2 comments/ 67227 views/ 21 favorites The Day After By: JosephBarnosky *Note* This is a sequel to They Saw Mommy Fucking Santa Claus. I will be making one more and that's probably it for this story line. I hope you enjoy and vote favorably. * Gabriel slept good Christmas Eve night. When he wakes up Jenny is no longer in his arms, but that doesn't stop him from replaying the events of last night in his head: finding his sister, Jenny, watching their mother and Santa having sex and then fucking her while they watched from the stair case. It was the same thing every year for the last few years. They played out the same event and it was the only time of year he got to have Jenny. Now it is the day after Christmas and for some reason he just can't get her out of his head. Jenny had enjoyed it. She told him so just before they fell asleep last night. She liked it every year, but afterward they never talked about it and so it became, in a way, a present to each other, but Gabriel wanted more than that. His cock begins to stir at the thought of fucking his sister again. He decides to push the thoughts away for the moment and head down stairs for Christmas. In the living room his mother and sister are already waiting for him. His mother is the first to notice him as he walks down the stairs. "Well, Merry Christmas Gabriel," she says with a big smile. Jenny turns her head and smiles too and something seems a little different this morning, unlike past Christmases. He files it away and puts on a smile of his own, joining them. The morning carries on pretty fast as they unwrap presents. Afterward they head over to their grandmother's house where practically the entire family is. With his mother helping with the cooking and relatives all over the house, Gabriel has to find refuge in the bathroom. He hadn't gotten to speak to his sister all day and even if he did, where would he? Then suddenly a knock raps at the door. He freezes for a second and then there is another knock. "Just a minute," he calls out. "Open up Gab," the voice of his sister calls through. Gabriel quickly unlocks the door and opens it. Jenny pushes through, closing the door behind her. Jenny looks him in the eyes, staring intently. Neither of them speak and after a long moment of silence, Jenny reaches out and starts rubbing his cock through his jeans. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks. "I mean we only do this kind of thing on Christmas Eve." Jenny remains silent and soon gives him an answer after a few more moments of teasing his rock hard cock through the jeans when she unzips him. She reaches in and he jumps as her fingers touch and then encircle his cock. She pulls it out and with a toss of her head to get the hair out of the way, teasingly lowers her mouth to his shaft. Gabriel holds his breath as she extends her tongue out. She lightly flicks the tip of his cock and causes him, and it, to jump once again. She smiles as she swirls her tongue around his cock head for a while, causing him to moan. The she gently takes the tip of his cock into her mouth. Sucking lightly, she slowly lowers her head. And slowly his shaft disappears between her lips until she takes it all down her throat. She leaves his cock buried to the base for several long seconds, making him wonder how she is able to do so. Then finally, she reverses direction, revealing his cock as slowly as she had hidden it. On the way out, she runs her teeth lightly along the top of his cock while adding a swirl of her tongue to the underside. When her teeth reach the ridge under his cockhead, she holds them there and bites down just a little to give her tongue swirling more friction on the underside of his cockhead. The combination of the sting fo her teeth and the intense pleasure of her tongue on the most sensitive part of his cock has Gabriel rapidly approaching an orgasm. And just as he wants to explode, she stops the action of her tongue and removes the pressure of her teeth from the top of his cock. She slides the head of his cock through her lips and teeth until her lips kiss just the very tip. Her lips envelope his cockhead again and begin their slow decent back to the base of his cock. She repeats the whole sequence again and again until Gabriel is begging and pleading for her to make him cum. Grinning wickedly she says, "You better have more for me." Her lips slides down his cock faster this time and she sucks harder. As she slips it back out, her tongue swirls rapidly along the underside. In just a few repetitions, he explodes. Sensing it, Jenny sucks his cock completely down her throat, which seems to constrict tightly around him. The she begins to bob her head as jets of cum shoot down her throat, milking his cock for every drop. The orgasmic contractions continue long