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Nighttime

By: BenLong



I got one of those e-mails forwarded to me today that reminded me of something that I've got to share. This e-mail was of several pretty girls, but the emphasis was their nipples. All had beautiful, extremely long nipples, similar to my sisters.

I met my wife in college when we were both sophomores. We dated on and off for a couple of years, then decided we liked each other better than others and permanently latched onto each other. 

My wife Shauna has always had a beautiful ass. In college her long legs accented a well formed bottom that filled out a bikini or short shorts to the max. In later years, when she filled out a cocktail dress in equally exquisite fashion I always loved watching heads swivel checking her out as she walked through a room. Her breasts are not overly large, just enough that they accented her lower half rather than detracting from perfection. Not the firm high risers that support themselves, she always failed the pencil test. Consequently she always was able to wear thin or shear bras that would support without hiding her assets.  In fact, she often wore skimpy bras and low cut, deep vee blouses that showed lots and lots of cleavage. She has large areola with large nipples that never extend much even when aroused. Even when cold or aroused her nipples never showed more than just a slight bump in her sweater or bikini. Today she suffers from the same mental defect that all middle aged women seem to get – that "I'm not 18 anymore so I'm defective" gene. I think she still looks good, but no matter how much I tell her – she doesn't want to believe it.

I didn't visit Shauna's family until Christmas of our senior year. By that time we were pretty sure our futures were together. I knew little about her family, a younger brother and sister, she was the oldest. I met everyone the first day except her younger sister, who arrived the day after we did. Three years younger, she'd been going to college elsewhere and didn't arrive until late in the day. I'd seen pictures however, and was well aware that her younger sister was very pretty.

Shelly, Shauna's sister is a living doll. She is 8" shorter than Shauna's 5'6." At 4'10" she is one of the shortest adults I've ever known. While Shauna looks almost like her fathers mother, Shelly is definitely from their mother's family. Shorter than their father's side, Shelly is the spitting image of her mother. I've seen pictures of their mother when she was a teenager, and except for the age of the pictures, I'd swear it was a picture of Shelly. 

About the only thing they share body wise is a well formed bottom. Shelly's short legs and firm breasts, really no larger than Shauna's – but proportionally larger, due to her smaller body, give her a pronounced hourglass shape. When I met Shauna, I immediately liked her and when she started giving me a hard time, I started a life long tradition of teasing her in return. She said something that I can't even remember, but my response was that it was nice to have someone in the family that could be carried around in a hip pocket. I almost immediately started calling her "pipsqueak" or "shorty," names she'd heard before, but were only said with extreme fondness. I loved Shauna's mom and sister, and always greeted them with a hug. Do to their short stature and small size – and my 6'6" height – it's always been easy to pick them right up off the floor and give them a bear hug.

It was about two year before I saw Shelly in a bikini. I'd seen pictures and knew she had a gorgeous figure, but it wasn't until a fourth of July beach party at the lake that I saw her in a swimsuit. I was immediately awestruck. She had one of the most dynamite figures I've ever seen. And, she had a boyfriend. And, I had a fiancé. And – oh well. I figured I was a day late and a dollar short.

Our teasing relationship always had a touch of flirting in it. One of my favorite greetings was to give her a big hug, and say to her fiancé "Nice boobs, Dave. Why don't you get a girl to go with 'em next time?" She'd always laugh and playfully slap me, and then later she'd give me some kind of jab in return.

On one vacation or holiday visit to her parents we were washing clothes one day and Shelly brought some clothes down to wash at the same time. For the first time I saw one of her bras, and unlike my wife's, it was of heavier, padded type construction. As we were folding clothes I commented to my wife that her bras were so much different than her sisters, and I didn't know why she needed padded bras, she had a great figure. She told me that Shelly had started wearing padded bras in Junior High school as her nipples were so long and that she had been embarrassed by so many boys that she did it to keep them from showing so much. I realized that I'd never seen her without a bra, and remembered seeing that even her bikini had a fairly heavy lining. 

We'd been married for 5 years, Shelly and Dave for two when we rented a cabin for a long weekend at Thanksgiving. The four of us got away, and had a great time – including the experience of my life. 

This wasn't a sex weekend, although we did have sex. This was just two married sisters and their husbands that got along spending the weekend at a cabin. We played games, we went for walks, and we had a good time. The second night there, a snowstorm rolled in, and we snuggled in to keep warm in front of the fire. Baileys and hot chocolate, Irish coffee, hot buttered rums. I kept the drinks fed, and before long none of us was feeling any pain. Shelly and Shauna went to put on PJ's, and for the first time I saw Shelly's breasts without a bra. 

My wife returned first, wearing cotton PJ's that were basically just pants and shirt. It was obvious to me she was braless. I've always loved the sway of free breasts, and around the house is the only time she'd ever go braless. Shauna knows I love it when she does go braless but this was the first time I'd ever seen her do it around her brother. Shelly came out moments later, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth from falling open. She had on a form fitting stretch body stocking that went clear below her knees. It was obvious she was totally naked beneath it, the curve of her ass, the bulge of her breasts, and particularly the nipples that, even through the material, must have extended half an inch from her body. It was all that I could do to look away and pretend that nothing was different, but I was in awe. Her nipples were always erect, and a couple of times I thought they must have swollen even more as at different times they appeared to be even larger.

For the rest of the evening, I snuck a look whenever I could, without obviously staring. I had a reason to ogle every time I delivered a drink however, and I made sure no one else needed to make any. A couple of hours, more than a couple of drinks, and as the fire died down we headed to bed. I stoked the fire, and when I got into the bedroom Shauna was already trying to fall asleep. My erection was having none of that however, and soon we were both naked and sharing our passion. 

Shauna's nipples were never very big, but when I sucked on them they got as long as they ever would. That night it was Shelly's that were in my head as I sucked Shauna's. I soon brought her to orgasm and before I came she asked me to do her scissors, her favorite position where I can get really deep, easy, penetration. I slid around behind her and with long easy strokes brought us both to climax together. Afterward, still semi-hard, I started to pull out but she put her hand on my hip and said "No, stay. I love it when you're in me." As we lay there relaxing, I suddenly realized I could hear the bed squeaking in the next room, and it dawned on me that our own bed had been quite squeaky just minutes before. The thought of them doing it, and them hearing us do it made my hard-on expand a little more, but we both soon fell asleep.

I don't know how long before we fell asleep, or how long we slept, but when I awoke my now soft cock had fallen out of my wifes body. Our love juices had begun to dry, leaving my cock feeling crusty. I said "Sweetheart" to tell my wife to get up and clean up with me, but her snores told me she was gone for the night. I quietly got up, walked to the door and stopped, listening. All quiet – I opened the door, naked, and stepped out to the bathroom halfway down the hall. The door was open, so without turning the light on, using just the light from the hall nightlight, took a wash cloth and washed myself. I stepped out to start back to bed, and stepping out of the other bedroom with her back to me pulling the door silently shut was Shelly. 

She didn't see me at first. As she turned, she glanced up and saw me, let out a little quiet shriek as she covered her mouth with her hand, then dropped her arm to cover her breasts. She was practically naked, her form fitting tube of before replaced with a diaphanous shoulder to waist cover that left nothing to the imagination. With my eyes acclimated to the darkness, the nightlight seemed to illuminate her as well as if the hall light had been on. She looked sheepish, and then glancing down at my rapidly rising cock giggled and said "Well at least I can see you're a friendly prowler. I guess there's nothing left to hide, is there?" Now I was openly staring. Her nipples were as long as any I'd ever seen. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a neat heart shape, but it was her nipples that had my attention. I reached forward, and pulled her arm to the side, she didn't resist. "My god Shelly, they're fabulous." I whispered. I looked at her face, and then back to her nipples. When I reached forward and slipped both hands under her top and ran my thumbs over them she didn't try and stop me. Despite their length, as my thumbs and fingers fondled her nipples I could feel them growing to my touch. She reached for my neck, pulling my head to hers. I grabbed her, pulled her to me, and lifted her into our familiar bear hug, only this time my mouth was on hers, tongues parrying for control, her wonderful firm upturned breasts crushed against my chest. My cock was hard as a rock, and as I relaxed my bear hug on her, she slid down, only to find my cock resting against her opening. She spread her legs, wrapped them around my waist and without any help from our hands slid onto my cock. She was as wet as I was hard, I'm sure from her husband's semen as well as her own arousal. I took her armpits and lifted, she helped with her legs. Raising and lowering her on my cock, I fucked her standing in the hallway. I don't know how many strokes we did standing like that, before I turned and stepped back into the bathroom, resting her bottom on the bathroom sink so I could bend and suck her nipples. 

Despite how long they'd been to my fingers, they continued to grow to my tongue and sucking. Before we climaxed they were at least ¾ of an inch long. Until today, in that e-mail from a friend, I've never seen nipples as long as hers were that night. We came, and as our passion for each other subsided, sanity returned. I stood there, my cock buried in my sister, slowly softening. "I think you'd better let me down." I eased off, our cum dribbled from her pussy onto the edge of the sink. I took the washcloth from the rack and handed it to her. She wiped once, then hopped off the sink and turned. She washed herself up, then handed me the now warm washcloth and watched as I once again washed my once again semi-hard cock. When I finished, she took my hand and led me down the hall toward our bedrooms. She stopped at the door, and beckoned me. I bent so she could whisper to my ear. She said "Thank you," kissed my cheek and gently pushed me toward my door. I watched her go into her own room and after the door closed, opened my own and crawled into bed. Shauna's heavy breathing told me she was still asleep.

The following day I pretended nothing had happened, waiting to see any sign from Dave or Shelly that he might have a clue. There was nothing. Apparently neither of our spouses was the wiser. The following day we packed, cleaned and as I was putting baggage into the car, Shelly delivered more. For the first time she let me know that this was more than just a dream. "What happened last night, Dave and Shauna must never know. We were drunk, and it happened. It can never happen again." 

I turned and looked at her. "Do you regret it?" I asked? 

She stood, unmoving for a moment, then slowly shook her head no. "Me either." I heard Dave's footsteps on the stairs approaching, so turned and picked up a bag to put into the car. 

As she turned to leave, I said "Shelly?" 

She turned and looked at me, "What?" Her face fearfully said "you aren't going to say anything are you?" as her husband walked up.

"Thanks for everything, pipsqueak."

Nighttime



Turning off the computer, I decide to turn in for the night. I am thinking of him. I had received dozens and dozens of responses, but he was the only one who 'got it'. He knew what the scarf was for. 

I turn the bedroom light on, knowing he would want to see my body. Imagining he is there, standing in my bedroom, I take off my sweatpants with my back to him. I place my hands under the sweats, slowly pushing them down my legs to my knees. I bend at the waist, causing the black lace cheekies to slide up into the crack of my ass just a little, exposing my ivory cheeks just a little more. I run my hands over my ass. The lace feels so good against my skin. I start to unbutton my shirt, turning around to face him like he is there; exposing the black lace push up bra has 'the ladies' providing lots cleavage.

I finish unbuttoning my shirt and let it fall to the floor. Imagining he is looking, with my feet about six inches apart, I turn around with my back to the bed, grab my lace panties at the sides of my hips and slowly bend over, never letting go of the panties. I let my hands take them all the way to my ankles. I slowly remove one foot at a time. I know from where I have him standing, watching this, with my height, combined with the height of the bed, he will just see my clit, pussy and ass exposed all at once for his taking. 

The thought of him watching me undress excites me. I slowly rise back up, running my hands up my body as I do. I reach around my body and unclasp my bra, freeing the ladies, and letting the bra fall to the floor. I place a hand under each breast, cupping them, lifting and gently massage the underside, moving across the surface of the skin. So soft, ivory white, never exposed to the sun or tanning bed lights. I know he would enjoy. I turn out the light.

I had changed the sheets on the bed earlier in the day, so I was enjoying climbing in. I love the feel of freshly clean sheets on my body; even if the sheets are not satin, somehow they always feel that way the first night on the bed. Lying there on my left side, I run my right hand down the length of my body. I love the way it is beginning to respond to the workouts. 

I start at my armpit. The muscles just underneath are stronger, moving downhill I can feel the firmness of my ribcage which leads into the soft dip of my waist and right back uphill to my hips. The firmness of my thighs, now a little more defined, and my hamstrings are little firmer and rounded as the muscle takes shape. My hand slides back to my ass. My cheeks are a little more round and solid. I like this feeling and as my middle finger lightly slides across the space between my cheeks I realize I want to satisfy myself. I continue rubbing my ass, it's soft but yet firm. The skin surface of my cheeks feels different from my legs or back. I am thinking it is due to the fact they, like my tits, have never seen the sun or tanning bed lights. I continue tracing my hand lightly down my ass, up under to explore my pussy from behind. Hmm, I think as I move my right knee up towards my chest, opening myself up to my own exploring fingers. I trace my fingers over my clit and move a finger a little inside myself, moving the finger back and forth to tease. 

Involuntarily my hips arch down, wanting to give my finger more access. I can't get as deep into myself as I want to go, so straightening out my right leg, I roll over on my back. I stop for a second, resting my right hand at the base of my neck, I can smell my own juices. Nice. I run my hand across the top of my chest. I can feel my collar bones and the muscles in my upper chest. Hmm, soft, firm, healthy. Arching my back and stretching, I reach up, taking a breast firmly in each hand. I squeeze harder then I usually would letting myself know I am really still alive; rolling my nipples in between my thumb and index finger. My body becomes more alive underneath my hands. Inhaling deeply, I continue to roll a breast in each hand, teasing my nipples and imagining the hands are the large hands of a man who wants me. 

I release my breasts to begin lightly circling the outside with my usual feathery touch, moving in circles from the outside in, until I reach the nipples, giving them a roll between my fingers. I slide my hands down over my ribcage and downhill to my stomach, rounded and soft, I can feel subtle changes here too. I reach further with both hands to play with my pubic hair and pull back on the flesh, causing tension in between the folds that lay further below. 

Sliding my right hand further down, I begin stroking my clit with my middle finger while the rest massage surrounding flesh and my left continues to play with my hair. Separating my legs a little to better my access, I slide my middle finger up inside myself. HMMMM, ohh that feels good, I think to myself. I am so wet. Wanting more, I reach over, open the drawer to the nightstand, and pull out my vibrator. 

I open up my legs and using my left hand, dip the toy in my juices for lubrication, turning on low at the point of impact sending electrical impulses through my body. I close my legs and rest the vibrator on my clit, teasing myself. My hips rolling just a little, keeping the toy on my clit, sending tingling through me. My hips move up more sending the toy into my pussy. Oh that feels soooo good. I stroke my inner walls with the toy. I sigh in enjoyment. I move the toy back on my clit and rock my pelvis up so I can easily place my right index finger inside my very wet pussy. I move my hips back and forth, moving my finger in and out of me, caressing that magical spot inside. 

I freeze still, hips rocked upward, the vibrator in my left hand pressed against my clit and my finger caressing inside of me. I can feel it building. I can't stand it. Each stroke has me wanting more, deeper. I begin slow pulses upward to intensify the feeling. Not enough, I have to have more. My breathing is erratic, waiting for the explosion. I stoke my clit, moving the vibrator to the opening of my pussy, just touching my finger causing my finger to vibrate just a little up inside me. I can feel my walls contracting around my finger as my pussy begins squirting juices on my hand. I feel the electrical explosion through my body as simultaneously as if I'm drugged. A calm feeling consumes my brain. 

I relax my pelvis, lying still for just a moment enjoying the pleasure and the feeling of the sheets on my skin. I roll over on my left side, tucking my knees to my chest, and fall asleep.



Nighttime Adventure



I look around the bedroom and it was dark, very dark. There was nothing unusual about that, considering I had just woken up in the middle of the night suddenly. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was too dark, there was no light coming from the window, it was the darkest it had ever been. I reached up to my eyes and felt that they were covered, I had been blindfolded. I sat up quickly, wondering what was going on.

"Sir," I asked knowing I would find answers from You.

"SShh babydoll. Don't speak. We are going to play tonight. Just follow my orders, and I promise You that You are going to have a wonderful time. Trust me, that is all You need to do."

I nodded my head yes, feeling a bit of relief come over me. The relief was mixed with excitement and nervousness. I always loved it when You had surprises for me. I knew this must be good, if You were waking me up in the middle of the night."

"babydoll, I want you to get out of bed. Right down at the foot of the bed you will feel clothes lay there. Go ahead and put them on. Do not under any circumstance remove your blindfold. I will tell you when You can."

I slowly got out of bed, and felt my way down to the end. I could feel that laid out there was a shirt, and jeans. No bra, and no panties. 

I got dressed and stood there, trying to get a feel for where You were in the room.

You were not making any noise, so it was hard to tell what was going on.

"babydoll, take my hand. We are going to the truck. Walk carefully down the stairs, I do not want You tripping."

I felt Your hand brush up against mine, and I grabbed hold. We started walking out of the bedroom to the front door. I wanted to ask where we were going, but knew better. We slowly made our way down the stairs, and came to the truck. You opened my door and I got in and You closed it, and went in to get in on Your side.

We left the drive way, and we drove. I do not know how long We drove. There was silence. At one point, it seemed like at least fifteen minutes later, I could hear You lighting a cigarette. "Hold out your hand."

I did and You place a cigarette between my finders."

We kept driving, had a few more smokes, so I know we had been on the road for awhile. 

Suddenly we were slowing down. My heart was racing. I knew that what ever You had planned was about to happen. 

You got out of the car, and came and let me out. 

I could feel You standing right in front of me, very close to my face, as I could feel Your breath on me.

"I love you babydoll. I will not let anything bad happen to you. I will be very close to you tonight, you will never be out of my sight. I want you to remember that at anytime you feel that you can not handle what is going on, you are to say "red." I will be a stop to the activities, we will go home, and we will pretend this evening never happened. I will love you no less, I will not hold it against you. Remember that. Ok?"

I nodded yes. 

You took my hand once again and we started walking. I heard you open a door and we moved indoors. 

"Strip"

I started to take my clothes off. You were taking my clothes from me as I did.

"Hands behind your back.

I moved my hands behind my back, as I did this you grabbed hold of my writs and handcuffed them.

I felt you put something over my head and it slid down around my neck. It was not a necklace, it had some weight to it, and something was laying right above my breasts. My mind was racing trying to figure out what was going on. 

You took me by the wrist and we moved just a few feet across the room. 

"Kneel."

I moved down to my knees. The ground was cold. It did not have carpet on it. It was some sort of tile. 

" Remember everything I said to you outside babydoll. Tell me You love me."

"I love You Sir."

"Good girl. Now we will let the fun begin." I could hear in Your voice that You were smiling. 

It was very quite for a few minutes. You did not speak. I was not even sure where You were in the room. I kept moving my head around trying to hear, but there was just silence.

Without warning I heard the door open. I could hear footsteps. I became very nervous. 

I heard a strange man laugh. 

"Is this for real?," he asked.

"Yes, it is. Enjoy." I heard You say. 

I was relieved to hear Your voice.

I could hear the footsteps coming closer to me. I wanted to speak out, but knew I would only get in trouble for doing that. I had to bite down on my lip.

I could feel someone standing very close to me. I heard a noise. I couldn't place the sound it at that second. A second or so after that noise I was being covered in water, I could feel it falling on my breasts. 

It didn't take me long to realize this wasn't water. It was warm, it had a smell to it. It clicked, it was piss. Someone was peeing on me. I didn't know what to do. Who was peeing on me? What was going on, why was he peeing on me? 

I opened my mouth to speak.

"Unless you are about to say red babydoll, I suggest you don't say anything." 

I closed my mouth.

I wasn't sure how I was feeling. It seemed like this man was peeing on me forever. He was drowning my chest.

"What about her face?" he asked.

I did not hear a response. But quickly realized what the answer was.

My face was hit with a stream of pee.

At first I did not know if I was enjoying this, or if it was the worst experience of my life. But as the pee ran down my face, dripping over my lips, I knew this was a very good time in my life. 

The flow of piss stopped. I heard that noise again, it was his zipper. 

I could feel him staring at me. I wondered what he was thinking. I tried not to think about it. I tried to focus on how I was feeling. With that thought, an instinct hit in, and I licked my lips dry. 

"Oh, look at that, she does like it." , the man said with a slight laugh in his voice. 

"Yes, she does like it, she is nothing but a filthy dirty little piss slut." You said back to the man. 

I couldn't help but to smile. 

"Thanks.," the man said. This was the most enjoyable piss I ever took.

I could hear him walking away. I heard the door open and close again. 

"I knew you would enjoy this babydoll, you handled that very well."

From how You said that I thought we were done. I was wrong.

Ten or so minutes pasted and the door opened again.

I heard voices, not just one voice but two or three. The men where all laughing and talking. As they got closer they were still talking. Then one of them must have seen me.

"Damn guys, check this out. I have never seen anything like this in my life." One of the guys said.

Another one replied to him. "Well we sure did hit the jack pot tonight." 

"Enjoy her men, she is here to be used.," You said. 

"Well if you insist.," one of them said with a chuckle. 

"Does she have a name?" one asked

"Yes, she is babydoll."

"Well babydoll, I am Jack, and my friends here are Stephen, and Thomas."

It seemed he paused waiting for a response. "She is not allowed to speak." You told them. 

"Ok, that's cool." Jack said

"Well guys, lets see if we can soak her."

All three of them laughed.

As they were laughing I heard there zippers coming down. I felt a surge rush through me. I was about to have three strange men pee on me. my Master was there, watching and that thought turned me on even more. I was wondering how hard Your cock was at that moment. I could tell my pussy was getting wet, wondering if anyone could see that.

I didn't have much time to let these thoughts pour through my mind, because once they had their zippers down, warm pee started splattering all over my body. They had to have been moving their cocks around because the piss was hitting me all over, my hair, my face, my chest, my legs. I was being covered with this warm wonderful liquid. 

"Do you think it is ok if we piss in there?" One of the men said.

"Well it says there that we can.," said Jack

"babydoll, open your mouth." You ordered.

I started opening my mouth, before I could get it all the way open, it was being filled with pee. I started swallowing it. The taste was strong, but it was good. I had never felt so dirty in my entire life. 

" Damn girl, drink it down."

"Look, she is really enjoying herself."

"She can't get enough, what a little piss slut."

"She is soaked and she is loving it."

I could hear them, but their words were not focused. My insides were shaking, my pussy was on fire. I was about to cum.

My breathing started getting heavier and faster. Some sort of moans were coming out of my mouth.

"Go ahead babydoll, cum. Show them how much you like being covered in the piss of strange men." You said.

With that an orgasm flooded my body. I was having trouble staying up on my knees. My whole body was shaking from the intensity. 

"Boy, I have never seen a woman cum like that in my life." Jack said

"To bad we are out of piss. Seems like such a waste leaving her like this." Another one of the men said.

"You can cum on her if you would like. She is also a hungry little cum slut. She can't get enough." You told the men.

"Is she your girlfriend?," one of them asked You.

"No, she is my wife and my slave." 

"Well damn, you should do have one hot sexy fucking wife and slave." 

"I know." You said back to them, and I knew You were smiling. 

I could hear the men had started stroking their cocks. I could hear their hands sliding up and down their shafts. 

"One of you guys reach down and unblindfold her. She loves watching men jerk off."

With that one of the guys reached down and removed my blindfold.

I kept my eyes closed for a second, trying to adjust to the light. I blinked a few times and opened my eyes. I tried to focus on who was in front of me. Three black men where standing there with their cocks in their hands, with goofy smiles on their face. I looked up and them, and then scanned the room to find You. I looked over and You were sitting on a sink. We were in a bathroom, a public bathroom. 

"Don't look at me babydoll, look at their hard cocks. They are hard for you."

I looked back at the men. Their cocks were ragging hard. They were very big, juicy, black. 

"Pretty white girl, just soaking in our cocks, isn't she guys?"

"Yep, she looks really hungry for them." 

"Yeah, my little slut has this thing for black cock. Why don't you guys show her what black cock tastes like." 

"No problem.," the guys said.

One of the men stepped up close to me. He smiled down at me. He took his finger and ran it across my lips, and then pried my mouth open. He removed his finger and shoved his cock in my mouth. He wasn't easy about it. With one push he had forced his cock down to the back of my throat, I let out a noise from gagging on it. 

"Oh, babydoll, is my big black cock too much for you to handle?"

I shook my head no, and suck in his cock some more, wanting to show him that it wasn't too much. He let out a moan. I sucked his cock in and out of my mouth. I wrapped my lips as tightly around him as I could. I moved his hips back and forth thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth, fucking it like it was a cunt. 

I could hear noises coming from the other two guys. 

"Damn Stephen, we are going to cum. Let us in there so we can cum on her."

The other two men walked up on each side of Stephen. With in seconds they were shooting their hot loads all over my face, while Stephen continued to fuck my face. Cum was hitting my face, my mouth was full of cock. My pussy was dripping wet. With in a few seconds Stephen was pulling my head down on his cock.

"Swallow it, you little slut."

As he said this bursts of hot cut filled my mouth. It tasted wonderful.

He pulled out of my mouth, and the three of them looked down at me. 

As they were stuffing their cocks back in their pants, they all had huge smiles on their faces.

"Thank you babydoll, that was wonderful."

I looked up and smiled. 

They left. And You walked over to me.

"You are such a good girl babydoll. You have pleased me a lot lately, and I wanted to reward you. I hope you enjoy yourself."

I nodded yes.

"Good. Now stand up." I stood up and you reached around took the handcuffs off. 

I want you to go over to the sink and wash your face, and then get dressed. 

I walked over to the sink. I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was soaking wet. I was wet from piss and cum. I looked a mess, but it was a good kind of mess. Something caught my eye and I looked down. I was wearing a sign. That is what You had put around my neck. It read: New toilet. Feel free to use, as you wish. I smiled, and looked around at you. You could tell I wanted to say something.

"Speak babydoll, you may talk freely now."

"I love you Sir. Thank you."

"I love you too babydoll, now lets go home, and I will put you in the tub and give you a nice bath." 

With that, we walked out the door and headed home.



Nighttime Awakening



You lay there half asleep, as you feel my breath on the back of your neck. Your lips curve in a half smile as you feel my arms encircling and embracing you. You can feel my heart beating softly against your back and the warmth of my body caressing you. You shift positions slightly and my hand slides slowly up, my fingers trailing across your stomach to gently engulf your breast. Softly you sigh as you feel my lips touch your neck, sending small arcs of electricity out from the contact. 

You turn your head slightly as my kiss trials down to your shoulder. In the soft glow of moonlight you can see the fire smoldering in my eyes as they meet. You feel yourself become lost in that gaze as I lightly bite your shoulder. My hand begins to stroke your chest, slowly, the touch fleeting at moments only to suddenly encircle your ever hardening nipple. You feel your breath quicken as you hear me softly groan as my lips continue the journey back up to your neck. Your heart beats faster as you turn your head to meet my lips with yours.

At first the kiss is soft, but our passion continues to build. Our tongues meet in a light dance. I slowly draw back and lightly suck your lip before letting go. You groan in frustration as I continue to pull away. However, you need not worry for I am simply allowing room to roll you to face me. Your arms reach around me pulling me into your deep embrace. Our lips meet again and my arms slide up your back and slowly scratch down you sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

You feel yourself become wet as our body's come into full contact. Your hard nipples rake up my chest as you slide one hand up and grip the back of my head pulling me deep into your kiss. Your lips slowly break contact with mine and slide across as I feel your warm breath against my neck and the sound of your deep breathing feels me. 

I slide my hand down your back to cup your butt pulling your leg up behind me. You feel my hardness press against your hot mound. You pull me up slightly, coating my in your wetness as I slide against you. You arch your back as you feel the blood pulsing through me against you lips. You drop your head back down and capture my gaze again as you smile teasingly. You push me back against the bed and slowly mount me. Gazing down at me you slide your self up and down me teasing me. I slowly slide up and down against the outside of your slit, my head and shaft rubbing against your clit as it begins to enlarge. You bend down and kiss me lightly then trap my lip between your teeth, slowly pulling and your body continues a slow rhythmic rocking. 

I grip your hips pulling you hard against me. Your head goes up and back, your breasts thrusting out. I lean up and slowly tease your nipple with my tongue, lightly flicking against it before sucking it deep into my mouth. I softly suck on you, my tongue sliding around your hard nipple. You arch up again and my head aligns with you. Sensing this, you suddenly slow down and with agonizing slowness slowly sink down on me, engulfing me into your tight warmth. Your lips parting as my head enters you, trailing deep inside you, feeling you. As you finally totally engulf me into you, you drop your head and look at me as I continue to suck on your breast. My hands tighten on your hips forcing myself as deep as possible. 

I feel your eyes on me and open my eyes to once again gaze upon you. The moonlight glinting off your body, casting shadows against me. Slowly you resume your soft rocking motion ... my hardness stroking deep inside you each time. You lean down and kiss me your nipples lightly touching my chest on each successive motion as you continue to ride me. My hand moves up your back and grips the back of your head as the intensity incrementally builds. I feel your muscles start to tense up on each additional stroke. The lapse between you muscle spasms begins to run out, until it turns into one continuous spasm. Your rocking motion speeds up. You feel me become harder as you continue to tighten around me. You begin to groan deep in side as you stop rocking. Your muscles begin rippling as you rapidly approach the edge. My hand grips you harder and I suck your tongue inside my mouth and gently suck on it. 

Your body spasms one last time as you suddenly reach your pinnacle. You feel me begin to pulse as your orgasm rolls out through your body. You feel me tense suddenly and then feel me shooting deep inside you. My cum mixes with yours as we both shudder in ecstasy. Our arms tighten around each other as we both continue to ride the waves of pleasure rolling through our bodies. 

Taking a ragged breath you slowly lean back and look into my eyes. You see the love for you feeling them and you gently lay back down against me. You feel me slowly start to soften inside you. As I begin to shrink you can feel a little of our love drip out of you. You smile lazily as you begin to drift off to sleep.



Nighttime Confession: Daytime Regret



In his story "Nighttime Confessions" capecodmercury invited readers to write an alternate ending.

Please read his story first for background (meaning that my story won't make any sense if you don't read his story first).

Please vote on this story! I appreciate any and all feedback. I will try to respond to all emails.

Thanks for reading!

* 

AN UNHAPPY CONSCIENCE! 

I cheated on my husband and I don't know what I'm going to do!

My feelings were all over the map. I felt that I had lost something important by being with Phil. I drew the line at staying overnight with him in his room – that was an intimacy that I would only ever share with my husband Don. That intimacy is the most precious thing in my relationship with Don.

I knew that Don had had two affairs; two affairs that he would never confess to. That had really hurt me. The first one, while I was pregnant with our daughter Sarah, happened at a bachelor party with some of the guys where he works. And doing this while I was seven months pregnant put it over the top in how much he hurt me! 

You could see his guilt on his face. I thought about confronting him to make him admit this guilt (and apologize), but it seemed important to me for him to confess on his own. He never came to me to talk about it and this refusal to be honest almost broke up our marriage. I finally forgave him because he was so good with the kids, and I did love the intimate sharing in the bedroom, not so much the sex (it was okay), but the talking together at the end of the day, sharing time, cuddling together at night. Even just reaching in the dark for a touch, a reassurance that my partner was there.

The second time was about five years ago with a divorcee living next door to us. She was younger and it certainly looked like Don found her attractive. She was moving away for a new job and was having a goodbye party. Well, the short story is that Don was seen coming out of her bedroom just before she did. When she came out a neighbor who saw her said her clothes and hair were mussed up.

This time I did talk to Don about it, in fact I came right out and asked him if he had had sex with her! He denied it, but he seemed to me to be a little hesitant and nervous when he said that. Again he refused to admit his obvious guilt and apologize to me. Things were kind of cold around the house and Don made extra efforts to be loving and helpful. I hated his not being honest with me, and while I never forgave him, I did finally let it go and we moved on.

Now I had cheated on him. I really felt mixed up. While I just had some really hot sex with Phil, hotter that anything I had ever done with Don, I had refused to sleep with him. I guess if Don had not been unfaithful to me those two times I would be feeling a lot worse than I was. The more I thought about it I started getting mad at Don, like it was his fault I had cheated! And maybe it was, maybe if I had not had that underlying resentment towards my husband I would have been stronger.

I had to decide what I was going to do now. It was only Wednesday night and the conference was not over until Friday noon. I thought about just leaving early in the morning, but that would probably raise a lot of questions. I decided to take a shower and go to bed and face things tomorrow.

After the shower I felt more relaxed and went on to bed. Surprisingly, I fell asleep immediately. 

A couple of hours later I felt really thirsty, so I got up and drank a glass of water. Now I had trouble getting back to sleep. I lay there tossing for a while then I started thinking about the time with Phil. As I said, the intercourse part was okay, but nothing special. His oral sex techniques were fantastic though! I had never had orgasms like those! I felt myself getting wet just thinking about it, so I put my hand down and started rubbing my sex. At first I was sliding my fingers up and down my slit, slowly, getting wetter all the time. 

My mind slipped sideways to last night when the group was sitting around talking about how they changed partners every year. Suddenly I had an image of Sam with his head between my legs. I grabbed my clit and rubbed furiously and exploded with an orgasm even larger that the ones with Phil. Now I felt really guilty and lay there for hours, futility trying not to think about the conference sex group and having a different partner every year. I'm ashamed to say I didn't think about Don the rest of the night!

MORE CAUSE FOR GUILT

I woke up in the morning realizing that I couldn't walk out. I did decide to eat my breakfast by myself instead of with the group. As I sat with the coffee on the table and my head in my hands, I looked up and saw my boss, Frank walking towards me. I couldn't face him now so I grabbed my coffee, jumped up, and ran over to the table where our group had been sitting all week. I had noticed them glancing at me earlier. When I sat down I was in somewhat of a panic, but several of them just murmured "good morning" and not much was said the rest of the meal. When they started getting up I did also and walked quickly back to my room.

The rest of the day I wandered around in somewhat of a daze, going to a couple conferences, looking at the exhibits, but if someone had asked me at the end of the day I wouldn't have been able to tell them much of what I'd done. I do remember Don calling a little after lunch and asking if I was all right and that he had called last night but didn't leave a message. He was afraid I might have been asleep. I blurted that I had gone to dinner with the group and he seemed to accept that. We chatted for a minute more and said goodbye.

After all the conference business was over for the day, I went to my room, napped for a couple of hours and then called down to have dinner sent up. I have no idea what I had ordered; I just ate. I had avoided both the group and Frank all day. I did notice him watching closely several times.

About ten, I was mindlessly watching TV when there was a knock on the door. Without thinking I opened the door and stared at Phil. He looked at me for a minute and quietly asked if he could come in and talk to me for a minute. I stood there with a blank look on my face and didn't say anything. After a bit he walked in and sat on the sofa.

Looking at him I closed the door and walked over, standing in front of him. "Phil, what... what do you want to talk about?"

"I talked to the others in the group over dinner, and we really feel bad. You were clearly feeling guilty about having sex with me last night. Then we all talked about our annual little sex club you seemed even more upset and asked some hard questions. Hell, you made me really think when you asked how I would feel if my wife found out about our activities."

As Phil continued, I moved over to the edge of the bed and sit down. 

"We talked about our spouses and we were all concerned that we might be found out. On the other hand we agreed there was little chance of that happening, and with the rules we have we decided we want to continue. I'm sorry we brought you into this, it doesn't seem to be what you want."

"Marge, there is one other thing," he added as I sat nervously twisting my hands on my lap, "I told you about my nominating you for the Competition Committee. Well, this afternoon you were voted in. I'll go talk to Joe, the head guy in the morning and have your name taken off. Again I'm sorry for the problems I've caused you."

I stared at him again. My emotions were all over the map. Here was a chance for me to go home and pretend nothing happened. Then I had the sudden, almost painfully erotic image from last night of Sam with his head between my legs.

Phil stood up and started to walk to the door.

I stood up with him and suddenly blurted "Phil! Wait, wait a minute. Please don't leave yet." 

With that I started walking towards the bathroom, dropping my robe off my shoulders as I walked. I stopped in the doorway, turned to Phil and looked at him for a long minute. I said "Phil..." paused for a little and pulled my nightgown over my head a stood there for a brief moment more. I turned and walked over to the shower and stepped in. As I adjusted the temperature, I couldn't look to see if Phil had left, I just stood there with the water streaming down my face. 

I heard the shower door open, still not moving, and felt Phil's arms wrap around me. Yes, we made love in the shower. Yes, we went to the bed and shared some incredible oral sex. Yes, he fucked me! And goddamn it, Phil stayed the night in my bed!

