problem, Rod," she said, "and you were recommended to us after some work you did for Pilbream Brothers, which Ann Roberts assures me was quite brilliant." It transpired that Mz Roberts was their IT guru.

She then outlined what they needed. There were two arms to the company, an import/export arm and a goods transport arm with a fleet of trucks mainly operating in the British Isles. 

They had software which kept tabs on goods being moved in and out of the country from origin to destination, and also controlled all aspects of the trucking arm. 

For much of the business the two aspects were separate, but there were areas where things overlapped, accounting for instance. 

Where one of their own trucks crossed the channel and drove through Europe, that would be covered by the transport side, but would also be covered by the export side. Data had to be entered twice, which was where mistakes crept in. 

The company which supplied the software could not seem to find a comfortable way to bridge the two sides smoothly: the programme would often crash. Deborah had secured release from that firm and had come to us to see if we could fix the software.

We discussed the job at some length, and I made arrangements to visit their headquarters to see the system working.

It turned out to be a massive undertaking, and would take weeks of long hours. It would provide me with a good number of headaches, but as Declan pointed out, this would be worth more than all the jobs we'd done over the past year put together. It could also lead to a contract to provide them with more efficient software packages in the future.

Having seen the system in operation, I could not immediately begin to see ways of solving the problem, but being an obstinate soul I reckoned we could give it a go. So we began on one of our biggest projects. I think the stress involved contributed to my state of mind nearer Christmas.

The third event occurred two weeks later on a Friday. I was deep into the software's code, evaluating its structure which was clunky, and so was engrossed in the screen of my larger monitor. I was vaguely aware of a commotion outside my office, and some shouting.

So when the door crashed open against the wall, I simply said "Gently!" without looking up.

Did I say I was wrapped up in the problem? Well, I was quickly unwrapped.

A hand pulled my shoulder away from the screen and before I had time to react, I was punched hard under my eye, which knocked me off the chair and slammed my head against the wall. I was dazed, and saw a blurred Gary. He was coming in for the kill (figuratively speaking - he was no murderer).

However, he was frustrated in his endeavour by our security guard Tom, who had followed him from the front door of the office block. Tom had Gary's arm up his back and another arm round his neck. Tom was big and strong, bringing to mind a solidly erected outside WC.

I remained on the floor while Gary shouted at me as he tried to pull away from Tom, who thankfully wasn't letting go. I rubbed my cheek and eye; I would have a shiner tomorrow.

"What-?" I began.

"You bastard!" he yelled. "You stole my wife!"

Now for what follows, it is important to understand the layout of our workplace. It is an open plan cavern divided into shoulder high cubicles, with two large double glazed glass panelled offices off, side by side. I had one of these, with an array of electronic equipment along one wall, simply because I needed silence to discuss with clients the more complex problems they had with their systems and anyway, sod it, I'm a director! All the really complex problems came to me, which is why I was paid so well. 

The other office was taken by the Head of Sales and Marketing, Harry Dreckson. The girls and boys in the main office worked flexibly, following up sales orders, handling minor problems (plug it in!), acting as a call centre (How may I help you?) and doing secretarial work. Some worked on code, debugging etc. and some of the code workers were really brilliant. I would need them shortly, though I had not as yet collected a team for the project. I was still at the assessment stage. We are a happy bunch.

It meant that the occupants of the outer office could see Harry and me at work, and now my door was open they could hear as well. Most of them were now standing up to get a better view.

"I haven't seen you or Rachel in, what is it, over three months! What the hell are you going on about?" I retorted, still rubbing my face. Damn, it was bloody painful! I got up, righted the fallen chair and slumped onto it; I was still a little dazed.

"You turned her against me!" Gary was still yelling and struggling with Tom.

"I did no such thing!" I replied hotly. "You begged Rachel and me to have sex - to cuckold you. We told you that you were taking a risk, but no, you had to go ahead. Whatever has happened since between you and Rachel is no concern of mine."

"She's divorcing me!" he was still loud, oblivious to his audience. "She's left me. And don't come the innocent with me, you're the reason she's going. You turned her against me - she told me all about what you did."

"Well," I said, "It was your idea wasn't it? She and I would have a good time, and then she would tell you all about it?"

I could see the glances exchanged between the staff and their broad grins. This would fuel the office gossip for weeks! X rated stuff, this! 

"But you cheated!" 

"Cheating is going behind your back, Gary. You knew all about it. Damn it, you organised it and she told you the gory details - it was part of the plan." 

No one in the outer office was working now, phones went unanswered.

"No! I didn't know all about it," he was still very loud, still oblivious to the audience who were now giggling among themselves. "You both cheated - you didn't have sex - Rachel confessed. You went to concerts and plays and things. You enjoyed yourselves. She told me. No sex at all!"

The staff broke into loud ribald laughter at that. This was getting better and better, there were some 'high fives'.

I was not laughing: Rachel had betrayed our little plan, hence my incipient black eye.

"That's immaterial," I objected. "You wanted all the emotions and eroticism of being cuckolded. You got them: you weren't short changed. You believed we had sex, and you got off on it. Rachel told me you were wild in bed when she got back and told you what you wanted to hear. We just held to our principles and deceived you, but you got what you wanted from us! From what she told me, it did wonders for your sex life."

"Oh, no you don't!" he snarled, "You can't get away with that! You had a plan didn't you? You were sly - you took her to all the things I don't like going to and she does. You wanted her for yourself and you played the long game. You refused to have sex with her, so she wanted you more, and you gave her a good time while pretending to be virtuous and helping her to keep her marriage vows. You bloody hypocrite! Well, you've got what you wanted. She doesn't want me any more, she says-"

Here Gary stopped and seemed to realise that we were not alone. That was true, for apart from the entire office as an audience, two large policemen had arrived and cuffed him. They marched him out of the office with Tom in tow, and as the outer door closed the place erupted in gales of laughter and enthusiastic applause!

I smiled, rather embarrassed at the attention. Our first-aider marched me off to try to mitigate the damage to my face, and eventually I was allowed to return to the programme I had been worrying over before the interruption.

However, I could no longer concentrate. Perhaps it was delayed shock, but my mind would not let go of the strange conversation that followed his attack.

What had he said? I had planned to seduce Rachel by not trying to having sex with her? Playing the long game? Made her want me?

Did I really do that? I was not aware of having a plan to seduce Rachel; she was always unattainable. I was delighted to take her out and entertain her, but try to take her from Gary? No. 

Did Rachel think I was doing those things? I thought back to our meetings. Oh crikey! The kisses - surely for Gary's benefit? But not the penultimate kiss, and that last kiss, that was not a fond friendship kiss, was it? It was full on passion!

Hell! Was I so naïf? Yes I was! There was more going on than I thought, and I never saw it. I remembered being puzzled by that last kiss, but I never thought...

Be that as it may, she went back to Gary, and that was in May. What was happening during the intervening three months? They weren't having rows the whole time, surely. 

If she'd told him the truth early on, he wouldn't have waited this long to come and punch me. If she'd just recently told him she was divorcing him, it could hardly have been to do with me; if she were worried at his reaction, she would have phoned me, surely?

What a mess! I didn't like the idea when Gary first suggested it in the pub all those months ago, but neither did Rachel. That's why we met as we did. He did get what he wanted. She did want to teach him a lesson by pushing the boundaries, and sure enough she got him to finish it. That's what she wanted: to get back to their normal married life. 

So we went out together. So what? What were we supposed to do? Sit in my flat staring at one another for an hour at a time? We went out to relieve the tension. To be sure she gave me erections, but she had always done that in my masturbatory fantasies. 

She was very, very sexy, but she never laid a finger anywhere near my prick and I never touched any erogenous part of her body. Even with that last kiss we were careful, at least I thought we had been. That last kiss was a turn on for both of us, and that's why I walked away without a backward glance but with a raging forward erection.