after there is no more cum to shoot, but Jenny continues her milking, refusing to stop until the contractions do. When she finally releases him, he says, "That was incredible!" Jenny blushes as she says, "I love giving on Christmas." She then pulls off his pants and underwear slowly to the floor, exposing his half erect cock. She looks at it for a moment. "I want you more than just once a year," she says holding her head low. Gabriel reaches down to the underside of her chin and lifts her head up. "I can't stop thinking about you." She smiles and without anymore words, he helps her undress then gripping her under her arms lifts her onto the sink. He leans her back against the mirror, placing a folded towel behind her back and spreads her legs. He grasps her knees and pushes them over each side of the sink, fully exposing her pussy and ass to him. Then he kneels down between her legs to get a closer look at her pussy. It is bare and smooth with a light sheet of moisture on and between her lips and her pussy smells perfect. He bends his head further down and licks a lip lightly and it is her turn to jump and moan. He spends a long time licking, nibbling and teasing her, trying to give her as much stimulation and pleasurable torment as she had given him. Then he attacks her clit and makes her whither and moans in excitement and she explodes into an orgasm immediately. Like his orgasm earlier, hers seems to go on and on and he refuses to stop licking until she stops cumming. Sweat plasters a few hairs to her forehead and shines like the rest of her body and she pants heavily. Gabriel stands up fully, his cock aligned directly with her pussy. He then grabs her legs and pulls her toward the edge of the sink. He places the tip of his cock at her entrance and slowly begins pressing his cock into her. He thrusts his hips forward and in one smooth thrust, buries his cock deep into her pussy. Jenny throws her head back with a muffled squeal. He leaves his cock in her for a few seconds, enjoying the contractions of her walls squeezing his thick shaft. He pulls his cock out slowly, until just the tip is lodges between her lips and then pushes it back in again, eliciting another squeal. She is incredibly an deliciously tight. He feels every inch of her pussy as his cock slides into her cervix. He slowly picks up the pace of his thrusting and knows she wants him to go thrust faster, but he is enjoying the teasing. Soon enough, however, he is pumping her at a rapid speed and is rewarded by little grunts and moans from her with each thrust. Even with her suppression of noise he can tell that she is slowly climbing toward a massive climax. He continues to thrust a while longer, increasing speed a bit more and starts to pant and groan as the sinking shakes violently. "Gab," Jenny says clutching to his back. "Gab, the sink." He pumps a bit more, ignoring her claims, slamming his cock into her as her tight ass slaps against his thighs. She moans, trying to hold back from screaming, as she approaches an orgasm. Gabriel keeps up the pace, trying to slam into her deeper and deeper, enjoying the way her tight, spasming walls grab at his cock. After a few seconds Jenny is pushed over the edge and she cums having to bite her bottom lip to prevent herself from screaming. Her orgasmic contractions squeeze and pull intensely on his cock, which in turn sets him off. With one final, hard thrust, he pushes deep into her cervix. His cock spasms and he shoots a massive load of hot, thick cum into her, followed by another and another. They hold each other tight until both their orgasms subside. With her face pressed into Gabriel's neck, she says, "I love you." Gabriel pulls away looking at her lovingly, "I love you too." Jenny smiles and reaches in for a kiss. They kiss for several long seconds, exploring each other's mouths, until Gabriel finally breaks away and says, "We need to get back out there before we are missed." The Day After AUTHORS NOTE: This story contains scenes of extramarital, unprotected and unapologetic sex. If you object, please feel free to move on. I came awake early Monday morning and made an instant decision to get up and get out before she woke. I didn't want to see her, didn't want to talk to her; I couldn't, not now, so soon. I slipped from the bed carefully, avoiding looking at her naked form stretched out where she slept. I needed to get away from her, to clear my head, and get my thoughts and feeling under control. I needed separation. I skipped my morning workout and headed straight for the shower, but as I showered, images of the previous night flooded my brain, unbidden and unstoppable, impossible to ignore. I snuck my clothes from the bedroom silently and dressed downstairs, skipping coffee and breakfast, the urgent need