HOME FROM THE CONFERENCE

The next afternoon as I started the two-hour drive home, I had a chance to reflect on all that had happened over the week of the conference. This morning I did accept being part of the competition committee. This actually was a good thing for my career and would give me a chance to come to the conference every year without having Frank involved in it. Not that I had decided to come to the conference next year, and not that I had decided to be part of the little sex group.

I vacillated all the way home about telling Don what had happened and having it out in the open. I finally decided to let everything slide and not make any quick decisions. One thing I knew was that I was going to make Don admit his affairs before I went to the conference again. Then I could decide what to do.

When I got home Don didn't seem suspicious at all. We had our usual sex that night, nice, but no fireworks, but sharing the intimacy we usually enjoyed. After he fell asleep, I snuggled up to him, feeling safe, warm and knowing that I really loved my husband. As I drifted off myself I did feel regret about letting Phil stay in my room that last night.

Things continued on like before the conference. Some days I felt guilty about what had happened. Other days I would remember the intense orgasms from Phil's oral ministrations and would feel nervous and jittery for a time. Gradually with the day-to-day stuff: work, kids the house, everything, it all slipped into the background.

I expected some problems with Frank, but he never bothered me at all. He didn't say anything at all about the Competition Committee, which I thought was a little strange. He did seem to be looking at me all too frequently, but I had so much on my mind I didn't think too much about it.

The school year dragged on, seemingly forever, my life seemed in stasis. Finally it was over and things seemed better with our usual harried summer activities. This year we had worked it out to have a three-week vacation with the kids.

We went to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area for a week. We had two, two person canoes, Don and I in one and the kids in the other. It was wonderful fun. We would go down long, narrow lakes and do a short portage to the next one. I seemed to let Don do more that his fair share of paddling. The kids were great! Since were both always doing one sport or another (and since they were teenagers) they could go all day. They were constantly taking little side trips.

We packed all our food in, but it seemed we had fresh caught fish for breakfast and dinner every day! We were all tired at night and some evenings it was hard to stay awake to finish eating.

With the kids so close every day our sex life suffered, but it was still nice. We would cuddle up with our sleeping bags zipped together and hold each other. That was okay, but I was hungering for more. It was hard to get really clean, so by the end of the week we were ready for civilization again.

After that we flew on to the Lodge in Banff for two weeks. It was an absolutely beautiful place. Don had been here several times with his dad, but the rest of us had never been there. 

There was just so much to do! There were hikes of all types. Don and Brad even did a little mountain climbing. Don is a wonderful teacher. Sometimes I think he was born a couple of hundred years too late. He should have been a mountain man, trapping for fur and wrestling grizzlies.

What was really nice was to go out horseback riding or whatever and coming back to a hot shower and a soft bed. The restaurant had very nice meals with a good wine list. All of us enjoyed that trip as much as any we had ever had.

A real plus for Don and I was more opportunity for sex! There was so much for the kids to do, like one evening going on a hayride and eating around a campfire. We must have been in bed five minutes after they left. 

I was becoming more aggressive in our sex. Where before I would just take him in my mouth to get him hard, now I would keep at it until he exploded in my mouth. At first he would try to pull out, but it didn't take him long to find that he really enjoyed it... especially when he would cum in my mouth. I made him do the same for me. When he was down between my legs and tried to get up, I would pull his head back down. He began to understand that I needed more, and over time he was giving me some good oral orgasms – not like Phil, but it was still really good.

The summer drew to a close and the kids and I got back into our school mode. What with the teaching and coaching I was terribly busy, particularly since Don got home so late and I also had to ferry the kids to practices and games. Sarah was getting more and more wrapped up in gymnastics, and this called for some out of town trips for competitions. I carpooled kids with several of the other moms, but it was still a frantic year.

Through the fall it seemed some of the closeness between Don and I that we had gained during the summer was slipping away. The sex itself was actually still improving, but was only happening three or four times a month. During the Christmas break things picked up wonderfully. The kids were gone all the time with parties and sleepovers with friends. We had more time together than we had had for years.

During that period it seemed like we were making love everyday and several times more than one a day. For the first time in our marriage I was having more that one orgasm. It was wonderful and I felt closer to Don than ever before!

It had to end though. School started up again and life was hellaciously busy. I did have a couple of Competition Committee meetings to attend. They were actually fun and with all the experience I had as a coach I was able to make some key contributions. I did see Phil at both of these meetings but either he was remembering the rules for the year-end conference sex group, or he knew I was still feeling kind of edgy about everything. We did have breakfast at one meeting and dinner at another. Nothing happened, we mostly talked about our families and got to know each other better. Of course, we were both aware of the rule about nothing out of line during the year between conferences.

Finally we were getting down to the end of the school year and time for the annual convention. I was becoming, and acting, nervous again. The sex between Don and I almost came to a stop. Don looked like he wanted to talk about it but he never did.  

I was looking for an opportunity to talk to Don about his faithfulness, or rather, his unfaithfulness! The right opportunity never seemed to come up, but I was resolved to get this in the open before the convention. Finally, one evening we were watching a movie where the husband had an affair, and tried to hide it from the wife. The private detective the wife had hired told her that affairs always came out.

After the movie Don started to get up, but I stopped him. 

"Don, we need to talk for a minute."

"Meg, I'm really tired and I have to go to work early in the morning. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

This pissed me off. "No, god damn it, this won't wait. We should have had this talk years ago. Look at me! I know that you have had at least two affairs and... no sit back down and let me finish. Twice you almost ended our marriage, I shouted at him!"

Shocked, he sat down looking stunned.

"Twice," I continued, "All these years you think I've believed your lies. Now be a man! Stand up and tell the truth."

"Meg, I have always been faithful to you. I ..."

"I don't want to hear any bullshit! Let me know when you want to talk." 

With that I stomped out of the room and went up to get ready for bed. I was in bed, all the way to the edge when Don came up. I could tell he was pissed off by the way he moved around. He wasn't trying at all to be quiet. He didn't say anything and neither did I. We both stayed as far apart as we could, all night.

The next morning, Don left before I got out of bed. Usually I make breakfast for him before he goes to work, but this morning I lay there, trying to pretend I was asleep. When I heard the garage door close, I went downstairs and into the kitchen. Everything was clean. He had not had breakfast, not even coffee.

It continued like that for two weeks, minimum conversation, a widening distance, and certainly no sex. Then it was time for me to go to the convention. I don't know if Don forgot about it, but he didn't say anything in the morning, not hello, not goodbye, just... nothing. It was Sunday, but he had gone in to work anyway.

I packed after breakfast, drove the kids over to moms for the day, and drove on to Little Falls to register and get checked in. I wasn't the only one going from my school. My expenses we're being paid by the State Athletic Association, so there was no problem with me going. Frank was going to be there because he went anywhere, anytime, if he was on expenses. He was bringing a new teacher that had started in the fall, Annie Marsh, who besides teaching Social Studies was also the girls swim coach. I guess she was his next project since I sure didn't work out for him.

THE LAST CONFERENCE

I got to the conference and checked in; I was a little early but they took care of for me anyway. I went on up to my room and lay down for awhile, I guess I was so nervous I just wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep. Damn Don anyhow. If he had been honest with me, I would have told him of my slip. Now I was just confused.

A couple hours later I woke up feeling a little better. I went down and checked the message board; there was a note about the Competition Committee meeting for breakfast in the morning. I made a mental note of that and went to the bar to get a little "pick me up." I saw Judy sitting there, so I said, "what the hell!" and sat down with her.

She looked over at the bartender holding her Margarita up in one hand and two fingers on the other hand. 

"Marge, are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Don and I are having trouble and I just don't know what the hell to do!"

Judy answered as she put her hand on mine, "Don't worry about the group, we won't put any pressure on you. Phil said he saw you a couple times at committee meetings. Listen, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, okay? If you want, you can just hang out with us like last year. You know we don't do anything serious until the last two nights, so why don't you relax and have a little fun. You look pretty down."

"Yeah, Judy, I do feel low. I will see you guys at the wine and cheese thing a little later and we can catch up on what's going on. I won't be able to make breakfast, you know, one of those committee meetings."

We had a couple of Margaritas, and things were looking better.

Later at the social, we did get together. Everyone was there, the girls, Judy, Dee Dee and Rachael, and the guys, Phil, Sam, Art and Wayne. I was standing next to Phil, I guess I felt closer to him, when Dee Dee gradually wedged herself between us. I was a little put out at first, then I was startled when I remembered that Phil had said that Dee Dee was the only one he had never linked up with. The rule about changing every year also came to mind.

I was feeling a little disappointed, I mean, I hadn't exactly decided about what I was going to do, but thinking about the time with Phil last year was making me a little wet. Then Sam brought me a glass of wine and an assortment of cheese, and I started feeling better... and I had an erotic flash of memory of the mental image of Sam between my legs that had given me that totally intense orgasm.




Nighttime Confession: Daytime Regret



I went on up to my room; I was still feeling tired. After a quick shower I collapsed on the bed and started to doze off. The phone rang and I jumped up, realizing that I had not even thought about Don since I went to the bar and met Judy. I gathered myself to talk to Don, but it turned out to be someone calling the wrong room. Don never did call, the bastard!

The week went on, convention business, and casual meetings with the group. I ate most meals with them. I noticed everyone was strictly following the rules, no intimacy, no touching, even the most closely watching observer would not have suspected anything. I was still in a dither about what to do Wednesday. I finally decided to leave it up to Don; if he called I would stay in my room Wednesday and Thursday nights.

Well, the SOB never called! 

This year, on Wednesday night, it was Sam and Art manning the Hospitality Suite. We did the same as the year before, the entire group stayed in the room to keep them company. People would trickle in and out, enjoying the drinks and food. The kitchen would send up more goodies every half hour or so. By 10:30 things had quieted down and we sat around listening to music, talking and enjoying the free drinks.

At eleven, Art took the sign off and locked the door. We fairly quickly completed the pairing off that had been going on all week. I wound up with Sam with mixed feelings. I would have liked to be with Phil again; I didn't particularly even like Sam. I thought he was a pushy boor. But "any port in a storm." And my relationship with Don was very stormy right now. I did love him, but his continuing refusal to be honest with me made me quite upset!

Sam and I wound up in one of the bedrooms of the suite, and it was even better than I imagined. The oral sex was as good as that from Phil, but he was way better at the rest of it.

After about an hour, we went back into the living room. Everyone else was there, mostly undressed. We were all fooling around with our partner, just kind of relaxing. I hadn't gone down on Sam during our love making, so he gently pulled my head down to his large erection. I had trouble with his size at first, but finally got into a good rhythm... Sam sure seemed to be enjoying it.

"THE PRIMROSE PATH OF DALLIANCE" 

Shakespeare Hamlet, I,ii,143

The door suddenly opened and three men rushed in. My head flew up, Sam's cum dripping out of my lips.

Bruce Janks, the State High School Athletic president was first, his face flushed... almost apoplectic. He shouted angrily "What the god damn hell is this! I have never, in my 30 years with the association have never seen a disgusting sight!"

He sputtered for a minute unable to talk then continued, a little more quietly, "I don't even want to know what is behind this. I don't want to talk about it. Get your sorry asses out of this hotel now, and I mean right damn now! Those of you here at association expense will be expected to refund all amounts spent. I do not ever want to see any of you at any association event. I will also be sending a letter to each of your principals"

With that he shook his head and left the room.

Next, Frank, my boss stepped up. With a smirk he started "Ever since I found out about this little club at last year's convention, I've been waiting for this for a long time. Margaret Prescott, you are immediately terminated with cause from your positions of both teacher and coach. You have violated the morality clause in your contract. Do not return to the school. There is a restraining order forbidding you within 100 yards of school property."

Giving me an evil look, he spit "I always knew you were a damn slut!" as he turned and left. 

Only Don stood before us now. He looked at me, his face showing both incredible sorrow and incredible anger. He just shook his head and left, not even closing the door to the suite. 

We sat, stunned, it had happened so fast. Avoiding each other's glances, we slowly dressed, went to our rooms and left the hotel as soon as possible.

I started driving home, but before I made even twenty miles I had to pull over. I collapsed on the steering wheel. Desperately sobbing it was close to an hour before I calmed down a little. Finally I drove to the next town and pulled in to the first hotel I saw.

I checked in and took a hot shower, as hot as I could stand. Standing in front of the mirror drying off I lost it when I saw the marks on my body, the red spots all over. I could still taste Sam's cum in my mouth. I slipped down on the floor – I guess I somewhere between passed out and went to sleep.

I woke around three in the morning stiff and cold. I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed.

I knew it was over. I knew I deserved it. 

I didn't know how I would live, Don would never take me back. I still loved him enough that I wouldn't even ask him.

The next morning I drove on home crying as I thought about the kids.

I got to the house and there was a note from Don on the kitchen counter. I won't tell you all of it, although it was very short. But basically it said the kids were at my mom's place. He told me to be out of the house within a week. He would give me enough to live on for six months.

He was going to the lawyer today to file for divorce and suggested I get a lawyer also. If I had any problems with the money, or with anything to let the lawyers handle it.

He said he never wanted to see me again!

He would be reasonable about the kids, but we would have to exchange them at my mom's house. He did not want to see me when we swapped the kids.

I found a lawyer a couple days later and just asked him to take care of it. I felt tired and discouraged. I know I brought it on myself, but it was still hard. I already missed that great intimacy we had had. That was gone now, gone forever.

I got through it, I found a job as a data entry operator and found a very small studio apartment. It was too dark, dark as the thoughts in my mind.

Later through some friends I found out all that had happened. Bruce Janks got a key from the desk clerk for the room. There was no question about him getting the key since the association was paying for the room. 

Frank had overheard someone of our group last year and figured everything out. He set it up for Bruce and Don to show up with him. 

Rachel, Sam and Phil all wound up getting divorced after everything came out. I had no interest any seeing any of them. I knew I had to get my act together; see if I could clean up my life and so my kids would respect me again.

A couple of months after everything blew up I got home from work and found a letter from Don.

"Margaret, I want to clear the air with my supposed affairs. At the bachelor party some of the guys were getting blowjobs and more. I never participated. I was extremely embarrassed to even talk about it. Truthfully, I was humiliated to have been there even though I didn't participate."

"There is an attached letter from Barb explaining our "affair"."

"Because of the kids I wish you good fortune, but I do not ever want to see you again! Please respect that. Don"

I was seeing just how devastated he was, I had gone from being "Meg" to "Margaret", without even pausing at "Marge".

I opened the letter from Barb; it was sealed, Don had not opened it.

"Marge, I feel awful that I might have had something to do with what happened between you and Don. I guess I should have talked to you that night, but it was such a mess... and then I left early the next morning."

"Don came up to my bedroom looking for an open bathroom he could use; I guess there was a line at the guest bath. Well, I was in bed with Herb, you know, Sheryl's husband. We were both kind of drunk and it just happened. I guess we were really gone because we didn't lock the door. Don came and exclaimed 'Oh Shit' when he saw us. Herb bounded out of bed dressing frantically and ran out the door. You know that Sheryl was my best friend so I jumped up and grabbed Don and pleaded with him not to say anything. I guess I threw my arms around him, clinging, sobbing. He stroked my hair until I calmed down."

"He asked me to get dressed and sat and talked with me for a while. I pleaded with him not to tell anyone – I didn't want to cause the breakup and Herb and Sheryl's marriage. I didn't mean for him not to tell you, Marge, but I guess he took me literally. I did tell him that I had always liked him, really looked up to him, and that I wished I had met him years ago."

Don told me that Ruth saw Don leaving my room and saw me shortly after, kind of messed up. I guess Herb had already left. I wish I had known all of this.0

"I'm sorry for the problems I've caused! Barb"

I cried after reading these two letters. Don's only failing was to be a proud honest man - a loyal man to his friends.

I wish I had the same traits myself! I was a stupid, vain woman, too wrapped up in myself to really see others as they were!

The End

*

For those of you who are reconciliation fans, sorry! This was just never going to happen. Her failing was not the slip at the convention, but her obsession with her husbands perceived infidelity!

Thanks to capecodmercury for the challenge to write an alternate ending.



Nighttime Confessions



I cheated on my husband tonight.

I didn't plan it. I didn't expect it. I don't think I invited it. I didn't go to this conference thinking I would cheat. I've never even thought about cheating on my marriage before. But it happened.

I cheated on my husband and I'm afraid what will happen now. 

My name is Margaret Prescott; most people call me Marge. My husband, my siblings and a few childhood friends call me Meg. I'm 39 years old and I've been married to Donald for 16 wonderful years.

I guess you could say that Don and I have a typical modern marriage. We have a modest home in the suburbs and have two kids, two incomes, two cars and sometimes, two lives. Don works as an office manager for a manufacturing plant in the city. With his 45-minute commute each way and the long hours that his boss expects him to put in, Don is out of the house early and home late on far too many days. But, we all know that he puts in the hours for all of us. Don tries hard to make it up to us on weekends and on the occasional day when he can leave early. The kids love him dearly and he has been the love of my life since I first met him in college.

Me, I'm your average suburban mom. I work full time as a physical education teacher at a large high school and coach the girl's soccer and field hockey teams. I drive a minivan and focus my life around my family. 

Don and I have two children, 14-year-old Brad and Sarah who is twelve. My children are your typical active sports crazy kids. They have grown up in our local youth sports program shifting from soccer to basketball to baseball depending on the season. Brad goes to karate lessons twice a week while Sarah goes to a gymnastic school. Summers are filled with camp or swimming lessons at the pool. Running them around keeps me on my toes, but I don't mind because it keeps them from getting bored and into trouble. 

Brad is about to start his freshman year at the high school. He has developed a passion for soccer and is currently at soccer camp. He is working hard on his game and is planning on trying out for the high school team next year. 

Last year, Sarah decided to really concentrate on gymnastics. She is getting pretty good and was accepted into an exclusive training camp this summer. I don't know if she has the talent to compete nationally, but if she keeps it up, her coach thinks she has enough talent to compete at a collegiate level.

During the school year, my typical day is pretty hectic. For most of the year, after classes end, I have a team practice to run or a game to coach. In the off-season between soccer and field hockey, I'm expected to put in office hours and supervise the students using the school's exercise equipment. After that, I'm off to take Brad and Sarah to their activities. Luckily, there haven't been too many conflicts so far. 

I know that Don regrets the events that he misses. He rarely gets the opportunity to see the kid's play or compete during the week. He sees some of the games on tape and always wants a minute-by-minute replay when he gets home. Whenever there is an event on the weekend, he makes it a top priority to see it. I appreciate the effort Don is making to stay as active as possible in the kid's lives. Unfortunately, this does cut down on the "us" time that Don and I would like to have. It's almost getting to the point where we need to schedule time for the two of us to be together.

In short, my life is the typical harried life of the suburban soccer mom. My life is centered on my kids and my family. I get too little time to spend with my husband and no time at all for myself. It would drive me crazy if I wasn't so happy.

If I had to describe myself, the word that would come to mind is average. I've never really thought of myself as having an exceptional body or as being pretty. I'm the one that has always been jealous of the other girls. Don thinks I'm pretty and I do have a nice set of legs and a firm ass and stomach. All the time I spend in the gym has kept me is shape. My breasts are not large, but they are firm with sensitive nipples.

In high school, I was a tomboy. My life was sports; I was a starter on the soccer and field hockey teams and rode the bench on the basketball team. I wasn't a star, just a solid player that the coach could rely on. That got me an assistant captain's job as a senior on the field hockey team. I think the coach wanted to thank me for the time I put in. It certainly wasn't for my leadership skills.

Physically, I was a late bloomer. Until the end of my junior year I was skinny and shapeless. I didn't start to develop any type of breasts or curves until well after most of my friends. Needless to say, the boys didn't pay me much attention. They went directly for the girls with the biggest set of boobs. I wasn't one of the popular girls, didn't go on many dates and never had a steady boyfriend.

My behavior probably contributed to my lack of a social life. I'm quiet and a bit shy. I never really got the hang of flirting or the art of social conversation. All through high school, when I went to a dance or to a party, I tended to hang around the outskirts listening and contributing very little. 

I'm sure you know the type. I was one of the wallflowers. I'm the girl you see at your high school reunion ten years later and don't remember. I was one of the nameless majorities that populate most high school classes. 

I had my circle of close friends that I hung out with and I was a nodding acquaintance with most of the school jocks. Because of my sports connections, I was rarely the butt of mean spirited practical jokes. I went to my share of dances and parties; I just never got close to many people.

By my senior year, my body had developed to the point that I started to get asked out. However, I rarely went out with the same boy more than once or twice. I refused to put out on a first or second date and I wasn't interesting enough to the boys I dated for them to put the effort into getting to know me better.

Although I was not a virgin when I left high school, it was pretty close. I gave my virginity to Tom Stanley after the senior prom. Tom was the closest thing that I had to a boyfriend in high school. He was on the wrestling team and was probably as shy as I was. We got to know each other in class and found ourselves hanging out with the same people. We could go out together and just enjoy our time without a lot of talking. Neither of us saw the need to fill every moment with meaningless words. 

Tom and I were good for each other. Towards the end of our senior year, we both started to come out of our shells and got to know each other fairly well. We learned to feel comfortable with each other and gave each other some very needed self-confidence. Tom and I never loved each other and never dated each other exclusively. Rather, we would hang out as part of a larger group, and get together occasionally for some laughs. 

Today, I think Tom would be described as a friend with benefits. We did continue to have sex occasionally the summer after high school, but it was casual. When we said goodbye before leaving for college neither of us shed a tear as we were both looking forward to new experiences. 

As a freshman in college, I got more involved in the dating scene, but didn't hook up with anyone seriously. I did have sex with a few guys and did experiment with one of the girls on the field hockey team, but sexually, I remained a novice. I did not attract the attention of the campus wolves so the men that I slept with were as inexperienced as I was. I did learn to give an adequate blowjob and enjoyed getting oral as well, but my sexual experiences could best be described as two inexperienced people fumbling in the dark. Even my night with Tricia was a one-time experiment by two nervous girls for whom it was their first same sex experience. 

These early experiences came to typify my views towards sex. While I enjoy sex, it has never been an obsession with me. I could never see what the fuss and bother were about. I did enjoy orgasms some of the times that I had sex, but never more than one. I never saw the fireworks or had the intense experience that some of my girlfriends described. Truth is, I didn't miss it. All sex was to me was a pleasant form of exercise. I never understood the difference between sex and making love.

I met Don the summer after my freshman year. I had gotten a job as a counselor at a summer sports camp and had a two-week vacation before I had to report for the summer. I didn't want to go home and hang around my parents' house but I didn't have much money. My roommate suggested that I take a trip with the college outing club. 

I checked into the trips offered and found an intermediate canoe trip to Canada that I was able to afford. I didn't have much experience canoeing or camping, but I knew I was in good shape so I thought I could bluff my way through it. I signed up and set out to spend ten days canoeing through the Canadian wilderness. Luckily for me, Don was assigned to be my canoe mate for the week as I was wrong about my ability to bluff my way through.

At first glance, Don is not that impressive. He is a little shorter than average and rather thin. He doesn't look like he is athletic at all. But, as I soon found out, looks can be deceiving.

All of my life I have been active in sports. I started to play competitive sports at an early age and was still competing in soccer and field hockey at college. I thought I was in pretty damn good shape. That first day in the canoe, Don wore me out and he didn't even break a sweat. What was more humiliating was that he did most of the work. I discovered that I had whole sets of muscles that I had not developed and those muscles were screaming at me that first night. 

That night, as I blundered about trying to set up camp, I confessed to Don about my lack of experience. I apologized to him for having to put up with me. Luckily, Don took pity on me and agreed to help me out.

I later learned that I was very fortunate that I had been assigned to Don that trip. Don was one of the more experienced paddlers and was able to compensate for my inexperience as I learned on the water. He was patient with me and never got angry at my ignorance or mistakes. He just quietly corrected me and we went on. He was even able to shield most of my stupidity from the other people on the trip.

Don was also experienced in the fine art of massage. That very first night as we sat around the campfire Don sat behind me and started to work the kinks out of my upper arms and back. As an athlete, I have received numerous massages in the past, however that massage felt better than anything I have ever experienced. Not only did he sooth my aching muscles, he did it with a care that made me wish he would touch me in other ways. 

Over the first few days of the trip, I became more and more intrigued with Don. In many ways, he reminded me of my friend Tom from high school. He was quiet and unassuming. We would often go an hour or more in the canoe with nothing being said except for necessary commands. We just sat there and took in the wilderness. We found ourselves pulling ahead of the other canoes or lagging slightly behind to enjoy the wilderness without the chatter coming from the other boats. 

Don introduced me to his love of the wilderness by showing it to me. We couldn't wait to round each bend in the river to see if a moose or bear would be uncovered. At night, we would sit near each other by the fire and just stare into the flames in silence. 

By the third day of the trip, I was feeling very attracted to Don. That night, I returned the favor and gave him a massage trying my hardest to convey how much I wanted him. Later, I whispered in his ear that I had a beginner question for him. What was the proper etiquette for letting my canoe mate know that I wanted to share his sleeping bag? We slept together that night and for the rest of the trip.

To me, this was a new experience. I had never spent the full night with any of my prior partners. After the sex ended, one of us would get up, shower and leave. I never felt close enough to any of those partners to fall asleep in their arms.

With Don, however, falling asleep in his arms felt natural. To be truthful, the sex was nothing spectacular. Don was less experienced than I was and as the trip went on, we were exhausted at the end of each day. Many nights, all we did was cuddle, kiss and go to sleep. 

It was the intimacy that I grew to love. Lying in the sleeping bag cuddled into Don felt so wonderful that I began to get a vague inkling of what my friends were talking about when they talked about the difference between making love and sex. Sex is merely the physical act, but making love encompasses a whole lot more. It's all about the intimacy and feelings that surround the act. 

With Don, for the first time in my life, I made love to my partner. I still didn't see the fireworks, but the emotional connection was there. His happiness became my happiness and I treasured every moment we spent in each other's arms. 

By the end of the trip, I had fallen in love with Don.

That summer seemed to last forever. I could not wait to get back to school to see Don again. We wrote to each other and talked on the phone, but he had an internship in an office three hundred miles from the camp where I was working. Our schedules did not allow us to see each other. I was dying to see him, but was afraid that things would be different. I had never felt like this about anyone else before and I was afraid that my heart would be broken.

To my relief, Don confessed to me the first night we got together that he felt the same way. Don and I became a couple and spent as much time together as possible. By the beginning of our junior year, we were living together. We got married a year after we graduated. 

Don is shorter than average, thin and has an unremarkable face. Don is usually serious, but his face lights up when he smiles. He is quiet and thoughtful and very protective of those he loves.

He is also a klutz when it comes to organized sports. When I first got to know him, he could barely throw a ball or kick a soccer ball. Don told me early on that he had never played organized sports as a boy. When I introduced Don to my friends from the sports department, they wanted to know why I was dating a geek.

What they discovered over time was his skill in other areas. Instead of baseball, Don and his father had explored the wilderness. Don had hiked the Appalachian Trail with his father before he turned fifteen and through-hiked the trail a second time by himself the year before he started college. Don was an expert white water canoeist and kayaker and an accomplished rock climber. He looks thin, but when he undresses you notice the strength in his arms and legs. Don is built like a greyhound, lean and strong.

Don still gets picked near the end for the company softball game, but he is at home in the outdoors. I trust Don with my life when it comes to planning or running an outdoor adventure. 

Don has taught me his love of the wilderness. We have always treasured the opportunity to get away whenever we can. We fit day trips into our schedule as often as possible and try to get away for longer trips at least once a year. Brad and Sarah have had the best of both worlds, the love of competitive sports from me and the love of outdoor adventure from Don. 

Lately, however, Don and I have not had many opportunities to get off by ourselves for a trip. The demands of his job and the time pressures of raising two active children just don't leave a lot of time for the two of us to get away. Why does it seem that the first sacrifice in a busy life is the time you spend with your spouse?

Another sacrifice that Don and I have made is in the bedroom. Most married couples know the drill; children affect your sex life. When they are infants, you are too tired to give much thought to making love; you just want to get some sleep before the next feeding. Then as they get to the toddler stage, you have more time for sex, but you always have to keep an ear out for the pitter and patter of little feet. After Brad was born, Don and I fell into the pattern of "married sex". We made love once or twice a week, but we rarely experimented or made efforts to spice up our sex. We knew that we had to grab our chances so often we minimized foreplay and went right to the main event. We fell into this habit and never fell out of it. 

When we first started to go out, Don was inexperienced. He told me that he had only had sex with two women other than me. He and his girlfriend in high school had taken each other's virginity as seniors and he had gone out with one other girl at college. Don was a willing and eager partner, but not very inventive. He would go down on me if asked and loved to get blowjobs, but neither of us put the same time and effort into our sex lives that we put into our jobs or our family. Sex was not the basis for our marriage and relationship.

One thing remained constant in our marriage: the intimacy and connection I felt with Don. No he has never given me fireworks, but he has remained a compassionate and considerate lover. The frequency of our sex may have diminished, but virtually every night, we took the time to cuddle and talk together before we fell asleep in each other's arms. Whenever we spend time away from each other, it's not the sex I miss; it's the little daily gestures of love and compassion that Don gives to me without thought. It's the feeling of comfort and joy that I feel being with the man I love.

My marriage to Don has not been perfect. We have had our share of fights and quarrels throughout the years and Don has hurt me pretty badly on two occasions. This happened the two times where I'm sure that he cheated on me in some fashion.

The first time was when I was seven months pregnant with Sarah. Don got invited to go to a bachelor's party with some guys from his office. What I did not know was that the dancers that had been hired were willing to do more than dance if the price was right and the best man had paid for the full package. Don came back from the party with a very guilty look on his face and avoided answering my questions on what had happened. 

I finally found out what happened through a chance conversation few weeks later with the girlfriend of one of the other guys to attend the party. She told me that her boyfriend had sex one of the dancers and that every guy at the party was offered his choice of sex or a blowjob. I never discovered what Don did at the party, but his behavior when he came home made me sure that something had happened.

I almost divorced Don over that incident. By the time I learned about the party, I was almost eight months gone and feeling like a beached whale. I was already highly emotional because of the pregnancy and his cheating on me while I was pregnant felt like the ultimate betrayal. 

The only reason I did not kick him out on the spot was because I was afraid. I was frightened by the thought of going through the emotional trauma of a divorce while in the last month of my pregnancy. Terrified by the realities of trying to raise two children by myself and afraid of the emotional trauma that my toddler Brad would face if his Mommy divorced his Daddy. My desire to keep our family together kept me from kicking him out.

For the next month, I barely spoke to Don around the house and would not respond to any of his efforts to find out what was the matter. That was the one of the few times I rebuffed Don when he tried to cuddle with me. I couldn't stand for him to touch me and would pull away from him and give him the silent treatment while crying silently. Don knew that I was angry with him, but to this day, I don't know if he connected my anger to his behavior at the bachelor's party. It's a period in our lives that we try hard to forget. I don't think he ever realized how close our marriage came to ending.




Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 01



The extra-marital sex club created by capecodmercury in his "Nighttime Confessions" fascinated me. His character Marge and her dilemma inspired me to try my first pure fiction effort, and from a female point of view to boot. My thanks to him and the invitation to create other endings. I have tried to remain true to his setting, and you must read or re-read his first story if this is to make any sense to you.

This chapter 2 is in two parts, covering the next 24 hours. Chapter 3 covers the next 24 months. Part 2 will be posted shortly, but Chapter 3 is only just begun and, given the time constraints on my creative process, will be several weeks in the writing. I know what happens in the final chapter, but will have to sift the events through my editorial filters. So if you are one who is annoyed by having to wait for the next or final installment, don't read this until "DAWN RESOLUTIONS" is posted.

In addition to capecodmercury for the inspiration, I want to thank jaccuzzigal, mandywilluk2000, and dyanesbush for their review and helpful editorial comments.

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I didn't sleep that night. My fears that it would not be a restful night were well founded. Emotions, all negative, ran rampant and out of control. I tossed and I turned, trying to think of something other than my shocking experience with Phil and the "swinger club". But I kept coming back to pondering the why of what had, at least for me, been unthinkable before 11 p.m. that evening. 

I had cheated on my husband and I could not come up with a sensible explanation for my conduct. I did not understand why I had done what I did. Worst of all, I had enjoyed the physical pleasure far more than I should have. At times that night, I became frantic about the future. Un-tethered from a fidelity that was always a basic (but relatively unspoken) foundation to my marriage, my union with Don suddenly seemed adrift.

I had not really cried since my mother died but I made up for it that night as I cried until there were no more tears. Three times I ran to the bathroom to vomit, until the bile was gone and only dry heaves were left.

I had lost something that I could never get back. The more I thought about that, the more devastated I became.

In sixteen years of happy marriage, plus three years going steady before, I had never thought about sleeping with another man. I don't remember even flirting with another man or finding another man attractive in that way. If a man had flirted with me, I had either been unaware or had easily deflected it. I never had a seven, or any other, year itch. I did not feel unattractive as I approached forty; I was not a mad housewife going crazy with the demands of children and middle class life. I did not have an unsatisfactory or unfulfilling sex life with my husband. There was nothing Don did or failed to do in bed that left me pining for something else. So why did this happen?

And why with Phil? He was a nice, attractive man, I suppose. Phil was an OK dancer and kisser. He had a good enough body, but not as muscular or attractive as Don despite Phil being about 8 years younger. I suppose he even smelled pretty good. But he was not a tall, dark matinee idol with piercing blue eyes and a six-pack. Perhaps I could understand being tempted to stray with such an Adonis. But Phil was none of those things. The only truly distinguishing characteristic that I could attribute to Phil, as I lay there wide awake in my bed, was his willingness to eat my pussy for nearly a half an hour. And of course I didn't know anything about that "talent" when I let him strip off my panties and inhale my cunt. 

There I go using that language again. "Cunt?" That's a coarse word that I never use. At least I never had before becoming a slut tonight!

And why had I suddenly and without premeditation given in to an invitation for " just sex"? What is that? Hadn't I discovered long ago that "just sex" paled in comparison to making love with a man that I loved, or at least thought I loved. That sex without an emotional connection was little better than masturbation with a warm penis. Am I happy or sad that it turned out to be just a nice fuck instead of making love? 

What about the "fireworks?" I described it that way, didn't I. Can you experience fireworks from "just sex" but not while making love? Is that upside down or should you not care about the man so that you can let go and have great orgasms. That made no sense, at least in the world that I had inhabited up to then. 

Sex has never been a big deal to me. Until I met Don, sex was a take it or leave it proposition. Granted that the several sex partners I had before Don were inexperienced, and Phil was an experienced, mature lover. But aren't we all once we turn thirty? Hadn't I used to describe sex as just "a pleasant form of exercise?" Funny how Phil had used the same rationalization when he confessed to the gang's arrangement in the suite. That doesn't explain why I spread my legs for him.

Phil may have said all the right things and pushed all the right buttons, but I have always scoffed at the notion that men can seduce women. Women allow themselves to be seduced and I allowed myself to be taken to his bed. WOMEN CHOOSE, MEN COOPERATE. And while I don't remember making a conscious choice to go to Phil's room, I needed no prompting to suck his hard dick into my mouth and there is no question whatsoever about the vocal alacrity with which I welcomed his cock into my previously chaste cunt. 

"Previously chaste cunt." No matter what I did from now on in my life, it would always be that, forevermore. I was ashamed. 

Have we become so liberated from our cultural roles that women have become just like men, whose brains seem to migrate to their dicks along with the blood. I was reluctantly willing to accept that excuse for Don and his suspected escapades, assuming that he had unwittingly been put in a position where his hardon overruled his better judgment. It didn't mean anything to him, did it? It does not seem to have affected our marriage, has it? Such excuses have probably saved a lot of marriages after one-night flings by husbands, but I was having a lot of difficulty with that excuse for a woman – or for myself. We are more discerning about whom we let into our bodies, aren't we? 

Women don't think with their pussy. They may manipulate other people with it but they don't let their pussy make decisions for them. That is a male fantasy and a pernicious one at that. Men always fantasize that there is something they can do that overcomes a woman's resistance to promiscuous sex – be it mind control, a big dick, alcohol, exhibition, force, or seduction. It is pernicious because some men actually believe that garbage and feel inferior if they can't do it. WOMEN CHOOSE, MEN COOPERATE. 