So ran my thoughts. Confused, vacillating, unsure. I realised I was struggling to avoid the obvious thought, that at the time I had fallen for her. However, that was over four months before, she had not been in touch and I had forgotten about it until Gary made his appearance. She was divorcing him, but had not come back to me. She didn't care for me at all; I was useful at the time. I was always out of her league, and water under the bridge, though I wasn't sure that water, even when flowing under a bridge, belongs to a league.




Mistakes



Having thought it through, I got on with my work, and the intensity of the day's excitement faded away. I was good at burying myself in a project. I was only reminded when I got home by Cassie's reaction to my black eye. Of course she wanted to know all the details.

"Gary," she pondered, "Isn't he one of your mates? He was your mate at school. What did you do to get him riled?"

"It's a long story Cassie," I said.

"I've got time," she asserted.

There was no getting away from her, so I told her the whole story. She looked shocked but was grinning when I finished.

"So let me get this straight," she said with a chuckle. "Gary wanted her to go with another bloke, he browbeat her, then tricked you, and you both tricked him. You took her out all over the place, and had a great time, but no sex. Then she turned the screw by spending longer and longer with you, till he finished it."

"That's right." I thought it was an admirable and succinct summary on her part. Bright girl!

"When did she tell him about your trick?"

"When she told him about the divorce, I suppose?" I hazarded. "He seemed to come hot-foot from being told."

"So for four months she can't have told him the truth."

"That's right. So it can't be our 'cheating' that provoked the divorce, can it?"

"Hmm," she thought for a moment, unconvinced. 

"I think their marriage was going nowhere anyway," she said. "Perhaps you giving her a good time in other ways than sex made her dissatisfied, and it's taken a few months for her to realise the marriage was a mistake because they have so little in common."

"For practically everything we did," I agreed, "she said Gary didn't do that, or he didn't like it. We covered quite a lot of ground, you know. Not just entertainment either: I cooked for her and she helped in the kitchen; apparently Gary doesn't even do cooking."

"So there you are then," she said smugly, "You opened her eyes to another sort of life, one where every part of life was fulfilling and part of the relationship, not just sex - not even sex."

"Well, I hope she finds the right guy this time."

"Why not you?"

"Not her type," I said. "Never was. She did say she enjoyed our time together, but it was more 'I like you as a friend'. Look Cassie, if she fancied me, she would have phoned me. She's looking elsewhere."

Cassie sighed; I think it was exasperation, but the matter dropped there.

More weeks went by, and Cassie had been staying back at her own flat, while visiting me for overnight stays, usually at weekends. She had no interest in men, she said; she wanted a break for a while. 

During the week I was home late every night putting in the extra hours checking over the work of the team I'd chosen. Cassie and I did have fun though at weekends, doing ordinary things together. We cooked for each other, we went to concerts, pubs, clubs. 

-- 

CHAPTER THREE

A fourth major event happened four weeks or so before Christmas, on a Friday in November. The two of us went to my favourite restaurant to celebrate Cassie's birthday. She always told me it was the day her age caught up with mine a little: instead of being six years younger, she was five! 

We had finished our delicious main courses when Cassie looked surprised.

"Hey," she said, "You remember months ago a woman came to the flat looking for you? Well she's just walked in."

I looked up, and there she was: Rachel. She was with a tall good looking man, and they seemed very close, she was laughing at something he had said, and they were hand in hand as they were led to their table at the far end of the restaurant.

"That's Rachel," I said.

"Gary's Ex?"

"Yes."

"Bloody Hell!" 

I watched them as they took their seats. He took her hand on the table and they looked every inch a couple. They were too far away for me to hear, but he ordered their drinks with the assurance of someone who knew her wishes well, who was intimate with her.

And I was jealous! No doubt about it. She was divorcing Gary and couldn't be bothered to tell me. I should have realised where I really stood with her: nowhere. Well, I mentally shrugged, she was nothing to do with me any more - as I had told Cassie, she was out of my league and always had been.

My expression must have given me away, for Cassie was all caring.

"Hit you hard?" she said. "Actually seeing her with someone else, after all you did for her."

"I told you, I'm not her type. She was pushed together with me, and severed all contact as soon as Gary ended it. Couldn't get away fast enough. I'm realistic enough to know where I stand."

"You should go and say hello," she said.

"No I shouldn't," I snapped, "She has no interest in me, and I don't want to talk to her."

"Roddy, she came looking for you, before Gary gave you that black eye. She wanted to see you then."

"She knew my business number, she knew my mobile number, and my home number. She did not call. Her visit was a spur of the moment thing, soon regretted. So let's leave it at that."

I was relieved Rachel was turned three quarters away from me and he was facing me. I was relieved they were at the opposite end of the restaurant from us. With luck we could escape without her seeing us. She was so absorbed in him, perhaps she would not look round the restaurant. She didn't.

Cassie looked disappointed, but she knew my tone of voice, and we changed the subject. However, she is also stubborn. After the dessert, she excused herself to go to the ladies', and to do so, of course she had to pass their table. On the way back, of course she had to stop and talk to Rachel, who of course turned and saw me.

Cassie came back smiling.

"No I didn't!" she laughed. "Rachel recognised me and asked about you. She's coming over."

I looked up and there she was, beautiful beyond belief. Her boyfriend had stayed in his seat. He looked disgruntled. I felt the same way.

"Hello, Rod," she said tentatively.

"Hello Rachel," I said quite coldly and without a smile. "I believe you've met my sister Cassie."

She looked non-plussed, even upset. "Cassie's your sister? I thought-"

"He's the best brother a girl could have," Cassie gushed. "I've had some man trouble and he's looked after me."

"Yes," Rachel said, and looked wistful, "He would. How've you been Rod?"

"You mean since Gary beat me up?" I said quite abruptly.

"Pardon?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know," I snapped. "He came to my office and knocked me off my chair, black eye, concussion. You begged me not to tell him about our little trick; shame you couldn't do the same. He blames me for your breakup."

She looked distressed. "Honestly, Rod, I knew nothing of that. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I said with a resigned air. "It was weeks ago, you'll be a free woman soon, I suppose. I see you've lost no time getting back in the dating game. Hadn't you better get back to your boyfriend? He's looking unhappy. Wouldn't want to come between you and a lover again. I suffered enough the first time. Goodbye Rachel."

I turned to Cassie, who looked amazed. I saw her eyes flick across and knew that Rachel was going back to her boyfriend.

"What's got into you Roderick?" she admonished me. "That was so rude! I didn't know you could be like that. I don't like it." 

I knew I was in trouble when she used my full name - she knew I hated it. My mother did that too, all though my childhood.

I also followed Rachel's progress to her table. She did not sit down, but called for her coat. Her boyfriend was arguing that he had not finished, but she was hell bent on leaving, so reluctantly he paid and they left. Rachel shot me an unhappy smile, and he scowled at me. 

"She had it coming," I muttered. "Never came near me and then waltzes up to me and passes the time as if we were old friends, after what she did? What did you expect?"

"Rod," she said firmly, " Get the bill and let's go."

We went back to my flat in silence. 

"Drink?" she asked.

"Whisky," I said.

"Please?" She sounded like our mother!

"Whisky please," I said petulantly and then couldn't help laughing; she really did sound exactly like our mother, and I sounded like her little boy.

She got me what she knew was the best malt in my collection and a small jug of water, so I knew I was forgiven but was in for a lecture. Then she sat opposite me with a white wine.

"Rod-"

"Please Cassie, no more," I begged. "I've had enough for tonight."

"Ok," she answered, "but just one thing. Just one?" she pleaded.

I sighed deeply, "Go on. If you weren't my Sis-"

"Rachel came here," she ploughed on. "You heard her tonight. She thought I was your live-in girlfriend. Didn't you see how upset she was to find out I was your sister? She made a mistake. That's why she didn't get in touch. She didn't want to mess up your relationship with your girlfriend. That's all I want to say."