to get out driving me almost to desperation. Every room showed the remnants of last night's party; the plates and cups, napkins and food left out. I saw her in my mind's eye, my sleeping, naked wife, the final remnant of last night's party. I winced and headed for the door. But as I grabbed my briefcase in the hallway she was there, looking sleepy and worn, pillow creases still on her cheek, her blonde wavy hair hanging in a tangled mess past her shoulders, framing her face like a glowing vandalized halo. God, she was beautiful, and I hesitated as she stepped into the doorway, blocking my exit. "I heard you get up," she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stifling a yawn. She looked up at me, her bare feet holding her to her true height of five-two. She held her robe closed with one hand, and I assumed she was still naked underneath. "I wanted to see you before you left." I stood there frozen to the spot, terrified and enraged, and said nothing for fear of losing control. "You're going in early?" Her voice was soft, just short of tentative. Was she pretending nothing had happened? Or was she afraid of me, of my reaction? We had not spoken last night, and I was not ready today. The tension was thick between us. "I have a lot to do today," I lied. She stepped into me, her body lightly pressing against me, and I involuntarily took a step back. Her hands reached for my arms, releasing her robe, and it opened to give me a flash of her bare skin as she pressed to me. That body. Last night, that wonderful, sexy body; my wife's body. Memories struck me like a mallet, and I felt my body go rigid as she touched my arms and closed the gap to me. She lifted her face to me and stood on her toes, and brushed her lips on mine for a kiss. I felt her light touch on mine, but all I could think of was her mouth, last night. "I love you," she said softly, and settled back down, but still looking up, watching me. "I wanted you to know that before you left." Was she seeing my confusion, feeling my resistance? Was she as scared as I was? "We'll talk tonight," she almost whispered, "when you get home." She stepped away, allowing me to pass. I couldn't look at her as I moved for the door. "I love you," she called to me, a little louder as I exited the house. Work was a shapeless fog of movement and words layered over flashbacks of image and sound; I couldn't concentrate, I pretended to work and got little done, avoiding the eyes and attention of the office staff. Could they see the memories of the previous night bombarded my brain, distracting me from my duties? I answered email robotically and cancelled two appointments; unable to focus. I skipped lunch. My imagined rehearsales of tonight's conversation ranged from screaming rage and slaps to weeping confessions, filled with remorse. I considered not going home, avoiding the inevitable conversation, but late that afternoon I found myself behind the wheel, still in my trance, driving as if on auto-pilot. In the driveway I sat in the car for what felt like hours, and thought of her, my wonderful, lovely wife, remembering our twelve years together, the dating, the love, the hurtful yearnings, the desperate aches when we were apart; our wedding, our vows. She was The One, and our years together had been almost unbroken bliss. Seeing her every day was a reminder of all that I loved in her, and feeling her love returned. But images of her face and memories of her love for me shining in her eyes were suddenly swept away by images from last night, that alien look in her eyes; her lips, her body, her voice, saying things I had never heard, doing ... things. I felt the tension creep into me, but my body was exhausted from the strain of the night and day; rage eluded me, and all I could manage was a worn resignation. She was in the kitchen when I went inside, sitting at the table with a cup of tea, and she looked up at me as I entered but I tore my eyes away, avoiding the familiar connection that lured me to her. The smells of dinner filled the house, and I glanced around, seeing the rooms; neat and in order, all signs of the party the night before eliminated. But the normalcy of the surroundings served only to accentuate all that had changed between us. My brain rebelled at the welcoming scents and images of home, and family, of life before last night. I set my bag on the floor, but remained standing, away from her, not approaching. Not the usual routine. My eyes returned to her but I couldn't meet her gaze. She was dressed in her casual clothes, jeans and floral print buttoned shirt, her breasts straining as always to be contained. Her face no longer held the puffiness of sleep, and her light makeup created the angelic visage I loved, her hair brushed and neat. I tore my eyes away as