Blaming an out-of-control pussy or libido is idiotic, isn't it? At least I have always thought that. But maybe it WAS wet panties that moved me into Phil's suite. Maybe I really was thinking with my pussy. That is an explanation that lets me off the hook of personal responsibility. Kind of like the Devil (pussy) made me do it. But I don't think Don would buy the "Devil" excuse. I can't either.

Was it the alcohol? I have consumed more alcohol, especially hard liquor, this week than in a long time, if ever. Don is not a big drinker and I would probably have to go back to my college years to remember a time when I imbibed four days in a row. Even then it was beer, rather than bloody marys and rum and cokes. I had never gotten drunk this week but I was feeling happy every night. None of us needed to worry about driving, but I was never so impaired that I couldn't walk or talk without visible effect (or spread my thighs, I thought ruefully). 

But alcohol releases inhibitions doesn't it? As I taught in my high school PE/health classes, you lose some social restraints before you become physically impaired. You laugh more, flirt more, tell jokes you would normally not tell, and use coarser language. There is a certain amount of truth that girls lose some of there resistance, but alcohol just allows us to do what we wanted to do anyway, not something totally out of character. Going to bed with Phil or any other man not my husband was totally out of character for me.

Or was it? Did the Devil alcohol make me do it? Am I actually a slut but just didn't know it all these years? Did all the alcohol just let the true me out? I'm not sure what a slut is and suspect that such creatures, together with the proverbial "nympho", are figments of male imagination. I know that I have never met a "slut" or a "nympho". Maybe it's just an epithet you use to describe a married woman like me, who fucks a relative stranger for no discernable reason. 

I kept coming back to the loss of my chastity. I was now an adulteress, a permanent label that I could not escape even if I never fucked anyone but Don the rest of my life. Like virginity, once you had let a man other than your husband enter your vagina, you can never replace the psychological "hymen". I couldn't bear to think about telling Don about this. But if I didn't, I would be living a lie for the rest of my life by allowing him to think I was his faithful wife.

Many other thoughts rumbled around in my consciousness but at one point in that harrowing night, my focus shifted to my erstwhile new friends, particularly the other women. I felt only anger toward them and betrayal. According to Judy, they had voted me into the "gang" on Tuesday night, a fortuitous replacement piece of ass. Gee, I wonder what my qualifications were? I guess all the men agreed that they would like to fuck me. Duhh! How about the women? What did they care? Just to avoid a three-way with the odd man out after Lisa left?

It would have been nice if they had told me. Apparently they all had two years to grow into their intimacy (if it can be called that). Couldn't I have had at least a couple of hours? I am sure that I would have said "no thanks," and extricated myself from the situation if I had been given some warning. Or perhaps I would have said "are you fucking crazy?" That's how I feel now - crazy. I can't imagine I would have premeditated this adultery. Perhaps they all just thought I would jump at the chance to get laid. After all, that's what they were planning to do. Why should poor Phil be left out? 

They were all conspirators to my seduction. They were all guilty of abusing my friendship and trust. They encouraged me to drift into a twilight zone of alcohol, sweet words and group action. It seems facile to say it now but their example had a powerful persuasive effect on me. To see them necking, and particularly married Rachel making out, lowered my resistance to what would otherwise have been utterly unacceptable behavior to me. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?

I did. Without making a conscious decision, I found Phil's fingers in my pussy and myself cheating on my husband.

How ironic that I had spent the last two weeks preparing for and manning the ramparts against Frank Morello, only to be captured by the gang's Trojan Horse. A successful attack brought from the direction least expected, and before defenses can be erected. "Happily married" Phil had me wet and aroused before I realized my married virtue was under attack.

I had to admit that this week far away from home was also a factor. This was the longest I had spent on my own since I had been married. Occasionally a 2 day, 1 night coaching clinic within driving distance, but never in an airplane and for nearly a week. But its not like I'm a teenager off to the big city lights without a chaperone. Not like going to the Caribbean where everyone was topless and nobody knows you. I would run into these people again.

Yet with each passing day, I had felt the constraints of my middle class life falling away. Here I was not Mom, Meg, Honey, Mrs. Prescott, or Coach. Here I was my own person, Marge - just Marge without any roles to play. Was Marge a blank slate – an unwritten page? I had yearned for time alone with Don and for myself. This was unquestionably time for myself. That's a good thing, right? So is Marge, if left to her own devices, an adulteress – a slut? Did I have to be Marge, on her own, to see "fireworks"? 

If this all seems to be going round and round in a circle, it was. By the time the sun began to creep over the horizon, I was exhausted by the jumble of thoughts and emotions that assailed me. But slowly my exhaustion gave way to a sense of tranquility. 

I got up from the bed, deciding to brew the cup of instant coffee supplied to each room at the resort. I would need a little extra caffeine to get through this day after a sleepless night. I would sip it while I watched the sunrise, always a peaceful time. As I pulled a chair over to the three quarter picture window, which faced due east on the third floor, I saw the small handbag (that I had used last night) on the chair where I had thrown it. It was then that I noticed the white bra strap dangling below the bag. Anxious to get away from the Gang in the suite, I did not bother to put on my bra and panties and had stuffed them into the bag. 

"That's cute," I mumbled out loud. I wondered if anyone had seen me walking through the hotel with my underwear falling out of my bag. I'm sure no one would suspect a thing of Coach Airhead. Right! Maybe the Gang would live to regret seducing me into their group when they discovered that I was too careless and stupid to keep their secret. It would serve them right.

I sighed with the recognition that I had to accept what I could not change, regrettable though it may have been. I smirked at the mix of metaphors but Marge, I said to myself, you can't cry over spilt semen; it was fucking under the dam so to speak. What I could affect was what happened today and tomorrow.

What was I going to do about Phil, the Gang, and Don?

Lots of questions! But for the first time in my life, I was provoked to look for answers. Finally, after twenty years, sex had unexpectedly become a BIG DEAL for me. An incredible orgasm can do that for you, I guess. Despite all of the negatives about last night, I suppose I could grasp at this silver lining. Was it wishful thinking that I could turn sawdust into gold dust?

The bright orange ball of the sun was half over the mountain ridge that overlooked the resort when I settled into my chair. At 6 a.m., I could see no movement in the courtyard below, so I propped my feet on the low windowsill in front of me. The warmth of the sun felt good. Spreading my knees and opening my robe, I basked in the heat and light on my naked body. I didn't think anyone could possibly see me, but it felt so liberating to expose my bare body to the sun. As though this week was about breaking down barriers, letting Marge breathe and come into her own.

When the coffee maker beeped, I returned to the vanity to pour my cup and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Not bad for a 39-year old mother of two, I thought. The brunette hairdo was near shoulder length but outdated, and reflected a romp in bed. My face showed the strain of tonight, but was still attractive, I thought. Full lips which I rarely adorned with lipstick. Well-defined cheekbones; no sag in the chin or cheeks, and blue eyes, with only the hint of smile lines around the temple. 

My breasts had retained their C cup girth after the second pregnancy, and barely flunked the "pencil test". Nipples pink and nicely centered on small areolas, it didn't take a wonder bra to show some cleavage if I were ever so inclined. My belly had just a hint of roundness. It and my slender, well-defined legs were the product of twenty-five years of athletic fitness, and my mother's genes. Lifting my robe to see my backside, I realized that I didn't need to wear the baggy slacks that seemed to be my uniform most of the year.

I had not really taken that inventory or thought about it for a long time, but I had to admit to myself that I was an attractive woman, probably more so than when I met Don so many years ago. Even though Meg and Mrs. Prescott were not conscious of my body, Marge ruefully recognized that men would be attracted to me and I should be more careful what I projected to them. Did Phil and my companions assume that attractiveness equated to "hot"? 

I took the coffee back to the windowsill and began fondling my breasts, remembering the expert foreplay that started me irrevocably on the path of adultery. My nipples quickly hardened under my hands and the sun and the memory. Lowering my hands to my belly, I massaged the stretch marks that were the visible reminder of my place in this world as mother and wife. Spread naked before the sun was not the same place, and Marge was no longer comfortable in just those roles. I was discovering that perhaps there was more to life than what I had known.

My hands moved down through the copious brown hair covering my mound and cupped my sex. I leaned forward to look at my pussy as I stroked it, something I rarely did. The hair had grown long without attention from me. Some strands could be pulled down two or three inches over my pink labia. I felt detached, almost disembodied as I inspected it. Did it look any different, this previously chaste cunt? I remembered the way it looked after being fucked by Don, the labia still a little puffy and some cum still remaining to leak out in the morning as I rose for my shower. It was a good feeling, one I associated with the love and intimacy that I shared with my husband. It didn't look that way now, and I didn't have that feeling. But I had most assuredly been fucked last night.

I was considering masturbation to drive the unhappy tension from my consciousness. Maybe I could recreate the magic produced by Phil's tongue and fingers, as though now that I had reached that pinnacle, I could summon it back at will. Suddenly I flashed on an absurd thought. 

Call me giddy after a sleepless night, but my internal debate over whether my pussy could rule me put me in mind of a Thomas Jefferson biography I had read several years ago when I had to fill in as a history teacher for two years. I know – I've lost about half my readers with this bizarre connection. Thomas Jefferson on Literotica. What is the world coming to? The book devoted a lot of space to Jefferson's little known "Dialogue between Head and Heart", a series of letters where he debated with himself the advisability of pursuing his love for a married woman while in Paris during the Revolution. He was utterly smitten with her (the heart), but knew the pursuit was hopeless (the head). Ultimately the Head won (although I guess Sally Hemming's liplock on his dick had a little to do with it too).

I realized that my night's struggle had been a debate between the values of my life and marriage and the newly discovered excitement of adultery. Family versus Danger; fidelity vs. promiscuous sex. As I gazed upon my pussy, I imagined a debate with it to control the future. The Head didn't seem to have had much sway for the past 24 hours. In fact, it seems to have been AWOL. So it would have to be "A Dialogue between my Heart and my Pussy." TJ eat your heart out.

"Are you up for this, my pretty?" I started, gently patting my vulva.

'Phil was the one who was up, slut. I was the one that was flooding the sheets, remember? But to answer your question, yes, I am open to a discussion provided you keep your fingers still. I'll pass on the "pretty" bullshit for now.'

"My, aren't we touchy. We've had quite a night, haven't we, old girl."

'Speak for yourself, Bitch! I could have gone again – several times. And don't call me "Old" for at least another thirty years. The fact that you have let me practically dry up is not my fault.'

"I promise to do something about that, but what do we do now, my previously chaste cunt?"




Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 01



'It's about time you got this cunt chased! I haven't felt that good in a long time! The other "chaste" is your problem. I don't care how or who uses me, just that I get the reasonable use that any healthy, happy vagina requires. And whatever it takes, I want more of the big happy explosion like I had last night! I don't care if you have to fuck a hundred men and women, I want more!'

"Women?" 

'Yeah, like I really care whether the tongue and fingers are attached to a male or female. Whatever it takes Marge, or Meg, or Coach, or whatever you call yourself on any given day.'

"I feel so terrible about cheating on Don. You betrayed me too. Did you take over my brain last night when Phil kissed me?"

'Whining does not become you, bitch, but let's put this one to rest. I may siphon a little blood off your brain when I get excited, but your gray matter doesn't move. Neither I nor the Devil made you do it. You are the one who decides when I am going to get fucked and you alone.' 

"But how am I going to face Don? I can't keep this a secret from him, can I?"

'You are on your own with that one. And if you don't handle it right, I'll probably never see his lovely dick again. So pay attention! You have probably not noticed, but I don't look any different this morning than I did the last time Don fucked me. Unless you pull a train tonight with the whole resort waiter staff, I don't think he is going to pick up that you got me fucked during this trip. And besides, you can cling to the fact that you made this guy wear a slimy rubber. Is it adultery if you don't let your lover cum in you?'

"I'm afraid so, Monica. Besides, I would have to be honest in admitting that I was so excited that I would have let that guy cum in me if he wanted. He took timeout to put on the condom AFTER I asked him to fuck me. Or you, sorry. And I'm sure I would have violated another marital privilege by letting him cum in my mouth if he hadn't been so hot to get into you. Hell, I would have probably swallowed for the first time in my life if he came right after we got the Big Happy."

'You really are a slut. If it doesn't make any difference, then why did you deprive me of the man sauce I so enjoy? I don't care what you do with your mouth or your asshole as long as I get my fair share of the nectar.'

"Nectar??? You don't have to worry about competition from my ass. But what about Don? I love him dearly and nothing about that was changed by last night. Am I going to screw that up looking for the Big Happy?"

'Fuck him! No, really! I always thought he was a good fuck. You're the one who accepted the quick licks. Maybe if you took a little time with him, he might return the favor.' 

"I hadn't thought of that. Do you really think he could give us the same happy time as Phil if Don spent more time at it?"

'You haven't thought, period, Shit-for-Brains. How long do you intend to continue one-note quickies with Don. Do you really think that after 19 years he would still be hot for me? You're the one who keeps saying WOMEN CHOOSE, MEN COOPERATE. While you are choosing, a little effort and imagination would go a long way toward getting me the worship I deserve. And while you're at it, clean me up for God's sake!'

"Some imagination just might be worthwhile, but your hostility is not helping. How do you think I feel?"

'The problem is about how I felt last night! Neither of us seems to be able to get past that Big Happy. And I'll show you hostility, Bitch. How would you feel if you were ignored for 16 years?' 

"What do you mean by clean you up?"

'When was the last time you looked at me, you brain-dead cunt. No. Wait. I'm the cunt. Well, you're brain-dead anyway. How long do you plan to grow the beard around this clam? To your knees? If you hadn't pushed out two kids, you would have been growing this tangle for 25 years. How old is Sarah? Twelve years since a razor or scissors have been between your thighs. Cunt-hounds like Phil will put up with the jungle to get a new piece of ass, but nobody likes to pick rope out of their teeth forever.'

"But won't it itch?"

'I didn't say you had to shave it. Scissors will uncover me. What you do with the rest is a matter of tonsorial taste. Are you ashamed of me? Nobody can see me under the bramble bush. Maybe if you and Don knew what I looked like, you might want to spend more time with me. That works for me.'

"OK, I'll think about it. But this is becoming a monologue. Making you pretty is not going to solve my big problems right now."

'Thinking appears not to be your strong suit. Cleaning me up may not solve the big problems, but it will get you started with Don if you can get past last night. And while we're at it, do you realize that you pee through that beard 5 or 6 times a day? Do you really expect your husband to spend 30 minutes sucking the urine off of your scraggly pelt? I'll save the lingerie beef for later.'

"How thoughtful. I'm still not sure we are getting anywhere. What do you think accounts for the fireworks? Obviously not the way you look. And obviously not love or emotional attachment, which were utterly lacking last night. That bothers me a lot. Was it technique? The excitement of a new lover? The freedom of time away from family?"

'I think I would go for Door #2 if those were the only choices. But now that you've found the Big Happy, I don't necessarily think you have to go on to a succession of strange lovers to recapture the moment. Make the effort at home first. Your husband is more likely to give it to me on a regular basis that a succession of strange dicks. But maybe not. Like I said, I couldn't care less who does it, only that I get it often enough. And your hand won't get it, not that you try more than a couple times a decade.' 

"Sorry, but as you know I have never been that interested before. But now who is the slut? Any tongue in a storm, eh? To tell you the truth, that is what I am most worried about. I'm leaning toward Doors #2 and #3, and there may be some more choices." 

'Actually I would go for a Door #4 if you asked me. Behind that one you would find the mature adult pussy that you have never gotten to know. You know, I got my license and voter registration about 24 years ago, but I didn't develop a taste for drinking the hard stuff until we were about 30 years old. So maybe we couldn't get the Big Happy until we learned how to use my mature good stuff. But for the last eight years, you haven't bothered. Maybe the Big Happy has been there since thirty when you approached or reached your peak, and anybody with an indefatigable tongue could have given it to us since then.' 

"Actually, that IS beginning to make sense. But it's getting late and I should be getting downstairs. If you don't mind, I'll pass on the jill-off. You've had enough happy time for one 24 hour period."

'Bitch! If you had a clue.....'

I removed my hands and closed my thighs. People were moving about the courtyard and I'm really not an exhibitionist (I don't think). Besides, it was time for a shower and a face-off with my "friends".

I don't think I had any answers yet but the questions were beginning to get organized. At that point I really had only two resolutions. I would not have a drop of alcohol today. And I was not going to get laid tonight. But I didn't think I was going to make any progress that day on the two questions that haunted me the most. Where did those fireworks come from and how could I keep them in my life? And what was I going to tell Don?

When I left my room, I looked to be a cross between the worst hangover I had ever had and a flu victim, with the bags under my puffy eyes, my sallow skin, and my red nose. I had never been very good with makeup, so I don't think I hid it very well even though I spent more time than usual with my morning toilette. At least I had a brighter blouse and dark slacks to draw attention from my face, and you may be sure that I wore bulletproof underwear that morning.

The resort restaurant was nearly empty when I entered at 7:15 a.m. I took a small table where I could watch the door. Judy was at the top of my list and she had been an early riser all week. She didn't disappoint.

"I'd say good morning if you didn't look like you had such a bad night, Marge. How about a little hair of the dog?" she greeted me as she sat down next to me at the table.

"You, on the other hand, look like you slept the righteous sleep of a well-fucked woman," I replied without a smile. "No thanks. I'm not drinking today, so I'll pass on the Bloody Mary. I'm not sure whose hair or whose dog it would be anyways."

"Well, we offered you the opportunity for the same righteous sleep," she chuckled. She had not picked up my distressed mood.

"Fuck you!" I exploded in a low whisper to get her undivided attention. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about your little swing club. You just let me walk into it blind, deaf, and dumb. That is not the act of a friend."

The expression on her face was one of shock. Clearly she had never anticipated the negative reaction that I was having to my first extra-marital adventure. But she listened carefully as I shared my anguish with her and I began to see a glimmer of remorse in her face.

"Couldn't you at least have warned me or told me about your little "gang?" I asked again.

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking. I assumed that you would welcome the opportunity for some exciting no-strings sex during this oasis from everyday life. I thought you would enjoy it more if it just happened without pre-meditation," she temporized. 

"When is sex ever "no-strings" when it is extra-marital?" I practically shrieked at her. "Have you been so long without a caring relationship that the concepts of loyalty and deceit are now totally alien to you?"

Judy studied her coffee for a moment but ventured no response. Her shock then returned when I suggested that I would tell my husband. She had obviously never considered that possibility. She was finally beginning to realize the enormity of my distress and the price to pay for thoughtlessly initiating the uninitiated. 

"Why would you tell your husband?" she asked, her voice hinting at panic.

"I have always held him to a high standard of honesty and disclosure. No secrets. I can't imagine anything more important to share than this stupid adultery. If I didn't tell him, I would be the worst kind of hypocrite. And I would hate for him to find out from someone else."

"But who else knows and would tell him? What he doesn't know won't hurt him," she rationalized (again). "I can guarantee you that no one in the group will tell. If you tell him, he might complain to the Association. Think of Phil and Rachel and the impact on their marriages."

"They will have to deal with that; not my problem," I said. "That was the risk when they decided to go along with this swinging scheme. I will certainly not name names but I will have to put my stupidity in the context of this club or gang or whatever you want to call it. I feel like I was tricked into Phil's bed last night, so I don't feel too sympathetic or solicitous of the people who helped him." 

She persisted in trying to persuade me against confession, and I told her I had not made up my mind for sure yet. Leaving it at that, we interrupted our talk to attend the breakfast buffet line. All I felt like was some oatmeal and toast, but Judy had a surprising appetite for such a small woman. She was no more than 5 feet tall and weighed maybe 100 pounds after her big breakfast. Short blond hair and blue eyes completed the picture, which was quite attractive. I put her about 40 or 41 and she looked to be one of those fortunate women who never had to watch her weight.

I knew she had been married some ten years ago when I had last seen her at a coaching clinic, and that she had returned from out-of-state 7 or 8 years ago with her daughter. She had been single for some time before the group had ventured into extra-marital sex. I wanted to know why she agreed to limit herself to this gang when she was single and could form whatever liaison appealed to her at this convention. Men outnumbered women by 3 to 1, so she had an ample stable of candidates. What did she get out of this arrangement?

She pondered my question as she ate her scrambled eggs. I could tell she would rather return to the confession issue but realized that I was in control of the discussion now. What she told me was not that surprising, had I thought about it before hand. Of course I hadn't thought about any of this before the shock of last night.

She explained that, after her divorce, she had "sworn off" men for a couple of years before starting to date. She did then have one relationship that lasted about two years but it ended badly. The older she got, the more difficult it became to find eligible men she found interesting. The good ones were married and she didn't want to get into destructive affairs. When this group formed, she saw it as the perfect opportunity to have safe sex with interesting men, three of whom were married, without having to invest in a destructive affair or a relationship.

"With the rules we agreed on, it seemed the ideal way to have good no strings sex that we all had incentive to keep confidential," she explained. "None of that rationale changed when the majority of the group became single. We all lived in different places. We still did not have to worry about cultivating daily relationships or our reputation."

I was not really satisfied with that explanation. "Would you have done this if you had been married?"

"I'm probably not a good person to ask. I ended up in a horrible marriage with a contemptible "wife-watcher." In fact, I did some screwing around for the last nine months of the marriage, although you really couldn't call it "cheating". It's a long story," Judy explained, "and I'll tell you some other time if you want. But I think you should talk to Dee-Dee and Rachel about where this fit or fits in their marriages."

"I suppose I don't need to talk to the men," I said. "Married or single, they are not going to turn down no strings pussy, are they?"

That remark cut the tension between us a little bit. I could tell she was about to bring up my confession for discussion again when we were interrupted.

"Mind if I join you to twist your arm to vote for Rule 14f?" 

I looked up to find Frank Morello standing before us. With two empty seats at our table, I could hardly say no. I introduced him to Judy, but he said he already knew her – by reputation. When I raised my eyebrows at that comment, he told her that he heard she was a "damn fine coach." After discussing the merits of changing the freshman playing time rule 14f, he learned that we would both vote in favor.

"You do not look well this morning, Marge," he said, shifting the conversation. "A little too much to drink or too much party last night?"

I had prepared to answer that question because I knew how I looked. 

"A little too much rum and some bad shrimp," I replied, with a grimace. "But I got to bed at a decent hour."

"So what they say about the hot tub isn't true, huh?" he asked.

A glance at Judy did not change the blank stare on my face. Say what?

"You know, that getting in the hot tub before going to bed prevents a hangover. Sweats out the alcohol," he explained. "I'm sorry, I saw you walking down the hallway barefoot in a robe last night. Your hair was damp around your face, so I assumed you had been in the resort Jacuzzi."

"Oh, ... yeah," I replied. My mind was racing to evaluate the information that he saw me last night. Considering the alternative, a trip to the Jacuzzi was a plausible excuse that I grabbed onto with both hands. "With my stomach in turmoil, I didn't want to stay in very long, so I guess I didn't sweat out much rum."

"Well, I'm glad I avoided the shrimp in the Association hospitality suite," Frank commiserated with me. 

Turning to involve Judy in the conversation, he said, "You look all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You were smart to leave that party early last night."

Now it was Judy's turn to gulp and back-fill. "Yes, I wanted to be in good shape for the farewell dinner dance tonight," she replied.

Frank asked if we were going to the baseball game downtown that afternoon. Most of the attendees were going to the beautiful ballpark, seemingly all of the men. But we told him we had not signed up and Judy said she was looking forward to having the spa mostly to herself that afternoon. We then prepared to excuse ourselves to have time to go to our room before the plenary session began at 8:30.

"Have a good day," he said. "I hope you two will grace me with a dance tonight."

"Count on it," Judy replied with a smile. I said nothing, ignoring the question. 

"What was that all about?" Judy gasped when we were safely outside the restaurant in the hallway.

"I don't know," I whispered. "He must have been in the hospitality suite before you and Wayne left. How he saw me in a robe is beyond me. Did he see me with Phil or on my way back to get dressed?" 

I racked my brain to remember whether Phil and I had shown any familiarity when we walked back to the suite after sex. Did we hold hands? I think the expression on my face reflected only my confusion, but Phil's may have shown triumph. Don't men always wear a smirk after scoring a new piece of ass?

"You know the cocktail lounge is also on the second floor, just a little ways down from Phil's suite," Judy replied. "He must have retired to the lounge after Sam closed the hospitality suite. So he probably knows you were in there when the door was locked."

"Jesus Christ! How could I be so stupid as to not notice he was in there last night?" I exclaimed. 

My anger toward Judy and the gang returned. The seductive atmosphere had made me oblivious to more than just my marriage vows. And what if he had seen us in the hallway on the first trip to Phil's room? I shuddered to remember that my arm was around Phil and his hand was on my ass during that short trip. We were locked in a passionate embrace before the door closed. Why couldn't we have just snuck into one of the hospitality suite bedrooms, occupied or not? 

"And just to make things a little worse, the Jacuzzi gate locks closed at 10:00 p.m.," Judy prompted. "You could not have been in the Jacuzzi before he saw you."

"Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit."

So he knew I was lying. Uh-oh. Did he know or could he guess about last night. Had he seen me with my underwear hanging out of my handbag? The last person I wanted to know about my little peccadillo was Frank. I thought I was going to cry again as Judy hugged me and encouraged me to "think positive, things are never as bad as they seem."

Bullshit! I made it to the meeting, sitting alone, lost in my worries and feeling sorrier for myself than ever before. If Frank knew, would he tell Don or my school? Would he try to blackmail me into sex? When would I know what he knew?

Several times during that initial hour and a half session I had to cover my eyes to hide their welling with tears. I never felt lower than I did at that moment, rock bottom. In less than 12 hours, my life had turned from almost a peak of happiness to ashes and shit. I thought my life was over as I knew it. And all this just for a little strange sex, "just sex," that I can't remember consciously choosing? I thought Job had nothing on me. 

DeeDee and Rachel joined me after the first break. Judy must have told them about Frank and that I was thinking about telling my husband. They were understandably concerned but I mostly ignored them. I got through the sessions, voting on those items required. I was elected to the Competition Committee by acclamation. I did not want to draw attention to myself by withdrawing my name from the consent ballot. I would be back next year. Oh, goody.




Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 01



I sort of caught my breath as I headed to lunch. I did not resist sitting with the women of the gang but Judy shooed the men away when they attempted to join us. We took our time ordering as the huge majority of attendees were gulping a bite before boarding buses for the baseball game. As the dining room started to clear out, we ordered our salads. Bloody Mary's suited the others, but not me.

I shared my feelings with DeeDee and Rachel, although not with the vehemence that I had felt with Judy. She was the friend. DeeDee and Rachel were really just recent acquaintances who knew I had committed adultery last night. I knew they had gotten fucked too and started my questions with DeeDee. I asked her how she had gotten into this club/lifestyle when she had been a married woman, at least when it started three years ago.

I would have put DeeDee at about 35 years old. She was about my height but somewhat heavier with what some would describe as voluptuous curves. Her auburn hair was medium length and, at least this week, she wore clothes to emphasis her considerable cleavage. Like all of us, she looked the former athlete but was perhaps closer to turning the corner to middle age spread and droop than the rest of us. Still, she was a very attractive woman with green eyes and a ready, attractive smile. Oh, and did I say she had big tits?

She too took her time thinking through her answer. I got the impression that neither DeeDee nor Judy had ever really thought about this arrangement or attempted before to articulate the reasons for their choices. I suppose that would account for their thoughtless assumption that I would willingly acquiesce in a zipless fuck.

"I am probably also not the best person to ask about my thought process for fooling around," she started. "I was involved in a bad marriage for about three years before we started here. So it was not an anguished moral decision to cheat on a man that I no longer loved."

She went on to describe that her husband was an alcoholic and occasionally a violent drunk to her, and once, to her kids. When he fell off the wagon again after two detox programs, she gave up and began looking for the right time to divorce without harming the two young kids, if that is ever possible. She felt she was already psychologically divorced when Rachel started the ball rolling with Sam that year. 

"I wound up in bed with Wayne that Wednesday night three years ago and it felt good," she sighed. "I really knew him pretty well and had enjoyed his friendship and flirtation for two years, so it was not like musical chairs for me. We fucked and talked and fucked and talked, and then fucked and talked again the next morning. I felt a real intimacy with a man for the first time in a long, long time. Wayne also had a troubled marriage and we had a lot to share that night. He made me feel sexy and worthwhile again. He was perfect for what I needed."

I asked her why she continued after she got divorced and could have had her pick, at least of single men at the convention. Again she hesitated before explaining that the second year she was separated but not yet divorced until the following year. She had not been anxious to begin dating again and this became a convenient way to get laid without the hassle of a love affair.

"Some women may not feel this way or be willing to admit it, but I really love sex and missed it the rest of the year," she explained. "I also missed the intimacy and caring. I need more than to just get fucked most of the time. So I will say now to Judy and Rachel that I came here this week knowing this would be the last year for me. If I could have renewed the intimacy with Wayne every year, this would have been perfect. But I feel no emotional attachment with the other men."

Rachel and Judy exchanged glances but said nothing. This crack in the façade of the club was intriguing to me, as was DeeDee's admission that she needed more than "just sex". Maybe I wasn't so crazy or out of step with modern morality after all. 

DeeDee went on to announce that actually it was over for her as of that moment. She confessed that she had been reluctantly willing to participate this year in the expectation that she would complete the rotation with Phil, who she heard was a good lover and listener. But there was no way she was going to do Sam again, who for her was the least attractive sex partner.

"As you probably guessed last night, Judy, by my early departure," she explained, "I didn't fuck him and had no intention of sleeping with him. And I'm not going to be with him or anyone else in the group tonight." 

Before Judy could react or I could begin my follow-up questions, Rachel interrupted to remind DeeDee that they had to prepare for the basketball workshop they were presenting on Friday morning. As rival girls coaches in a big urban district, they had been persuaded to enlighten their less fortunate brethren on how to build a successful program. I reminded Rachel that I really wanted to hear about the why of her participation in the gang, so she suggested that we all meet at the pool about 3:30 to hash it out. She didn't seem too enthusiastic but realized I think that she needed talk with me in the hopes of keeping things a secret. And I also needed more time to talk to DeeDee.

They left as the waitress brought coffee to the table. We talked a little bit about what had been said. Judy confirmed that DeeDee had apparently left before Phil and I returned to the suite. Sam had come out after I left and had not been happy.

We finished our coffee and Judy invited me to come to the spa with her for a mud bath and a massage. I had never had a massage other than a localized physical therapy and I felt self-conscious about having a stranger rub hands all over my body, even excepting the naughty bits. We had done a seaweed wrap and other pampering stuff on Monday, but not a massage. But she wouldn't take no for an answer. She kept pushing for her treat, saying that she felt responsible for the anguish I had been feeling the past 12 hours. Finally I agreed when she pointed out that it would be a perfect introduction to the nap that I needed after the sleepless night.

After getting my swimsuit from my room, we entered the massage area for the appointment she had set for us. We were greeted by a young Asian woman who escorted us to our massage room. The motif for the spa was Polynesian, so the attendant wore a short sarong with a bikini top. I would have guessed she was of Hawaiian or Japanese heritage, which she confirmed when she introduced herself as Leilani. On closer questioning, she admitted that her real name was Hiroko and her friends called her Roko.

Roko pointed out the alcove with hooks and hangers for our clothes and left us to undress for the massage. I looked around the quiet room and noticed there were two massage beds side by side. Before I could ask Judy about the arrangement, she volunteered that the rate was one-third off for two people, usually an inducement to married couples. She grinned and said she hoped that I didn't mind, but she didn't want to be too extravagant even though it was her treat. She was, after all, a single schoolteacher.

I supposed it didn't matter and began to undress. When I had stripped to my conservative underwear, I turned to Judy with a question on my face. She had her back to me and was naked as she pulled her panties from her feet.

"Are we supposed to wear a bathing suit?" I asked.

She turned to look at me. I couldn't help but admire her petite, athletic, runner's body. I have been in many women's locker rooms but I was more than a little uncomfortable gazing at her body in this private setting. Her breasts were small but rounded with erect pink nipples and small areolas. Her thighs and ass were finely muscled, culminating in a thin strip of blonde pubic hair just above her very visible slit. I did my best to avert my eyes as I reached for the suit.

"Not that bathing suit," she giggled. "I didn't think anybody wore one-piece maillot suits these days; certainly not someone with a body like yours. It will just get soiled with the oil and it will get in the way. Those granny panties won't get it either. I think you can preserve your modesty with the two towels that are provided."

I deduced that she meant going nude. I took my bra and panties off, wrapping myself in a towel as I watched her step into a string thong bikini panty. A "Wicked Weasel" is what Don called them when he had pointed out the web site. He wanted me to get one but I scoffed at the near nudity. Besides, I didn't feel right wearing a two-piece because of my stretch marks after Sarah. 

She wrapped a towel around herself and headed to the near table just as Roko returned. She asked about our preference in music and then asked who was first. Judy persuaded me that I should be the first, since I would likely be asleep by the time I was done. I climbed on the table face down as Roko draped the towel over my butt.

The oil was warm and smelled of gardenias, which brought pleasant memories of my honeymoon in Hawaii. Roko started at my shoulders, working my arms out to my fingertips and then moved down my back after finishing my neck. I quickly got over my self-consciousness and had to admit to myself that her hands felt wonderful.

She moved to my waist to continue lower, relaxing my lower back. Her hands occasionally slipped under the towel to massage my upper buttocks, which felt good. She moved to my feet and started up from my toes. As she moved above my knees, gentle pressure on the inside of my thighs encouraged me to spread them. I was so relaxed by then that I could only smile to myself at the thought that she could probably see my pussy very well from that vantage point. But remembering my debate from this morning, I grinned even more to think she probably couldn't see very much because of my "jungle."

I was starting to drift off when she got to the top of my thighs. Her thumbs grazed the tendrils of pubic hair as they reached the top of their stroke. That alerted me to pay attention as she seemed to concentrate at the juncture of my thighs, her wet, strong fingers brushing my abundant bush at each pass. She never touched my labia or my slit, but I began to feel tantalized by her closeness to my center. Was this intentional or part of the massage? Instead of relaxing, I found myself becoming aroused.

Before she finished with my backside, she lifted the towel to my waist and began a vigorous massage of my buttocks. Whatever false modesty I may have clung to, my pussy was now on display from behind. Over and over her warm, oily fingers delved into the crack between my cheeks, occasionally flitting across my anus. This provoked sensations I had never experienced before. My arousal increased and I began to wonder if this was proper technique. I also wondered if my wetness was evident to Roko, and my scent. When I looked over to Judy for some reassurance, she was no help as she seemed to furtively close her eyes while she lay nearly naked on her back. I did notice that her nipples were erect.

I was just about to say something or start openly squirming when Roko asked me to turn over. I sighed at this respite from the tingle in my pussy and rolled over. I grasped the towel over my mound and asked her for a drape for my breasts. I then lay down on my back and was surprised when she started at my feet. The warmth and relaxation returned as she spent several minutes with my feet, which felt heavenly. But then my apprehension returned as she worked her way above my knees.

Her long hard strokes up the inside of my thighs brought back the tingle. Without any prompting from Roko, I spread my legs to give her better access. When the arousal returned, stronger than before, I didn't know what to do. I looked into her eyes to see a twinkling smile as she lifted the towel above my mound. I saw her look down at my wet and engorging labia as she kept circling my pussy with her fingers, never quite touching the labia but pulling and stretching the skin around them. I had to stifle a groan when she actually began massaging my hairy mound, careful not to touch my clit poking out of its hood and begging for attention.

Oh, my! I was in uncharted territory here. I had not touched or been touched by a female since fumbling in the dark with my teammate, Tricia, in college 20 years ago. I really hadn't even thought about it. But her eyes were entreating. I wanted to lift my knees and spread them wide enough to give her access for anything she wanted to do to me. I didn't feel a desire to touch her, but felt almost powerless to stop her from touching me and giving me what portended a powerful orgasm.

I again looked over to Judy, but her eyes were closed. I was on my own. What would Don say? Was this adultery? I couldn't risk the possible post-coital guilty feeling. I was so sore from the anguish leftover from last night that I felt I must reassert control over my promiscuous pussy. I smiled to Roko, letting her know that I was not offended by her offer, but closed my thighs and pulled the towel back down over my leaking pussy. We both sighed as she moved to my head to continue the massage treatment.