"But you were at school with us!" I said plaintively. "She must have known who you were."

"Brother, you and she were in year thirteen, and I was in year seven. You were seventeen or eighteen and I was eleven or twelve. I've changed since then, or haven't you noticed? I thought I'd seen her before, but she was six years ahead, and she's different as well - it's years since you and she left school!"

"But she could have still talked to me, especially about the divorce. I could have been with someone else, but she didn't have to cut me out altogether. The telephone has been invented, you know."

"I don't think you know her as well as you think you do," my sister told me. "Even I can see she's a walking dream, and I'm not even remotely gay or even bi. But you think because she can get any man she wants, she has to be arrogant or only interested in good biological specimens, and not really interested in you. From meeting her, I'm pretty sure she's not like that."

"Well, at school she was like that. She was with that little group of 'pretty' girls and they never looked at any of us ordinary lads. She was going out with Gary for a while and I was his best mate. She never spoke a single word to me even then.

"Then when I came back here with the firm, and Gary and I took up again, she had as little to do with me as possible. She would come to pick up Gary from here, but never once came up to the flat. She had not the slightest interest in me."

"Until," she said, and waited with a knowing smile.

"Ok," I conceded, "She seemed to warm to me as we did the things she liked. But then, nothing. Look, even when divorcing Gary, she found herself a good looking, self-assured guy. She's not changed; the really pretty girls go after handsome, rich men, not the rest of us."

"We don't go after them, Roddy, they come after us. I wouldn't be surprised if Rachel never had an ordinary bloke make a play for her. It's the circle she's used to. Girls are attracted to handsome men, powerful men, rich men. It's biological, they are the ones who will provide good genes."

"But you always end up dating rich arrogant bastards."

"Ok, because they're easy on the eye and they make a play for me! I live in hope that one day a reasonable looking, solid, good-hearted bloke will take a chance on me. If he's well off, so much the better. Rachel is the same I'm sure. She wouldn't get in the way of another woman's happiness by intruding. She's too good to try to take a man from another woman. I know I'm right."

"And I won't come between her and her new lover," I reposted. "Come on, Cassie, you saw the guy she was with. You saw his looks, his self-assurance, his charm and his money. Look at me, and be realistic. I'm a computer geek. I don't figure against characters like that. As far as she's concerned I never have. I was an interlude, and wasn't making a play for her - you know the phrase girls trot out to blokes like me: 'Can't we just be friends?'"

"Brother of mine, you are your own worst enemy. You are not bad looking. Your face has character, you are slim and healthy. Ok, so you're not a body builder, but you're in shape. Most girls will give you a chance. 

"Look at Deirdre. A pretty girl. She wasn't slow to share your bed, was she? Your problem is your self-image; you do yourself down. All this crap about Rachel being out of your league, that's what it is, Roddy: crap! You are a good looking man, and she is just an ordinary woman underneath those looks."

"In any case it's all academic Cassie," I replied with resignation. "She's with someone else. I'm not interfering. Finish."

"Ok," she said despondently, "Have it your way." 

I could see she was disappointed and wondered whether she would really let me 'have it my own way', or more likely hatch some nefarious plan.

And there we left it. We turned the TV on and watched a silly Rom-Com, and then went to bed - separately!

We had just finished breakfast next morning when the flat doorbell summoned me. There on the step stood Rachel.

"Rachel!" I said, somewhat stupidly: it was obvious who she was.

"Someone let me in the block, can I come in?" she asked. "There are things I need to tell you."

"Yes, of course," I said and stood back to let her past me.

I led her to the living room and she sat down on the sofa. Cassie came in and offered her coffee and she accepted.

I sat opposite her in an armchair. Cassie brought in the coffee and said she was going back to her flat. We were alone.

I waited. She had come for a reason, and I was not going to help. In any case, I did not know what to say.

At length she began to speak.

"I couldn't let what happened last night lie like that. I need to talk to you about it."

"If you must," I said with resignation. "Go ahead." 

She frowned, but went ahead anyway.

"It's been a catalogue of mistakes Roddy. The first was Gary wanting me to cuckold him. The second was me agreeing, though I did not want to. I should have stuck to my principles and told him no. The third was us agreeing to mislead him."

I made to interrupt, but she stopped me with a gesture of her hand.

"Let me explain. Our intentions were good, laudable even, and allowed me to keep my marriage vows. That wasn't the mistake. The mistake was doing all those things we did together."

"I'm sorry," I said, unable to keep quiet any longer, "but what we did was good; it was what I would do anyway. If I hadn't taken you, I would have taken someone else. Face it Rachel, we enjoyed it more because we were not doing anything wrong."

"All right," she conceded, "I accept that, but it had consequences for my marriage. Before we had our 'non-affaire', I was content with Gary, marriage was ok. Not very exciting, in fact pretty boring, but I settled for it. The sex was good. Mind you, if I'd not had a job to give me an interest, I'm sure I would have gone out of my mind with boredom.

"You remember from our chatting that Gary and I did very little together - a weekly outing to the pub, though he went out more often, and the odd dinner out. There was little else but I sort of got used to it. Now and again I'd try to get him to come out to a concert or a play, but he wouldn't, and he hated it when I went alone. In any case, going out alone wasn't much fun, I wanted to share the experiences with him. I realise now that I'd known that about him, but thought I could change him. A mistake.

"I tried going out with girlfriends, but he got very upset about that, so I stopped it.

"Then he started to say our sex life was getting too predictable. I was happy enough with it, as I was happy enough with the rest of my life, but he wanted to spice it up. So we did dressing up games, role play, a bit of bondage, toys. He even picked me up in a bar. He played a married man and I was a married woman, and we had sex in the back of his car! That was all fun, and actually I liked it. Then finally he wanted to be cuckolded. That was different.

"Well, he'd been going to the pub with you, and I at least knew you. I knew what sort of character you were, and knew I'd be safe with you, but I was annoyed that you seemed to want my body just for a fuck, like all the other blokes. Then you put me right. 

"So you and I began our 'relationship' and I rediscovered all the things that made my life full and happy before Gary - the things I had given up on because Gary had no interest in them. It wasn't the going to concerts and plays, it was our conversation about them, and about everything else; the sharing. We played chess, we cooked, we went for a hike. But above all else we talked, we shared. 

"It was a revelation to me. And there was yet more. You were so considerate, so caring. If I felt I wanted to go home, you took me without demur; if I wanted to stay you were happy for me to do just that. I have never been with a man who looked after me as well as you did. 

"You had moral principles and would not make a move on me, but you did things for me and looked after me anyway. 

"I'm sorry to say this, Roddy," and here she coloured up, "I started to fancy you. So I kissed you. The first time with the excuse that Gary would be watching, but after that I wanted to kiss you some more."

"But it bothered you, didn't it?" I prompted, "I saw the look on your face."

"You're right. You were still on the moral high ground, and I was cheating Gary. I felt guilty. But you did kiss me back, didn't you, and that last kiss was hot for both of us."

I nodded.

"Well," she went on, "When Gary stopped our 'meetings', I felt a great hole in my life. I had had all those wonderful times with you, and now I was back in this lonely life with Gary - and it was lonely, Roddy. I realised that Gary and I did not really connect at any level. 

"I'd seen other possibilities, and life with Gary became intolerable. You'd shown me that I was living only half a life, and after that realisation, I couldn't stand the marriage I was in.

"So I tried and tried to get Gary to talk to me, to take me out somewhere else than the local pub, where he spent the evening talking with his mates, while the other girls talked about celebrities and fashion and work. I was always bored and felt like an outsider.

"As I said, I tried, but I failed. I had told him I couldn't live like that for the rest of our lives, but he brushed it off over and over again. He got annoyed if I tried to bring it up. 