images of her unkempt hair and smeared makeup last night clouded my eyes, superimposed over her, possessing my vision. "I wasn't sure I would see you," she said softly. The house was quiet, no soft jazz that she loved so much playing in the background the way it normally would. "I thought you might not come home." "I considered it," I responded tersely. "Please, sit," she said, anxiously fingering the mug of tea on the table in front of her. "You're making me nervous. More nervous." I stiffened and rebelled internally, not wanting to do what she asked, not wanting it to be her way, to give her even that small victory. But this was OUR house, not just hers; it was ours, together, the house of love we shared, as much mine as hers. I felt my body move to a chair next to hers, then pulled away, and sat instead in the chair on the other side of the table, away from her, facing her across the table with a feeling of childish pride in the small victory of doing something differently, of avoiding her proximity. "Dinner will be ready soon," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "We can eat first, and talk later, if you want." She paused, waiting for a response. "Or we can talk now." Another pause, and she added, as if it was news, "We have to talk about it." "I'm not hungry," I lied. Her eyes flashed a moment of hurt, and she looked down into her tea. "I'm not sure I can eat." I wasn't sure I could even stay in the room. I sat with my back straight and clasped my hands on the table in front of me. "I'll take a cup of tea," I blurted, unsure why I said it. I watched silently as she rose and went to the counter, pulling a second cup down from the cabinet, preparing my tea. I watched her while she couldn't see me, looking at her ass and legs, her back, but again the memories of last night invaded, and instead of seeing her standing, dressed, I saw flashes of her, naked, her ass, her legs. Last night. She put the steaming cup in front of me and thankfully returned to her seat across the table, not trying to invade my barrier. I wrapped my fingers around it, feeling the heat seep into my skin, grateful for the sensation, of feeling something recognizable and normal. The tension in me settled, just a little, from the small sensation of the warm mug. I didn't drink it; I just held it in my hands, clasping it tightly, as if it was the anchor that that would hold me together. I sat silently, staring at the steam rising from the mug and realized I was holding my breath. I stilled my heart and heaved a deep sigh, feeling a little more of the tension slip. "Please, Carl, say something." I looked up at her and met her eyes. Her forehead was creased with concern, her eyes searing mine with longing, almost despair. As I had in the car, I suddenly saw our lives together as it had been before, remembering all we had done and shared, and I felt my love for her, now bruised and battered, floating to the surface. My heart stirred in my chest and her expression pulled my emotions into focus; I felt my love for her as it had always been; the need for her, the incomplete feeling when we were not together, my desire to be with her, only her. But my memories betrayed me again, as vivid flashes of last night crossed my mind, crowding out the love, trying to crush it, destroy it. Her. My Wife. Last night. "I'm not sure I even know who you are," I said quietly, and felt a moment of delight for the hurt that flashed in her expression. "Oh, Carl," she replied timidly, but I interrupted her. "No, seriously," I said, a little louder and too sternly, and she started, her eyes opening wider at the increase in volume. I heard my own voice violate the silence. "Who are you? Are you the woman I married, the one I fell in love with, and promised to stay with, forever? Through sickness and health? Is that you?" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, still holding the mug, securing my position. "Or are you that ... that THING, that woman last night, that..." Of all the imagined conversations I had held in my head during the day, none of them had gone like this. In my head I had scored great verbal victories, piercing her with words until she cried and begged, or I had lashed out, angrily, until she cowered and cringed. In none of those did I struggle, or feel confusion or hesitance. In none of them was I torn in two directions, unsure of my future with her. In none did I struggle with my emotions, pulled in two directions at once. But reality is different, and I felt my hesitation and despised it, and berated myself for my lack of conviction. "Thing? Is that what you saw last night? A thing?" There was hurt in her voice, a little admonition for my invective. My heart stirred, wanting to hurt her and protect her at the same time, shamed at