Crisis averted, my breathing returned to normal and her soothing hands soon had me drifting toward the nap I so desperately needed. But then she moved to my breasts and began squeezing and massaging. And then caressing. Oh my! Her hands quickly centered on my erect nipples. I know that she took more than professional license when she began pulling and pinching my sensitive nipples. I could only close my eyes and revel in the sensations emanating from my tits to my groin. When had Don stopped worshiping my tits? I drifted onto a high cloud, wondering what I could do to get more of this kind of attention. Surely Don still found my tits exciting, didn't he? Perhaps I had forgotten how to show them off after all these years. They had lost little since the last pregnancy and, if anything, looked better than when we had married. 

I knew Roko liked them, as I could see her gentle smile through my slit eyes. I did not miss the grinding her pubis against the back of my hand and I couldn't tell whether the scent of pussy in the air was from me or from her. Probably both. I thought about touching her tits – and her pussy. What was happening to me?

With no overt green light from me, Roko moved to my shoulders and neck. The momentary temptation was gone as my fatigue caught up with me. The last thing I remember was the heavenly warmth emanating from her hands on my neck. I vaguely remember her spreading a hot towel over my nude body when she was done. Whatever else may have been offered that I silently declined, Roko gave an exquisite massage.

I awoke to the sounds of grunting.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." 

Somewhat disoriented, it took me a moment to remember where I was. When I looked in the direction of the sounds, my heart skipped a beat.

Judy lay on her back on the adjoining table with Roko standing near her waist. Judy was naked, her thong on the floor at the end of the table. Roko's top was untied and a pair of thong cotton, white panties were at her feet. But what shocked me were her hands on Judy. One hand appeared to have three fingers buried in Judy's vagina, the other squeezing one of Judy's nipples while Roko suckled the other. Judy had one hand between Roko's thighs, rubbing up and down her inner thigh, wetness gleaming on her fingers.

The grunting came from Judy, louder and louder. Her legs could not keep still and seemed to be shaking like she had the ague. Roko's hand became more and more active as she plunged in and out of Judy's vagina. Judy began to pant like a woman doing Lamaze breathing and lifted her hips off of the table seemingly in an effort to capture more of Roko's hand. With her feet on the table, she began jerking her hips two to three feet off the table as she reached her climax. I could smell Judy's cunt, thick in the air.

"Oh God. Oh God. FUCK!" Judy cried out and then became silent as she slammed her thighs together. She lifted her hips into Roko's hand until only the balls of her feet and her neck were on the table while she shook in her rigid pose.

Shock and Awe, I thought to myself. I had never watched another woman cum but that was spectacular. Suddenly my pussy was wet again. Neither Roko nor Judy had looked in my direction, so they probably thought I was still asleep – as though anyone could have slept through that explosion. I reached down to pet my pussy as Roko did the same for Judy, bringing her down from her release.

After a couple of minutes, Judy opened her eyes and reached to bring Roko's wet hand to her mouth, licking the juice that coated Roko's fingers. She sighed her thanks and pulled Roko to her for a tender kiss, which lasted a while as they worked their tongues with increasing passion. Roko suddenly unfastened her sarong, showing what looked like a delicate black bush peeking beneath a perfect petite butt. Judy turned on her side and stretched both hands between Roko's thighs, where they began caressing in earnest. Roko sighed and leaned over the table to get Judy's lips on her nipples. Roko's tits were smaller than Judy's, barely more than nipples, but her nipples were huge and erect.

I could see Judy lightly biting a nipple when she looked over at me and saw me watching. I blushed at being caught the voyeur. Her eyes sparkled and she released the nipple long enough to grin at me and look to my hand working between my thighs under the towel. Judy then pulled Roko's ass around until it faced me directly, no doubt to give me a direct view of Judy's hands at work.

It did not take Roko long. Judy had three fingers in her cunt, a thumb on her clit, and two wet fingers sliding in and out of her ass. Her ass! Roko arched her back, trailing her long straight hair below her waist, almost obscuring my view of Judy's hands. Her climax was a silent stiffness, after which she collapsed onto Judy's tits.

The silence was deafening. I removed my hand from my wet but unsatisfied pussy and feigned sleep. Roko did not know I had observed both orgasms and I thought it best to leave it at that. I heard her pulling her panties up as she quietly thanked Judy with a kiss. I peeked to see Roko suck Judy's wet fingers into her mouth as Judy slipped a twenty into her hand and then she was gone.

"You can wake up now, Marge," Judy said with a giggle. "Let's go take our mud bath."

"That was special!" I whispered with wide eyes, I suppose thinking someone could hear us through these insulated walls. "Do you do that often?"

"Only when I can," she replied with a smile. "But I must admit, the thought of you watching us after almost giving in to the same temptation made that orgasm blow the top of my head off!" 

I didn't know what to say to that. I guess that made me a voyeur AND an exhibitionist. I stood up from the table and began to wrap myself in the no longer warm towel. Judy retrieved her weasel bottoms from the floor at the foot of the bed and turned to me.

"I'm not going to wear these in the mud bath," she explained. "Do you want them?"

"No thanks," I replied. "They wouldn't fit around my ass without cutting off circulation to my pussy." We laughed out loud at my vulgarity.

"I suppose after what we've shared the past 24 hours, we need not be bashful," she chided me. "Let's go get muddy."

We gathered our clothes and went down the hall to one of the mudrooms, as instructed by Roko. Inside were two slate stone tubs, side-by-side, with hooks for clothes along one wall and a sunken two-head shower in the corner opposite the door. The room was open along its side to a delightful Japanese garden shared by several other treatment rooms along a right angle wing of the spa. After dropping our towels, the female attendant instructed us to lie in the tubs while mud was poured in. 




Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 02



NIGHTTIME CONFESSIONS Ch 2:

SUNRISE REVELATIONS Part 2

After drying off, we were escorted back to the first room for a peaceful rest. Draped in hot towels on the massage bed, I closed my eyes but could not drift off to sleep. I guess this was intended to be a time for contemplation and reflection after the physical sensations of the treatments. 

I still tingled with excitement and had much to think about. Was I a lesbian? Was the new Marge a slut AND a lesbian? I wondered again who I was or had become far from home and the roles that had defined my life. But I knew I could not blame my relative lack of inhibition that afternoon on alcohol. What must Judy think of me now? I recognized how close I had come to throwing all discretion to the wind and giving in to my increasingly devilish pussy. 

After the towels cooled, we donned our suits for a poolside tan as we waited for the others. Judy chided me again about my one-piece but it did hide my stretch marks very well. She pulled on her wicked weasel and led the way to the pool. I could not take my eyes off her ass, bisected by the tee-back. I had to acknowledge that I was truly attracted to and excited by her perfectly proportioned bubble-butt.

Around 4 pm, I was well into a much-needed nap when DeeDee and Rachel finally arrived to pull up lounge chairs. They ordered tropical drinks (I ordered a diet Coke) and dove into the pool to refresh themselves. When they rejoined us, I had to endure more ribbing about my swimsuit.

"Nice togs, Grandma," Rachel grinned. "Are you sure you're not showing too much tit there? I mean you do have nipples under there don't you?"

"I can assure you she has nipples and very nice ones at that," said Judy, who was comfortably topless in the lounge beside me. "But it's a good thing she's not wearing one of these (as she lifted and snapped the miniscule triangle of her weasel bottoms)."

I blushed at the obvious reference to my overgrown bush. But that seemed to break the tension we had felt during lunch. I was not yet prepared to forgive all of them for what I considered to be an offense but my emotions were not so raw after my extraordinary sojourn in the spa.

Roused from the stupor of my nap, I studied these women who had so easily lulled me into an adventure of illicit sex. Rachel was the youngest at 30, and displayed her firm body with the confidence of a woman who knew she was attractive to men. She was easily the tallest of our group, with her shiny black hair in a perm that seemed to proclaim that she was exciting. As she sashayed to the pool for her dip, I stared at another skimpy bikini – low cut on the hips. 

I actually thought she would have looked better in a true string thong. Despite her relative youth and her muscular buttocks, she showed just the hint of saddlebags on her upper thighs, which seemed to be emphasized by the cut of her bottoms. When she was seated in the lounge chair, she removed her bikini bra to display small, firm breasts with brown nipples and dark aureoles. Oddly, her body was somewhat out of proportion – hips too wide or tits too small for her height. I couldn't decide which. Her tits were somewhat wall-eyed, if you know what I mean, but tilted up at the tips in a way that I have always admired. Definitely what I would describe as perky.

DeeDee was my height, but a little heavier and more muscular than I. She wore a string bikini, which was probably a mistake. Her butt, while not fat or wide, was jiggly and would have looked better with the restraint of a full bikini bottom. She too stripped off her top when she sat down. Did I tell you DeeDee had big mahamahamahamas? Very big and somewhat droopy (Meeooww!) with reddish pink nipples and aureoles. 

Was I catty or what? I blushed to realize that I was checking out and critiquing these women so carefully. Was I trying to put them down because they ripped off my suit, or because they helped me make the biggest mistake of my life the night before? Or because the new Marge secretly wanted to fuck them?

Although I felt like I could have slept straight through the night after the massage and mud bath, I roused myself from these catty thoughts. I had more to discuss, especially with Rachel. But before I could start with my questions, Judy spoke up.

"So tell us again what is the problem with the group, DeeDee?" Judy enquired. "If Marge is not going to play, Phil will be available tonight if you don't want Sam."

"Give it up, Judy," DeeDee replied. "You all know that Sam is a lousy fuck but nobody wanted to switch with me last night. He has a nice cock but he doesn't have a clue how to use it. Besides, I'm just not into the "just sex" thing any more."

"You didn't fuck him last night?" Rachel asked in amazement.

"No, I didn't. I sucked him off and I forced him to stay between my legs long enough to get me off with his tongue, but that was it," DeeDee confessed.

"He's not that bad," Rachel said. "You just have to take the time to train him for the night."

"You must like to be hammered more than I do, Rachel," DeeDee went on. "All you get from him is a little tongue to get you wet and then he crams it in like you should be grateful to be filled by his large dick."

"He's only seven inches or so," piped in Judy. "But you are right, he is a hopeless fuck. Phil's takes his time and I'm sure even Marge will attest that he loves to eat pussy."

"Leave me out of this," I protested. "Is that what he said?"

"He didn't have to, I've had it myself," Judy responded. "When Sam came out to tell us that DeeDee wasn't staying, Phil filled him in on what happened with you. I guess it was somehow supposed to make Sam happier by giving him something to look forward to with you."

"Oh, that's cool," I said. "Do you all really enjoy comparing notes and being graded in bed?"

I was getting pissed off again. Like I really wanted my sexuality to be a topic of discussion around the gang's dinner table. This set-up seemed more and more sordid to me. How could these educated, reasonably sophisticated women sit around and talk about who fucked who and how?

"Well Phil did say that, after he got in you, you fucked like a banshee monkey," Judy giggled.

I didn't know whether to cry or laugh. A banshee monkey? What was that? But before I could be ashamed, the others began laughing at the mental image conjured up.

"Does your husband know that?" DeeDee asked, mirth plain on her face. "What an asshole! No, Marge, we don't all sit around and talk about sexual performance. I apologize for all of us."

I guess that ended the consideration of Phil as a substitute for DeeDee. We paused as the pool waitress came by to collect our drinks and take another order.

"Let's do the sauna," I suggested. "I want to hear from Rachel about her rationale."

Rachel looked at me soberly, nodded, and stood up. We went into the female locker room to remove our swimsuits and I led the way into the female-only sauna after wrapping myself in a towel. As predicted by Judy, the sauna was empty. It was a U-shaped wood paneled room with two tiers of benches around three sides and would have held eight, so it was very commodious for the four of us.

We all sat on the upper benches. Rachel sat opposite me on her towel. DeeDee and Judy left theirs in their laps, so I was intimidated into exposing my breasts as well.

"Now you know why we wanted you to join our club," Rachel chuckled. "We needed a complete set."

My blank stare was not alone.

"Cup size! A, B, C, and D," she explained. "Or are you DD, DeeDee?"

DeeDee smiled as I looked around to confirm Rachel's estimation of our bra sizes. 

"Let's move on to more important things, shall we?" I interrupted. "You can make light of it all you want, but I made an idiotic mistake last night and I need to understand what I regard as a conspiracy."

"Nobody conspired against you, Marge," Judy bristled. "And a "mistake" implies an accident or inattention. You knew what you were doing and I'm getting a little tired of you blaming us for your sleepless night. Like you didn't know that you were going to get laid when you stepped out in the hall with Phil. Be an adult! Next thing you will be telling us Phil raped you."

I glared at her. She glared back, then stood down from the top bench to spread her towel out and lay down on the bottom bench. I found myself looking at her bare ass and refocused on Rachel.

"Rachel, you seem so happily married, always talking about your husband. How could you justify cheating on him? And for four years with four different men?"

"Well, the short answer is that I wasn't getting what I wanted and needed at home," she said after a long pause. "I don't know whether I may be somewhat unique among women, but I enjoy a lot of oral sex, receiving and giving. Henry won't give me any of that, despite years of begging for it and trying everything under the sun to get him interested."

"You mean he won't even let you give him a blowjob?" Judy asked incredulously. 

"No, he pees out of that thing. And guess what, I pee out of my thing too. And of course, both of those dirty sex organs are near our filthy assholes," Rachel said with disgust.

Rachel then launched into the long answer. She told us that she had first experimented with her best girlfriend at 14 and had been introduced to boys at 15. But, other than groping hands in panties and pants, she had really not got into much else until college, where she had tried every kind of oral sex that she could get her tongue on or in. She had apparently spent more time with women, rather than risking penetration by men, and began waxing eloquent on the pleasures of female flesh.

I was a little uncomfortable about her open confessions of bisexuality. I glanced at the other to see if they were affected but they both had eyes closed, enjoying the heat. Had this subject been discussed among them before? More importantly, had there been any activity between the ladies of this "club"?

"So when did you lose your cherry?" DeeDee asked.

"On my wedding night!" Rachel confessed. "That is sort of where the problem started. Saving my virginity was the worst mistake I have ever made in my life – so far."

She went on to explain that her parents, faithful Catholics, had persuaded her to promise to save herself for her husband. She realized now that this was stupid but in her family it seemed inarguable. When she had met a senior and fallen in love her first year in college, it seemed easier to save herself for him. It became easier still when her fiancé turned out to be a born-again Christian who treasured her chastity as much or more than her parents. But she had not been without sex while she spent the rest of her college career waiting for him to return from overseas military duty.

"Just fuckless," she said with a rueful grin. "But I did pretty much everything else that you can do with a man or a woman, including threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes. Hell, on a team trip to Chico State, I even ate some creampie! And I loved it. Loved it all. But little Miss Virgin saved her pussy for my someday-to-be husband, Hank."

Rachel proceeded to tell us of her sexual adventures in college in rather more detail than I would have wished. Needless to say, my experiences were pale, indeed, by comparison. I don't know whether it was her younger age or a bigger party school, but her women's athletic teams were considerably more licentious than mine. She seemed to relish sharing the memories of some girl parties in her dorm.

As she talked, Judy and DeeDee perked up, showing a rapt attention that was missing at the beginning of Rachel's explanation. Judy rolled over and sat up against the wall by the door. DeeDee spread her towel on the bench to lay on her back, her voluptuous breasts glistening with sweat as they swayed in the heat and fell to the outside of her chest. Although her eyes were hooded, she turned her head toward Rachel and raised her knees. The auburn bush nestled between her thighs was thick and curly. 

I was the only one with a towel still in her lap. Rachel had lifted one foot onto the bench as she turned toward Judy's end of the sauna and leaned back against the wall. It was not a blatant display, but I saw her entirely bald vulva as she shifted. And as she closed her eyes recounting some of those events, her right hand idly slipped between her thighs. I don't know whether she was aware of her display but I began to feel an arousal similar to watching Judy with Roko.

When she started to describe a rationale for how she could also save her ass for Hank, while allowing a point guard named Keisha to fuck her back hole with a strap-on, I thought I'd better bring her back to focus. I didn't know where this was going but I was getting a little nervous.

"We're getting way too much information, Rachel," I said politely. "What I want to know is why you have cheated on your husband the past four years. By the way, what is a "creampie"?"

"A cunt filled with at least one load of semen, little Miss 39 year old Prissy," said Judy with a hint of exasperation. She too had a hand between her sweating thighs and her nipples were turgid.

"It's necessary background. Trust me," Rachel continued. "You want to know, so I have to tell it my way."

The younger woman then described how her honeymoon was an unanticipated disappointment. The intercourse had been OK when Hank could get it up for a second time but he was (and continued to be) hopeless the first time. Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am. She had been ready to explode with this first penis to enter her vagina but he had shown little interest in, or understanding of, her pleasure.

And what stunned her most was his discovered aversion to oral sex. Whenever she had tried to suck him hard again, he had pushed her away with disgust and words like "slut." She had lived her sexual life giving and receiving head, and had been utterly disoriented by abruptly having to abandon her oral pleasures. Even worse, he thought the whole sex act was dirty. He insisted that she get a washcloth to clean them both after intercourse and had never become comfortable with the bodily fluids of sex.

"Since then, I have tried everything from whipped cream to single malt scotch to get him to meet my clit and lick my pussy, but no go. He won't go to counseling. In every other respect, he is a great husband, father, and provider, and he has great prospects for a professional and even a political career. But five years without oral sex made this club very tempting."

"Oh, come on, Rachel. According to Cosmo, more than half the married women in America don't get oral sex. Surely you can't justify breaking your marriage vows because your husband doesn't eat your pussy," I said in disbelief.

"Maybe not, but I need it for more than the physical pleasure. Just like I need to love a man with my mouth and tongue," Rachel sighed.

"Yeah, and like 80 % of women in America wouldn't love to never have to give a blowjob again, assuming they had ever given one in the first place," piped in DeeDee.

"That may be true!" Rachel replied. "How many of you truly love sucking a cock? And how many of you are any good at it?"

We all remained silent. I had to admit that it was not my favorite thing to do, something I had do as a favor for Don or to get him hard when his dick got bashful and I was horny. Or to avoid intercourse with dates before marriage. But I always thought I was pretty good at it. Wasn't I? I mean I let him cum in my mouth on his birthday - at least a couple of times. Lot's of hand action though. And I never swallow of course. Yech! Nobody did. Did they?

"About what I thought. Not exactly a scientific study, but I always thought that fewer than 25 % of women really enjoyed giving head. Not to mention swallowing. Fewer even than that who are any good at it," she scoffed at us. "But, as I said, it is far more than the physical act for me." 

"It's the emotional pleasure of giving to the man you love. Of being truly intimate with the one you love. Of adoring that which is most precious to him. Holding nothing back. I might be able to get along without the sex acts, but the reservation and inhibition has stunted my love in a way makes me wonder whether I love Hank anymore. Can you understand that?"

"Not really," I said. "Oral sex is oral sex. You are in a distinct minority from everything I have heard or read."

What about Phil's tongue last night? I shivered remembering that prolonged orgasm.

"But you aren't getting that intimacy from the club either. Certainly not from Sam when you started the ball rolling with the first fuck three years ago. And unless you are all holding out on me, you are not just getting oral sex here either. You are getting laid." 

"You're right," she sighed. "But I'm not getting intimacy from anyone. So I guess my rationalization was simply that I wasn't getting it at home, so it was OK to enjoy physical pleasures here once a year."

"That sounds like the same old bullshit excuse for cheating, to me. Maybe a little better than most, because you tried to get him to meet your needs first. But still, you give up some freedom of action when you walk down the aisle. And what about your vows?"

"What about them? Do you know of any other contract besides a mortgage that lasts longer than 3 to 5 years – let alone a lifetime - without significant adjustment or renegotiation? Or expiration? I studied pre-law in college and had an affair with a woman lawyer last year who put some things in perspective for me."

Judy, DeeDee and I looked at each other, surprised at this new revelation. Wasn't this club supposed to be the exclusive outlet for extra-marital expression? Was she lesbian? 

"Things change, assumptions that agreements are based upon turn out to be false. In my case, my husband refuses to physically love me or let me love him, as I must, to be happy. Did we ever agree that my pussy was dirty? Was that part of the marriage contract? I can truthfully say that I thought we agreed that we would physically and emotionally love each other without reservation or inhibition. That was part of MY contract, and he has not honored it." 

That heartfelt speech shut me up for a while, pondering her words. I could finally see her point and knew I would wrestle with her contract analysis before the night was through. I wasn't sure that rationale could ever work for me but then again, I could have gone a long time without oral sex (at least until last night's fireworks). Sexual giving was obviously more important to her than to me, although the "new Marge" might have something to say about that. 

In any event, it would do no good to condemn her. I was not going to win that argument. She had been doing it for four years, with four different men, and she didn't sound ready to give it up.

"Do you think it has affected your marriage?" I asked. We were hearing only her side of the story, but she was a thoughtful woman and I wanted to see how she fielded that one.

"To be honest, I really don't know anymore. I do believe you have to take the good with the bad in a marriage and there is a lot of good," she sighed. "But as the limitations on my emotional expression build up over the years, I wonder whether I am losing respect for him. It is clear that we were never meant to be sexual soul mates."

After a pause, she got to the nub of the question.

"I do satisfy an urge to express myself sexually with the group and I think that does take some pressure off at home. But it is becoming not enough, limiting this to once a year. Even the agreed upon limitations within the group are becoming an irritating restraint," she said glancing at Judy.

"So tell us about the lady attorney!" DeeDee interrupted, her hand drifting between her legs. "I didn't know you were a lesbo!"




Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 02



"I'm not, but I have never forgotten the softness of kissing women," Rachel grinned. "This group has confirmed my enjoyment of a stiff prick, but even this wife and mother would never argue with the truism that "bi-sexual is best". Anybody else ever tried it?"

"Yes," said Judy. I glanced at her to see she had her knees up and slightly spread as she focused her eyes between Rachel's spread thighs.

"I suppose any woman who has spent a life in female athletics has had ample opportunities," DeeDee said quietly. "I certainly have – had opportunities."

I looked over to her to see that she had dropped her right leg down to the lower bench, while she casually massaged one nipple. The curly hair between her thighs was damp and matted.

"Marge?" Rachel asked. "A little too buttoned down for grab ass in the shower room?"

I stiffened at the taunt. I didn't want to be part of their extra-marital gang, but I was tired of being ridiculed as the prude in the group.

"As a matter of fact I did fool around with a teammate in college," I boasted. "But it didn't go much further than rubbing through jeans and a few kisses."

"Gee, maybe we should consider expanding what has been a strictly heterosexual club until now," Rachel said with glee. "I guess we have all been holding out on each other, haven't we?"

"We already have. Marge is just too shy to tell you she had a finger in my cunt about two hours ago," Judy chided. "And I think mine was in hers, if I remember correctly!" 

I was stunned by Judy's confession. I could feel myself blushing from my forehead to my tits, despite the heat. Could I have no privacy in my sexual activities?

"Really?" DeeDee whispered as she sat up, leaning toward me. "Why do I miss out on all the good stuff?"

I said nothing, but got down to sit on my towel on the lower bench, where it was cooler. Now I was as naked as the other women.

"Nice beaver, Marge!" Rachel said with a smirk. "Tell us about your dalliance with Judy."

I remained silent, but felt my body respond to the delicious images of Judy and Roko. My nipples were hard thimbles and I was wet between my legs from far more than the heat in the sauna. As if in a trance of embarrassment, I reached between my spread legs and began pulling the tendrils of pubic hair that stretched below my vulva.

"Her beaver is actually quite silky and soft," Judy volunteered. "And her taste on my fingers was exquisite – even better than Roko."

"Who's Roko?" DeeDee asked.

Judy proceeded to tell them the story of our adventure at the spa, in intimate detail, as an erotic aura seemed to descend over the superheated room. Our bodies were wet and sensitive to the touch. And naked! We reacted as if to a hidden conductor who was orchestrating our libido. Hidden strings seemed to pull our fingers to the wet vortex between our thighs. 

Judy's voice became softer and huskier as she spoke, almost mesmerizing as she described the part of Roko's seduction that I had missed. The frank discussion of lesbian loving, combined with our unashamed nudity, seemed to have inclined us all to express an unspoken waiver of inhibition – as though some unseen force had granted us the permission to be demonstrative, sexual women. I closed my eyes to picture the scene and began massaging my labia with the fingers of both hands. My disbelief and embarrassment at Judy's indiscreet tattletale gradually gave way to rising erotic excitement.

"God that's hot," someone said, I think Rachel. The tension in the sweltering room was overwhelming as we all imagined Judy and I in the spa with Roko. I could feel each individual drop of perspiration rolling down my breasts and dripping off the bottom of my butt onto the floor below. Leaning back against the wooden wall, I stretched my spread legs to the far bench to give my hips leverage. Inadvertently, my foot made contact with Judy's outstretched calf, but I didn't withdraw it.

Judy's narration became slower, with pauses between images. When she began to describe caressing me in the shower, I heard a burst of breath from her that I remembered from her climax with Roko.

I opened my eyes with a snap when I felt Rachel's ankle on the inside of my left calf. That sent a shiver right to my throbbing clit. She had one hand on her breast, pulling on a brown nipple, and the other was between her legs. From the angle of her elbow, I knew she was digging for her g-spot. But her eyes locked on mine, daring me to look away or disturb the rising tension. When I felt DeeDee's toes touch my hip, I knew I could not hide what was happening to me – to all of us. It was as though electricity crackled through me to the other three women. I was on fire. 

All of us had our hands active between our thighs. I raised one hand to pinch a nipple as I inserted one and then two fingers into my dripping vagina. Rachel was spread wide on the top bench, splaying her knees to show her thin labia, now engorged and pressed around three fingers. Still she stared at me as though I was to be the focus of her impending orgasm. 

All of us were breathing rapidly and our thighs began to quaver from the manual stimulation of our sex. The erotic tension was oppressive. Except for me, no one touched the other, as if by unspoken agreement to achieve our climax together but by our own hand. My tactile connection to each woman was like a plug-in, putting me on a wave that finally came to the crest that I had been wanting all day.

Rachel came first with a sharp keening sound. My wave crashed as my hips undulated above the lower bench. Then Judy with her staccato breathing and a silent DeeDee in quick succession. Her toes digging into my butt announced her climax. The moans were subdued but the physical gyrations were evident. 

Silence wrapped around us as our breathing slowed. When I opened my eyes, Rachel was licking her fingers lasciviously and still staring directly at me.

"When did this become the masturbation club?" I heard DeeDee ask with a giggle.

"When Marge asked Rachel about her exciting sexual history!" replied Judy with a grin. "Rachel, if we had known about your "dilemma" this group might have taken a whole different direction four years ago." 

"It is not too late, girls," Rachel offered, one hand on her breast while her legs remained obscenely spread. "It seems like we all have enjoyed the pleasures of our own sex on at least one occasion. And I could always introduce DeeDee to my lawyer friend at home."

The invitation lay there for sixty seconds without response. I was embarrassed enough by my maiden sojourn into mutual masturbation that I was not going to take a further step. I had achieved the release that had been building all afternoon and was not YET ready to venture forth into a "cunnilingus club."

I felt utterly drained, of fluid and emotion. DeeDee was the first to rouse herself from her post-orgasmic stupor. She gathered up her towel, wiping her fingers and face as she moved toward the wooden door.

"I think this has been enough excitement for one afternoon. I need a shower," she said as she pushed open the door and departed.

I followed her to the showers, my legs still shaky from my orgasm and the heat. When the water hit me, I began to think about the events of the last 20 hours and anxiety rose up again in my stomach. This lesbian activity would have been unthinkable yesterday afternoon. Was this adultery too? Who was this woman who had been revealed on this trip? Would Don approve, or condemn? Had my life changed forever in the last 24 hours?

I caught DeeDee watching me as I soaped my breasts in my shower stall. Neither of us had closed the curtain. The Spa had provided it for modesty, but it was a little bit silly to act modest when we had just shared an orgasm, even if by our own hand. Was this new to her, I wondered? 

Much to my surprise, I felt no self-consciousness in staring back at her wet body. I believe I have told you about her beautiful tits. I now began to wonder what they felt like as they swayed to her movements, nipples erect. But we said nothing as we regarded each other with what I could only describe as interested admiration.

It was another five minutes before Rachel and Judy joined us in the shower area. I suppose I should not have been surprised that they entered the same shower stall. And I was not surprised at all when they began to soap and wash each other's bodies. What ever else may still be hidden or unspoken between all of us, there was no question but that Rachel and Judy were avowed bi-sexual women.

I finished my shower and stood aside with DeeDee to dry off while continuing to watch the other two. Judy, who I now estimated had had no less than three orgasms that afternoon, was the first to pull Rachel's hand away from her sensitive flesh. The kiss they then shared was passionate and would have embarrassed me if anyone else had been in the locker room. Instead it made me a little jealous, or at least envious.

DeeDee and I returned to our locker cubicles, but I just sat there naked as she began to dress. I felt refreshed by the cooler shower, but at the same time exhausted by a night without sleep and the anguish of the past day, right up to and including the shock of my conflicting emotions in the shower. I watched DeeDee pull her bikini panties over her auburn bush and fit her heavy breasts into the D cups, not even conscious that I was staring. 

I was jolted from my reverie by Rachel's hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked. 

I looked up to her firm tits with a wan smile on my face.

"Yes. I'm just a little overwhelmed by all of this," I answered softly. "And I am so tired and drained."

We both knew what "all of this" meant. Rachel gave me a hug, pressing her breasts into my arm as she held my cheek to hers. Without warning, her hand was between my legs pulling the pubic hair that was so abundant and long around my labia. I stiffened at the invasion, reacting to an over-familiarity that seemed now to be incongruous.

"What you need is a nice nappy, my dear," she said in her best motherly voice, and then whispered. ""You really are hiding a nice pussy behind all that foliage. Would you like me to help you shave it? Would you like me to come with you to your room and help you with it?"

I might get a shave but I knew that I wouldn't get a nap. And I was far from ready to welcome her experienced tongue between my legs.

"No thanks. I have enough to explain to my husband without having to add an excuse for returning home with a bald pussy."

I gently pushed her hand away and kissed her lightly on the cheek to let her know that I was not offended by her offer. She returned to her cubicle as I wearily stood up and began to dress. I was relieved that no one could see or comment on my hopeless underwear.

After thanking Rachel for her honesty, I gathered my belongings to leave. I agreed to meet Judy and DeeDee at 7:30 for the closing dinner dance and departed for my room.

I didn't even bother to undress before I collapsed on my bed. In many ways, this afternoon had been as disturbing as last night. Focused against a repeat of the weakness with Phil, I had not anticipated the temptations of Judy and Rachel. Another Trojan Horse. 

It's not like I had never fooled around with another female but this was much different than in college. And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that sexual activity with a woman was unfaithfulness to my husband. Whether a same sex dalliance was technically adultery or not, it was an intrusion on the sanctity and loyalty of my sexual relationship with my husband. He was supposed to be my sole outlet for sexual pleasure, wasn't he? And I for him?

I thought I would pass out from exhaustion as soon as my head hit the pillow, but that didn't happen right away. The memory of Rachel's story and her experience came to the front of my mind, immersing me once again in my conflicted emotions. Her description of the false value her family placed on virginity reminded me of losing mine; the first "no big deal" of a sex life filled with unremarkable sexual highlights – until last night.

I guess I wanted to compare this irretrievable one-time adultery to my benign emotions at losing my virginity. My conservative parents had always insisted that I save my virginity for marriage. Never much of a feminist, I knew intuitively that virginity was no prize nor did it possess the value they claimed. So I was actually very pleased when I lost it. The sex was first time for both of us and mediocre. But I was glad to be rid of an impediment to full adulthood. It took a while to grow into my adult sexuality, but I owned my vagina and would use it as I saw fit. I could not allow my parents, and then my husband, to own it and control it like a piece of personal property.

But faithfulness was not an impediment. Nothing was enhanced by giving it up (except the possibility for screwing around after the divorce, heaven forbid). Struggle as I did, I couldn't make this a happy loss, just a dangerous and irrevocable one. 

Loyalty and chastity were underlying values for Don and me. So important that I had even considered ending my marriage when I suspected Don of screwing around at that bachelor party so many years ago. Don now had every right now to believe that I had forfeited his trust and that I didn't love him. I had thought the same of him and was still angry with him about the affair with Barb. But I am not so naive as to ignore the double standard imposed on cheating wives. I would be the slut, while Don's actions, or Phil's for that matter, were the forgivable lust of a stud, a regrettable but unavoidable conquest.

And while I understood Rachel's evolving contract argument, it didn't apply to my marriage. I don't remember my wedding ceremony or vows, which were performed before a judge instead of in a church. So I don't know if I ever actually said "forsaking all others" or similar vows that everyone assumes are made upon marriage. But it would be dishonest to deny that fidelity was an agreed value of our marriage. I had abandoned those values, for no good reason, and I couldn't take it back. 

Fortunately those thoughts did no too long delay my exhausted sleep.

I must have dozed through my wake-up call at 6:30 pm. Fortunately, or not, DeeDee knocked on my door around 7 pm to make sure I was up. All things considered, I think I would have just as soon skipped the closing festivities and ordered room service. But I think the "girls" wanted me up to continue their efforts at damage control. We had not talked during the afternoon about my telling Don, but I don't think it was far from their minds – especially Rachel.

I quickly showered and did my hair. Being shorter, it didn't take me too long to dry and prepare. Laying out my outfit for this last evening, I grimaced at the dowdy clothes and underwear. 

Thankfully, I remembered to examine last night's underwear to make sure it carried no evidence of my adultery. I decided that the panties could use a hand wash to remove the strong scent of my arousal. But I chuckled at the look of this sexy "lingerie". Basic white, cotton, granny-panties, full waist; serviceable white cotton bra, quite thick enough to prevent my headlights from showing in any circumstance. A regular Mae West look! Of course the look was topped off with opaque pantyhose and a half-slip. Not the outfit a woman wears when she expects to be seen by a man. Isn't that supposed to be more than enough to discourage wandering hands and restrain an aroused pussy?

But I could not take solace in this proof that I had not dressed as if I was trolling for action last night. I had no true lingerie with me even had I wanted to dress for sex. No sexy lingerie with me on the trip; none at home either except a couple of pieces that Don bought me that didn't fit well and that I never wore. Like sex, it was never a big deal to dress for sex. Obviously Phil did not need the visual stimulation – he was too hot to fuck the new pussy. 

"But what about Don?" I said to myself. After nineteen years, had it ever occurred to me that he might need a little visual stimulation? Could that have anything to do with the relatively short licking that I routinely got from (and gave to) Don? If a quick suck and my body are no big deal to me, why should it be a big deal to Don after all these years? Who did I think would benefit most from making sex and my body a "big deal"? Perhaps "fireworks" at home might have more to do with enthusiasm and imagination than technique. Or do fireworks only come from adultery and novel sex partners?

After donning my underwear, I called home.

"Hi, honey, how are you and the kids?" I asked when Don answered the phone.

"We're fine. How is the conference going?" Don answered. "You sound tired."

"Oh, I just had a wonderful massage this afternoon and I feel like I am made of molten rubber," I sighed. "It has been a long, strange week and I am looking forward to coming home tomorrow."

"Strange good, or strange bad?" he asked with a hint of apprehension in his voice. 

"Some good and some bad, I guess. I have never been away from home this long and I'm REALLY homesick. I'll tell you all about it when you pick me up tomorrow evening."

I talked to each of the kids and then ended the call after telling Don that I was late for the closing dinner. He described with some anticipation that he had made arrangements for the kids to stay at friends after dinner on Friday so we could have a "suitable" reunion. I smiled at that prospect and then frowned when I thought of telling him about this week. Would he want to meet this "new" Marge that I had discovered during my absence, I wondered?

DeeDee and Judy were at my door at 7:30 and I let them in while I finished my makeup. Judy explained that Wayne was holding a table for the four of us, while Rachel would keep the other men away from me at another table. I was relieved to realize that I would not have to deal with Phil's company at a table for eight, as had been the usual for the past three evenings.

DeeDee and Judy were both dressed in fancy cocktail dresses that emphasized their best features. DeeDee with ample décolleté, and Judy wore a short, fitted skirt that drew attention to her tight lower body. I suppose I expected the sighs and snickers from them when they saw my Sunday school dress that sedately buttoned to the neck. Matronly would be one word to describe it, and it certainly did not enhance any of my good features. When I pulled on my nude pantyhose, Judy couldn't resist commenting.