"So, two months after Gary finished the cuckolding experiment, I told him I wanted a divorce. We argued and argued, I told him what I wanted, what I needed, but he still wouldn't change. He just said I was being unrealistic, that real life was not like that, I was an intellectual snob.

"Then he turned the argument round. He blamed you and our relationship, 'behind his back!' I told him it was his idea and he brought it on himself. 

"Then it was all about your prowess in the bedroom, you must be bigger than him, I must have done things in bed with you that I didn't do with him. Anal? I ask you! I told him it wasn't about that, but he would not believe it. He tried to take me anally. It hurt like hell, and that finished me for him. 

"In August I found a small flat and started proceedings. I told him what I had done and what he had to do when the petition arrived. There was a big row. He could not understand why I was divorcing him, in spite of all I had explained to him! I told him again that not only had we very few interests in common, but he sulked if I tried to pursue mine by myself or with my girlfriends. I told him I couldn't go on and he wouldn't change. He just shrugged! That's all, shrugged!

"Then he got back on the sex idea - I'd had better sex with you. I had been fucking you (his word) behind his back even after he had called a halt. He railed on and on about it and then, I'm sorry, I made that other mistake. I snapped and told him the truth about our meetings. I was so angry. You should have seen his face!




Mistakes



"I think that spurred me on, for not only did I tell him we never had sex, I told him I had a better time with you even without any sex at all. I listed all the things we did that he hated and didn't like me doing. All he had to do was the same as you had done and I would call off the divorce. 

"Then he started on about you wanting me for yourself and doing all that to get me, and now I had fallen for your tricks. You were a bastard, a con man, a predator. He would sort you out. I was a naïve innocent, I never thought... 

"A bad mistake. Gary attacked you and that was my fault. Of course he never told me what he'd done, so I didn't know. It came as a dreadful shock to learn that in the restaurant. You're right, I should never have told him without warning you. I'm so very sorry, Roddy.

"Eventually he realised there was no point in fighting me, and I moved out. I think he knew he could not afford to contest the divorce. I cited the cuckolding as unreasonable behaviour; we both knew it was just a way of keeping the rules needed to get the divorce.

"Well, as I said, I moved out, and the first person I thought about was you Roddy. You were more of a friend than anyone else I knew, and I thought there was then beginning of something more between us. I wanted to tell you I was now going to be divorced. I would be free.

"When I got here, I made another mistake, thinking Cassie was your girlfriend. She is so pretty! It threw me. I berated myself for thinking you would still be single after all those months, and I knew I should not try to intrude on your happiness. So I avoided contacting you further. That hurt, Roddy, I missed you so much.

"I couldn't interfere with your relationship with the woman I thought was your live-in girlfriend. I just want you to know everything from my point of view. I wasn't being callous, Roddy, really I wasn't."

She had been sitting on the edge of her seat, and now she almost collapsed back onto the sofa.

I did not know what to say. The girl could certainly talk, and I was suffering from mental indigestion; there were so many things to take in. What exactly was she saying? Was it simply an apology - clearing the air between us? Did she want me as a friend, or more? She was already with someone else. Perhaps she felt our tiff at the restaurant left too much unsaid. My response was not ideal.

"Well, thanks for clarifying things Rachel," I said with a smile. "I assume you've left your boyfriend asleep in bed to come here to clear the air - he wasn't at all happy to see you talking to me last night. I assume he'd be very upset if he knew you were coming round here. Hadn't you better get back before he misses you?"

She said nothing, but her face! What was that expression? Was she disappointed? Puzzled?

"Is that it?" she asked, now somewhat annoyed, or disconcerted. A strange reaction.

"Well, as I said, thanks very much for clarifying everything. Now you're moving on and dating, so you can find someone more compatible with you. I'll always remember our times together with fondness and great affection." I stood up and she took the hint and went to the door. She now seemed distressed; I did not understand why.

As she walked down the stairs, she threw a remark over her shoulder. "He's not my boyfriend, and he's never been in my bed, you silly prick!" 

I was shocked at her language and I could have sworn she was crying. I thought I heard a sob, a catch in her voice. I stood a moment, puzzled, and then went back inside.

All I could see at the time was Rachel divorcing Gary, and seeing someone else so soon after, with whom she seemed to be already deeply involved, who was also a stereotype of the man girls like her dated. I thought that she must really find that bloke attractive, and perhaps he was taking her to all the things she liked, as I did. Of course he came up to standard in the looks and confidence area, unlike me.

Four days passed. Cassie came on Wednesday and of course asked me about Rachel. I told her what had transpired and she looked disappointed but said nothing. The next day she came back straight from work. 

"Rod," she said before she even sat down, "You are the biggest idiot. Sit down."

I sat; she stood over me.

"This is very important, Rod," she said, hands on hips, "I want the absolute truth. Think carefully about your answer. What are your feelings for Rachel? Take your time"

She moved to the nearest armchair and sat down, looking relaxed, as if for a long wait.

Silence. What were my feelings for Rachel? I thought for a while and then decided the historical approach was the best one.

"Ok, Sis," I said, sitting back to tell the story, "Let's take it from that last year in school."

"Ok, if you must," she answered moodily. "Why you can't just answer the question, I don't know."

"It's the easiest way to explain my feelings for her. You know what she looks like, and I think you remember her from school now. All the boys who were not gay fancied her like mad. I fancied her. She told me recently that she remembered me, but that's not the recollection I have. So I never had even any slim hopes for a date with someone like her. There were plenty of other girls in the year. They were pretty enough, but not in her league, and more to the point, they were willing to go with me. 

"So I'm saying I lusted after her, she was in my fantasies, but apart from that she was irrelevant to my life, whereas the other girls were real.

"When I got back here, in all the time Gary and I went out drinking, she never came with us. If I went round there and she was home, she disappeared. Always minimal contact. I thought she didn't like me, so there was no point in wanting her, anyway she was married to Gary. So again she was irrelevant to my life.

"When she got in the car the first time, after Gary tricked me, she assumed I was gagging for sex with her. It was only after I slapped her down that we began to get along. We got along because we enjoyed the same things, I would take her places, and I wouldn't have sex. I think I grew on her, for she became quite affectionate. 

"I loved being with her, she was great company and very easy on the eye. Yes, then I did want her, but she was married to Gary and he was my mate. We kissed on a couple of occasions and it seemed some passion was there, but once Gary asked me to stop seeing her, I heard nothing more from her. I put her behind me, she was irrelevant again. There were other women - Deirdre for instance.

"Then Gary came and attacked me, and that's when I learned of the divorce. I know she came to tell me, but she could have phoned and she didn't. Why? I think it's because she had that man lined up. He's her type. She let me down badly by telling Gary what we did, or didn't. That put her further away.

"So how do I feel about her now? Disappointment is the main feeling. I thought we had something when we were fooling Gary, but we didn't."

"Are you in love with Rachel?" Talk about getting straight to the point!

I thought. "She's-"

"Out of your league," she said with some exasperation. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before, too often for my liking. That's not what I asked. I asked: Are you in love with her? Well, are you?"

"No, how can I be? Anyway in her case I don't know what that means. Do I desire her? Yes. Do I want her? I did, until I saw her in the restaurant, and I did when she came round on Saturday, though I couldn't understand why she came at all. But love? We never got that far."

"If everything was a big misunderstanding, and she really loved you, and wanted you, how would that make you feel? Boy, this is like getting blood out of a stone!"

"In the unlikely event that that were the case, I would be delighted and want to date her, see if we could grow together."

"So really what you're saying is that you fancy her, and you wouldn't turn her away, but she doesn't seem interested in you?"

"If you want to put it like that, yes."

"Roddy, my darling," she came and sat with me on the sofa, putting her arm round me, "I know I'm not the best advert for good relationships, and I'm much younger than you, but I'd like you to do something for me - for you really."