my desire to lash out, and elated that I could injure her, to make her share my pain. "No. Not a thing," I clarified. I stared into her wounded eyes, those wonderful, round blue eyes, and remembered them on our wedding day, lifting her veil, seeing the longing and fulfillment in them, falling into them, overwhelmed with my love for her. "A slut. Last night I saw a filthy slut fuck two guys in front of her husband, who she now claims she loves." There. It was out there now, the words spoken and clear, and unable to be recalled. I sat back, thrilled and horrified at my victory, and waited for her crushed remorse. I watched her as she lowered her head again, hanging it down, her shining blonde locks covering her face, hiding it from me. "I know," I heard her say softly, wounded. Her head stayed down, unable to meet my eyes. But when she raised her head again her face was steel and expressionless, and I instantly doubted my success. Her lips were tight with resolve. "Let me say this one more time," she insisted. "I DO love you, you ass. You think because of what I did I stopped loving you?" "How am I supposed to know now?" I yelled at her, lunging forward and slamming my palms flat on the table. "What the hell am I supposed to believe? That you've been faithful? That you love only me?" I was spitting with rage as the words erupted from me. "For all I know you've been fucking whoring around the whole time!" I was shaking, gasping for breath, and I tried to control my adrenaline, wrapping my hands back around the mug of tea, feeling the heat, feeling my anchor, settling my nerves. The accusations hung in the air like a carcass. I glared at her, turned away, glared again. She sat motionless, her only movement in her chest as she took deep breaths, and her eyes narrowed. Her lips started and stopped several times, but nothing came out. At long last she bit the inside of her cheek, and spoke. "That's what's bothering you? Whether I've been faithful?" She shook her head, the incredulity thick in her voice. "Whether I love you?" she asked. "That's what has you so upset?" She snorted a sardonic laugh. "Here I was afraid that you were horrified at the things I did, how willingly I did them." She angled her head, squinting a little. "How much I enjoyed doing it." She blew out a breath, but there was no relief in her eyes. "God knows it scares the shit out of me," she muttered. She lifted her mug, sipped, wrinkled her face. "Cold," she said under her breath. She looked back at me, and her face softened, changing from the woman I didn't recognize, back into the woman I married and loved. She stood and walked hesitantly to my side of the table, and knelt next to my chair, taking my hands between hers, holding them as I had held the mug, a tether to what we had been before. "I have always loved you; I will never stop, never, as long as I live. I don't know how to make you believe that, but it's the truth. You look in my eyes, tell me," she pleaded, "tell me you see the truth, that I love you, and only you." Her face was only inches from mine, and her radiance took my breath away. "For as long as we both shall live," she added in a soft, gentle voice. I was captured, then, ensnared as I had always been, in her beauty and her love. Here, her face just inches from mine, holding my big hands in her little ones, comforting me, reassuring me. My anger momentarily forgotten, I responded with resignation to what I knew was the truth. "I know," I whispered. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them, gazing directly into those deep blue pools. "I love you, too." I looked for that woman again but could suddenly see only the wildness of last night, her lost look of wonder and excitement. "But last night ... those guys ... and you, you were..." I struggled, my anger fighting with my hurt and confusion. "What happened to you? How can I believe you?" "I don't know how to make you understand that last night doesn't change what I feel for you." Her face was filled with regret and sorrow, and cautious resolve. "If it makes you feel better to hear it; I have never cheated on you, never. I never will." "Except for last night," I sniped cheaply, and instantly regretted it. "You were THERE," she reminded me, "I wasn't cheating; we were together." "Yes, but..." I gritted my teeth, remembering the painful visions of her, with both of them, as I watched. "How could you do that?" She moaned; a plaintive wail of confusion and frustration, and squeezed my hands in hers. It felt so right, loving her, and I didn't want to hate her. There was a tightness in my chest, and the tension of the day, the memories, had exhausted me. I felt the anger drain away with my energy, leaving behind a confused and hurt husk. She stood then, waiting for me to move