"Really Marge. I hope that, if nothing else, you will get the hint that you are too young and attractive to wear such fuddy-duddy clothes all the time," she said with a grin.

"I sincerely wish there was "nothing else," I said sternly, letting them know that my anguish was still very much at the forefront of my mind. "My wardrobe is the least of my concerns right now. What have you got against pantyhose, anyway?"

"They're OK for school or during the winter, but it does a girl good to wear some frilly things once in a while, even an old married girl," DeeDee offered.

"So I take it you are not wearing pantyhose?" I said.

DeeDee lifted her dress slowly to show me her white stockings, garter belt, and lace panties with string bows at her hips. Judy giggled and lifted her skirt to show black stockings and garter belt – no panties. Once again I found myself staring at another woman's pussy.

"Well, I am not planning to get laid tonight!" I said vehemently. 

"Think about it for your next big night with Don," Judy replied with a wink. "Let's get going."

I finished dressing and we left for the banquet hall. Wayne had our table as promised and we settled in for the banquet. Rachel and the other three men from the group were at another table on the far side of the room.




Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 02



Dinner was the usual rubber chicken. Judy wanted to talk more to me about my decision with Don but I did not respond. The setting was not very private and I was content to forget about the trouble during the festive occasion. I continued to avoid any alcohol and was quite pleased with myself on that account.

After the obligatory speeches and congratulations, the Association president turned the evening over to the band. It was 9 pm by then and I would have been happy to call it a night. DeeDee prevailed upon me to stay for another hour, but she agreed with me that we would avoid the Hospitality Suite that night.

Why did the Association have a dance to conclude this convention? Easily three-fourths of the people in attendance were married but spending the week away from their spouses. The first rule of avoiding infidelity was to avoid temptation. Alcohol and physical contact by dancing was hardly calculated to observe that axiom. Perhaps the Association shared some blame for the ease with which the "gang" had fallen into their comfortable arrangement.

I didn't want to dance but, left alone by my companions, I could not be rude to the several men who asked. Indeed, I was happy to avoid Phil by dancing with others. I even accepted an invitation by Frank Morello when I saw Phil heading my way.

The irony of that reversal was not lost on me. Judy and her group, including Phil, had seemed my answer and salvation when avoiding a pass by Frank was my paramount concern. Now it was Phil and his glib talk that I feared.

I didn't know quite what to make of Frank by that time. Very mindful of his comments that morning, I was holding my breath for the other shoe to drop. But he held me during the slow dance in the very proper manner one would expect while dancing with someone else's wife. And his conversation started out very innocuous.

"You seem much more refreshed this evening than I would have expected," he said. "I was a little worried about your health this morning."

"A soothing massage and a nap has done wonders for me," I replied.

"I think you are wise to spread yourself around a little more this evening," he added. "Your group of friends have established a rather exclusive clique over the past couple of years."

I did not reply. What did he know about the "clique"? Had they (and I) been so obvious that everyone knew about their special relationship?

"There are many people at this convention that you should get to know. Now that you are on the Competition Committee, you'll be working with coaches from all over the state. Contacts you make here will be invaluable. Who knows, we may have a budding athletic director in our favorite Marge," he finished with a chuckle.

"Oh, I don't think so," I said. "I have no ambitions that way."

"Well, you never know," Frank said, giving me a hug as the dance ended. "Sometimes things happen when you least expect it."

I was glad to return to my table, where Frank immediately asked DeeDee to dance the following set. I filled Judy in on Frank's conversation and began to worry about his mysterious predictions. What "things" was he talking about?

When Judy and Wayne got up to dance, I was left alone with my thoughts. They were interrupted by Phil, standing in front of me with his hand on my chair.

"May I have this dance?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I replied. "I don't exactly feel comfortable with you right now."

But he persisted and when DeeDee and Frank returned, I thought it better to give in to Phil's request than to possibly create a scene at the table. Unfortunately another slow song was playing and Phil pulled me close when we reached the dance floor. The least the Association could have done was to hire a rock and roll band to prevent all these married tits and pussies from grinding on the dance floor.

I immediately felt his thigh between mine as he made contact with my pudenda. The four layers of cloth "protecting" my pussy did not stop a flood of memories and of my intimate juice. Don hadn't danced with me this way for years. Was I becoming a randy slut, susceptible to slightest physical stimulation?

When his hand slipped to just below my waist and he began nuzzling my neck, I reacted. Pushing away from his chest, I would have left the floor had he not held tightly onto my hand.

"Have I offended you," he asked sincerely. The expression on his face reflected considerable confusion.

"I am offended by what happened last night and I assure you it will not happen again tonight," I whispered in his face.

"I thought you enjoyed last night as much as I did," Phil said as he pulled me back to a respectable dancing embrace. "I've heard you were unhappy today and I wish there was something I could do to make it right for you, Marge. I really had a fabulous time with you and was hoping to spend the whole night together tonight."

I refused to be drawn into an admission that the sex had been great for me also.

"It doesn't mean the same to you as it does to me, Phil. I know nothing of your marriage but adultery is something I abhor whether it is discovered or not. What my husband or I don't know CAN hurt us. And I have a lot of thinking to do before I know just how much," I concluded.

"I'm sorry you feel that way and please believe I intended you no harm. It's just sex, Marge, not love or commitment. I don't see it as a threat to my marriage or yours."

The dance floor was not the place to further discuss the problem. His attempt to reason with me not to tell my husband fell on deaf ears. I didn't see much point to it anyway. Phil was a married man who had been committed to this serial adultery for 4 years, apparently without ill effect, at least in his mind. 

I believed that he was genuinely disturbed by my distress. But I was never quite convinced that he cared about my emotional well being, as a friend would. More likely it seemed to me, Marge was primarily a fresh piece of ass to him. His concern derived from his own loss he wasn't going to be able to fuck me again! But I suppose that reveals a little unwarranted conceit on my part. It's not like I'm a great lay. The great orgasm I had the night before was not because of anything I had done. Nor was I able to attribute it to anything particular Phil had done, for that matter. At least I didn't think so.

The dance mercifully ended and I returned to my table after Phil wished me "a happy life." What bullshit! Is that what a gentleman is supposed to say when he realizes that he is never going to get into your pants again? But I didn't hate him. I certainly couldn't place significant blame for last night on him. If anyone were to blame for my mistake beside myself, I would bear a grudge for Judy.

By 10:30, I was ready to call it a night. DeeDee was still dancing with Frank when I got up to leave, but Judy suggested a nightcap in the lounge. I thought I would give her one more chance to discuss my dilemma in some privacy, so I agreed. Wayne joined us at a table upstairs for a Baileys. I had decaf coffee.

"Have you thought more about what you will tell Don?" she asked.

"Not really," I replied. "This has been a rather eventful day and I feel a little numb, not to mention exhausted. I appreciate the explanations from the ladies today but it will take some time to sift through your experiences, and mine. I'm hoping I will sleep tonight and that dawn will bring a clear head to make some decisions about a plan of action." 

Wayne added his rational and seemed genuinely concerned about my anguish. The gist of his thoughts were that he liked all the women and that this seemed a discreet way to get to know them better while enjoying the novel sex. He did not believe the end of his marriage was in any way related to the gang's activities. For the past three years, he had ready sex partners without having to do the seduction dance with other attendees, a dance he did not enjoy.

He apologized for the way I had become inveigled into this adultery. I didn't pursue further discussion with him, as his explanation was pretty much what I had expected. Nothing he said persuaded me that had he been the odd man out last night, he would not have tried to fuck me, married woman though I was. It would be an understatement to say that I was disenchanted with the entire male species that night – other than poor Don.

At 11:15 I got up to leave. Wayne and Judy finished their drinks and graciously offered to escort me to my room. Judy's room was on the same floor as mine and I knew where Wayne was sleeping that night. But as we exited the lounge, Wayne remembered he needed to get something (rubbers?) from his bedroom in the hospitality suite and we made a quick detour down the hallway before heading to the elevator.

The suite was dark but one bedroom was lit and open. As Wayne went to his bedroom, Judy and I waited. We did not need to eavesdrop to notice the unmistakable sounds of sex emanating from the lighted bedroom. I suppose Rachel and Art had not expected visitors because they had not closed the door. Suddenly the moans were interrupted by a loud exclamation.

"Stop that! .. I don't want that! .... Get off of me!" in a voice that was unmistakably Rachel's.

When we heard low voices that were of more than one man, Judy and I looked at each other and moved quickly to the doorway of Art's room. Judy walked in while I remained in the doorway.

"What the hell is going on?" Judy shouted when she surveyed the situation.

The scene that greeted us stunned me. Rachel was on top of Art who lay on the bed with his cock fully inserted in her vagina, holding her breasts against his chest. A naked Sam knelt at Rachel's head, with his erection held in her hand near her mouth. But the cause of the outburst was immediately apparent when we observed Phil on his knees behind Rachel with his hard cock poised against her anus. None of the men was wearing a condom!

I didn't know whether to laugh or put my hand in my panties. I had never seen anything like this, except on the rare occasion that Don had persuaded me to watch a porn video with him. From the naïve, almost prudish woman I had been less than 24 hours ago, I was now staring at three dicks not more than 10 feet away, all of them hard and wet. And I was enjoying the show.

Judy exhibited no such confusion. She was clearly angry and, from the expressions on the faces of the other actors, they clearly understood that they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Or should I say in Phil's case, the Hershey jar?  

Sam and Phil quickly got off the bed and Rachel lifted herself off of Art's cock to stand facing Judy. Three hard pricks were waving in the air. Rachel hastened to explain, as though she needed to justify herself to her mom for what had transpired.

"I always fantasized about a gangbang and with Sam and Phil available tonight, I thought I would give us all a treat. There's no harm – it's just sex!" Rachel protested.

"So what was the problem, slut?" said Judy angrily.

"You didn't think I was a slut this afternoon, lover," Rachel responded. "The problem was that I didn't want to get fucked in the ass, just to take them one after the other."

"But you always said you wanted to try it in the ass," Phil whined.

"But not tonight, asshole!" Rachel screeched. "This gangbang is about my fantasy, not yours, and I didn't want a DP. And when I am ready to try it in the ass, it won't be you, bastard!"

DP? Phil's face fell along with his erection. Actually I was looking at three limp dicks now. This was becoming comical, like teenagers caught parking in their parents' driveway. And then I saw a white glob of semen drop to the carpet between Rachel's legs. She had taken at least one load already and there was no hiding that fact with a shaved pussy.

"And our agreed rules about condoms and multiple partners?" Judy asked sternly.

"Fuck your rules! It's not like I haven't fucked them all before. And I don't like rubbers! I wanted the sensation of getting fucked again and again in my pussy filled with cum. And you know what? I love it!" Rachel said defiantly.

Wayne had joined us by then. I thought to myself that I was the only of the other six people in the room that had not fucked Rachel, and I had come perilously close that afternoon.

"We're done then!" Judy pronounced. "This adultery club is over. You do what you want, bitch, but we are no longer a group! And the rest of you are not getting into my panties again."

With that Judy grabbed Wayne's arm and retreated from the room. The other nude members looked at me for a moment as if seeking my support, before I turned too and left the room. I was no longer shocked and, indeed, I wondered what the big deal was with multiple partners. If this was "just sex", why not fulfill fantasies that you couldn't get at home? 

Things started to become a little clearer to me then, but I was not sticking around to find out what happened to Rachel. She was a big girl and now seemed in control of the situation. Given her rationale for embarking on this adventure, her actions tonight did not seem inconsistent.

I caught up with Judy at the elevator and they walked me to my room as promised. I think they were rather more aroused by Rachel's show than they let on and Wayne promptly slid his hand under Judy's skirt when the elevator door closed. They broke a passionate kiss that embarrassed me when the door opened. I could not get to my door fast enough as they followed me and waited while I fumbled with my card.

"I'm so sorry that you had to witness that. I guess what I unthinkingly wanted you to join is now history. Would you like us to come in and talk some more?" Judy inquired breathlessly when my door finally opened. Wayne's hand was still under her skirt and since she wasn't wearing panties, I had no doubt his fingers were wet.

"No thanks. I think I can analyze this latest turn of events without any further help from you Judy. Goodnight," I replied and shut the door before either of them could say anything further. 

I felt like I was in the twilight zone! Since giving into lust last night, I had spent the whole day battling provocative sexual thoughts and opportunities. Had Judy actually been looking to seduce me into a three-way tonight? After the confrontation she had just precipitated in the suite?

But it looked like I would not have to be tempted by Judy's swapping gang in the future. Had my angst been the death Nell of an arrangement that had thrived for four years? What would they all think in the morning? Marge teaches them how to blow up a tidy adultery club in one easy lesson.

I had no regrets about the blow-up, but I still had qualms about what I had done last night and been tempted to do today. I undressed and showered for bed as I pondered tomorrow. My cotton nightgown felt warm as I climbed between the covers.

I turned off the light and tried to settle into sleep, hoping to ignore the dilemma I would face when I got home. Surprisingly the questions receded, blocked by my memories of what seemed to be the wanton sexuality I had witnessed the last 24 hours. The women, the pussies, and the three hard cocks I had seen tonight, came flooding into my consciousness. Could I do what Rachel had done? That was just sex, as surely as my Big Happy with Phil. Was Phil harmed by this sex between friends? Was Rachel stealing something from her husband, Hank? I wondered.

Re-living the day, and especially the experience with Roko, made me moist and I was unable to resist sliding my hand down my belly to my mound. The strong orgasm in the sauna had not really been satisfying. Although I had no illusions that I could recreate the Big Happy on my own, I slid into the undisciplined thought that I could sleep better if I got off again now. 

It had been so long since I had truly soloed. I always felt like it was taking something away from Don if I pleasured myself. And masturbation was not something that we had ever shared or even talked about, although I knew he did sometimes with Penthouse or the internet. 

I was a little tentative at first. I gently caressed my breasts, enjoying how soft they felt, and how firm they are when I squeeze them. I rubbed my thumb over my nipples, getting them hard. I can just reach them with my tongue and licked them until they were even harder. Running one hand over my body, my fingers gently caressing along my sides, across my belly, gradually moving lower, onto my hips. My fingers fondled my thighs, my hips, all around my pussy, teasing myself. I was wet and could feel my juices at my opening. My labia were puffy and getting more sensitive. I teased myself a while longer, running my fingers through my bush but oh so close to my clit, so close to my lips. 

My pussy was aching for attention now. I couldn't tease myself any longer. I traced my slit with a wet finger and beyond to the valley between my cheeks. I touched my opening and return to my lips. Stopping short of my clit, caressing my lips, I spread my juices around my opening and over my lips. My arousal built as my fingers finally found my clit. Running one finger all around my clit, I gently teased it out of its hiding place. I was getting closer as my other hand slid between my legs. More fingers began fondling my private lips, leaving my other fingers to fondle my nubbin. My clit approached peak arousal and my juices were running out of me. I teased my opening a moment longer, then slid a finger into my pussy. Oh, it felt so good. Then a second finger. They plunged into my depths and pull back. Continuing to thrust in and out of me, their forcefulness and speed increased. I lightly pinched and tweaked my clit until it was fully aroused and sending waves of pleasure through my body. Oh, I was getting close, so close. I wanted that feeling to last forever, but knew the next level was better still. 

To crash over the top, I plunged a third finger into my pussy and gently pulled on my erect clit. My orgasm moved through me like an earthquake, moaning and groaning and thrashing around on the bed. My juices flowed out of me and still the earthquake continued. 

I was amazed at the intensity of my orgasm. Not quite the fireworks of last night, but I couldn't remember the last time masturbation was this intense, this long, this satisfying. Finally, I started the journey back to earth. I suddenly felt the desperate need to feel Don's arms around me to cuddle me and love me. That may have been the only thing I saw clearly that day, but I knew I needed Don to share my excitement – to make my experience complete. To make me complete.

What was I going to tell Don when I got home? 

Whatever I decided, I knew my life had already changed, for better or worse. But I was too tired then. The orgasm had worked. I would deal with that question tomorrow.

"Oh, well," as Scarlett once said, "tomorrow's another day." With that thought, I was asleep. 

TO BE CONTINUED.

Watch for "Nighttime Confessions, Ch 3: Dawn Resolutions", coming to a theater near you in a few weeks.



Nighttime Confessions 2nd Thoughts



In order to follow this story you should read "Nighttime Confessions" by capecodmercury, who is one of my favorite authors and to whom I owe thanks for the challenge to write a conclusion to one of his stories.

Nightime Confessions – Sober Second Thought

I have cheated on my husband and I don't know what I'm going to do.

Bullshit! That's a cop out and I know it!

A sleepless night does not always totally cloud the mind. 

I may not know all that I had to do at that moment but I sure as hell know what was NOT going to do.

I have screwed up! Big time!

I have been listening to advice on lifestyles from 7 people, 4 of whom are already divorced (Almost 60%. That's higher than the national average, I'm sure.) and a fifth whose behavior as a womanizer is all too obvious and who freely admits his marriage is "rocky" at best.

One of them, the one I allowed myself to be seduced by, is a self-admitted hypocrite. He "loves" his wife but sees nothing wrong with fucking his friends once a year, all the time admitting he didn't know what he would do if she did the same to him. The other married one has made a cuckold of her husband and has continued doing so year after year as these conferences were held but she says "she loves him"!

Their "rules" are as much to protect themselves and continue to provide the opportunity to cheat on their spouses as they are to do anything else.

What does it mean to "love" your spouse?

If you had asked me yesterday, I would have rambled on about comfort and intimacy and how it was more important than sexual excitement and reaching orgasm. I would have claimed that sex and love are separate things and that you could have one without the other and vice versa.

Today I know that at least a part of loving someone is feeling the pain you may be causing them and putting your heart and soul into protecting them from all the hurt you can. If Don feels even half the pain I'm feeling over my own horrible lack of reasonable judgment, I may never recover from the shame. Today I've come to realize that love is a combination of a great many things that includes trust. 

Something I have broken badly!

Next morning, at breakfast, I did my best to act casually. Judy, Rachael and Wayne joined me at my table but before we could discuss anything Frank Morello joined us as he had a couple of times through that week. Shortly after that, Phil, Sam and Dee Dee arrived. After we exchanged "good mornings" there seemed little to say and we seemed to fall into an uncomfortable silence broken only briefly when Art joined us.

Later that morning, at the first conference session, Frank Morello asked me if someone had "died in our group" as we had been the "life of the party gang" up until then. I answered that we were just getting weary and perhaps more than a little homesick but I began to be a little fearful that the behavior of the rest of them over my refusal to become any further involved, was causing them to attract attention to themselves.

Just then I didn't want to talk with any of them about last night's events and during the conference sessions through that day and I found, ironically, that I was using Frank to avoid them whenever they were near. It began to be a rising concern that they were becoming rather noticeable in their repeated ad hoc conferences and whisperings. It looked like they were about to betray themselves . . . and me, hopefully not before I had a chance to confess on my own and rely on my husband's love for me to save the marriage I have put in danger over my dalliance with Phil.

The conference would end tomorrow afternoon and the final dinner and dance would be tonight

While we were between the last session of the day and dinner, Judy and Rachael came to my room. They asked if I was O.K. and, on hearing that I wasn't and that I had no intentions of rejoining Phil for sex, they appeared alarmed. I told them I would do the best I could to protect their secret but that I regarded my own behavior as shameful. In order to calm their obvious panic, I promised to join them for dinner. 

When we all met that evening, it was clear there was tension. Phil and Rachael were the most concerned, as they were still apparently "happily" married. Although Sam's marriage was rocky, and probably would not survive, he was concerned about providing any more ammo to the proceedings when it came to a divorce hearing. The rest of them were, I think, only worried about continuing their fun time at future meetings.

The fact that someone, who had told them she would not join their group, and knew their secret, had upset the apple cart. Over the course of the evening each member of that group joined me to "talk", again making themselves somewhat visible to the rest of the conference.

I did my best to let them know that I really had no idea how to deal with what I had done, that I knew no one was to blame but me and finally that, although I had no idea how, I would deal with Don when I got home. I would do the best I could to protect their secret.

Irony of ironies, after a while, that evening, I found myself using Frank Morello even more to avoid them. I had asked him to dance saying I wanted at least one with my boss before going home and he asked me a couple of times. Fortunately, it was rather obvious to most conference attendees that he had hooked up with a woman from one of the northern districts and he didn't pursue me at all. 

Meanwhile, the seven of them were darting back and forth talking excitedly and gesticulating as if they were trying to attract the attention of everyone in the room. The situation was deteriorating into some sort of teeny bopper "she said. . . he said" silliness and their "rules" were being broken all over the place.

It got so bad that, claiming I was tired, I left the dance about 10:15 and went to my room.

On the spur of the moment I called Don and immediately realized how much more calm and settled I felt just talking to him and in spite of my severely agitated conscience, I was delighted when he said how much he missed me, that he was glad I was having fun and how happy he was that I called. We talked for an hour, something like I had done back in my teens and when we finally called it a night, I knew I had made the best decision in not rejoining the group. I still, however, had to deal with the fact that I had cheated on Don.

It seems obvious that, as I felt some bond with the group, I would keep their secret. It would be logical, to some, for me to put it all behind me and not say anything to anyone, BUT when Don cheated on me, perhaps twice that I know of, it was the breach of trust and the fact that he didn't take responsibility for what he had done and apologize, that bothered me most. That is, once I was assured he had not connected emotionally with someone else, I expected him to come clean and apologize and tell me what he would do to preserve and strengthen our marriage. 

Surely, I can expect no less of myself!

When I did confess to Don, would I be putting other people's lives in jeopardy? Especially Phil and Rachel who may be hypocrites but who are protecting their respective spouses lives too.

Friday, as the conference drew to a close, things were even worse. Again, each member of the group approached me asking for my assurance that I would not "spill the beans". It seemed to me that they had drawn far more attention to themselves over me than they had in all the years they had been keeping their secret.

By this time I was anxious just to get it over with and was barely paying attention at the last session when committee appointments were being finalized. It took me a moment to realize that my appointment to the Competition Committee had been announced. Phil had been so sure I would join their group, he had nominated me and given that there were too few volunteers to cover everything, no one else was named and the job was now mine.

I decided to deal with that later.

On the way home Frank mentioned how little he had seen of me and I reminded him I had hooked up with some old friends. He said he had noticed the group wasn't as "up and at em" the last couple of days. I turned to respond to him but he seemed deep in thought and I decided it was best to drop it and I paid no more attention to him. 

Don and the kids were at the airport to meet me and the excitement of seeing them and their obvious joy to see me gave me a momentary relief from my task of conscience.

We grabbed a late snack at the take out on the way home and as we sat around the kitchen that night listening to the kids excitedly relate their week at school and with Dad as "chief cook and bottle washer", I began to once again feel fear creeping into my chest.

How could I have been so stupid as to risk losing this. Two wonderful kids and a husband whom, I have just discovered from the kids, is even more wonderful than I realized.

I didn't want the evening to end, first because it was as wonderful as it was, and second, because it brought me closer to the task of telling Don what I had done and the even harder task of convincing him it was a stupid mistake, one I'll never make again and that I love him more than he could ever know.

All good things come to an end and, finally, our impromptu family gathering did too as both kids had tournaments the next day. Sarah had a preparatory competition to get ready for the up coming district meet and Brad's soccer team was playing in an invitational tournament about a one hour drive away. Don, of course, was driving him there and, as a bonus, would be able to drop in and see his parents who lived nearby. 

My anxieties increased as we headed to our bedroom, me knowing I was about to shatter his world, but when I got there I managed to convince myself that we both were entitled to one more night of intimacy before all hell broke loose.

Don showered first while I unpacked and as soon as he finished, I took my turn. I had laid out a nice negligee that I was sure he would like. There were so many signals from him through the evening that I knew he was feeling amorous and heaven knows, I needed to be close to him at least once more.

When I came out of the shower wearing just a towel, I was trying to dry my hair. I sat on the edge of the bed while I did it and felt Don gently take the towel from my hands and kneeling behind me with his hands on my shoulders, he began to gently kiss my neck. I remember realizing I needed this so much. Over the next several minutes, he gently stroked my arms as his kisses trailed up and down my neck. As it was, it was thrilling, first and foremost because it was the man I love so much, but second . . . it . . .it just was!!!!!!

Whether it was relief from having decided to put off telling him of my foolishness, I don't know. I do know that there was a sort of jolt of excitement that flowed through me several times as he continued his ministrations. After quite some time he laid me gently on the bed and released the other towel freeing my breasts and exposing my pussy which seemed to be ignoring all my anxieties and getting moist on its own.

Don then began to lick my nipples which hardened noticeably and that too gave me a tingle of excitement between my legs. After the longest time licking and sucking at each nipple, Don began to trail his tongue down my stomach almost, but not quite, to my pussy. I found my excitement level was building to the point where I was trying to raise my hips to get his tongue to where I wanted it. . . on my clit, but Don obviously had other ideas.

Then there were warning alarms going off in my head. This is NOT Don's style and, although it wasn't necessarily Phil's either, this WAS different for Don and I, and the coincidence of me returning from my slip into infidelity, to a husband with a whole new approach, began to frighten me. This was balanced by my joy just to have him close and also by the fact that even my conscience was being seduced. I felt myself becoming more and more turned on.

Don finally moved down and got between my legs which I spread excitedly and, although he didn't latch on to my pussy or my clit, he did continue dragging his tongue all around the area teasing me into a level of excitement that I cannot remember having with Don for quite some time. I'm sure my excitement at that moment would have been close to unbearable had it not been for my conscience which intruded into the passion now and then. As Don continued, the intrusions by my conscience became shorter and shorter and fewer and fewer until, when Don poked his tongue deep into me, although I had not yet reached orgasm, I had passed the point of no return. 

This has not happened to me too many times but I love it when it does. It's the point at which I can completely relax my body and focus totally on the on-coming orgasm. It has always been a very pleasant experience for me but I was unprepared for the force of the orgasm that followed.

Pleasure in the extreme flooded through my body and I cried out, sincerely, my love for Don. 

He crawled up beside me and took me in his arms and, as the pleasure gradually ebbed, I made the decision to move heaven and earth to please this man beyond his widest dreams, at least for this perhaps one last time. Hopefully, if he could find it in his heart to forgive me, for the rest of our lives.

It seemed that Don had other ideas.

As we began once more to kiss, me tasting myself on his mouth, Don took each of my wrists in his hands and stretched my arms out above my head effectively pinning me to the bed. I didn't really struggle but I tried enough to know for sure that I was pinned and was unable to extricate myself unless Don let me. As I told you, Don is wiry and exceptionally strong. I was effectively helpless. Don began to kiss me passionately, much more so than I can ever remember him doing before, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.

In spite of the fact that I had only just experienced one of the more forceful orgasms I can ever remember having, I began to get excited all over again. Don pushed his now erect cock into my wetness and holding me, almost as if against my will, he began to rapidly stroke in and out of me.

As before, alarms were going off in my head. This cannot be a coincidence. I have been unfaithful to this man whom I adore and he has changed his behavior as soon as I return. 

What is going on?

There was no opportunity to speculate any further. Don was ramming in and out of me like a piston, not violently by any means, but forcefully and I lost my concentration on trying to figure out what was going on with my husband. I was finding the fact that I was pinned, highly erotic. In a brief moment of sanity I found myself denying I could cum again so soon. That just wasn't what Don and I did, but, as soon as I denied it to myself, I realized I was wrong. That was exactly what was happening and I had no control over it, nor did I want to have, and for the first time in my life with Don, I came again in a matter of minutes.

Again, as I came down from that incredible high, I realized Don had not yet cum and was still holding a steady stroke.

"I love you Don!" I groaned.

He pushed up and seemed to look down to where our bodies were connected, then his eyes swept gradually up my body pausing briefly to look at (admire?) my heaving tits, then he looked into my eyes and I watched him, as he too passed the point of no return.

His look was nothing short of ecstasy and knowing I had shared that with him just then, made me happier than I had been since before I went to that hospitality room a few nights before.

Don kissed me gently as he shifted his weight to lie beside me on our bed. 

"I love you Meg. I've missed you and I'm glad you're home."

Once again, alarms coursed through my body. 

Where was all this coming from? 

Did he somehow know?

Don seemed not to notice any change in my demeanor. He pulled the now discarded towels from the bedding, pulled the blankets up over us, turned out the light and crawled in beside me, taking me into his arms in the process.

It felt wonderful and regardless of my guilty conscience, two relatively sleepless nights preceding, the exhaustion of an incredible night of lovemaking and the comfort of being held by the man I loved, let me fall into a relatively peaceful sleep.

Mmmmmm. That feels good! Ooooh do that again!

As I gradually woke from that peaceful sleep, I began to realize that Don had moved down the bed and was now licking the backs of my legs from behind my knees up to my ass cheeks. 

Wow! 

It was becoming increasingly hard to lie still. With my renewed excitement, I began to squirm on the bed and as I did, Don lay across my legs and spread my cheeks with his hands, brushing his tongue lightly over my rosebud.

That, combined with his earlier activities as I was waking, had turned me on again.

As I continued to moan, he spread my legs and began to lick up and down the inside of my thighs, not quite able to get to my pussy. After a while, when he gave me the opportunity, I pushed back and came up partially on to my knees. Now his talented tongue could reach my pussy and he began to eat me from behind. When I realized that I had not cleaned up after we had made love earlier in the night, it seemed somehow . . .naughty and exciting, maybe even a little bit slutty, and I found once again I was more sexually excited than perhaps ever before with Don. As my excitement became obvious, so too did Don's, and soon he was on his knees pushing into me from behind and sort of resting his chest on my lower back. He was mauling both my tits with his now free hands and that too contributed to my excitement.

Having cum earlier in the evening he lasted quite some time and as he lasted, I reached yet a third orgasm that night and I'm sure for the second time that night it triggered Don's release.

Again my mind was a whirl of contradictions but, standing out most, was the joy of having him close, of feeling that intimacy which as I told you before was the best of my relationship with Don, but now there was more to it and my conscience pushed me to ask why.

I didn't ask for long though as, secure once more in his arms, I fell fast asleep.

I woke to the smell of coffee and went downstairs to see the kids wolfing down breakfast and my loving husband, who deserved much better than what I had done to him, handing me a cup of coffee.

The plans for the day were reviewed. Don was driving Brad to his soccer tourney and later in the morning I would take Sarah to the gym. As it was just a tune up meet, it was agreed that I would stay to watch Sarah, who was competing early in the meet, then leave her to support her teammates while I returned home. I would pick her up about 10:0PM to be confirmed by cell phone.

Sarah has improved so rapidly that I was amazed at her first two vaults. It frightened me initially to see what she had done but it soon became apparent she was more than ready. By mid afternoon she had her first gold and three more bronze medals to add to her collection and as far as her individual performances were concerned, she was done. I left her to support her teammates as agreed and returned home.

I was more than a little surprised to see Don's car in the drive and was concerned that perhaps Brad had been injured. I rushed into the house and obviously caught Don unaware as he was startled, then he looked somewhat guilty . . . no, not guilty, more like embarrassed. 

In fact, I'm sure he was blushing.

"Hi!" he said, rather lamely.

"Hi yourself." I replied, "What's going on?"

There it was again. He blushed! He definitely blushed!

"In the excitement of having you home last night, I neglected to mention that I arranged for Mom and Dad to stay with Brad so I could be home to be with you." He blushed again.




Nighttime Confessions 2nd Thoughts



It's now or never I said to myself and then I said, "We need to talk Don!"

I was shocked to see him smile briefly then answer, "Yeah, I know. It's not too hard to guess what we are about to talk about."

I must have startled him again with my look of shock and no little fear, but I was so confused. 

He obviously knows! 

What the hell is going on? 

He's not angry. 

Last night was one of, if not the most, exciting nights of lovemaking I have had with him.

Then a very distasteful thought struck me. "Please Lord," I prayed to myself, "don't let him be some kind of wimp that gets his jollies from sloppy seconds." As that fear grew in me, I knew I would lose all love and respect for him if it were true.

He blushed again but now, fearing what would happen when I told him what I had done and how I was feeling, I was not amused.

"I guess I should explain about last night!" he said as he held himself a little more upright as if to show he was not ashamed in any way.

He's still blushing!

"Meg, please hear me out and let me finish before you jump to any conclusions or make any judgments about me or my motives. Everything that I did last night has been building up in me since before you left for the conference." He paused as if to collect his thoughts, then continued, "When we talked about various ways you might handle the possibility of Frank Morello hitting on you, it started me thinking. Initially I was angry at him, but that's a "catch 22". All men would like to have a wife attractive to others as well as themselves and, in a way, your concerns about Frank made me see my own feelings more clearly."

At this point he looked me in the eyes and that kind, gentle look that I have relied upon for so long was there and he continued, "Frankly Meg, I was jealous! Through this week as I tried to work through that jealousy, I began to realize how desirable you are to me. PLEASE, don't get me wrong! I love you dearly and if our lives together don't change at all from what it has been, I'll die a happy man. It's not that I don't trust you. I do and I was sure you would deal with Frank just fine, but the truth is, thinking about someone making sexual advances to you made me realize there is so much more I would like to do with you . . . sexually."

Damn! He is still BLUSHING.

There was not one thing in this entire world, aside from traveling back in time and undoing that stupid thing I did with Phil and his friends, that could have made me happier at that moment. I rushed into his arms and hugged and kissed and hugged and kissed him over and over again.

When we finally stopped he held me close and said, "I'll take that as agreement!"

"Don I love you and having you tell me all that is wonderful. There have been times when I wish we had been a little more adventurous. Being with you has always been important to me. Having you hold me in your arms after love making will probably always be the most significant part of being with you but yes, I . . .I," now I was the one who was blushing. "I want to try new things with you, things to show you how much I love you, things that you would like to do with me."

"Meg, not just now of course, but sometime, I'd like you to tell me what you would like me to do with and to you and what you would like to do with and to me. I promise that if you are not comfortable with something, I'll let it go. I might be disappointed but never be angry or hurt. O.K.?"

He hugged me again and said, "Meg I love you and I love what I do with you, and I swear that if any of this had made you uncomfortable I would, just as I told you, be satisfied with our lives as they are and I would die a happy man. Given your willingness to try out a few new things just adds to the excitement and the love I already feel for you. To tell you the truth I've been nervous all week but I've also been horny as hell."

"Don, I love you. I love you so much I don't think I can adequately express it and I need you to know that I am more than just "willing" to try new things with you. I'm excited about it and I'm looking forward to it. In fact there's something I'd like to do right now."

I moved my hand down to find him hard. I slipped out of his arms and down his body stopping only to undo his belt and pull down his trousers and boxers, freeing his cock, which delightedly, sprang up into my face. I kissed the head then took the knob into my mouth running my tongue all over it. Once I had his attention in that way, I gently pushed him back into the sofa and pulled off his shoes, socks, pants and boxers while he removed his shirt.

Once he was naked I began removing my own clothes, not in a striptease way, but gazing all the time into his face. His eyes roamed hungrily over my body and he gave a little start when I unclasped and removed my bra.

"Sometime soon I'm going to dress differently for this. Would you like that?" I purred.

"Yessss."

"Stroke yourself. Keep it hard for me."

His hand went to his member immediately and he began to stroke himself. A thrill at seeing I had such power ran through me as I knelt between his legs and began to suck on him. We had had oral sex before but given our busy lives we usually rushed to what I have referred to as the "main event". 

This time I had something else in mind. 

I tried a few things and after a while began to pay attention to how Don reacted and learned what it was that he liked. After only a few minutes of careful observation and trying a few different things with my tongue and my mouth, I began to figure out what was going to get him off.

My mind is working in weird ways. Here I am sucking my husband's cock, determined to get him off, and somehow my mind finds a new way to feel guilty. There really isn't any good reason we hadn't done this earlier. We had just become complacent, satisfied with the intimacy we had both felt after lovemaking and never really getting any more inventive. 

What a shame and what a waste of our love! 

We could have made what we did do so much more than it was! 

Just then, Don's excitement regained my attention and I continued with my blowjob and with the joy of learning more about him and learning to please him even more. I was looking forward to having him do the same in return too.

"Gonna cum Meg!" I heard him growl. I could feel him pull back but there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen!

I increased my pace and after only a brief period of surprise, pleasant surprise I hope, when he realized I wanted him to cum in my mouth, he relaxed to enjoy it. I felt his cock begin to spasm and then his cum squirted into the back of my throat.