"Which is?"

"Go round to her place and tell her what you have just told me."

"But-"

"No buts. Go."

"I don't know where she lives. She left Gary and got a flat somewhere."

"Flat C, 245 Back King Street. It's that converted cotton mill. Go now. Have the courage to tell her."

"How do you know her address Cassie?" 

"You have her number on your mobile, I phoned and asked her." 

"You talked to her?" I asked, so surprised I forgot to be angry about her invasion of my privacy. The girl was amazing.

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing much, just gave me her address for you. She did say she hoped to see you soon. I really think she fancies you, so you need to go and tell her how you feel. Now."

I did not share her optimism, but I wrapped up against the cold dark evening, got into the car and drove to the mill. No dinner: I was hungry. The things I did for my sister!

A woman was entering as I arrived and she smiled at me and held open the door. I thanked her and found the door to flat C at the back of the ground floor, behind some stairs.

I rang the bell.

The door opened. The man who answered the door was the one with whom she had been on the previous Friday at the restaurant. So much for 'he is not my boyfriend'! The man was wearing a frilly pinafore and was obviously involved in cooking their evening meal. Very domestic. He took one look at me and scowled. 

"What do you want?" he asked aggressively, though his accent was cultured. Public School boy, I thought. (In Britain, Public Schools are in fact private fee-paying schools. Don't ask!)

"Rachel?" I asked, while trying to re-organise my plans.

"You think she'll want to see you?" he asked derisively, "after you upset her so badly at the restaurant? I don't think so. So off you go little man, she won't be talking to you!" 

In the restaurant he seemed tall, but in fact I was a few inches taller. It made his epithet ridiculous.

"She wanted to talk on Saturday morning; she turned up at breakfast time, so go and get her there's a good chap!" I hoped it sounded as patronising and insulting as his remark had been.

"Rubbish!" he said loudly. "She never left the flat all morning."

"So you were here that morning, were you?" I reposted. "I told her she needed to get back before you woke up."

"Don't try that one!" he said. "I know for a fact she didn't leave her bed."

"You slept with her?" 

"What do you think? I don't stay the night with a woman and sleep somewhere else."

At that moment, there came a voice from what I assumed was the kitchen, "Who is it Nigel?"

'Nigel'! I mentally sniggered.

"Nobody, Darling," he shouted back as she came into the hallway. She saw me, and I'm sure she paled. Then her face clouded.

"Roddy!" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry darling, I'll get rid of him," he smiled with protective superiority.

"You won't!" she said angrily. "Get out of my way."

She stood with him on the doorstep, and looked at me worriedly.

"What is it Roddy?" she asked. 

"I foolishly thought when you gave your address to Cassie and said you hoped to see me soon, that you really did want to see me soon. Obviously so you could rub my face in your affair with this... Nigel!"

"No, Roddy I-"

"As he said, I'm a nobody," I ploughed on. "Well, this nobody came to explain something, and to ask you something. 

"None of it is relevant anymore from what I can see. It also makes the comment you threw over your shoulder as you left on Saturday morning nothing but a lie, and another insult to me. You're turning out to be good at that. Seems you play the same games as all the other pretty bitches. You didn't have to do this, you know, you could have just told me to keep out of your life. Last Saturday morning was a real farce, an act, wasn't it? Goodbye, Rachel."

At this I turned and made for the exit to the building. I heard him asking about Saturday, but she was shouting after me to come back, though I was not listening. I got into the car, angry and upset. It was the shock of finding that other man, Nigel, in a pinafore, clearly most at home.

Now what followed might seem to have been a mistake on my part, and probably was poor strategy, but it turned out to be fortuitous.

I started the engine as Rachel came running out of the building in an overcoat, waving her arms and shouting at me. My first impulse was to drive away, but I found I could not do that to her, even then - she looked so panic-stricken and agitated. So I waited until she came to the passenger side and opened the door.

Then she uttered the clichéd line which in other circumstances would have made me laugh heartily.

"Please Roddy, wait, it's not what you think!"

I turned off the engine, and she breathed a sigh of relief. I think it was short-lived.

"Ok, Rachel," I said mockingly, "Get in."

She did, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Nigel running towards us.

"Right, Rachel," I said, locking the doors, "What part of it is 'not what I think'? Is it that Nigel slept with you that Friday night and you told me he wasn't there? Before you answer he told me he was in your bed Saturday morning. 

"Or was it that you said he was 'not your boyfriend' but he's in your flat cooking a meal, very much at home in a pinny, taking it on himself to censor who gets to see you?"

Nigel tried my door and began hammering on the window. I looked at Rachel, a questioning look. 

"And he clearly thinks he owns you in some way from the way he's damaging my car."

She climbed out.

"NIGEL!" she yelled, "Leave it alone. Go away!"

"But he's bad news!" shouted Nigel. "Nothing but trouble!"

"Did you tell Rod that I slept with you last Friday?"

"I was at the flat and you never went to see him."

"Answer the bloody question!" she yelled. "Well?"

"Yes, but he said you-"

"I did go and see him. Did you sleep with me? EVER?"

He went very quiet. 

"Well?"

"No."

"No," she said menacingly, "Have you been here since then, apart from tonight?"

"Rach-e-l!" Now he was whining.

"Answer!"

"No." Reluctantly.

"Did I invite you tonight?"

"No, but you were pleased to see me."

"You waltzed into the flat, saw I was cooking, and began to take over the kitchen. True?"

"It was a team effort."

I had never seen a man once so full of confidence look so browbeaten and embarrassed. Rachel was continuing her dressing down. Note to self, don't get on her bad side.

"You do not know this man. Nor do you know why I was so upset last Friday, for I never told you Nigel, did I?"

He shook his head. "But, he must-"

"The reason I was upset was that I had made a stupid mistake, which was all my fault. So you had no right to tell him I wouldn't see him, had you?"

Again a shake of the head. "I was only trying-"

"To protect me? I don't need you to protect me, Nigel, I've been dealing with boys and men like you since my teens, and while I'm at it, since you asked me out, have you made any passes at me?"

"Of course," he said, gaining confidence, "You are very attractive; you would expect me to try."

"Exactly. I've been hit on by every man or boy who's shown any interest in me since I was a teenager. I've had enough of it. The man in this car, he took care of me for months when I was in a spot of trouble, and never once made a pass. You see, I was married, and he respected that. I'm getting divorced, but I'm still married. Didn't stop you, did it?"

"Oh, come on Rachel, you've split with Gary," he pleaded. "You wanted to date me; you need a man in your life."

"You think you know what sort of man I want in my life?" she asked him.

"I can give you everything you could want. You know that," he said, rather smugly I thought.

"Nigel, I assure you that you'll never understand why you can't in fact give me anything, and why I don't want what you're offering." 

Then she said more gently, "Thanks for all your attention, and for the meal last Friday. Rod and I have a lot of talking to do."

Nigel looked by turns surprised and disappointed. He shrugged, went back into the block before emerging in his expensive coat and getting into his large BMW. He drove off without a second look.

She looked at me apprehensively. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you."

So we went back to the flat, walking side by side, not touching.

Something was burning, she ran in and turned off the hob.

"My dinner! Ruined," she said with a groan.

"Let me phone Cassie," I said. "See if she's still there."

She was, and she was cooking.

"Can you fit an extra one in?" I asked. 

"No problem," came the reply. "How did it go?"

"Not yet," I said cryptically.

"Oh! Ok," she giggled, "Ready in an hour."

I put the phone away, and saw that Rachel was making a pot of tea for us.

"You're invited to dinner with Cassie and me," I said. "Will you come?"

She turned to me with a dazzling smile (good teeth). "Yes please," she said, "but have we time to talk?"

I nodded. "Three quarters of an hour. We eat in an hour."

She left the tea to brew, and gestured to the table in the kitchen. I sat on one side and she on the other.