and still holding my hands, until I turned my chair to the side, away from the table. A look of relief swept over her; her shoulders dropped, and she lowered herself to sit across my lap, releasing my hands and wrapping her arms around the back of my neck, snuggling her head into my shoulder as if she could burrow inside me. I felt my arms holding her, clenching her to me, and stroking her back. "Oh, Carl," I heard from between my neck and shoulder, "what happened to me? How did we let this go so far? God, I'm so scared I can barely breathe," she moaned. "We were drunk, honey," I answered lamely, and was suddenly astonished that I was comforting her, as though she was the one who was hurt. I held her closer, and felt her body tremble, just a little, and I made soothing sounds into her hair, stroking her back and shoulders as she began crying, and I held her silently, feeling my selfish hurt feelings slipping away, replaced only by my desire to protect her, to keep her from harm or pain. She cried almost silently, and I waited for her to stop shaking, until her breath became deeper, more regular. She pulled her face up and her eyes were puffy and red, and she sniffled. "It's okay," I told her, wanting to believe it myself. Maybe hearing the words from my own mouth made it more true. "We're okay." She kissed me tenderly on the lips, holding her lips to mine, no tongues, just love and need and comfort. I remembered those lips, last night. She looked at me, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. "Oh, Carl," she started, but I hushed her. "Jess, honey, we were drunk," I explained, "it...well, I guess it just got out of hand." "No." she insisted, shaking her head, and she slipped off my lap and stood for a second, looking at me, looking down at me. Did she think I was the bad guy here? She began pacing then, her voice raised, talking to the room, her back to me. "No, we were drinking, yes; I was drinking, but we were not that drunk," she insisted, "I wasn't THAT drunk." She shook her head at me again. "I was pretty drunk," I admitted. "We were having fun, playing around," I told her. "It went too far." "Too far?" She whirled and faced me from the other side of the room, her back against the counter. "Playing around! You got grab-assy before the party even ended. Then when everyone else had left you were making out with me in front of those guys, and telling those guys what great tits I had, and you were feeling me up right in front of them!" "I guess I WAS pretty drunk," I mumbled, recalling my actions. I picked my head up and looked at her. "You seemed to like it, though..." I tried. "A first I didn't, I was uncomfortable; I was going along with it for you, I thought you wanted me to," she explained. Her arms were waving animatedly now, the way she does when she gets riled. "And then I was a little excited, you bragging on me and all," she told me. "Maybe you were drunker than you think..." "The drinking doesn't explain it, not all of it, not even close," she emphasized. "Yeah, I had a few drinks, enough to get me to go along with the fondling, and not stopping you when you were feeling up my tits." She blew out a breath. "And you telling them how hot you thought I am, and kissing on me and rubbing me; I started liking it." She stopped, ran her hands through her hair, that lovely, subconscious nervous tic she does. "And oh, shit, when they started saying stuff back, and you didn't stop, I thought you wanted it; I thought I was doing it for you!" She was panting a little. "I was LIKING doing it for you!" "Well, it was fun, at first..." "And when that guy Mike pulled out his dick?" She started pacing again, walking the length of the small kitchen, back and forth, her hands stressing her points like a spastic windmill. "Was that fun for you? Because YOU DIDN'T STOP ME. And I got all excited, and I just started blowing him! Was that fun for you? Christ Almighty, I started out going along because I thought it was for you, but once I got his cock in my mouth, I ... I lost it! I fucking lost it!" She was frantic now, raving and shouting as she paced. "First I was doing it for you, then I LIKED doing it for you, and then I JUST PLAIN LIKED IT!" She looked at me, boring her eyes into mine. "And I lost it! All I could think of was sucking his cock and fucking him..." "Really?" I asked. Her eyes softened, lost their intensity, and I thought she might start crying again. She came to me, dropping to her knees again in front of my chair. "Why do you think I'm so upset?" She took my hands again, and her voice had a fearful, shamed whine. "Carl, honey, I'm scared half to death from what I did! I sucked Mike's cock, and then his friend was pulling my pants down, and I helped him. I FUCKING HELPED him! Right in front of