To the best of my ability to recollect, I managed to take it all in and swallow it down. That in itself was neither a turn on or off, but the look of extreme bliss on Don's face made it all worthwhile. I'm going to be doing more of this. That is, of course, if Don doesn't throw me out when I tell him what I have done.

I slid up beside him on the sofa and felt that contented feeling I always have in his arms. After a while he turned me to him and asked somewhat excitedly, "What can I do for you now?"

I knew what I wanted but I suspected it would be a while before Don could accommodate me so I told him I had something in mind but we would have to wait a while. 

We stayed locked in one another's arms for a while exchanging kisses now and then, which increased in passion as time went on. Occasionally my conscience would rear its ugly head and I would begin again to wonder how I was going to manage to get around to telling him what I had done. But those lapses were becoming fewer and less demanding and I was falling into the easy way of thinking I might avoid telling and hurting him, especially after he was the one with the sense to re-ignite our passion for one another.

He soon was hard and, pressing on his chest to keep him on his back, I straddled him pulling his newly resurrected cock into me. I was so wet he slipped in easily and as I began to ride him, I pulled his hands to my breasts and had him rub the palms of his hands over my hard nipples.

"I'm looking forward to a lot more of this!"

"God yes!"

Later we showered together, washing each other off tenderly and making a number of comments that, when thought through, basically said we could have been enjoying each other like this long ago. It wasn't as if I had forgotten the difficult task I still had ahead of me but my mind did slip back to Phil and the sexual excitement and orgasms he led me to. I recalled even more vividly how the lack of intimacy when we were done was missing from that relationship and how very, very much better it is to look to your own partner for both.

Sex IS a physical act!

A physical act that can lead to wonderful feelings and where the combination is right, it can communicate even more fantastic feelings of love and continually renewed commitment. I'm sure the "silly seven" as I have come to think of them, have enjoyed their "physical sex" and I'm equally sure that among at least most of them, there are strong feelings of friendship which they enjoy as well but not real intimacy. What is missing there for me is the opportunity to have both the passion and the intimacy in the same relationship.

Again, for me with Don, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Exciting love-making with him, combined with that wonderful intimacy to follow, amounted to far more than sex with Phil and his friends combined with intimacy with Don ever could!

If it's the thrill of the forbidden you are looking for, try shoplifting or something else like it. The price you will pay in the long run will probably be far less.

As important as this revelation was to me, I was still faced with a difficult task. I was trying to decide when and how to tell Don what I had done and given Don's determination to bring more excitement into our love life, I found myself putting it off.

Actually, I should have realized that no decision IS a decision and that, like it or not, I may have decided to keep my dark and dirty secret and hope Don never found out.

I did make one decision however. I wrote the State Athletic Association and resigned from the competition committee citing personal workload problems.

The next six weeks made a marked change in our lives together. Don was coming home right after work about two and sometimes three nights a week but he was paying the price for it too. Each time he got home at a decent hour, he had a large briefcase with him and when the kids and I had gone off to bed he headed for the dining room table with his briefcase for an hour or two and sometimes three.

A few times, when I was awake when he finally came to bed, I did the best I could to make it worth his while.

It amazes me how much I have learned about what it takes to bring David off quickly or conversely, how to hold him on the edge. All I had to do were two simple things; try new things and pay attention to what happened, and, just ask him!

I know that for those moments, I was able to get my mind off the convention and my stupid mistake with Phil. I had a sense of renewal and, when I got past my own good feelings, it became apparent that our whole family was enjoying the new us. Both kids seemed more confident and focused and in spite of the fact that Don and I had put ourselves, and our alone time, somewhat higher on the family priority list, we all seemed to benefit. Whether we realize it or not and often without knowing the cause, our kids often reflect us and, when were taking care of ourselves properly, they benefited.

In order to make better use of our time, we arranged with some fellow parents to car-pool the kids to practice sessions. One afternoon when the kids were taken out to the gym and the practice field by another parent, Don and I were enjoying a glass of wine and each other. It was one of those events that will remain special in my mind, not because of any extreme orgasmic delight but because of the gentle, tender caring way we had made love. 

I have said many times that the best part for me is the intimacy we share afterwards. Today, that intimacy, which I find is so important, seemed to permeate all that we did and at that moment I was on an emotional high, so much so that I was confident I could begin to share my dark secret with Don.

"I love you Donald Prescott!" I said as I kissed him. Upon breaking the kiss and hearing him murmur his love for me in return, I started with my plan. I began to remind him of his indiscretions, mostly to focus on how I had forgiven him and that I, more than anything else, wanted him to give me a chance to make up for the hurt and embarrassment I caused him and forgive me too.

I asked him if he remembered the incident at the bachelor party and he smiled rather enigmatically then got up and went over to his clothes closet. After rummaging around in there, he pulled out something and handed it to me. It was a photograph of Don with a surprised expression on his face, which was almost jammed into the breasts of the naked woman apparently standing behind him.

He explained, "When I refused to take part in the extra-curricular activities with the stripper, some of the guys got upset and were afraid I would spill the beans. They had her stand behind me and when she tapped me on the shoulder and I turned, they snapped the picture then threatened to get it to you with a made up story about my participation. As I recall, the story got out anyway and John Cross gave me the picture and apologized several weeks later. I would have showed it to you then but you were pregnant with Sarah and, for some reason I cannot remember, we were going through a rough patch, so I put it away thinking it might be something we could laugh over together someday. Until you mentioned it just now, I had forgotten all about it."

My plans for further discussion were falling apart at the seams but Don asked, "What ever made you bring that up?"

"Don, this is embarrassing but I was sure you did have sex with that stripper and I was so upset at the time, first because you did it, or at least I thought you had, but most of all because you didn't admit it, take responsibility for screwing up and apologize. It appears now that I punished you for doing nothing more than keeping quiet about other people's shortcomings. The rough patch, as you so delicately put it, was me being angry with you and thinking seriously of leaving you. I didn't because I was afraid I couldn't manage the pregnancy on my own and didn't want our two kids to be without their father. I brought it up because I want you to know how grateful I am that I didn't do it and that in spite of not facing you with it and getting it all out, I forgave you. I'm so glad I did. It seems all too late now but believe me, I'm sorry for what I did and I'm sorry for not confronting you with my suspicions in the first place and getting it out in the open."

We were laying on our bed at the time and I felt safe in his arms. He pulled me to him and kissed me.

"Too long ago and too far away to worry about." He said as I nestled back into his arms.

"I feel like such an idiot! All this time I thought you had sex with her and just refused to admit it. It took me a long time to rebuild my trust for you and all the time you were innocent. Boy have I ever been a fool!"

"Meg, that was a long time ago and I don't think it matters a bit anymore besides, I suspect that the halo you are putting on me may not be deserved. Now that we seem to be on the topic let me confess to a near miss. Do you remember Barb Collins?"

"Yes. I was pretty sure you had an affair with her too!"

"I didn't but I came all too close. I felt badly for her and I did what I could to help her. A lot of the time she just wanted to talk but, not long before she left, she got on to a kick about repaying me for my kindness and she offered to have sex with me. I thought she was kidding at first and I laughed, but she insisted she was serious. 

Her divorce apparently had nothing to do with sex. I gather that she and her ex actually had sex outside their marriage. When I pointed out that I was married and that I loved you, she said that sex and love were separate things. I don't remember exactly how she put it but she said she didn't love me and didn't expect me to love her either but felt we would enjoy sex together and that no one would find out. She said that she didn't see that as being inconsistent with me loving you.

At the party she had just before she left, she asked to speak to me privately and in her bedroom she made her last pitch. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive. She was and I admit I was sorely tempted but I was afraid of losing you and I chickened out. It scared hell out of me when that old busybody, Ruth . . whatever her name was, caught us talking up there. I was so frightened, I recall I lied and said I had felt ill as an excuse for being up there and I remember sucking up to you for quite a while after that."

"Are you O.K.?" he continued, as I'm sure he could feel me shudder with fear. I had been counting on him knowing I had forgiven him his transgressions and was asking for the same consideration in return, but now it seems I had merely punished him for what I thought may have occurred but now know it didn't.

No matter! He deserves the truth and I'm going to tell him.

Don," I said as I sat forward and turned to face him, "I love you very much and these last few weeks have been heaven. I . . ."

"We're home!" came a shout from the doorway.

Don and I had lost track of the time and here we were naked in our bed when the kids arrived home expecting their supper. We jumped up, scrambled for our clothes and headed downstairs to hear about their day.

Although I was on the verge of telling him about Phil right then, later I once again was too fearful of the consequences and once more put it off.

As I mentioned, about six weeks after the conference, at a point where I had pretty much put things to the back of my mind once again, I noticed something one day that bothered me more and more. I was sure I had seen a letter in among the pile of bills we usually receive, that was addressed in a neat script that I would guess was a woman's handwriting. Something distracted me about that time and I didn't give it another thought until I was picking up garbage later on, including the now discarded envelopes, and noticed it was not there.

I might have passed it off as my mistake too, but that night there was a marked change in Don's behavior. I was awake until almost 1:30 before I finally fell asleep and I woke at 3:15. Don was still not in our bed.

I decided to get up and see if he was O.K. when I noticed the telephone light was on. Who in hell could he be talking to at this hour of the night?

I went downstairs only to find Don working away at the dining room table.

I asked who was on the phone and Don said he had just noticed it wasn't hung up properly and had put the handset back.

I had seen that look on Don's face before and it struck me that he was hiding something, but at that moment, he said he was coming to bed and I was distracted enough that I let it pass. We snuggled together and slept for the very few hours left before our alarm.

Maybe it was my overactive imagination but Don seemed on edge and deep in thought.

I got very little done at work that day. 

Don still seemed distant when I got home that night. He had the inevitable briefcase with him as he was home before me. On the positive side, dinner was made and the kids had all their gear ready for their respective practices. Apparently it was our turn to drive and Don was taking Sarah, Brad and some of the other kids to the gym and practice field.

I was left home alone. Something was up with Don and I needed to know what. It had occurred to me that he had acted this way before, after that incident with the bachelor party and similarly when he had been with Barb that night, but after a moments consideration I realized the only similarity was that he behaved outside his norm. He was hiding something!




Nighttime Confessions 2nd Thoughts



He was still distracted when he returned home with the kids and he was once again very late coming to bed and for reasons I don't understand, I pretended to be asleep. Don tossed and turned quite a bit before finally dozing off.

He was up and showered when I got up the next morning.

"I'll be late tonight Meg. There's some stuff I just can't fit into a briefcase. There are no practices so you and the kids should be O.K. Don't wait up." he said as he headed out the door.

Don has never acted like this before and later during a break at work I began to wonder why. There was a letter, I'm sure. He was on the phone in the middle of the night. He has been demonstrating new and improved skills in our marital bed. I feel like such a hypocrite! I cheated on him and now I'm upset because he may be doing it to me. 

No! Somehow I knew that was not the case!

I love Don. I believe he loves me. I have to get all this out in the open and hope our love for each other can get us back on track. Hopefully on the new and much improved track Don led us to upon my return from the convention.

I'm afraid! 

Just like I was when sober second thought helped me realize how much I had risked when I allowed Phil to seduce me at the conference.

It served to renew my determination to tell him.

The next series of events made it clear I had better tell him soon.

I was called to the school office and once there, was asked to return a call to a Peter Sellwood at the State Athletic Association. With my heart in my mouth, I placed the call and was relieved somewhat when he said he was calling to ask if I might reconsider my decision not to serve on the competition committee. My relief was short lived when he went on to say that there had been some sort of issue among some of the current members and that as of this moment there were four vacancies. 

My chest felt like someone had wrapped a steel band around it and tightened it. I could hardly breath but I managed to confirm that I would be unavailable and closed the call.

Then things went from bad to worse! 

As I was leaving, Frank Morello came out of the Principal's office and he was clearly very angry.

"You're not getting off that easily over this!" he said as he came up behind me in the hallway.

I was distracted and what he had said didn't register until he continued with, "If I have to go down for some extra curricular activity at the conference, then you're going down too. Count on it!"

He stormed out the doors and, before I knew it, he was in his car and out of the parking lot.

I was trying not to panic and as I had no idea what had brought this outburst on, I called my friend Judy Caster who was a clerk in the school office, to see what she knew. It seems that a teacher from one of the northern districts had complained that Frank had harassed her at the conference. When all was said and done, it turned out that their all too public behavior had resulted in rumors following her home and she had confessed to her husband but made it sound as though Frank had pressed her against her will. 

The husband called the school to complain and Frank had been reprimanded and, unfortunately, Mrs Rountree, our principal, suggested that I was probably more than ready to become athletic director if Frank couldn't manage to represent our school in a more respectable manner. Little does she know!

No wonder Frank was upset with me. He had already figured something was up with me at the convention. Thursday and Friday after my stupidity with Phil, they had been running back and forth like a bunch of teeny boppers at a school dance and knowing the lines along which Frank's mind worked, he would have guessed there was something sexual going on no matter what, . . . only this time, he was right.

I called Don's dad and told him that I had a problem and I needed some time with Don and without the kids. Amazing man! Much like his son. He didn't ask, he just said he would pick the kids up and keep them overnight. He added that he would get them to school and that he could repeat the process tomorrow and so on until he heard from us.

As advertised, Don was late getting home that night and I sat on the porch waiting for him, knowing this time there would be no interruption, no putting it off. I would tell him what I should have told him long ago.

When he finally drove up our driveway I was horrified to see Frank Morello get out of a car parked just down the street.

He too had been waiting for Don to get home.

"Prescott. I want to talk to you!" Frank yelled out.

"Go away Frank. I'm not interested in talking to you."

"You will be when I tell you what that wife of yours has been up to!"

As terrified as I was to hear what Frank was trying to tell Don, I was even more shocked to hear Don's answer.

"Surprise me Frank! Tell me she was indiscreet with Phil Grant and his crowd at the conference."

Frank must have been equally shocked as he fell suddenly silent only to have Don continue, "Get out of here Frank and don't come back. You're not welcome here." And with that, Frank turned and left.

I followed Don into the house and when he turned to face me, with tears running down my face I said, "I tried to tell you. . . several times. I'm sorry Don. I made a stupid mistake and I am sorry. I hope you believe me when I tell you I love you."

Don too had tears in his eyes.

"How long have you known?" I asked.

"Day before yesterday. I got this.

He handed me a letter written in what I would describe as a neat feminine hand. It was from Lydia Grant who, it turns out had suspected her husband was seeing someone at the conference and who had hired a P.I. to investigate. At sometime, the P.I. had managed to put recorders in all the rooms at the hospitality suite and had passed on all the sordid details to Phil's wife.

Not wanting his lover to get off easy, she had the P.I. track me down and had sent a letter to my husband, apparently taking a chance that I might intercept it. In the letter she had invited Don to call her at any hour of the day or night which he had finally done in the middle of the night.

"I made a very bad, very stupid mistake and I'm sorry. If it makes any difference, I swear I've learned my lesson and I will never make that mistake again. I knew I was wrong to have let Phil seduce me and as soon as I came to my senses, I declined the invitation to return to his bed. I really did try to tell you. . . several times but you have made my life so wonderful with your renewed passion for me that I found myself putting off telling you. I do love you. I'm sorry for having hurt you!"

Don was openly crying and the pain displayed on his face made me feel even more terrible. "I don't know how to explain how I feel Meg. Angry, hurt, humiliated, sad! All of the above I suppose. I love you and I don't want to lose what we have. I'm not going to make any rash decisions but I know I need some time and some space to get my head around all this."

After noticing the kids weren't home and finding they were with his mom and dad he seemed a bit better. I offered to sleep in the guest room but Don said no. The kids would be home tomorrow and either we were going to try to continue this marriage or not and if we were, we would sleep together.

Although things were tense the following few days I was grateful that I hadn't entirely screwed up our marriage, at least I thought I hadn't. Friday night was sort of a family night and we all went out for dinner and by some sort of good fortune Don suggested a movie that everyone said they would like,

That was a first!

After the movie we drove to our favorite ice cream shop and had a late dessert, then home.

Saturday both kids were off to gym and soccer and Don and I were left alone. 

He took the initiative.

The tears were gone but clearly the pain was still there as Don began, "I know you've said you're sorry Meg and that you love me. I want to believe that but I'd like to hear from you what led you to break your wedding vows to me. Please understand that I don't want a description of the events. I am already on "information overload" in that department."

"May I ask you a question first?" I said.

"Yes."

"Do you believe me when I tell you that I did intend to tell you earlier, as early as the night I got home and that I began it again the next day when I found you at home after leaving Sarah at the gym?"

"I do remember you said we had to talk and that I assumed it was about my sexual aggressiveness the night before. Was that it?"

"Yes Don, it was. I swear it was! But there were other times when I was on the verge too."

"When we were still in bed the day the kids came home?"

"Yes."

"I believe you!"

"Thank you! Now to an explanation. Basically, I screwed up! I have learned that it is not enough that I wasn't looking to be unfaithful. We have to be consciously aware of how easy it is to slip up and do something you may end up regretting for the rest of your life, even when you start out without intending to. I should have kept constantly in mind what I have and don't want to lose and consciously act in a manner that would protect my intentions and those that I love. 

I failed to do that that evening with Phil Grant. I let myself get caught up in the pleasure of the moment without thinking of the ones I love and the long range consequences. I will never get over regretting that lapse and I will never make a mistake like that again regardless of what you decide to do about our marriage."

Don's face showed a hint of a smile as he answered, "Believe it or not, thanks to Lydia Grant's P.I., there is a transcript of virtually everything that was said and done in that hospitality suite since mid afternoon on the first day of the conference. I know you let me . . . no, us, down on the Wednesday night and I know your realized your mistake and made sure you didn't compound it in the days that followed. I'm grateful for at least that much."

"I love you Meg and I have no intention of ending this marriage. One of the things that has helped me deal with this is, that night at Barb Collins place, I know how close I came to making the same mistake. I'll never really know if I backed out because I knew I should or because I was almost caught. I do know I'm happy that I did back out and disappointed in myself that it got that far. I'm disappointed in you too Meg but give me some time and space and I'll get past it."

Things were uneasy around our house for the rest of the weekend and through the following week but we slept together and although there was no love-making, Don did hold me each and every night. The following weekend Sarah's practice was light in view of the upcoming state competition. Brad took her there and afterwards both of them joined me in watching Brad's team play in the county wide tournament. He played well but was disappointed that his team didn't fare better as they lost the semi-final game. Afterwards we went out for dinner as a family and had a wonderful time.

That night Don made love with me for the first time since it all came out. I don't recall whether the sex was wonderful or not because I was so thrilled just to once again experience the feeling of having him so close.

Things improved rapidly after that and we were soon doing some more exploring of our sexual likes and dislikes and once again the improvement in our own lives seemed to show on the kids and our family life too.

I have made a vow to myself that I will always keep, first and foremost in my mind, my commitment to Don and our marriage and that I will actively bring to mind the lessons I have learned over all this. I intend to keep appreciating all that I have, I will keep in mind how fortunate I am to be married to such a strong, confident man who had it in his heart to forgive my transgression and I will be diligent in not allowing myself to slip again.

I cheated on my husband but I know exactly what I'm going to do!



Nighttime Confessions: A New Beginning



I would like thank Techsan for his troubles an patience, Blue88 for his permission and capecodmercury for his invitation.

I read "Nighttime Confessions' by capecodmercury the day it was posted. As I read the last sentence I had an emotional response. Capecodmercury's statement "I want the reader to think about what they would do and how they would react." was redundant for me. I had already done that in my emotional response.

I also read "Nighttime Confessions - Continued" by Blue88 the day it was posted. As I read the last sentence I had the same emotional response plus the additional response of 'He didn't finish it either'. Since Blue88 ended his story in the same way and on the same evening as capecodmercury I thought 'wouldn't using them both make a good immediate aftermath story?' I outlined what I had, where I wanted to go and how to get there in the most dramatic, yet plausible way. 

I have tried to stay true to both first chapters and timelines as written with one exception...in trying to stay true to 'how to get there in the most dramatic yet plausible way.'

Since capecodmercury had Don and Meg drive to Phil's hometown in "Nighttime Confessions Too" I had Donald drive to Meg's conference. While it doesn't change the fundamental character of Blue88's story it makes my plot line more plausible. For some strange reason in this age of terror the FAA frowns on dragging GLOCK 9mms through the airport. 

*

Donald:

My wife cheated on me and I don't know what to do. 

Bullshit, the Hell I don't know what to do. A childhood long since buried came boiling to the surface. All that I had run from, all that I had learned. That bastard had to know pain, had to know terror and most of all he had to know why. The betrayal I had witnessed was the end of my marriage, the end of my life as I knew it. Any ending is also the start of a new beginning and it damn well was going to be one of my choosing. Betrayal started this game but it was entirely different now and revenge was only part of it.

My car was before me and the keys in my hand. How I got there in my depth of rage and shock I did not know. All I could remember was embracing my family legacy and plotting that bastard's destruction. It was all consuming and I was fanning the flames. Dread filled me to the core as I opened the trunk and removed the case from under the rear deck. My hand held everything a man would need to survive a major fire fight and an extended flight. All of this was thanks to my grandfather's legacy. It had always been my hope that this day would never come but it seemed a lot closer now. The reasons were totally unanticipated yet the end result most likely would be the same.

The contents of the case were few but extremely effective. I had personally selected and paid for the Glock 9mm, 6 wireless subminiature security cameras, legitimate passports for the family, cash and a PDA. Grandpa's inheritance in my offshore account paid for the fake passports for the family and SIMM cards for the PDA. That was only fitting because a law abiding citizen would never need the software that was stored on them. 

Selecting the SIMM card that I needed was not difficult because the task at hand was well defined. Who was that bastard? A man on the run needs unlimited untraceable cash, unlimited untraceable credit and unlimited untraceable information. This software was guaranteed to do all of that and more. Cash accounts from my inheritance could be opened and closed without a trace. Information could be accessed without a trace. This hotel network would be easy pickings. The worm I was about to unleash would have it on it's knees by the time I got back to my car. Then I would know everything the hotel knows about every guest.

I made my way back to the large hospitality suite windows behind the large shrubs. I placed the first camera where the small gap in the drapes let me see most of the room where Meg had betrayed me. The second camera was going at the very bottom where the closure was a bit askew for a good view of the interior of the suite. As I placed the second camera I noticed that everyone was gathered together as if they were in a meeting. Then I saw Meg get up and leave. My mind was reeling. What was going on now. 

I remembered the words of German Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke. "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy." All I could do was continue with the plan, adapt to the unanticipated. I would have to closely monitor the suite to see if Meg came back; otherwise I'm assuming she had gone back to her room. 

As I calmed down some my sense of detail began coming back to me. I had been little more than a bull stumbling around in a blind rage. I was amazed as I surveyed the landscape to place the cameras for my trilateral surveillance grid that I hadn't hurt myself. Once I had three cameras placed with each camera observing the other two it was virtually impossible to get to the center of the grid undetected or take out all three cameras undetected simultaneously. Once my car was in the center of the grid I could go there and relax while I plotted that bastard's destruction.

The first camera in the grid was placed on the hillside overlooking the parking lot were my car was parked and the second one at the extreme end of the parking lot away from the hotel. The final camera had to be placed between the loading zone at the lobby entrance and the parking lot. When I finished placing the cameras I went to my car for the first peace and quiet I would have since witnessing my betrayal.

My car was my safe haven. Hacking was not exactly legal. Getting caught unaware while involved in my revenge planning wouldn't be good. I started looking through the data that my worm got from the hotel network. I remembered that during our call this (Wednesday) afternoon she had talked about what a good time she had had dancing with Phil, Wayne, Sam and Art. I knew there was something fishy going on. It sounded just a little too cozy for me.

It didn't take very long to find those names in the hotel registration. A quick scan through their drivers license copies identified Phil as the bastard. Another scan gave me Phil's home address and email address. This would be too easy. Oh, the wonders of the web. While it may legally be hard to get a user's home address and IP address from an ISP, it is easy illegally.

I launched worms at Phil's ISP, County Courthouse, city school districts and local realtors. While I waited I might as well figure out what data I needed to pull this off. The first item I had thought of was family pictures and personal data. The next item was pictures of his house. All of this data would be available from the records at Phil's County Courthouse, city school districts and local realtors but I needed access to Phil's computer to cross correlate and verify the data. That made the worm attacking Phil's ISP the keystone of this plan. It was going to complete a plausible tale.

While I waited for the data to trickle in I opened my Swiss bank account and made a transfer to my Caiman Island account. After that was done I checked on the worms' progress. The Courthouse, school districts and realtors had returned all data associated with Phil's address. Two children had attended the local high school. Their pictures and records where displayed before me. I pulled photos of Phil's house from the property tax records. It seemed to match the photos from the realtors'. I selected the photos I would need and checked the progress of the ISP worm. It had found Phil's user name, password and IP address. With this information I launched my attack on Phil's home computer.

Finally I was striking at the enemy. It's funny how times change. Here I am conducting cyber warfare and one hundred years ago I could have just walked right in and shot him no questions asked. I wondered which would be more satisfying, death or a life worse than death.

Eventually I stopped musing about my fate and got back to work. I loaded the photo of Phil's home into Adobe Photo Shop and manipulated it to look as it would look at night. By the time that was done I had full access to Phil's home computer. The email accounts showed that I had the right children although they were no longer children. With a little more searching I had photos of Phil's wife and enough personal data to complete my mosaic.

I was almost ready. Meg's room number was in the hotel registry that I already had and I was heading there shortly. The Power Point Presentation was loaded with the data I had but it was not finished. I would have to complete it later once I got the desired video clips. Everything I could do here was done.

I picked up my case and retrieved my MagLight from underneath the front seat. The parking lot looked clear and I headed for my camera on the way to the hotel lobby. It was in my pocket and I was in the lobby in what seemed like only seconds. My thoughts were that I'm way too old for this James Bond stuff. Just then my cellphone rang. I could tell it was Meg from the ringtone. There was a corner in the lobby that may offer some privacy. When I got there I set my case and MagLight down and answered the phone.

Meg:

Meg lay in her bed thinking, 'I cheated on my husband and I don't know what I am going to do."

'Bullshit, the Hell I don't know what I am going to do. I made a mistake but I'm sober enough now to know that I shouldn't have cheated on Donald. I should remain faithful or divorce him if I want to play the field. I also know that I've been wronged by those I trusted and I need Don. I need him now! I didn't forgive his affairs just to let this marriage end and I won't stoop to his level of dishonesty. I have to tell him and tell him now.' 

Meg picked up the phone and called Don. He answered on the third ring with an icy voice. 

"Hello, Meg."

"Oh, Donald, I love you, I need you. Something terrible has happened."

"If it was so terrible, why did it take you so long to call me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you left Phil's room 40 minutes ago. That's what I mean."

"What? Where are you?"

"I'm in the lobby of your hotel. I saw you and Phil, your orgasms, everything."

"Oh, my God, you know, you saw. Please believe me, it's not what it seems. I've never wanted any man but you. I was set up and fell for it. Oh, God, Don, I need you and I need you now."

Phil said, "One thing is exactly what it seems and that is you fucked Phil and for that he will pay. I'll be there in three minutes." Then he hung up the phone. 

Meg sat in the bed in stunned silence. Her brain was in mental overload. Denial was a major factor.

'No, this can't be. Not only did I unintentionally cheat on my husband, but he witnessed my adultery. This is the worst possible scenario. How will he ever believe me? I didn't sleep and cuddle with Phil because that would have been a bigger betrayal to Don than just having sex with Phil. I wasn't willing to risk my marriage for some friendly sex once a year. That is why I called Don. None of that will matter now. Oh, how will he ever ever believe me? This can't be happening to me. Please let me wake up.' 

Meg made her way over to unlock the door before collapsing onto the floor in a crying convulsing heap.

Donald:

Everything had been so clear about what had to be done. My first surprise was when Meg left the hospitality suite. Now she calls and practically confesses everything. I wonder if she would have confessed it all if I hadn't jumped her first. It doesn't matter - a man's got to do what a man's got to do. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. The one thought I couldn't shake was maybe there was hope for Meg and I, but only on my terms. All I could do was continue with the plan, adapt to the unanticipated. Let the game continue.

I picked up my case and MagLight to continue on to Meg 's room. There was no one in her hall when I got there. That made placing wireless cameras on either side of Meg's door easy. This provided an overlapping field of view of the door. All of the cameras were now in use and that left me vulnerable. I would need a minimum of three cameras for an extended flight and I had no idea how this would play out. All I could do was play.

I turned and knocked on Meg's door. When there was no answer I tried to open it. Fortunately it was unlocked. The door opened about six inches before stopping against something heavy that flexed but did not move. When I bent over I could see Meg lying on the floor in front of the door. I reached inside as I knelt down and shook her.

"Meg, Meg, please wake up! Oh, God, please don't let her do something stupid."

Meg began to stir and my heart was relieved. I wondered at the significance of that feeling. Could we get through this especially since there was more evil to come?

"Don, you really are here. It's not just a dream but it's still a nightmare."

"Meg, roll over so I can open the door."

Once Meg had moved I went in and carried her to the bed. She was becoming more coherent then. When she had finally come around, she launched into her defense. 

"Please believe me, I've never wanted any man but you. My friend Judy and her friends are a swing group. There had been a fourth woman, Lisa, but she had recently changed jobs and moved out of state. They sucked me right into their little group. By the time I realized what was going on, I was too drunk and too off of my guard to stop it. Once I realized the enormity of what I'd done I didn't stay and sleep and cuddle with Phil because that would have been a bigger betrayal to you than just having sex with Phil. When they told me the history of the group I wasn't willing to risk my marriage for some friendly sex once a year. That is why I called you."

Unconvinced by her babble, I interrupted.

"Whoa, slow down there. Meg, you know what the say about excuses. They are like assholes... everybody has one."

"It's the truth."

"I'm sure you believe it to be. I want you to do something for me." 

"What? I would do anything to get you to forgive me and give me a second chance."

"We'll see about that. I want you to call Phil."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I'm going to do is not important. What you've done and what has to happen now is what's important. CALL Phil!"

"What do I say?" 

"Tell him you've changed your mind. Tell him you want to talk to him in your room. It won't be a lie and his cock will drag him here thinking it will get to spend the night."

Meg went over to the phone and started to dial the hospitality suite. As she dialed I said "You might want to watch this when you talk to Phil." The live video feed from the suite was on my PDA before her. Since Phil was the only one without a 'date' we could see him walking to the phone.

"Hello."

"Hello, Phil. Is that you? This is Marge.

"Well, helloooo, Marge. I must admit to being a little bit surprised. I didn't expect to hear from you. What can I do for you?"

"l need to talk to you. I need you here in my room for privacy. I can't face all of them yet."

"I'll be right over."

Meg said, "Okay" and hung up the phone. We could see Phil do a little victory dance while shouting for the others. As they all got together it appeared as though Phil told them what just happened. The guys gave each other high fives and the women gathered into in a big group hug. 

"They're celebrating as if they've won a championship or something," I said. "The reality is that they're celebrating turning you to the dark side. Some victory that is. With friends like that who needs enemies?"

I was looking at a very pissed Meg as I changed the video feed to cameras outside of Meg's door. I motioned for Meg to sit down on the bed with me. As she sat down she asked, "What do we do now?"

"We wait here together until we see Phil coming down the hall. You will go to the door and wait for him. Then you will lead him back to the bedroom where I can cut off his escape."

"You won't hurt him, will you?"

I replied, "That depends on Phil," knowing that I was past the point of 'depends'. A few minutes passed before we saw Phil coming down the hall. I shooed Meg off to the door and started to finish my Power Point presentation. Phil gave me some extra time preening at Meg's door. I could see that he looked like the cat that ate the canary. That was the final piece I needed for my presentation. I closed the file and picked up my MagLight. When we finally heard a knock on the door, Meg said "Who is it?"

"It's me, Phil."

As Meg open the door I could hear Phil say "I'm so glad you called. It was really lonely without you."

"Phil, let's get out of the hall at least. Come on in here where we can talk."

As Meg led Phil down the hall past the bathroom, I readied myself. When Phil came past the corner he suddenly tensed with a look of shock and disbelief as my MagLight shattered his knee with a sickening pop and tearing crunch. He rolled to protect the damaged knee as he headed for the floor. Meg and Phil were both screaming then. Meg stopped screaming when I shouted "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MEG. Shut up or so help me...." I started the PowerPoint presentation and grabbed a screaming Phil by the hair while shoving my PDA in his face.

"Shut up, Phil. The lives of your family depend on it. You Know, your lovely wife, Stacy, and who is this? Oh, it's your 20-year-old daughter, Kelly, sophomore at UCLA. Bad things happen to young girls in the big city, Phil."

Phil was considerably quieter, visibly shaken and at full attention.

"This is your 19-year-old son, Jonathan. He lost his football scholarship when he blew out a knee. He is attending your local community college, big fish in a small pond. "

I looked over towards Meg.

"Meg found this next part to be a little disturbing. Your little social group thought it was amusing when Meg called you to come over."

Phil looked over at a very pissed Meg. I jerked his hair and he looked back in time to see all of the guys giving each other high fives and the women in a big group hug. Phil was looking a little defeated but there was more to come. 

"This is you preening in front of Meg's door and this is your house under live surveillance."

Phil snapped to attention and looked real close. Before he could get a good look the scene changed to a bank draft.

"This is a thirty thousand dollar transfer from a Swiss account to a ..." the scene changed to another bank draft, "... Caiman Island account. That is the retainer for the execution of your family. Ten thousand apiece with one hundred thousand due with each actual execution order."

Phil's head snapped to look at me and said "I only fucked her an hour ago. You couldn't have done all of this by now."

"Yes, that is correct. However, I called Uncle Joe."

Phil's look immediately changed from defiance to one of extreme concern and then to relief when Meg said, "Uncle Joe? Nobody just calls Uncle Joe."

Meg was looking at me in horror. She had never seen this side of me and had no idea that I could ever sink this low. She was also correct about Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe was well known in the tristate area. If Uncle Joe didn't outright own every strip joint in the tristate area he had a hand in it. Uncle Joe's ruthless reputation preceded him. I replied, "He does when he really is your Uncle Joe."

The look on Phil's face immediately changed from relief to one of pure terror. 

I continued, "Many a time I heard an Uncle Joe story in some bar. I would contribute an Uncle Joe story from his youth. People would say they never heard that one. I would reply that I Knew his nephew. That would be followed by free drinks. I wish I had a dollar for every free drink I got."

I looked at Meg and said, "Mom married young and moved away from the family. She thought that the family business and the violence associated with it was not the way to raise her children. We were raised with the fact that we may have to flee at a moment's notice if the violence came our way. That is my youth and past that I would never talk about. This is the first time in my life that I have embraced that past."




Nighttime Confessions: A New Beginning



The look on Meg's face now changed to one of understanding mixed with grave concern.

"I've spent a lifetime caught between family honor and the system, always flying under the radar, never drawing attention to myself. I was the perfect law abiding citizen. A simple traffic stop would start an investigation of my family connections. It was just easier to obey every law to the letter. My reward for being the perfect law abiding citizen was to pay my taxes and live outside the protection of the law. This situation leaves me with no legal recourse for the justice that I require. It is something I must do for myself. That leaves me as your judge, jury, and executioner. I sentence Phil to live and his family to die. Your only escape is to be perfect law abiding citizens, obey every letter of the law and yet live outside the protection of the law."

"You can't do that." Phil screamed. I bitch slapped him into silence and replied "You fucked the wrong woman and you fucked with me. I can do that and I have done that."

The look of pure terror returned to Phil's face.

"Let me explain how this works. Uncle Joe told me about those boys over at the NSA. It seems they've got some pretty neat shit going on. They've got this program Carnivore that scans all web traffic. They also have Echelon that scans all radio traffic. In essence they scan everything."

Phil said, "What does this have to with me."

"Oh the wonders of the web. You see you are only as secure as you think you are. Uncle Joe and his connections have had access to this data for a long time. The only problem was what to do with it. Then along came the TIA (Total Information Awareness) program."

Meg spoke up at that time. "Wasn't that killed by Congress because it didn't work."

I laughed a maniacal laugh.

"To be accurate, it did not work perfectly. It did take half a billion pieces of data and identify 400 terrorists. It was the 350 innocent civilians that were identified as suspects that was the problem. A problem for the government but not Uncle Joe. You see TIA is what ties it all together. It analyses all of the scanned data and, when the parameters are met, it orders the hit, the execution. The error factor is a problem for the government's reputation but it just enhances Uncle Joe's."