"You hurt me," she said, not in anger, more in resignation or sadness. "Twice. Once on the Friday in the restaurant. You were so cold. Then you hurt me when I came to explain and apologise. I laid myself wide open to you and all you could say was 'thank you for explaining everything'. You were cruel, Rod. I know I made a lot of mistakes, but I was and am very sorry."

She looked woebegone.

"We know about the restaurant," I said: it was a defensive answer.

"Yes, I know," she rejoined, a little irritated, "but the Saturday-"

"I was not aware of being cruel," I said. "I was confused, and was wondering why you'd bothered to come at all 'to clear the air'. From my point of view you had not contacted me for months, you were with one of the typical men your type chooses, so I didn't see what 'air' needed clearing. You had no interest in me, I had been useful to you a while back, and having used me, you left me well alone. Now you were getting on with your life. I did not figure, so why turn up?"

"Typical men?" she said with annoyance, "and exactly what 'type' am I?"

"You know damned well what I mean, Rachel," I snapped. "You've been dating them since school. Some combination of tall, handsome, rich, assertive and powerful. I remember sixth form, and no doubt you continued dating that type through university."

"I-"

"And what 'type' are you? You are one of the 'beautiful' girls who know exactly how attractive they are and use it to get the most out of that type of man. Your 'type' fancies a good looking man and it is so, so easy to get him into bed, once he's paid for a good meal or some other treat, of course. 

"If he's good in bed you string him along for a while, then grow tired of him and dump him for someone else, unless of course you fall in love properly. Then it's a rich 'county' wedding, and a life of luxury. 

"Your 'type' never look at ordinary men - in fact you pointedly ignore them. I know because I'm one of them. I've been on the receiving end of you ignoring me all the time in school and also when you were with Gary. Ok?" I sneered.

"That's a horrible thing to say, and it's not true." Her green eyes were blazing. "I went out with you!"

I laughed hollowly. "You remember what you said when you got in the car the first time? Do you?"

Her brow furrowed. "No, it's months ago."

"Well, I do! It's etched on my memory! I'll tell you." 

I was beginning to raise my voice as she had. "You shouted at me: 'Come on Rod, drive! Let's get this over with.' I was shocked and said 'Sorry?' and you said, 'Sorry? I'm the one who's sorry, you're getting to fuck me.'




Mistakes



Disclaimer:



Okay, a couple of things: (1) Everyone is over 21, (2) this is fantasy and only fantasy, (3) No one real is portrayed in this work, (4) It contains; non-consent, oral, vaginal, anal, bdsm, mmf, gangbang, and bukkake (just thought I'd put that right out there), and (5) its an early draft of a story I thought some might enjoy - if its not your cup of tea that's cool - but remember it's not polished nor is it finished. 





*



Some mistakes you see coming and some you don't. Some you simply should have known to avoid. The situation she found herself in right now was one of them. She'd tried to get her friends to go out with her, tried to get a group together - there was safety in numbers after all, but no one wanted to go. Even her best friend had begged off and warned her not to go alone. She should have stayed in, but she had a stubborn streak. She hated being told what to do, and even her best friend's warning rankled. So, she poured herself a drink and then she'd gotten herself dolled up; mini-skirt, sexy, nearly see-through blouse, black bra and panties for underneath. Another drink disappeared as she did her make-up and fixed her hair. All the while frustrated by the fact that her friends wouldn't come out to play. Well, to hell with them, she decided as she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Checking herself in the mirror before she left her apartment confirmed what she already knew - she looked fucking hot!

On the street she hailed a cab, she might have shown a bit of leg when the cabby arrived. Why the hell not, she thought, she had great legs, might as well be appreciated for them. Climbing in, she did her best not to flash, but was pretty certain she'd failed. Screw it, that's why she wore pretty underwear. She giggled to herself. 

"Looking for a party?"

"Maybe," she replied with a teasing smile. "Can you take me somewhere fun?"

The driver's eyes drifted covetously over her body and she couldn't resist the urge to tease him a little bit, parting her legs ever so slightly. She loved watching him lean in to see better, knowing all the time he wouldn't get the view he was hoping for. She snapped her legs together startling him. "So, do you know someplace a girl can have a good time?"

"Well, I could take you to the usual dance clubs you little girls seem to like. You know the kind of place; loud music, pretty boys," he explained. "Or," he added as though the thought just occurred to him. "I could take you someplace a little more dangerous. Some place you'd be appreciated fully." She knew he was watching her in the mirror as she shifted uncomfortably, a little voice in her head warning her that she should just go to the clubs.

"I'll take you to the clubs," the driver announced putting the car in drive. "I can see you're not ready for anything more exciting." 

"Wait," she announced, her temper up at the implication. "Take me to the other place. I'm sure I can handle it."

The driver cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yep, definitely. Just take me there."

"As you wish."

The taxi twisted and turned as it wound its way through the city and by the time it came to a stop she was hopelessly lost. Looking around, she saw nothing that resembled a bar and she looked questioningly at the driver.

"Well?" 

He smiled back at her before pointing towards a heavy door. 

"It's a private members-only club," he explained. "Knock on the door and give them the password 'present'."

"Oh," she replied as she stepped from the car. "Wait, what about the fare? How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it, it's on the house." 

She watched the cab pull away before finally turning toward the door. This is a bad idea, she realized as she looked around. There was nothing near. "Come on girl," she whispered to herself. "You wanted adventure."

The cabby was right. The password got her through the door and the large well dressed bouncer that manned it. She was ushered down a flight of stairs and eventually found herself in a well appointed bar. The music playing was lively and a couple of pool tables owned the floor. Though not crowded the bar was far from empty, a few men and women played pool, drank and chatted. The bouncer spoke a few words to the bartender, a good looking guy with great hair, before returning to his post and the bartender in turn gave her a reassuring wink before returning his attention to the room.

"The entertainment has arrived!" he announced loudly and a feeling of dread came over her. 

"Um," she tried to get his attention but he wasn't paying her any mind. 

She felt a hand on her ass as she leaned on the bar.

"Hey!" she cried as she whirled around in outrage, slapping the man that groped her. The sound of that slap echoed through the suddenly quiet room, while the man she'd just slapped across the face rubbed his jaw. His eyes never leaving her as she ranted and raged at him. How dare he touch her! Fuck him! 

The backhand caught her across the cheek and nearly knocked her on her ass. Wait, the voice in her head cried. That's not right. He's not supposed to hit her back. 

Dazed and confused she was pulled roughly to her feet and held before her assailant. His eyes moved up and down her body clearly assessing what he saw. She'd never felt so much like a piece of meat and her cheek still throbbed. 

"Let go of me," she demanded as she struggled against the two men holding her. "Let me out of here. I'm leaving."

His hand caught her jaw, holding it painfully and making her look at him. 

"Shut. Up." His tone brooked no argument and in that moment she knew how over her head she was... she was in trouble and she wasn't going to be able to bluff or bully her way out of it. 

Releasing her jaw, his hands moved to her collar - a quick jerk ripped her blouse from top to bottom leaving it hanging open. 

"Hey," she began but stopped as he raised his finger in warning. He pulled a knife as he moved towards her and she found herself unconsciously cringing back against the hands that held her. Her eyes were wide with fear as the cold metal of the back of the blade touched her skin. The chill raised goose bumps on her skin and her heart beat furiously. The knife followed her cleavage and shredded her bra, leaving her exposed to the room - her nipples rising at the sudden chill. 

"Nice tits," someone commented and she blushed furiously as her skirt and panties soon followed the destroyed upper garments. As her shaved pussy made an appearance the cat-calls began and a tear slipped down the corner of her eye. 

"Please," she begged. "I'm sorry. There's been a misunderstanding. Please let me go."