you, thinking you were okay with it, but I didn't even care anymore. I WANTED him to fuck me while I sucked Mikes cock! The Day After I sat there, open-mouthed and dumbfounded, having no idea what to say. Shreds of my imagined speeches ran through my head as I listened to her confession "Do you understand? I know you're horrified at what I did, even though it was exciting when it started. I could tell when it was over you were pissed. But do you understand why I'm scared?" She grabbed my head between her hands, forced me to look at her, forced me to focus on her words. "Because I WANTED it, I LIKED it! it was incredible!" I could feel her breath as she forced the words out. "It may have been the best, hottest sex I've ever experienced!" I had no answer; hell, I couldn't form a thought or feel an emotion. I sat there motionless, my head between her hands, and she waited, frustrated and anxious for me to say ...what? What did she want from me? Nothing came out of my mouth, and she released my head, throwing it back at me with a look that was almost disgust. She stood and resumed her hyperactive pacing, taking long strides and crossing the kitchen several times before she spoke again, facing away from me. "I took those guys, both of them; Mike and ... whatever, I don't even know his name, for Christ's sake!" She whirled suddenly, to face me, glaring at me heatedly from across the room. "I let them fuck me in my mouth and my pussy, and even my ass, YES, my ASS, I had them in my pussy and ass at the same time, and I LOVED IT, and it scares the daylights out of me!" Her breath heaved, and she clenched and unclenched her fingers, then whirled again with a grunt, and did that thing with her hair. I watched her do a few more laps across the kitchen, and then she stopped, and again her energy drained from her, and I realized she been on the same emotional roller coaster that I'd been on all day, only worse. I had felt anger and betrayal on top of my love for her; she had shame and her own desires on top of them. Again, I found myself wanting to protect her, to shield her from the hurt and sorrow, but I had nothing to say, I had no words to answer her statements. Finally she collapsed back into her chair, her elbows on the table, slumped forward. "I let those two guys fuck me, Carl," she continued softly, the edge gone from her frantic ravings. "I let them fuck my mouth and my pussy, and my ass," she announced again, as if for emphasis. "I let them cum in me, like a slut, strange men cumming in my ass and cunt. I was feeling sexy, and dirty and nasty , and I came, Carl, I came hard, and a lot, and the orgasms were strong and hard, and oh, God, I wanted more. I wanted more cock. More cum." Her head dropped to the table, resting on her forearms, and I waited, but she didn't come back up. Was she finished, I wondered? This thing didn't feel resolved, not by any means. Frankly, I wasn't sure that her confession hadn't made it worse for me. All day I had been thinking that this was about ME, about how I felt watching her with those guys, watching her being a slut, feeling guilty and ashamed and angry and stupid, and now I'm sitting here listening to her confess how great it was, how much she loved it, and telling ME that SHE'S the one who's frightened! "I – I'm sure we can get past this, Jess," I started, and her head sprang up like it was on a trigger. "You don't get it," she said, her eyes opened wide in astonishment. "Don't you understand? I don't WANT to get past it! I liked it, Carl. Too much. I wanted it; wanted it so bad; it was so good I STILL want it!" Her words hit me like a blow, and I felt myself recoil. "I could barely concentrate today, cleaning the house. It was all I could think about. Only instead of being terrified of what I did, I was ecstatic!" Her eyes narrowed, focused on me. Her words came out terse and firm. "What scares me is my desire to do it again." I sat there, stunned by her announcement. "I don't know what to say to that," I confessed. "Believe me, I know how you feel," she agreed. "It took me most of the morning just to admit it to myself." She stopped then, and considered me. "I told you that I thought you wanted it. I didn't realize until after it was over that you were upset. You were pretty standoffish this morning, and, like I said, I wasn't sure you were going to come home tonight," she said quietly. "I knew we needed to talk this out, and I'm glad you expressed your anger and your fear. I hope you believe me when I say that my love for you hasn't changed. It hasn't, not one bit. I hope you believe that, and I hope that nothing I said has scared you too badly." "I- uh, I'm okay, so far." I swallowed hard. "I know you still love me," I added, "and I want you to know that I still love you." I heaved a