Meg spoke up in a shocked voice.

"Do you mean that Phil's family could get accidentally executed."

"That's exactly what I mean. You see, once a hit man takes a retainer he is obligated to take out the target in 48 hours of the execution order or his name is added to the list. TIA is the entity ordering the hit so there is no arguing. Phil's family is on Red alert status. That means a triple bonus for a kill one hour after the order. Oh. By the way there is a double bonus if Phil's wife witnesses the execution of the children."

Phil shouted, "You bastard," as I bitch slapped him into silence again.

"Look Phil, you don't understand, it's out of my hands. If you keep this up, you will be the one to set the execution in motion." 

"You see, this is how l'm going to get away with breaking your knee. If TIA sees my name in police records and your name or your families and makes a connection between them, then they die. This is why your only escape is to be a perfect law abiding citizen, obey every letter of the law and live outside the protection of the law. I am the only one who can stop it if I ever decide to. You can run Phil but you can't hide and maintain your life style. The only one to blame is you. I hope a piece of Meg's ass and my marriage was worth it."

When Meg heard her marriage was in jeopardy, she cried, "You have to forgive me. I didn't put up with and forgive your affairs just to let this marriage end. I have fought too hard to save it."

"And you put me through hell for nonexistent affairs, for nothing but your warped imagination. I had to fight to get back your love and trust. Your actions indicate that I never did regain it. Name one time I didn't play by the rules but you choose to believe others instead of me. I've spent a lifetime playing by the rules. Now that you know why, can you understand how much your wild accusations hurt me?"

She realized he was indeed telling the truth and was horrified at the possible ramifications. How could she have been so wrong?

"I know I've always loved you. I had just forgotten why. I realize now how shamelessly I've acted when I wouldn't talk about my thoughts or believe your answers. It was as if you had to be guilty. Otherwise all of the crap I put myself and therefore you through was for nothing. I separated the act of sex and the act of love in order to deal with it and it weakened my marriage without me realizing it." 

"You realize where this leaves us, don't you? You've destroyed the trust that's taken 16 years to build. How many times have you been weak? How many men have you fucked? Are the children mine? Don't you see, our whole lives are in question now."

Meg looked as though this was the first time she had thought of this. She was still only thinking of herself, how her mistake affected her. She started to crumble with the dawning of how the family would be affected, of how Don would be affected.

"No, Don, you can't believe that. Don't believe that."

"Why not? Last week I wouldn't have believed a total stranger to us would be fucking you this week. Never in a million years, but here we are. Hell, I'd believe anything now, for all I know you've let me eat your lover's cum out of that filthy snatch of yours."

"Donnnald!"

"Donald, what?"

"The children are yours because I've never been with any man other than you in our marriage."

"That is just the point. How do I know you are telling the truth?"

"I'll put one of those damn web assassin contracts on Sarah and Brad, I'm that sure."

"Damnit they're my children even if some other asshole fathered them. I believe you but all that proves is that you weren't fucking around before Sarah's birth. That was around the time of the bachelor party. If you thought I cheated on you, how do I know there wasn't a revenge fuck, countless fucks?"

Meg was relieved that I believed her about the children and she was struggling with my last question. Finally she looked at Phil and said, "I'm sorry but you'll have to trust me."

She turned back to me and said "You will put a web assassin contract on all of my lovers, past and present if any solid evidence of additional infidelity is found. I could not sit here and condemn Phil to death if it were not so."

Phil looked up at me and said, "You can't trust my life to that cheating slut."

If looks could kill he would be dead. Phil shut up and gazed at the floor.

"She may be a slut, Phil, but she is my slut. My slut that got you into one hell of a jam."

It began to dawn on Meg what her future held. I turned toward Meg.

"Yes, you heard me, a slut. If you come back, sex will be a whole lot different. You will do exactly what I tell you when I tell you wherever I tell you without question, only compliance. You won't be hurt or humiliated but you will do this. You will fuck me or anyone I say 

A look of shock came over Meg. She started to protest but I held up my hand cutting her off.

"You will have to be checked for STDs by a doctor. That will give us six months to regain some respect and love before we even think about sex."

The look of genuine pain was apparent on her face. Could this be the first time she'd thought of this? Or is it the no sex for six months part that bothers her? 

"Well, Meg, are you going to go home? We have a few more things to attend to if you are."

Meg looked up at me with a look of real hope and said, "May I come home? I wish I never came here in the first place. I knew the real reason I was invited. I thought I was a big girl and could handle it. The trip would be fun. Instead I fucked Phil. Yes, Donald, I fucked him and, no, this is not fun. It is a nightmare. I called you on the phone for a nighttime confession because it was such a nightmare. I know it sounds trite to say I fucked Phil but I love you. You know I couldn't spend the night with him. I don't love anyone but you. I just can't express it any better. It was a one time slip. You know I'll do anything to keep you but please don't make me fuck other men. I've already fucked one too many."

"What part of without question, only compliance don't you understand?"

Meg sighed in resignation and said "All of it, I understand all of it, Donald. What other things are there to attend to?"

"The first thing is to put a web assassin contract on all of your lovers, past and present as you suggested. The second thing is to take care of the rest of your little social group. They are just as guilty as Phil. In fact Phil couldn't have fucked you without their help."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've told you once what I'm going to do is not important. What you've done and what has to happen now is what's important. I think that the State High School Athletic Association president should know what is going on. That little clip you and Phil saw of the social club would be a good start for an email I'll send him. I'm sure a review of the surveillance cameras will provide the rest."

A few taps on my PDA brought up the live feed to the hospitality suite. Bingo! This was all I could hope for. I called Meg over to see.

"Hey, Meg, who is this couple fucking on the couch?"

Meg looked at the PDA and exclaimed "That's Judy and Wayne! She's the so called friend who set me up with Phil."

Phil looked like he was squirming where he had worked himself up against the bed. Finally he worked up enough courage to say, "I told her it was way too risky. She hadn't seen Meg in years and had no idea how she would respond. Judy said not to worry and trust her woman's intuition. She's been feeling you out all week and gave me the go ahead this afternoon."

Meg screamed, "That F_en bitch."

I started laughing. "She has quite possibly screwed up your whole life and you still can't say it. It's fucking bitch, Meg, fucking bitch."

Meg was really hot and she let go of her remaining modesty. Here she was in a hotel with her lover and her husband who had just broken her lover's knee and condemned his family to death. Oh, the futility of it all.

"That fucking bitch is going to burn. It's poetic justice that she is the one screwing in the open. Let's see what else you may have got."

Meg was kind of getting into this whole revenge thing. It made me feel good but I still wondered what would have happened had I not been here. I opened the live feed from the camera looking into the bedroom where Phil fucked Meg and thought 'Damn, this shit don't happen in real life.' I had placed the camera to catch Phil and Meg but when Meg left I thought it would be a wasted video feed. Apparently somebody couldn't resist the temptation to go fuck in the bed where their newest member was initiated.  

"Hey, Meg, who is this fucking in the bedroom that Phil fucked you in."

The shame and humiliation literally dripped off of Meg. "That is Art and Rachel. Art is divorced and Rachel soon will be."

"I have her husbands email address along with everybody else's. I'll make sure he gets a copy. Okay, Meg, who have we left out here?"

"Dee Dee and Sam"

"Are they divorced or married?" 

"Dee Dee is divorced and Sam is married."

I opened up the Mpeg right after the group's little happy dance. It didn't take long to identify Dee Dee and Sam and only slightly longer to find them in a compromising position. There was Sam rubbing Dee Dee's pussy in front of everyone. The thing about it was that he appeared to not even realize it. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. There went their alibi that he was unaware of what was going on. This was enough for my email. After attaching the four Mpeg files and typing a little note it was almost ready to send. It read as follows.

Dear _ _

I regret to inform you that my lawyer will subpoena all State High School Athletic Association records tomorrow morning. We have reason to believe that Association board members had prior knowledge and tacitly condoned the activities depicted in the enclosed attachments. I am going to sue the participants and the State High School Athletic Association for alienation of affection.

Sincerely. 

An aggrieved spouse 

I didn't really plan to sue or why would I give them time to destroy any records if they did exist. It would hopefully get quick enough action to catch the guilty in the act though. 

"Who is the State High School Athletic Association president?" 

"That would be Bruce Janks." replied Meg. 

I looked up the email addresses I would need from the list my worms had provided. Each person would get their own version of the email and would not know that anyone else got a copy. I sent the emails requesting a return receipt and made another transaction from my offshore account.

As I moved towards Phil, I said, "It's all done, the emails are sent and the contract is put out on your lovers," and I bent over toward Phil. 

"Here is the $10,000 retainer for your execution, Phil. It's too bad that all of you will loose your jobs. I can only hope that Meg won't get caught in the collateral damage. The others will have to explain why to their spouses. You, Phil, will have to explain to your wife the sentence imposed by me upon her, her children and you."

"You bastard," cried Phil.

I kicked his broken knee just hard enough to shut him up.

"Yes, I'm a bastard but at least I'm not a sick bastard. If I was sick I would be shoving your balls down your throat." 

That shut Phil up because I'm sure he thought I was sick. 

"My work here is done. I've got to get going on the next phase now."

"You can't leave now. What are we going to do?"

"Frankly, Meg, I don't give a damn. My life as I've known it is over. This is a new beginning and what direction it takes depends on your's and Phil's actions in the next couple of days. I've already told you how it's going to be if you decide to come home. You and Phil got yourselves into this predicament and you can get yourselves out of it. All I've done is set up a couple of new conditions. Phil is going to have to decide what is more important. Me being in jail for breaking his knee or the life of his family."

Meg was bawling and begging for me not to leave. I broke down and told her that she could say that Phil wouldn't take no for an answer and broke his knee on the bed post chasing after her. 

I took her in my arms and said, "I'm sorry that you've seen the monster I live with. You made a huge mistake when you let your buried slut come to the surface. I may have made a mistake by letting my buried past come to the surface but my mistake can be undone as long as Phil's wife and children still live. Your mistake can never be undone. We'll be doing good if you regain the same level of trust in another sixteen years that you destroyed in three ... three fucking days."

"What are you going to do now, Don?" Meg said with tears still on her face. 

"Well, if I thought I could trust you and Phil, I would simply go home. We both know there can be no trust. I have passports for the entire family in this case. I'm going to pick up Brad and Sara from overnight camp and go on a little vacation till you and Phil get this straightened out. When Phil and you are back home and Phil's family is still alive we will come back to the house. Notice that I didn't say home. We had a home till you ... "

"Won't that just raise a lot of questions with the children? Can't you just trust me? I don't think I can go on living without you and the children."

When I finished laughing, I reminded her of a past incident.

"You should have thought about that before you fucked Phil. As for the children, do you remember when Sara was almost three years old? She came to me and asked 'Daddy, does a boy put his penis into a girl's butt?' I wanted to say, 'Sometimes' so bad but told I her to go ask her mother." 

Meg chuckled and said, "Yes, I remember. I was upset with you for pawning that off onto me."

"Well, the point is that our children aren't as naive as you think they are. They would be asking all kinds of questions. You should know I can't lie with a straight face and I will not lie to my children. They would probably figure it out anyway and where would that leave me. Why should I damage my relationship with the children to protect yours?" 

Meg had no answer for that question. She realized that it was not just me that she cheated and that I was right. This problem couldn't be hidden from Brad and Sara without lying. I walked over to say my goodbyes to Phil.

"I've never met Stacy but she looks pretty hot. I think I'd like to fuck her someday. You know, Phil, just among old friends. We wouldn't be hurting anyone. Why don't you see if you can keep her alive for me."

Phil was a broken man. He just looked at the floor, lost in his problem. I probably wouldn't have to get the children but I had to play it safe. The game wasn't over yet. I held Meg for what might be the last time before saying goodbye. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her but somehow it didn't seem appropriate. Was it just a habit? Did I still love her? Wouldn't it be easier just to walk away into the night? 

I said, "Goodbye, Meg. I hope you and Phil can work this out. If not then, this is the final goodbye. You know my email address so you can stay in touch. So far you've only cheated on me. Don't make it worse by lying to me because you will never know what I already know. We'll be back when the coast is clear." 

I turned to walk away into the unknown. Meg was crying in the background. God, that was so hard. The turmoil inside shouted to go to Meg and comfort her, yet the logical side said that she had caused this and I was only doing what had to be done, regardless of the final outcome. If I was to continue to live as a man the cheating slut couldn't win. Not that the slut part bothered me it was the cheating. I gathered my cameras outside Meg's door and continued down the hall. It felt like the final walk of a condemned man complete with the pain, the agony and the 'what ifs'.

The Way Home:

The moon was high in the sky as I exited the lobby. My email account still hadn't received any return receipts. That meant that I could retrieve my cameras. I went to the hospitality suite windows and got the camera viewing Phil's and Meg's room. I decided to sacrifice the camera with the view of the interior of the suite. This was going to be too good to miss.

After I collected the last two cameras from the hillside and parking lot I went to my car. It was time to call Bruce Janks. I took out my cellphone and called his room number. When he answered, I said In my lowest growl, "If you want to know what's going on in the hospitality suite, check your email."

"Who is this?"

I hung up and brought up the video feed from my sacrificial camera. There were Judy and Wayne still lying naked on the couch. In a couple of minutes I got a return receipt from Bruce Janks. He had just opened his email. All hell should be breaking loose any time now. Within ten minutes pandemonium reined supreme in the hospitality suite. It all started when three Suits came bursting through the hospitality suite door followed by half a dozen uniformed security guards. The three Suits went straight for Judy and Wayne on the couch and the security guards fanned out to check the remaining rooms. It wasn't long before everyone was rounded up in various states of undress and it appeared as though a lot of yelling was going on. When the view of the camera started moving and changed to the shrubs I knew they found the camera. It was time to leave my wife's hotel.

It wasn't until I got checked out of my hotel and onto the Interstate that I could calm down some. My mind was spinning all around. I tried to recount everything that had happened that night and tried to impose some semblance of order to it. The one thought I still couldn't shake was maybe there was hope for Meg and I, but only on my terms. I hate holding this over her but I wasn't the one who destroyed the trust in this marriage. My only hope was that someday there will be enough trust to tell her the truth. Enough trust that Meg won't leave me when she learns the truth.




Nighttime Confessions: A New Beginning



The truth is betrayal started this game but it was entirely different now. It was poker and I had just made my grandest bluff. If Phil folded, I was home free. If he called my bluff or raised me then the children and I couldn't come home. And where is home? I have a house but do I have a home?

The one good thing is that I never had to show my Glock, let alone use it. A very successful evening after all. My suspicions about Meg having had previous affairs has been greatly reduced. However, it was those very suspicions that led me to witness her infidelity. That will be the hardest of my demons to exorcise. Damn, why couldn't I have trusted her. She could have handled that slimy fucker Frank.

She was seduced by a pit of vipers, hopefully a one time slip and I had pushed her in that direction. It remains to be seen how faithful she will be now that she knows the pleasures she's denied me all these years. They say the hardest time cheating is the first time. Once a cheater always a cheater. I'd say her hardest part is already done. Now that Meg knows about Uncle Joe, will she stay and be faithful out of love or out of fear?

It appears we both had unfounded suspicions about the other's affairs. When I was bitching out Meg about trust I didn't dare let it slip that I hadn't trusted her either. That was why I was there. She did help me fuck over Phil. She did call him and she did lead him into the room to me. Best of all was her contract on all of her lovers though she claims only Phil. That was a stroke of genius. Damn, that girl is quick. Apparently Meg has not had any previous affairs or they are so well-hidden that Phil won't die and she did appear remorseful and repentant. 

The one thought I still couldn't shake was maybe there was hope for Meg and I. I had thought before that this new beginning was damn well going to be one of my choosing. I choose 'she's a slut but she's my slut'. Anything less and she's fucking out of here. I know she can do it, I've seen it and this may be the only way I can live with it. That it may be fun won't hurt one bit either.

So where is home? I remember Uncle Joe telling me about the ancestral home in Naples and the tunnel of trees. I've always wanted to see the tunnel of trees. Maybe that is where Brad, Sara and I should go till this blows over. Yes, the tunnel of trees. I like that.

33rd Wedding Anniversary: breaking the old fidelity record:

I assaulted Meg with my cock and built her arousal up to a level higher than I had ever imagined. Finally I pushed her over into a shattering orgasm that left her gasping for breath. Meg wrapped her legs around me and urged me on with her heels on my ass. We both thrust against each other and within a short time I was also exploding in a strong orgasm. When Meg caught her breath, she said, "Oh, Donald, that was unbelievable. Just when I thought it couldn't feel any better, it did. Where on earth did you learn that?"

"An American Indian friend of mine but the secret is I couldn't have done it without you."

"I have a confession to make. .. well, actually an observation."

"And that is?"

"Please understand that I love you with all of my heart and would never intentionally hurt you. Sometimes I think Phil was the best thing that ever happened to us. It was so horribly hard at first but I've never been so fulfilled, so happy, so sexually gratified. To think that I almost lost you. Phil thought he was good but you are phenomenal."

"Yes, Phil unlocked the inner slut in you but you're my slut and don't you ever forget it."

"Or what, Donald? You're web assassin will get me?" 

"I also have a confession to make. There is no web assassin. At least there wasn't back then. I'm not so sure about it now. It was all a bluff. Your life was never in danger."

"I know, Donald, I know."

"You do? How, how long, why didn't you say something?"

"How, even though you said I had to fuck anyone anywhere anytime, you never made me fuck anyone. You saved me for you and you alone. I never did want another man and was grateful one was never forced on me. Every act of sex, rough or not was an act of love. How long, about ten years. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe it was the fear that I was wrong, that I really had destroyed the kind gentle man that I love. If I had really created that monster, I would rather live in my happy delusion than chance the truth."

"Well, should we tell Phil?"

"Nah, let him suffer."

The End

*

If you are wondering about the ending please read "The Working Backward Heuristic by Cal Y. Pygia"

Coming sometime "Nighttime Confessions - The Way Home" 



Nighttime Confessions - Concluded



Don Prescott sat at his desk at home staring pensively out of the window. It was very early on a Thursday morning, it was still dark out, and he was physically and emotionally drained after his return flight home. He again attempted to force his mind back to the events of the previous evening. He again attempted to make some sense of what he had witnessed.

He knew that he had decisions to make. After watching his wife have sex with a total stranger (at least to him) at that conference, he knew that he had two options open to him. One: he could confront her when she returned on Saturday and tell her that he knew of her cheating, engage in the emotional turmoil that would elicit and attempt to resolve the causes that led her to her infidelity. Or, two: he could pack and leave. He could pack up and leave now. He had to decide what HE wanted to do

He smiled bitterly to himself: there was no doubt as to what he was going to do. The scenes of Marge's adultery were burned into his mind and they would probably never be fully erased. Was this the first time she had cheated? He doubted it; he strongly suspected that she had cheated on numerous occasions, but that really was now irrelevant. She cheated last night and would, in all probability, cheat again tonight and, perhaps, even tomorrow night. Whether it's once or a dozen times is really not all that critical. Adultery is adultery, whether it happens once or a hundred times.

His mind traveled back in time, over the past few years. He remembered the small slights, the off-hand putdowns, her preoccupation with her jock friends at those parties. He also remembered her expression when he attempted to cut in while she was dancing with her "friends." By word and deed she had attempted to undermine his sense of himself as a man, to emasculate him. No more, those days have ended.

The trauma of witnessing his wife's betrayal caused something to change in Don. He had always been a retiring type of guy, a little shy and withdrawn. It wasn't a lack of confidence, it was just that he didn't have an A type personality. It was always easier to go along. He now realized that "going along" was yesterdays Don Prescott. He knew that he had changed inside, a deep and wrenching change. 

He was angry, bitter and vindictive. These were emotions that he would nurture and expand. He would no longer allow anyone to belittle him, to patronize him, to minimize who he was. He should thank Marge, her actions last night precipitated this change. He would now take charge of his life. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

He had plans to make. He would go to the bank and withdraw half of their savings . He also had to contact their broker and cash in half of their mutual funds. They didn't have a huge amount of money put aside, but he would take what he considered his. He also had to look for a place, a new home. He couldn't stay in this house with her, he knew that he would not be able to do that.

He saw that it was now light outside. The sun had risen as he had sat and contemplated his future and the tentative plans that were percolating in his mind.

He picked up the phone and punched in a number. The call was answered on the second ring

"Wilderness Trail, can I help you." a female voice answered.

"Yes, Mr. Carl Fellows, please." 

His call was transferred, "Fellows here."

"Hi Carl, this is Don Prescott, I......"

"Donny, hey, it's good hearing from you. What's up?" a booming voice inquired.

"Carl, remember that position you tried to talk me into accepting awhile ago? In sales?"

"Of course I do, Don. I still think that you were nuts not to have at least considered it. You would easily double what you're making now. Wait, are you now considering it? Tell me you are," pleaded Carl.

"Damn, Carl. Why are you having such a problem filling that position? What's the catch," asked Don?

"Donny, no catch. There aren't that many people around who know the wilderness, that are familiar with our products for hiking, climbing, canoeing, etc. At least not nearly as capable as you are."

"Carl, I told you the last time we talked that my problem was that I would have to relocate to your Maine office and that kind of upheaval would not be good for me or my family. Marge, wouldn't even consider it at the time we talked. Well, things have changed. Let me get some things settled here and then I'll fly up and we can talk again. Is that ok?"

"You bet, Donny. Look, buddy. You know me. We've been friends since college. This is really a great opportunity and you would be working in a field that you love., and by the way, you don't have to fly up here. I'm flying down tomorrow to the branch office in your area for a couple of weeks. We can meet whenever you say. Also, for the first six months or so you would train down there. You wouldn't have to move until then. Please try to talk Marge into this, Don."

"Yeah," Don replied. "I don't think that'll be a problem now, Carl. I'll get back to you."

"Time to begin the first day of the rest of my life," he thought to himself, as he rose and made his way to shower and dress. There were things that he had to do today, not the least of which was to contact a good divorce lawyer.

"My wife has cheated on me and I know exactly what to do" he said softly as he mounted the stairs.

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

The hours that Don spent in his preparations seemed to calm him, at least outwardly. He no longer felt overwhelmed by the sorrow, the sadness that had pervaded his soul. If there were vestiges of those emotions, they were buried under a layer of icy cold anger and bitterness. 

Marge's telephone calls to him on Thursday and Friday evenings were full of her excitement and enthusiasm . She kept telling Don how much she was enjoying the conference and how much she was learning. Don was good, he was very good. He responded as he was supposed to, with happiness that she was having such a good time. 

"I bet she's enjoying herself and I also bet that she's learning a lot more than she's telling," he thought to himself. "Well, it won't be long before she is going to realize that her life will be different. It could be that she will welcome my absence. That way she can fuck anyone she wants to without any worry about a husband getting in her way."

His plans took up the two days, but he had managed to get done what he had intended. He also managed to move much of his stuff to the Extended Stay Inn where he would reside until he could find more suitable accommodations. While these plans occupied his time, he had given very little thought to the conversation he would have with Marge after he picked her up at the airport on Saturday.

He would let that play out as it would. It really didn't make too much difference what her explanation would be, if she would even offer one. This was an act of unfaithfulness in which she actively participated. There was no reluctance, just the opposite, she seemed to relish fucking this guy. In fact, he could not even remember a time when she acted as wanton and aroused with him. 

Saturday came soon enough and he waited patiently for Marge to emerge through the doors of the airport. She clasped him closely and kissed him.

"Oh Donny, I really missed you. It's so good to be home," exclaimed Marge.

"Missed you too, Marge. Let me get your bags into the car and we'll be on our way," replied Don neutrally. 

Marge seemed a bit startled by Don's lack of enthusiasm at her arrival home. She tried to make conversation during the drive but was discouraged by her husband's lack of response. They both lapsed into an uneasy silence.

Arriving home, Don carried her bags into the living room and then turning to Marge, asked her to sit down. His serious mien frightened her. She began to wonder what, if anything, he knew or suspected.

"Marge, once you look around the house, you will notice that much of my clothes are gone. I've moved out and I've already filed for divorce," Don began calmly.

Marge sat very still, pale and resigned. He knew, she realized that. She would not deny. Her shoulders sagged as she prepared herself.

"It's very simple, Marge. You were unfaithful, you cheated, you've broken your marriage vows and you have to realize that there are consequences for that betrayal. I refuse to be a cuckold. I am not the kind of man, despite what you think, that can accept what you've done. I saw you, Marge. I saw you go with that asshole into the bedroom at that hospitality suite. I saw you suck and fuck his brains out. Did you really think that I would sit back and accept that kind of betrayal? You are not the woman I married, Marge. I never really noticed that that woman disappeared years ago." Don realized that his voice was getting louder. He caught his breath and sat back, getting his emotions back under control before he continued.

Marge Prescott sat, stunned and shocked , as Don subjected her to his anger, his bitterness. Her mind reeled at the realization that he had actually witnessed her adultery. She felt herself become nauseous, physically ill. "My God," she thought to herself, not for the first time. "What have I done, what have I become?"

"How many times, Marge? How many affairs have you had? How many guys have you fucked? Damn, I should have realized, I should have been more aware. The snide remarks, the little signs of contempt, the put-downs. They all showed how your love had changed to indifference, to disdain," Don continued now more calmly, but with a bite to his accusations.

"We both know, Marge. We both know what kind of man you really want, don't we? You want a jock, you want a Frank Morello type. Well, Marge, now you have the opportunity to get what you want. You won't have me around to get in your way," he concluded bitterly.

Marge sat, ashen faced and trembling. "Don," she gasped. "Please, wait. Don't go. Let me say something." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She vowed she would not break down into a sniveling mess.

"Don, you're partly right. What I did, what you saw, at the conference I cannot deny and will regret the rest of my life. It was only that one time and I have been agonizing over that since it happened. I can't explain it right now and I know that you deserve an explanation. As to other affairs, Don, I swear, on all that I hold dear, that I had never before been unfaithful to you. Never. Please Don, please give me another chance. The children would be devastated if you left."

Don blanched. He sat very still. "Shit," he thought. "I had not taken the kids into consideration. If I divorce her now, she'll get custody, I know how it works. I have to come up with a plan. I will not lose my children. I need time."

Don rose and gazed upon his wife coldly. "I can't continue this conversation right now, I'm too upset. I have to get out of here. I'll give you a call and we'll arrange a time to continue. I'll call you," he muttered as he quickly walked out of the door.

Marge sat still, her head in her hands, as Don left. The tears then started to fall and she sobbed as she felt her heart break. She knew that in many ways Don was right. She recognized that over the past few years she had put her career ahead of him and relegated him to a secondary role in her life. She had gotten caught up in the competitive sports environment and excitement of her job. She also realized that she did indeed pay too much attention to her male colleagues, the other coaches.

But she had never cheated before. She may have flirted, but it was all innocent, innocent until that damn conference. She allowed herself to be seduced that evening. She fell under the influence of that damn group she had attached herself to. Who the hell knew that they used the conference each year to screw away from home. She couldn't deny, even to herself, that it was exciting, arousing, perhaps because it was so wrong, so forbidden. The price for that excitement was coming due now. The price of one night of illicit passion could be her marriage.

She knew, without any doubt, that she loved Don with every fibre of her being. That emotion may have moved to the back of her mind over the past years, but the cost of forgetting that now faced her.

"I'll do whatever I have to to win him back. I've been a terrible partner and I now have to change that and become the wife that he deserves," she thought to herself. "I had forgotten the qualities he possessed that drew me to him originally. I just pray that he'll give me the chance."

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

Don thought as he drove. "I'll have to move back, I have to make Marge believe that there is hope. I know her, I know what kind of woman she has become. She says she wants another chance," he muttered to himself. "I'll give her another chance, another chance to cuckold me. Once I get the evidence I need, I can gain custody of the kids One way or another, I will get my kids."

Monday saw Don sitting across a desk from Carl Fellows. "Don, here's the deal. Next week, when you start, you'll be spending a month getting a handle on the paperwork involved in sales, from the original order to the final shipment. Then you'll accompany either Joe Burke or Carol Logan in the field. I want you to become totally familiar with our product line and how to handle our customer base. You will get quite a bit of information from these two. You'll also get ideas about how to acquire new customers, although most leads will come from the office."

Carl wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to Don. "Don, here's your starting salary, but that doesn't include commissions which will be due you on sales that you make. I've got to tell you that the commissions could very well be more than your base salary."

Carl leaned back with a grin at the shocked expression on his friends face. 

"Damn, Carl. The salary alone is more than I'm now making," exclaimed Don.

"I've tried to tell you, buddy," Carl reminded him. "You're going to do very well here. Welcome aboard."

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

The next day saw Don again seated across from his wife in their living room. "Marge," Don began. "I given this a lot of thought and have decided that we should try to save our marriage, if for no other reason then the well being of our children."

Don looked up and saw the expression of relief on his wife's face and quickly brought her down to earth. "Don't think that it's going to be easy. I don't trust you and I don't know if I ever will. We will try to put this behind us. We will try, but no guarantees. It may be an exercise in futility, but we'll see." 

Don stared at her with interest. "I also want you to know that I've quit my job and will be starting work at Wilderness Trail. I start training in a week. After six months, we're going to be moving to Maine. I know that you wouldn't consider it before, now you have to ask yourself if your career is worth your marriage." 

He saw the look of consternation and worry that crossed Marge's face. "You will have to give that some thought, don't even bother commenting now."

"I wonder how long it will take before she fucks one of her boyfriends, or maybe it'll be someone new," he thought to himself. "I know now what she's become. This time I'll get proof."

"I'll move my things back this afternoon." he told her as he again walked out.

Marge sat stoically and thought, "If I have to, I will. I will put up no objections to the move. The hell with my career, my marriage comes first. I won't forget that again," she vowed to herself.

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

So now began a period of watchful waiting. Things settled down a bit at home, but both of them felt the tension and Marge was very aware that her husband was cool and aloof. They shared a bed, but there was no intimacy. Every attempt that she made was rebuffed and she withdrew, hurt and tearful. She eventually learned not to approach him He still felt the pain and she wondered if he would ever truly forgive her.

Marge was correct, Don was way beyond forgiveness. He wanted her gone and he wanted his children. He had to find a way to catch what he was sure would be her further adultery. He was no detective, he had no particular technical skills and he knew that he couldn't keep close tabs on what Marge was doing when he was gone.

Two months had passed since Don had moved back home. He had to admit that Marge was doing all that she could to reestablish a close and loving relationship, but were her actions real or a ruse to lull him into complacency? He would not be fooled and he knew that he had to find a way to spy, yes, it's a dirty word but applicable, on Marge.

"Don, what's up with you?" queried Joe Burke. They had become close during the past couple of months. "I haven't known you for long, Don, but something is obviously eating at you. I'm a good listener and if it's home problems, I've been through that too."

Don looked at Joe, his thoughts racing. Could he actually confide in him? He acknowledged that in the few weeks that they had worked together they had formed a bond, a certain closeness. Joe was about 60 and had been married for a long time with kids who were grown and on their own.

Don made up his mind and unloaded. He told Joe of how his marriage had fallen apart, Marge's attitude toward him over the past few years and how he had witnessed her adultery.

"She's going to do it again, Joe. I know that. She going to continue being unfaithful. I've got to come up with a way to catch her at it, but I can't think of any," lamented Don. 

"Don, are you sure you aren't making a big mistake," Joe remarked after a short pause. " You've just told me that your wife is remorseful, that she has been making every effort to reconcile. Maybe, just maybe, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe she really wants this marriage to work. It could be that there is nothing to discover because she intends to be true to you."

Don shook his head, "No, Joe. I am certain that it's just a matter of time. She's laying low now, but as soon as she thinks my guard is down, she'll start again. I just know it. Now I have to find a way to catch her."

Joe looked closely at Don and sighed. "Don, here's a number, call this guy. He's a computer geek, he'll set up everything you need. I suspect tho, that what you'll find may just confirm that she really wants her marriage."

Don did call the number Joe had given him and agreed to meet with a Ted Benboe in a coffee shop not far from the office the next day. 

"Listen Ted, here's the deal," Don begain. "Here's the reason......."

"Buddy," Ted Benboe interrupted. "I don't want any reasons. Just let me into your place and I'll place the cameras and other equipment. They'll be motion activated and will record to your hard drive. I'll take me about 2 to 4 hours." He reached and wrote a figure on a napkin. "This is what'll cost you. Take it or leave it."

Everything was done by the end of the week. There was now a surveillance device in the living room, the guest room and the master bedroom. Don felt satisfied; now all he had to do was wait.

Weeks went by and Don was feeling frustrated. Nothing was happening. The devices turned up nothing. He began to suspect that perhaps Marge was cheating away from the house. He found himself thinking up different scenarios, different situations.

"That's it, that must be it," he mused. "She's meeting someone someplace else. How do I find out? Hmmm, when is this happening? She could be using hotel rooms."

Don stopped, suddenly appalled. "I'm losing it. There is no indication that Marge has been anything but faithful since she returned from that conference. Maybe she does want to make this marriage work after all. Maybe I'm just being paranoid," he thought. "I've got to quell my craziness, I've got to let reason rule."

But, deep down, in the recesses of his psyche, he just didn't trust his wife. The years of belittlement and indifference and then witnessing her blatant adultery did not allow him to use reason. He knew that she would again stray, and this time he would catch her. 




Nighttime Confessions - Concluded



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

"Marge," the school secretary informed her, "Frank would like to see you in his office."

Marge looked at her watch and saw that there was still ten minutes until the end of the class period as well as the end of the school day. "What the hell does he want?" she muttered to herself.

Marge was aware that her job performance was not up to her typical standards, but the worry and tension at home was taking it's toll. She had lost a bit of weight and had also lost the sunny disposition she possessed. She constantly worried that Don was going to give up on her and move out. She was trying to do her best to save her marriage. She had also given up on accepting invitations to the department's weekend parties and get-to-gethers. She knew that Don hated them. Walking into Frank Morello's office, she seated herself and asked, "What's up, Frank. It's the end of the day and I'm bushed."

"Well, Marge. It looks like we have a small problem that the two of us will have to solve," he smirked.

"What problem?" she asked worriedly. 

Frank sat and looked at her. Finally, finally he had her. Finally he would get between those legs, feel those lips around his cock. It took awhile, but she was now his.

He reached into his desk drawer and removed some 4 x 6 photographs and tossed them on his desk. "Take a look, Marge," he invited. "It seems that your lover at the conference wasn't content to just bang you, he had a camera hidden and took some interesting photos."

He watched as Marge, now deathly white, saw herself naked in bed with Phil Grant. Naked and being royally screwed.

"How did you get these?" she whispered, trying to not throw up. She felt herself become faint and the room spun. She felt herself being shaken. Frank was standing over her, glaring

"Shit, suck it in, Marge. Don't faint on me. There is a simple answer to our problem." He turned and seated himself again.

"You ok now?" Frank barked. Marge nodded, now numb, her world in tatters.

"Ok, Marge. You know that if these pictures became public, your marriage would be over, your career kaput and your reputation ruined. You are truly between a rock and a hard place and you really don't have too many options." Frank told her almost casuall.y.

"As to how I acquired them, your lover Phil was "persuaded" to part with them. You didn't know that he had a hidden camera? Frank watched the shock and disbelief on Marge's face. "Nah, he wasn't going to do anything with them, they were going to be for his private amusement. Well, now I have them and I have all the copies. So what are we going to do, Marge?" Frank inquired softly.

Marge sat numbly, her spirit totally crushed. As sure as night followed day she knew what was about to happen and she had absolutely no control. What could she do? She knew that if Don saw those pictures, that that would be the tipping point. He would leave for certain and he would never come back. Frank was right, her marriage would be over, her career done with, everything lost. She looked at him lifelessly. 

"What do you want, Frank?" she asked, although she already knew.

"I'm glad that you're being sensible. First get up and close and lock the door. Then come and stand in front of me, " he ordered.

Marge did as she was told. 

Frank looked up at her and smiled. "Finally," he thought to himself. "Unbuckle and open my slacks, Marge. That's good, now unzip me and take out my cock. Now on your knees, Marge. You know what comes next."

Marge knew. She knelt before him and held his erect cock, now inches from her face. She slowly bent forward and took the head between her lips, trying not to gag. He grabbed her head and began to fuck her face. He slowly slid his cock in and out of her mouth. He watched, fascinated, as he viewed her lips being invaded by his phallus. 