He laughed at that, actually laughed in her face. She was outraged and terrified at the same time. And she had no time to do anything about either emotion as she was roughly dragged to the nearest pool table and bent lewdly over it. 

SMACK! She screamed out in surprise as the first spank rocked her bottom and, she was sure, left a stinging imprint behind. 

SMACK! Again she screamed.

"Alright," a voice announced. "Who's first?"

What, her mind freaked? First? She felt her legs kicked apart and knew that everyone had a great view of her pussy. She was embarrassed and yet, something about the sensation of being so exposed... what the fuck was wrong with her? 

She felt hands spread her cheeks further then fingers exploring into the lips of her pussy. They were far from gentle, pulling and pinching as they groped her before finding their way into her vagina. 

"Fuck," came an exclamation of surprise. "Little slut is soaking wet."

Her cheeks burned with shame at the announcement, but the fingers continued to grope her. She was roughly finger fucked for several minutes before she finally felt the head of a cock against her slit. She swallowed hard. Oh my god, her brain screamed at her as the hard wide member stretched her tight slit and she was slowly fucked. She couldn't see who it was, had no idea who was burying his cock in her cunt but damn, she didn't care. It felt so fucking good as is stretched her open that she found herself moaning in excitement and pushing back against whoever it was. 

Hands clawed into the tender flesh of her ass and the thrusting became harder and faster. Each thrust buried him all the way inside her. Each push made her grunt in response. He pounded harder and faster into her. She was so hot and horny she knew she was gushing wet, could feel it on her legs. His pounding reached a fevered pitch and she could tell he was close. She knew he'd go any moment, then suddenly nothing. He pulled out of her completely. What the hell, she thought moments before cold cum splashed across her ass and back. He pumped his load all over her covering her in his cum. One particularly good shot landed heavily in her hair to the applause of the group. 

"Next."

The second cock pounded into her already abused pussy and its length made her gasp as it hit her cervix. Her breathing came short and fast as he brutally pumped in and out of her, the apex of each thrust slamming into her tender organs. Oh god, she thought, he can't last long, not like this. Please let him finish. Thankfully, she was correct. He set an incredible pace and he was near climax. Pulling out suddenly he added his come to her already coated ass and back. 

The third to take her was wide, incredibly wide. She groaned in surprise as her battered and brutalized pussy lips stretched painfully to accommodate. He entered her well-lubed cunt slowly and she felt every painful inch as he took her. She was nearly hyperventilating when she finally felt his hips against her ass. He paused there, giving her a moment to adjust and she caught her breath as he began pulling back till the wide head was almost free. The second thrust was nearly as slow as the first and she was able to savour the width as it filled her. She moaned in ecstasy as he again bottomed out in her and again pulled back. The third thrust came hard and fast -- driving deep and catching her by surprise. She screamed as his hips slammed into her and the room exploded in applause and cheers. He fucked her hard from that point on and she struggled to breath as he rode her. To her shame, her own climax was mounting and she clawed at the pool table felt as he took her. He clearly didn't care if she enjoyed herself or not, but he was at least taking his time enjoying the feeling of her tight hole; he was wide enough to hit all the right places inside her and after the previous two cocks, she was nearing her orgasm. A few more thrusts the filled her to bursting brought her over the edge and she screamed out her climax as his shaft buried deep inside her. Her pussy clamped tightly around his cock and she nearly tore free from the hands holding her as her orgasm flooded through her. 

The throbbing of her muscles around his shaft took him over the edge and he pulled out with a pop and shot his massive load across her back. She felt much of the heavy spunk land in her hair but she really didn't care at that moment. 

A fourth man replaced him and she screamed as he slammed his dick into her over stimulated pussy. Her own climax was so recent that she needed recovery time, but didn't get it. Each thrust left her crying out as her tender slit absorbed more abuse. 

"Please," she begged. "Enough." 

The men holding her laughed and the one fucking her grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her head up as he continued to pleasure himself. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he rode her hard, pulling her hair whenever she seemed to relax. She begged for mercy again and again, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Finally, after what felt like an eternity he released her hair and she collapsed on the table as came across her body. 

"No more," she begged, barely able to raise her head from the felt. 

"The slut's pussy needs some time," a voice announced and she felt a wave of relief pass through her. A feeling quickly replaced by fear as she felt the next man line his cock up with her ass. 

"No, No, No," she cried. "Please..."

SMACK! The brutal slap across her ass silenced her for a moment, her cheek stinging from the blow. The scream that tore from her throat as the hard cock violated her ass echoed through the bar as she tried to curl into a foetal position. Strong hands held her as he buried himself balls deep in her anus.

"Fuck, she's tight," he grunted as he pulled back and pushed in again as she cried out. "Don't think," he commented as he pulled back again. "I'm going to..." He thrust back in again harder her sobs shaking her body. "Laaahhhhhhhst!" the last was yelled as he lost control and climaxed in her anus. His cock pumped its load deep into her bowels and she felt every spurt and jerk. He filled her up and as he pulled out of her now lubed ass she felt his cum leaking out as her tight hole snapped shut. She sobbed on the table waiting for whatever new horror awaited her. 

"At least she's lubed now," she heard as she felt her sphincter being parted again. "Fuck, look at it dribble out of her ass. Fuck that's hot." 

This time the thrust didn't hurt like it had, the cock slid in with relative ease and she gasped as he began thrusting and fucking her spoilt rosebud. The previous violation faded away as the pleasure from this new intruder grew. Long slow, hard strokes had her gasping with something close to pleasure as he took his time. The feel of his balls slapping against her on each full thrust was almost as sexy as they sound they made. He rode her ass for what felt like a glorious eternity and she was soon groaning and writhing across his member. 

"That's it you little fuck slut," he taunted and the words made her blush but also turned her on. "I've been watching. You've been loving this - being treated like a little whore." He slapped the ass he was fucking and she groaned in pleasure. "We're going to ruin you for anything else," he teased as he thrust deep. "No sex will ever get you off as much as what we're going to do to you." She moaned in pleasure and he slapped her ass again before reaching for her hair. He pulled her head up and she moaned and writhed, skewered on his cock as she was. "That's it you stupid bitch. Ride my cock you slutty cunt!" He thrust again and again, taunting and tormenting as he rode her. She had never been so humiliated, never been so brutally used, in her life. Oh fuck, she thought. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why was she so fucking turned on?

She moaned and bucked as he owned her ass.

"Come for me, you horny slut!" he demanded and she had no choice - the command, the sensations, the arousal - she came in a howling heap as he rode her arching, stiffening body. Her muscles clamped and he groaned in pleasure. "That's it whore, fuck ya!" 

She felt him climaxing, felt him pumping semen into her anal canal. 

She might've blacked out for a moment, things got hazy. One moment she was having the most mind-blowing orgasm and the next she was lifting her head from the table's felt, a trickle of drool leaving a wet spot on the field of green. Her ass and pussy felt wide and ravaged, but empty, something cool and wet ran down her thighs and she didn't have to wonder long as to what it was.

"The slut's awake," someone exclaimed and she was roughly pulled up off the table and put on her knees. The men holding her pulled their cocks free from their pants and wrapped her hands around their stiffening shafts. 

"No," she protested as she tried to release them but a hard slap to her face shocked her awake. The man from earlier crouched before her, his eyes meeting hers. She dropped her eyes away and he grabbed her hair, wrenching her back up. "Slut," he snapped and she hated that she liked it. "You'll do what you're told. Do you understand?" She stared at him dumbly for a moment and he gave her head a shake. "Do you?"

"Yes," she whispered. A second slap made her gasp, tears in her eyes. 

"Yes, what?" he demanded and her mind whirled as it searched for the answer.

"Yes, sir," she said tentatively. His smile filled her with relief. 

"Good girl," he praised and she was surprised at how good that praise made her feel. "Now then," he announced as he stood up. "Where were we?" 