"Suck it, Marge. Use your tongue," he ordered. "Take it deeper, take it into your throat."

Marge felt it slide deeper into her mouth, felt the head enter her throat and again tried not to gag . She breathed through her nose and let him use her. She suddenly felt him tense and he withdrew from her until only the head of his cock was in her mouth. He held her face still and ejaculated, spurt after spurt. She felt the warm semen on her tongue, flowing back down her throat. She had no choice, she swallowed until he was through.

"Good girl, Marge," he panted. "You swallowed my whole load. I'm sure that you've had lots of practice," he chuckled. "Now use your tongue, clean me up and then tuck my dick back in my pants."

Marge again did what she was told. Frank told her to sit down again. 

"Very good, Marge. I will mark on your report card that you play well with others," he laughed. "Now, I will expect you in my office every day at this time. Eventually I will probably tire of you and you can get back to screwing your hubby exclusively, but until that time you are going to be my whore. Do you understand me, Marge?" he asked slowly and ominously. 

Marge nodded dully, rose and left. She drove home in a daze, her mind empty. She operated strictly on instinct, stopping at red lights, proceeding again on green, taking the correct route. She pulled the car into the garage and entered the house. It was quiet and still. The kids were not yet home nor was Don.

She sat at the kitchen table and stared out of the window over the sink. She couldn't bring herself to think about what just happened. It had all been almost surreal, almost an imagined nightmare. But she knew that it wasn't unreal, it had actually happened. She was in shock yet, unable to reason, to think of what to do, what actions to take. 

Marge knew that she had no one to turn to, could go to no one for help. She was in a purgatory of her own making, she suddenly realized. There were, realistically, no options open to her. She saw no light at the end of this nightmarish tunnel. She rose slowly and listlessly and started dinner.

Don and the children knew that there was something wrong that evening. Marge was silent and withdrawn. Her face was vacant, she was obviously preoccupied. She didn't respond to questions until prodded and then answered with a brief word or two. It turned into a silent and tense dinner until Marge excused herself, telling the family that she didn't feel well and wanted to go to bed. 

Don had observed Marge's behavior that evening with interest. Something had obviously happened that had upset his wife rather dramatically. His curiosity was aroused, but he couldn't figure out exactly what was happening, not yet. He waited until everyone was in bed before he went into the den and examined what the surveillance cameras had captured. He found nothing there. He decided that he would have to wait to see exactly what was bothering Marge so intensely. 

The next morning had Marge calling in sick. She told the family that she was sure she would feel better as the day went by and not to worry. The kids went off to school and she saw Don off to work. There was, of course, was no goodby kiss.

Marge moped about racking her brain for a solution to the horror that had overtaken her. Eventually, her head now aching, she took a couple of aspirin and returned to bed for another couple of hours of sleep. She awoke after noon, took a quick shower and dressed in her comfortable lightweight sweats.

The doorbell rang soon after and she was shocked to discover Frank Morello standing there.

"Frank," she gasped. "What are you doing here? What do you want with me?" A feeling of dread pervaded her . 

"Why Marge," replied Frank softly. "I was concerned when you called in sick today. Did you think that you could miss our daily appointments so easily? Now let me in, now." and with that he pushed his way into the foyer.

"Strip Marge," commanded Frank, leading her into the living room. "Strip now. I want everything off, now."

Marge saw no escape, she knew that he was in total control. Her life was held in thrall to Frank Morello.

She lowered her head and slowly disrobed, standing there in bra and panties. Frank moved behind her and unclasped her bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. He reached from behind her and grasped her breasts, fondling them, pulling on the nipples. He then reached down and slowly lowered her panties until they also fell to the floor. He reached down and ran his fingers along the top of her pubes. 

"Open your legs, Marge," he whispered. "Open your thighs, let me feel your pussy."

She reluctantly did as he ordered, allowing him to run his finger along the crease of her vulva.

"You're dry, Marge," whispered Frank again. "I'm going to have a problem getting my dick in there. We're going to have to think of a way to allow my dick to slide in easily, won't we? Oh, I think that I have an idea, Marge. Get down on your knees, suck my cock, Marge. Get it good and wet. I want you to slobber over it."

He forced Marge to her knees and shoved his now exposed and erect cock in her face. She opened her mouth and took him inside. She allowed her saliva to coat his phallus until it dripped onto the floor.

"That's good, Marge. You really are a great cocksucker. Now, bend over the arm of the sofa. Bend over and open your legs, now," he hissed.

Again Marge did as ordered and soon felt the head of his cock spread her labia and force its way into her pussy. Even coated with her saliva, it was a difficult entry and she felt pain. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and allowed him to plunder her. 

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, you've got a great cunt, Marge," panted Frank. "Ohhhh, I'm gonna come........ ohhhhh, I'm coming, you slut, I'm coming............."

Marge felt his cock pulse, again and again, and she knew that he had ejaculated in her vagina. She felt a pang of revulsion, but kept a neutral expression. She didn't want to anger him. 

"Clean me up, Marge. Clean my cock off. Lick me clean," Frank ordered her to take him in her mouth. She laved his now flacid cock and then let it drop from her lips. She moved like an automaton. She felt like a slave, unable to function without orders.

"You're a good slut, Marge. You get an A for this session, but I also have to give you an F for trying to skip our appointment. You do that again and I'll have to punish you. You understand that, Marge?" threatened Frank.

Marge nodded, unable to speak. Frank smiled at her and told her that he would let himself out. "See you in my office on Monday, Marge. Make sure that you're there."

Marge slowly collected her clothing and mounted the stairs to her bedroom. She threw her clothes into the hamper and moved into the shower where she attempted to scrub the humiliation from her body. After quite a while under the water, she dried herself, put on a robe and crawled into bed where she lay in a fetal position. She started to cry, softly at first and then with great, heaving sobs, feeling as if her heart would burst and wishing that it would.

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

Don was worried. He knew that something was going on with Marge and it was driving him crazy that he didn't know what that was. He made it through the morning and early afternoon before, feeling decidedly uneasy, he left early and headed for home. 

Arriving home, Don found his children, Brad and Sarah, coming up the walk.

"Hi, Dad," yelled Brad. "Remind Mom that I'm staying over at Josh's house tonight........"

He was interrupted by Sarah, "I'm going to be at Heather's, Dad. Tell Mom, she may have forgotten."

"Ok, kids. Don't worry, I'll tell her. Have a good time. Just remember to check in tomorrow morning." Don called after them. Entering the house, Don noticed that it seemed very still. It seemed that no one was home, but Marge's car was still in the driveway. He mounted the stairs and looked into the bedroom where he discovered his wife lying still, fast asleep.

"Damn," he thought to himself. "Maybe she really is ill. I wonder if I should call the doctor. Well, for now I'll just let her sleep," he decided.

Almost by habit, Don went into his den and began to check to see if there was anything from the spy cameras. It didn't take long for him to see Frank Morello entering the living room with Marge and then watched as she disrobed. He sat dumbfounded, than gasped as he realized that he was holding his breath. Despite being convinced that she was cheating, the sudden proof that he was right was like a blow to his gut. 

He suddenly realized that he was crying and he couldn't stop. Shaking his head he tried to stem his tears. He knew that he had finally achieved his goal, he had the proof that he had so desperately sought. So why didn't he feel elated, satisfied that he had achieved his objective? He didn't feel satisfaction or justification. He just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss.

He saw that he had averted his gaze from the computer screen. He couldn't watch. He quickly downloaded everything to a disc and turned off the computer. Then he just sat, his mind awhirl, trying to calm himself, trying to make decisions, trying not to run out of the house screaming. He had what he needed, what he wanted. Didn't he? Didn't he want this? Didn't he want the proof of his wife's infidelity? Didn't this justify his belief that his wife was a slut, that she had been unfaithful to him more than once? Here was the proof that he wanted. 

"Wanted?" he asked himself. "Is this what I wanted? Did I want the evidence that my wife was unfaithful? That she was and had been unfaithful to him countless times? Then why am I not happy that I finally have what I need?"

He finally heaved himself up from his chair. He knew what he had to do. He had no other option. While he recognized that he indeed did love her, he knew that it would be impossible to live with her. He knew that he had no trust in her and had lost all respect for her. This wasn't the woman he had married.

He again mounted the stairs, entered the bedroom and shook Marge awake. She struggled to sit up, groggy and a bit unsteady. Don waited until he thought she was fully cogent.

"Margaret," he began coldly. "I now have all of the evidence I need . I know all about your affair with Morello and I have proof." He watched her, seated on the edge of the bed, gray faced with no expression in her eyes.

"I want you to dress and pack as much of your belongings as you can. I want you out of here before nightfall. Divorce papers will be served as soon as possible. I suggest that you get an attorney. I intend to request custody of the kids, I don't think that it would be in your best interest to contest that - I would be forced to produce irrefutable evidence of your moral character."

Marge didn't reply. She just sat and stared ahead with a totally blank look on her face. 

Don turned and walked out of the bedroom, down the stairs and out of the front door. He got into his car and started to drive. He had no idea where he was going, he just wanted to go until he could go no more. He drove mechanically, giving no thought to anything but the act of driving his vehicle. He refused to even begin to think about what had just happened. The betrayal, the humiliation, the loss, all were emotions that he just couldn't handle at ther moment.

He had no idea how long he had driven when, suddenly, he remembered that he had left the computer disc on his desk. He needed that. He quickly turned the car around and headed for home. He pulled into the driveway and saw that Marge's car was still there. He quickly walked into the house and into his den. Relieved, he saw the disc still lying where he had left it.

He also realized that the house was very quiet. He thought he could hear water running upstairs. Uneasy now, he climbed the stairs and followed the sound into the master bedroom and then bathroom.

Don recoiled in horror when he saw Marge lying in the bathtub, unconscious, the water running slowly. He saw the blood seeping from her slashed wrists, coloring the water pink. The tub stopper wasn't fully blocking the water, a small stream was escaping the tub. 

Don quickly gathered his wits about him and turned the water off. He rummaged quickly in the medicine cabinet for surgical pads and gauze bandaging. He struggled to slow himself from rushing and fashioned compress bandages which he applied to Marge's wrists, attempting to stop or at least slow the bleeding. He pulled her into a seated position and then ran to the phone and called 911. 

He thought to carry her from the tub, but was afraid to move her. He had no idea what additional damage she had inflicted on herself. He knelt by the side of the tub and held his wife upright. He was still in that position when the paramedics arrived, rushing up the stairs. They quickly moved him out of the way, checked on the bandages on her wrists and turned to him.

"Nice job," one remarked. "You took the exact necessary steps. We're going to be taking her to the hospital. You can follow in your car."

Don nodded that he understood and followed the gurney as they loaded Marge into the ambulance. He followed them to the hospital and was told, as he entered, that he could wait in the ER waiting room. Someone would be out to speak with him.

Don Prescott sat quietly, ignoring the noise and bustle about him. He now recalled his wife's pleading to him to believe her when she told him that she had not had affairs, that the incident at the conference was the first time she had ever been unfaithful. He recalled her tearful plea for his forgiveness. 

He began a conversation with his maker. "Please God," he silently prayed. "Please, don't let her die. She is a good woman. I know that now in my heart. We have both been fools, but if you let her live we will find our way back to each other. I promise, I promise I'll be a better person." He sat, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please, just don't let her die."

Don didn't know how long he sat. He began to think of what he had witnessed in his living room not that long ago. He began to remember that Marge had been acting strange during that interlude with Morello, not as a typical lover would act. Her motions seemed to be jerky, almost marionette like. He wanted to get back and view that again. A lurking suspicion had begun to take hold of him. 

"Mr. Prescott?" a tall man in a white physician's coat strode toward him. Don nodded, now fearful, his heart in his throat.

"I'm Dr. Everett. It looks like your wife will be fine, she's lucky that you intervened in time. It probably saved her life. We're going to keep her for a couple of days. I also have to tell you that she will be seeing a psychiatrist. That's hospital policy. Also, the police may want to interview her, but I suspect that you won't have to worry about them. They're always reluctant to move ahead in cases such as this. She's asleep and resting comfortably now. I suggest that you go home and get some rest. It's my expert medical opinion that you look like hell."

"Thanks doctor, I'll take your advice, but could I have permission to come see her early tomorrow morning, before visiting hours." Don asked.

The doctor nodded and told him that he would give orders to allow him in. "Now get the hell home and get some sleep before I have to admit you also.

Don, now relieved, hurried to get home. He parked and almost ran into the house. He fired up his computer and sat down to view those scenes again.

"Shit," he murmured to himself as he viewed Morello using Marge. He, this time, listened to what Morello was saying to her. He quickly came to the conclusion that Marge was not a willing or eager participant. Morello was obviously using something with which to blackmail her. Don sat back, relieved. He knew what he would have to now do.

Very early the next morning found Don striding into Marge's hospital room. He saw that, thankfully, she had no roommate. He also saw that Marge seemed to be a shadow of herself. She looked up and saw him, tears coming to her eyes.




Nighttime Confessions - Concluded



"Don, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." she whispered. " All of this is my fault, this is all my fault." She seemed to shrink into herself, awaiting his recriminations.

Don hurried to her and took her hand. "Marge, listen to me. Your stupid attempt to take your life caused me to realize how stupid I've been as well. You made a mistake, a huge mistake, but I was wrong also. Instead of trying to get past what you had done, I attempted to punish you, the take the kids away and get rid of you. Marge, I was also a fool - we both were fools."

Don looked into his wife's eyes and saw the tears. "Marge, I love you. I should have realized that. I believe that we both still love each other." He saw Marge nodding her head up and down vigorously. "I should have remembered that, Marge, I should not have forgotten that. We will get by this, we are going to be ok, I promise."

Marge threw herself at him, wrapping her arms about him tightly. "Oh, Donny. I do love you so, I love you with all of my heart. I am so sorry for everything. I am so sorry that you had to see what Frank was doing to me. Donny, he has pictures, pictures of me with Phil Grant. I don't know how he got them, but he threatened to show them to you, the school board, everyone. I didn't know what to do. I let him use me," Marge wailed in agony.

Don held her and thought to himself, "I thought it might be something like that. Frank Morello was going to be very sorry. He will be very sorry he ever heard of the name Prescott," he vowed.

"Marge," he said softly. "Don't worry, don't worry about Morello. I will take care of that, I promise. Just get well, just get well and hurry home to me. Ok?" Marge nodded as Don tried to blot her tears. "Don, I want to move to Maine. I really do. I don't want to live here anymore. I think that would be a great start to the rest of our lives. Could we do that soon, Don? I mean really soon?"

Don nodded, "I think so, honey. I think so.

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

Don had discovered that Frank Morello usually came into his office on Saturday mornings for an hour or so to catch up on paperwork. Don was going to make sure that he would also be there.

He quickly made his way home and was thankful that he hadn't discarded the silly disguise he had bought. Putting the bag with the cap and glasses in the car he drove to the athletic activities building of the high school and parked about a block away, but within sight of the parking lot. He didn't have long to wait. He saw Morello pull up in his yellow Mustang and enter the building.

Don donned the cap and glasses, exited his car and ambled slowly toward his destination. The two foot lead pipe that he found in his garage nestled snugly in the valley of his back, held in place by his belt. He was soon at Morello's office door. He saw that it was open and he entered. Morello was standing by a file cabinet.

"Hello, Frank," Don said softly. "I bet you weren't expecting me, were you?" He then removed his cap and glasses.

Morello stepped back. He didn't recognize Don at first. "What the fuck do you want, Prescott?" he blustered, but obviously disconcerted. He eyed Don carefully, wondering just what he knew.

Don remained calm. He slowly approached Morello who had backed up against the file cabinet. 

"The pictures, Frankie. I want the pictures now, or you'll never leave this office alive." whispered Don.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops."

Morello suddenly found himself lying on the floor. Don had pulled his fishing knife from a pocket and held it at his throat. "Last chance, Frankie, give up the pictures or I will slit you from gullet to balls." and with that he drew a fine line across Morello throat. Not enough to do any damage, but just enough to draw a little blood.

Morello was now thoroughly frightened. "Ok, Ok, get that knife away from me, I'll give you what you want. Jesus, put the knife away."

Don pulled him up and kept a hand on the nape of his neck. Morello moved shakily to the filing cabinet and, using a key on his keyring , opened it and removed an envelope. Don pulled it from his grasp and shoved it into his pocket. 

Don then removed the lead pipe from his back and with a quick swing, destroyed Morello's right knee. As he collapsed to the floor, Don went down on a knee beside him. Morello was now whimpering in extreme pain. 

"Frankie, these had better be all of them. You would be making a really terrible mistake if you're holding any back. I know where you live, I know who your wife is and I know who your kids are. Remember that, Frankie. Do you understand me?" 

Morello nodded, gritting his teeth through the pain. Don was not yet through with him.

"Now listen carefully, Frankie. I have more information for you. I want you to pay very close attention." Don was speaking about two inches from Morello's ear.

"It won't be next week, Frankie. It probably won't be next month. But one day, one day I will come looking for you. I will find you, Frankie, and when I do I'm going to kill you. I will kill you very slowly. You can take that to the bank, Frankie. You're a dead man walking."

Morello looked at him wide eyed. He knew without a doubt that Don was serious. He felt it in his bones. He again whimpered in pain, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

Don stood, looked down at him in contempt and slowly walked out of the building. Driving home, he pulled his cell phone out and called Joe Burke.

"Hi, Joe. It's Don."

"Hey, Don, how are you?

"I need a favor, Joe. I spent the morning with you . We were going over some of the routes for our next road trip."

"Of course, Don. We did just that. From when to when, by the way?"

"From about 9 a.m. to whatever time it is now."

"Of course, we did just that. In fact, you left just a little while ago.", Joe assured him.

"Thanks, Joe. I owe you."

"You owe me nothing," Joe remarked as he severed the connection.

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

Three weeks passed. Marge was home and fully recovered and with hope in her eyes again. She had handed in her resignation, despite the protests from the school administration. It seems like the department was going to be really short handed. Frank Morello had also handed in his resignation unexpectedly and had moved, with his family, out of state. He had left no forwarding address.

Thankfully, the kids were really excited about our move now, after first voicing objections about leaving their school and their friends. We had pointed out the advantages of the move, especially the great sports teams at the new school they would be attending. They're good kids, they came around, especially as they witnessed the newly found affection between their parents Don stood and gazed at his home for the last time. The moving van had left and Marge and the kids were in the car. He took one last look at the house, a home that had provided so much love as well as heartache. He would not miss it. Don turned his back, walked to the car and drove away.



Nighttime Confessions - Continued



(This continues a story first written by Capecodmercury. He left his tale open ended and suggested a continuation by anyone who wanted to take a shot at it. His story intrigued me and I asked his permission to continue it. I have also left my tale open ended and would be curious to see how another would pick up this thread. I do suggest that you read his first - this will then make more sense .)

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

My name is Donald Prescott. I think that my wife is cheating on me and I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure if this is the first time, or if she has cheated on me throughout our marriage.

My wife's name is Margaret but everyone calls her Marge. She is 39 years old and still has a terrific figure. I don't really know her measurements but she fills out a bathing suit very nicely. We have been married for 16 years and have, for the most part, been happy - or so I thought.

We have two children: Brad is 14 and Sarah is 12. They are both good, normal kids and I love them very much. Since their mother is a physical education teacher they are heavily into sports. Brad is a soccer fanatic and Sarah is into gymnastics. I don't get a chance to see the events in which they participate too often as the hours I put into my job prevents a lot of that. I am an office manager. Not too exciting, but my income along with Marge's pay as a teacher, keep us living well.

I met Marge while on a canoeing outing. She had conned herself a spot in our group by claiming to be experienced. They paired her up with me and it soon became obvious that she had no idea what she was doing. Fortunately, she was fit and with my guidance soon developed enough skill to to do the job. 

Our relationship developed and we eventually married. To many it seemed an unlikely pairing. Marge was outgoing and extroverted. She excelled in all types of sports and participated whenever possible. I was a real klutz when it came to organized sports. I had never played a sport growing up and had never really had any interest.

It's not that I am a couch potato. I developed a passion for hiking kayaking, white water rafting and anything to do with the wilderness. Participating in this activity kept me very trim and fit. People do not notice me usually, as I tend to be a bit shy and withdrawn. I am of average height, thin and wiry. I may not look very strong, but people would be surprised at the power behind my muscles. Muscles developed hiking, rock climbing,etc. I also jog regularly and I watch my weight.

I thought that Marge and I had a strong marriage. I know that I loved her and I imagined that she loved me also. Our early years together were good. We both worked and did not have many money problems. Sex between us was good, even though we were both relatively inexperienced. I was intimate with only a few girls before Marge, and she indicated that her partners were few and her experience limited. I had no reason to doubt her

Our sex life began to suffer a little with the birth of Brad. Between my long hours at work and Marge's time divided between the baby and her other activities, we found ourselves too tired at night to do much beyond a kiss and a hug before falling asleep. When we did have the opportunity to have sex, it was usually quick with little foreplay. We both did enjoy the intimacy and closeness after having our orgasms. I never complained because it was evident to me that Marge wasn't all that interested in sex. While she seemed to enjoy it occasionally, it wasn't something that really turned her on. I guess that I just resigned myself to a life and marriage whereby sex between us was secondary.

The first real problem in our marriage occurred when Marge was pregnant with Sarah. For some reason, she became cold and withdrawn. Of course there was no sex anyway because of her pregnancy, but even the caresses and kisses stopped. I put this down to her pregnancy, but it was a very cold and chilly time in our household. More than once I asked her why she was acting the way she was, but that just seemed to anger her all the more. I was truly fearful of our marriage. I knew that I couldn't stand a marriage that wasn't loving, and it seemed that we were headed for divorce. I think that the only thing that kept me from leaving was the imminent birth of our daughter.

I tried to be as understanding as I could. I did everything I could think of to make her happy. I was a kind and considerate husband, but that didn't seem to impress Marge. It was quite awhile until she began to treat me not as a pariah, but as her loving husband. I never did comprehend why she had fallen into such depression.

One of my male friends, in response to my complaints about how chilly my home had become, indicated that Marge may have found out about the bachelor party. I reminded him that I did not participate in any of the shenanigans that night. In fact, I left early with another of the guys and we spent the next hour over a cup of coffee and pie at IHOP. Anyway, Marge never knew how that party had degenerated.

The only other time that I felt that our marriage was in real trouble was when Marge discovered that Barb and I were in her bedroom for over a half hour. Barb was a neighbor who had thrown a going away party as she was moving out of state. She had been recently divorced and kind of leaned on me for support during a difficult time. I like to think that I was of some help to her with my advice and sympathy.

Anyway, a nosy gossip filled Marge's ear about my so called tryst with Barb, indicating that we were closeted for quite awhile in her bedroom during that going away party. What no one ever knew was that Barb was confiding in me. She felt she really wanted to get off her chest the fact that she had also cheated during her marriage and she felt guilty as sin. I tried to console her and give her a shoulder to cry on. It soon became apparent to us that our disappearance may be misconstrued and we should rejoin the others.

Marge was sure that I was having an affair and it was difficult for me to convince her that she was wrong. I had vehemently denied her accusation, but of course I could not tell her the nature of the conversation that Barb and I had. Her story was told to me in confidence and I would honor that. Barb's confession would never leave my lips. 

I did notice that during the past few years Marge and I had been steadily drifting apart. She was so wrapped up in her coaching and in her teaching job as well as her other allied activities that she had little time for her husband and partner. I had made numerous attempts to talk to her about her busy schedule, but she tended to minimize my concerns. After awhile, I just gave up and learned to live with the situation.

I also began to notice that there was more than one teacher at her school that came into our conversations. How Frank was so athletic, or how Jake made her laugh, or how whoever was so masculine. These remarks did not go unnoticed and I felt their sting. I don't know if Marge was doing this with the intent of hurting me or whether they were just innocent comments. Comments like those did make me very uneasy. Over the past couple of years, more and more of those comments concerned her boss, Frank Morello. She would drop little remarks about how fit he was, or how muscular he was Then she would complain that he was coming on to her. Then that would stop and she would not mention him at all for awhile. I am not an insensitive man. I began to suspect, if only unconsciously, Marge's fidelity. At least I began to be more observant.

Many Saturdays evenings were fulled with parties thrown by one or another of her co-workers. Every one seemed to enjoy these get-to-gethers, expect me. I always seemed to be the odd man out. I saw how Marge came alive, chatting with one guy and then another. She always seemed to be with one guy or with a small group of guys, seldom with the women there. The guys were always the jocks. They seemed to attract her. She danced with many of them, but I never saw anything untoward occurring. I did notice a brief flash of impatience on Marge's face if I ever attempted to cut in.

It was on one of these parties that I really lost it. I noticed that Marge seemed to be dancing more than occasionally with Morello. Then I saw him, quite blatantly, put his paw on her ass. She did reach back and remove it, but didn't really seem terribly offended. In fact, she quickly looked around her to see if anyone had seen what happened. She didn't notice that I saw, I seemed to be the celophane man.

I felt my blood boil and I knew that I was seriously angry. I waited for Morello to stroll outside, which he did occasionally. I followed him and got into his face. I told him that I didn't appreciate him pawing my wife. He grabbed my shirt and pulled me toward him, asking me what I was going to do about it. I have to admit that I lost control. I took his hand and just bent back his wrist. He made an attempt to wrestle his hand away, but I had him in an iron grip. I forced him to his knees and bent over so that I was close to his face. I whispered to him that I would put him in the hospital if he ever put his hand on my wife again. He seemed stunned by my strength and by my anger. He shook his head yes, when I asked him if he understood. He never went near Marge, at least when I was around. 

What really caused my doubts to blossom was when Marge came home, all excited, and told me that she had been selected as one of the school's two representatives to the annual State Athletic Association Convention. She didn't even ask if I could accompany her. She just assumed that I would not be able to go. I acted as I was supposed to, very proud of her and very excited at this opportunity for her. Privately I wondered why she had been chosen. While I knew that she was very competent in her work, I didn't think that there was anything to distinguish the year from others in her department. It wasn't long before I discovered exactly why Marge was chosen.

It was when I discovered that Frank Morello, the school's athletic director and Marge's boss, would be the other representative that my suspicions seemed to be confirmed. Now that made me nervous. This is the guy that Marge had been mentioning as so fit, so great at his job and so masculine. She may not have realized it herself, but I definitely saw that she was attracted to him. Had she been cheating with this Morello and would she continue to do so at this conference???

Marge is nothing, if not clever. She came to me with the concern that Morello would use the conference as his opportunity to seduce her. I couldn't believe how brazen she was. She was already covering her ass. I pretended to be very receptive to her worries and suggested that she just avoid having any contact with him during the conference. It was a silly suggestion, I knew there was a very real possibility that Marge would either continue an affair that was already in progress, or possibly welcome Morello's interest and begin an affair that she was looking forward to.

The whole idea of Marge's betrayal and probable adultery at the conference was turning my brain to mush. I couldn't concentrate on my work and it was difficult to maintain a semblance of normalcy at home. I also noticed that our sex life, not very active in the best of times, had virtually dried up. Marge didn't seem to interested and I had lost any desire for her. Ever try getting excited with a woman who barely hid her contempt for you?

I came to recognize that our marriage was probably headed for the divorce courts and that my future was going to be a lot different that what I had imagined. I also realized that my suspicions were all conjecture and that I needed hard proof, at least for my own peace of mind. 

I couldn't stand the uncertainty of it all. I had all of these suspicions bouncing around in my head, but I was level headed enough to realize that I may be making mountains out of molehills. I certainly didn't want to go off half-cocked and then find out that I was totally wrong. After all, all of the incidents that I had magnified in my mind could have totally innocent explanations. It was the uncertainty of it all that was driving me crazy. Is Marge cheating with Morello - was Marge going to cheat with Morello???? It was driving me nuts.

I had enough, I had to come to some kind of resolution. Thank goodness the kids were away at overnight camp for a couple of weeks. I called the airline and bought a round trip ticket to the resort of the conference. Then I called my boss and told him that I needed to take about three days off, using my comp. time. He was a bit reluctant, but he sensed the need in my voice. I think that I might have quit my job if he refused me. I packed and was ready to leave on Wednesday morning. I transferred all incoming calls to our home phone to my cell. I didn't want anyone to knew where I was, especially Marge.

The plane arrived at my destination in the early afternoon. I quickly exited the airport and picked up my rental car. I had the location of a nearby costume shop which was not far from my hotel. The costume shop had exactly what I needed. I purchased a nondescript baseball cap, a pair of large horned rimed glasses that had a slight correction in the lenses and a fake mustache. Proceeding to my hotel, I registered and took the elevator to my room. 

Slinging my bag on the bed, I collapsed in the armchair. I felt totally spent, The intensity of the past hours had come to an end and left me feeling exhausted. I looked at the bag that contained my purchases and almost laughed. Who the hell did I think I was, James Bond?? I recognized the absurdity of of what I was planning. I was going to make a total fool of myself. I struggled up and emptied the contents of the bag on the bed. I picked up the baseball cap and slipped it on. I never wore a hat and it felt strange and a bit uncomfortable. I picked up the spectacles and put them on. The slight correction seemed to strain my eyes a bit. I then looked in the mirror and literally took a step back. I didn't know who that was in the mirror. I realized that disguising myself was perhaps not so foolish after all.

I continued with my preparations, sticking the fake mustache on my upper lip, and looked in the mirror again. I was stunned. I didn't recognize myself and I doubted if anyone else could. Perhaps I could pull this off, it seemed much more likely then I had thought a few minutes ago. The ringing of my cell phone startled me and I picked it up - it was Marge.

She sounded wonderful, excited and ebullient. She told me that she was having a wonderful time and thanked me for my suggestion. She told me that she would thank me properly when she got home. I told her that I was happy that she was having such a wonderful time and that I couldn't wait to see her. I was planning on seeing her a lot earlier than she thought.

I tried to relax and catch my breath. I had been operating on stored up emotion and I recognized that I had to regain my calm. I had to be methodical and focused. First, I kept telling myself that now I would finally catch Marge in the act. Then I kept reminding myself that it really wasn't fair to accuse her of adultlery without one shred of proof. I kept vacillating between accusing Marge and then defending her. I finally gave it up and tried to get a couple of hours of sleep. I needed to be clear headed.

It was getting dark before I got into my car and headed toward the resort, which was about 15 minutes down the road. I parked, made sure that my disguise was in place, and strolled into the vast lobby of the resort. I quickly looked around, but saw no one I knew - big surprise. I wandered over to the dining area and placed myself behind a potted palm and scanned the room. I saw Marge almost immediately. She was seated with four guys and three other women, none of whom I recognized. I didn't see Morello anywhere which reassured me a bit. I figured that the night was young. 

I knew that I couldn't stand there too long, I would become conspicuous, so I wandered and made my way back occasionally. They eventually left the dining room and went into the lounge where they gathered around a couple of table and ordered drinks. I thought that I started to see a pattern. They seemed to be seated in the same order as in the dining room, almost like they were couples. I don't know why, but that feeling of unease was becoming stronger. They were doing nothing that could be construed improper, but there just seemed to be a familiarity that was unusual.

It wasn't too long before they all arose and headed out of the lounge. It was a bit sudden and I was fearful of being spotted, despite my disguise, but Marge and her group passed by me without a glance. I followed discreetly behind them, down a corridor and watched them enter a large double suite that had a sign on the door identifying it as a hospitality suite. I knew that I couldn't go in there. I would be totally out of place. They closed the door and now I had no idea what was happening . I knew that there were quite a few people in there so I was fairly certain that I had nothing to worry about. I thought that I would just wait until they exited. The sign stated that the suite would close at 11:00 p.m. 

Well, 11:00 p.m came and went and while quite a few people exited, I did not see Marge, or in fact, any of the other members of her group. I started to worry - what was going on?? Then I remembered that in the glimpse I had gotten of the suite I had noticed that drapes covered one wall. I surmised that it must be a window wall and perhaps I could go outside and check if there were chinks that would allow me to look into the suite.

I quickly went out of resort doors and started walking around the hotel. Most of the windows on my left were conference rooms and resort offices. I finally came to large windows that were covered with drapes. I figured this may be what I was looking for, but I also discovered that there were large shrubs in front of the windows. I looked about me, but saw no one. I ambled over to the shrubs and saw that there was about three feet of space between the shrubs and the drapery covered windows. I slowly insinuated my self in that space and looked for a chink in the drapes. I was lucky, the very bottom of the closure seemed to be a bit askew and by squatting down I found that I had a pretty good view of the interior of the suite. 

At first I was puzzled, there seemed to be no one in the suite. Then I made out two figures on a love seat against the wall. I saw Marge seated with one of the men from that group. I looked around the room quickly and could make out another couple in the far corner. They seemed to be having intercourse in a standing position while fully clothed. They were grinding together and kissing passionately. My attention went back to Marge and the guy with her. I was a bit confused. I fully expected to see Frank Morello, but he was no where in sight. The guy on the sofa with Marge was someone I had never seen before. I knew that he wasn't one of the jocks from Marge's school, or a member of the teaching staff there.

Returning my attention to Marge, I saw immediately that this guy had his hands all over her. He was massaging her back, rubbing her shoulder and then I saw him put his hand on her thigh. Were my deepest suspicions coming true? I closed my eyes and prayed that this wasn't going where I thought it was. When I opened my eyes again I saw that they were wrapped in an passionate kiss. Anger started to build in me. Not a hot rage, but a cold, frigid icicle that stabbed me in the chest. This was a guy she had met at the convention, I was sure. She was making out with a stranger. If she was able to do this with someone that she hardly knew, what on earth had she done with guys that she saw on a daily basis and knew?




Nighttime Confessions - Continued



Suddenly I saw the guy rise and help Marge to her feet. They headed to an open doorway, closing the door behind them. I quickly scooted over to my left and prayed that I would find another chink in the drapes for that room. I was fortunate, the drapes had a small gap. I was able to see most of the room, and with a sinking feeling, I saw that it was a bedroom. It was time for decision making. Would I allow her to fuck this guy, or was it actually too late for that? If she was going to fuck a virtual stranger, then how many guys had she already fucked during our marriage? How many of the jocks back home had she already accepted between her legs? It sure looked like all of my suspicions were not figments of my imagination. The scene before me showed that there was certainly a basis in fact for them.

They shed their clothing quicky. I stood transfixed, unable to tear my eyes away from their lovemaking. It was as if they were two strangers, people that I had never seen before. Did I get excited? Did I get an erection? No, my prick was as limp as an overdone piece of pasta. To my mind the scene before me was not about sex, it was about betrayal. I was witnessing the end of my marriage, the end of my life as I knew it. 

I had to admit, the guy was good. It was as if he were giving lessons on how to arouse a female. He spent an inordinate amount of time kissing, nibbling, tonguing and then he started working on Marge's pussy and camped down south there for what seemed forever. I could see her responding to him, shifting her hips closer to his mouth. His technique made me look like an amateur, I realized. 

I continued to watch with almost clinical detachment. I saw them assume the classic 69 position and watched my wife take him into her mouth. She seemed to devour him as she attacked him orally, obviously attempting to make him ejaculate into her mouth. He pulled away from her and moved down her body to again assault her with his tongue. Eventually I observed her body tense, her hips lift and her face contort as she orgasmed almost violently, pulling his mouth deeper into her vulva. It was rather interesting. I had never seen a woman have so intense a climax, especially one married to me. 

Is this the reason for her unfaithfulness? Was I that inadequate in bed? The evidence was there before me. Marge had never come so intensely in our love making. Her orgasms were never so shattering. My ego was taking blows never experienced by me before. I realized that I had taken my eyes away from the scene in the bedroom. When I again focused, I saw them fucking, watched him using long, hard thrusts into her. I saw her wrap her legs around him and bounce her heels on his ass and then watched as they both orgasmed. 

I suddenly awoke from the semitrance I had been in, looked about and slowly extracted myself from my observation post. I felt myself becoming a bit light headed and slightly sick to my stomach. I had no desire to see any more. I then fell violently ill and staggered to my knees. I vomited the entire contents of my stomach, and when there was no more to vomit, I continued until my dry heaves finally eased.

I knelt there with my head down and started to weep. The woman I had loved for so long was a slut, a betrayer, an adulteress, the mother of my children. Another cold chill swept over me: my children. Were they really my children?? My God in Heaven, what am I going to do. How do I get out of this nightmare. 

My wife cheated on me and I don't know what to do.