Her hands were once again wrapped around the two hard cocks and this time she didn't let go. They had to prompt her a bit, but eventually she got the idea and began stroking both men. She closed her eyes as she concentrated on her task and was taken by surprise when she felt the stiff head of a cock against her lips. 

"Wha..." she began but was cut off as the hard cock was pushed roughly between her lips. Whoever it was went deep and she tried to pull back to stop from gagging on the thick flesh, but he wrapped his hands into her hair and roughly held her still while he tried to fuck the back of her throat. 

When he released she gasped for air, her face red from the exertion. She wanted to push the man away but her hands were held tight around the throbbing shafts as the other two men used her hands as portable pussies. The cock was roughly shoved back into her throat, her hair being used to pull her forward as he brutally fucked her mouth. This time she did gag when he pulled back and saliva gushed across her lips. He didn't seem to care and slammed into her again. Again and again he used her this way. All the while her hands were used to jerk the other two men off. She lost track of time and place. All she knew and felt was cock, pain, and amazingly enough arousal. The cock in her right hand came first and she was showered in cum. It splattered against her cheek and eyelids as she hurriedly closed her eyes. The man on her left followed closely after and his spunk coated her hair and forehead. Still the man abusing her mouth pounded away at her until finally, after what felt like an eternity he pulled out and jerked his cum all over her open mouth and face. His semen was salty and hot as it hit her tongue and she found herself swallowing, even as long lines of the goop slowly ran across her closed eyes and nose. 

"Fuck, what a hot mess! Let me!" 

Hands in her hair were all the warning she received to open her mouth again as a second cock began thrusting against her tongue and teeth. With her hands free she was able reach up and help jerk this one off... and yet she couldn't believe she was doing it. She was helping this bastard abuse her. 

"Good girl!" he purred and she felt warm and tingly inside. "Good little fuck toy, help me paint your pretty little slut face." The words seemed to help both of them. She was aroused and humiliated as she jerked him faster, her teeth scraping across the thick head of his cock. He moaned in excitement and a shiver of anticipation passed through her. 

"Fuck!" was all the warning she got and she opened her eyes to watch the cock in her hands begin to spew its white, creamy fluid. Fuck that's hot, she thought as she reflexively closed her eyes against the mess questing for her face. The hot cum coated her and she felt it heavy on her lashes when she tried to open them. 

When she managed to open her eyes she found herself surrounded by men jerking their dicks in her direction. Initially she was shocked, but as the first man ejaculated all over her she couldn't help but smile. Some part of her was spectacularly turned on as the men began to rain semen down on her. There was nowhere to turn as cum spewed from every direction coating her hair and face. Some aimed at her pretty tits and neck and soon she was covered in a layer of the gooey spunk. 

That must be it, she thought. They must be done. What else could they possibly do to her?

That question was answered quickly when a bench was laid out in front of her and one of the men laid down on it. His cock was stiff, hard and glistening with pre-cum. She blinked confused, unsure what they expected of her, but before she could formulate the words to ask she was roughly lifted. Two men held her in the air while two of the women present spread her legs wide. One slid her fingers into her pussy and frowned in disgust at the wetness she left on it. 




Mistakes



"You should be fucking ashamed of yourself," she chided. "What kind of whore gets turned on being used like a fucking toy? How many times have you come yourself you horny little cunt?" The brutal slap across her erect nipple caught her by surprise and she cried out. "Did that hurt? Or did it just make you hornier?" A second slap then a third and soon tears were streaming down her face. The woman turned away from her. "Let's get on with this," she snapped and the men lifted her over the bench. 

The brutal woman guided her down onto the waiting shaft. "That's it slut, slide his cock right up inside you. What a good little whore you are." 

The man's cock filled her sending tingly sensations through her body. He slowly began to thrust into her and she found herself matching his pace as she rocked her hips with his. 

"Mmmmm," she purred. 

"Oh no, slut. This is not some romantic one-on-one time," the woman from before announced before grabbing her by the hair and bending her forward. 

SMACK! The sudden sting across her ass startled her but after all that had happened it would have too much harder to really hurt. She almost smiled at the realization, but quickly thought better of it. She dare not antagonize them any further. 

Her mind was still thinking of spankings when she felt the pressure against her ass. Startled she wrenched her head up to look back but was brutally pushed forward for her efforts. The pressure increased and she realized that someone was shoving their cock up her ass. She gasped and cried as she was filled. Two thick wide shafts pushed into her tender holes. 

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she repeated as the second cock filled her anus. She could feel both of them inside of her. Feel them both move independently as they slowly figured out the rhythm necessary to fuck her. 

"Agggghhhh," she managed as they pumped in and out of her. So much sensation, her brain screamed at her -- too much sensation. They picked up the pace and soon both men were fucking her with a vengeance. She groaned and mewled with each stroke. She didn't know if she could form words if she wanted to. 

"God damn filthy cunt," the woman berated in her ear as she pulled her head back by her hair. "You're a filthy cunt, aren't you? Say it?" she demanded. 

"I'm... I'm... I'm a filthy cunt," she finally managed to get out. 

"Yes you are," the woman agreed. "And a filthy cunt doesn't need words, does she? Not when there are better things she could do with her mouth." 

This was the cue for one of the men to step forward, his cock was the widest and longest she'd ever seen and it was far to big for her little mouth. She clamped her mouth shut, knowing what was about to happen. The slap across her cheek stung and she cried out, only to be muffled by the long thick shaft passing her lips. 

"God help you if you bite," he warned and she cringed in fear, terrified to imagine the consequences as her lips and jaw stretched wide. 

The men increased their rhythms clearly only concerned with their own pleasure as they pounded away at all her holes. She grunted and groaned, mewled and drooled as she did her best to weather the onslaught of abuse. Her ass felt torn up and tender from the amount of attention it had received in the last hours. Her pussy lips were swollen and ached from similar treatment. And right now she was certain the monster cock that stretched her lips and jaw painfully was going to leave her black and blue as it was thrust in and out of her exhausted mouth. And all the while, the bitch was right there, pulling her hair when she threatened to lag. Slapping her cheeks when her eyes began to roll back in her head. 

Fuck, she thought, it's too much. Her vision started to tunnel as she threatened to black out, the slaps to her cheeks were barely felt. 

"Oh no you don't," the bitch said with contempt. "You don't get away that easily." 

She screamed around the cock in her mouth, as her nipple was visciously pinched and twisted. 

"Thought that might wake you up." 

Oh god, oh god, she thought. I can't take more. Please cum. Please cum. 

Her prayers were finally answered when she found herself gagging on spunk. His ejaculation caught her off guard and she choked on his semen, desperately trying to swallow the hot fluid before it drowned her. 

"Good girl," the bitch purred. "Drink him all down. Swallow all that yummy cum."

The words made her heart race. My god, what the hell is wrong with me, she wondered. But before she could consider it too much, the boys in her other holes had reached the bursting point. The both thrust into her together and she felt their cocks separated by such a little amount of flesh try to gut her. She felt them explode their orgasms into her holes and she felt them fill her up. The climax she hadn't realized was approaching hit her like a tonne of bricks when she felt them unloading buckets of cum in her tiny body. She groaned in passion as she pushed back onto the two hard shafts.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" she cried.

He pulled out of her ass first, faster than she expected and she had a horrific moment where she thought she messed herself and realized it was likely just his cum finding its way out of her anus. The two men were back to lift her off the shrivelling cock in her pussy and it slid free with a pop. Long stringing lines of cum trailed from her holes as the men laid her on her back. 

She looked up in wonder, blinded by the lights around her and the people watching her. A shadow fell across her and she saw the bitch looking down at her. 

"My turn cunt," she hissed as she knelt down to straddle her face. The scent of arousal and sex nearly overwhelmed her as the woman's neatly trimmed pussy covered her mouth. "Make me cum, slut!"

To be continued...