sigh. "It's hard to take, though." "Yeah, I know," she said, and she lowered her head to the table, resting on her forearms. I watched her shoulders rise and fall through several deep breaths. From beneath her hair I heard her voice. "It took a lot for me to admit to myself that I enjoyed it, and it took a lot more to admit it to you. But I have to ask you something now, and I want you to be honest with me." She lifted her head, but remained hunched forward. "Please don't answer right away. I know you're feeling insecure and hurt, and I understand, but I want you to think about your answer, okay?" "Yeah, all right," I assured her. "Last night," she began, looking at me with narrowed eyes, "you were pretty drunk, and you did some stuff you've never done before. I told you before, I went along, and then I started enjoying it. And then things got ... crazy ... and I kept going, thinking you wanted it, and I wanted it. When it was over we went to bed, and we didn't talk, but I sensed you were angry." She sat up then, her back against the back of the chair. "This morning you were a little cold to me, and I was afraid I had lost you, that you were disgusted with me. You say you still love me, that you were afraid I didn't love you, and that I had cheated on you. I hope you don't think that anymore." She was rambling now, the words just spilling out of her. I wondered what her point was, and when she would get to it. I didn't have to wait much longer. She heaved a sigh and blew it out, sounding frustrated with her hesitation. "Okay, here it is. I told you I enjoyed it, that it was hot. And you were into it at first. So I have to know. Was it hot for you, too?" She paused, and looked at me, and waited. And there it was; the question I had managed to avoid through all my paranoid hysteria, my injured ego and my insecurity and fear of abandonment and betrayal. She had given voice to the one thing I had dodged and denied. He words hung in the air, filling the room with silence as my imagined conversations ran through my head again at lightning speed, trying one last time to pretend she hadn't asked, and that I could delay, and not answer. "It's okay; don't answer right away, I know it's a difficult thing to admit. BELIEVE ME, I know! But it's funny, you know? You were drunk and feeling me up, and having a grand time, and pulling up my shirt and showing my tits to those guys. And you didn't stop it when it went, uh-m, off the deep end." Her eyes narrowed again, and she angled her head a little to the side, the way she does when she's thinking. "And I watched you, I checked on you while I was with those guys, and you didn't look pissed off then, but you were pissed this morning, and you were wound up pretty tight when you came home. But you seem better now, and I know that I FEEL better having told you that I enjoyed it." She sat forward, and leaned her elbows on the table. "So now you tell me, honestly. Was it hot? Did you enjoy watching me? Be honest. I need you to be honest." I knew the answer; I guess I had known the whole time, but it was hard to admit. I had convinced myself that she had betrayed me, cheated on me, didn't love me, NEVER loved me; all the hurt I had imagined and created in order to protect myself from the truth. "Kinda," I said softly, "I guess." "Only 'kinda'? 'Cause like I said, I was checking you, and it looked like you were pretty into it." She grinned a little. "You were sporting some pretty significant wood, there, sweetie." Her grin broadened to a full smile. That smile did me in. "Well, I was pretty drunk, like I said, so I don't remember it all," I confessed, "but yeah, it WAS pretty exciting watching you." I lowered my head and shook it back and forth. "I didn't really think about it until late, and that's when I started worrying and getting angry. I think that, maybe, like you, it scared me a little." I picked up my head to meet her eyes. She was staring intently now, no smile, just a deep, intense gaze that drilled through me. I grinned uncomfortably. "But yeah, it was hot." I saw her smile flicker. "You were an animal!" I blurted. And now her smile was back, full and beaming. "Oh, God, that's a fucking relief!" She stood then, and came back to my chair, kneeling again in front of me, and taking my hands in hers, so soft, so warm and gentle. She looked up into my face with a contented gaze, her lips slightly parted and wet. "It feels good to say it, to admit it, doesn't it?" She was nodding her head for me. "This afternoon, when I finally admitted it to myself, I felt such a relief, like I was carrying around a giant rock, and could finally put it down." She grinned. "I wanted to open the window and shout it to the neighborhood!" "It's hard for me to understand..." "Don't I know it," she chirped, and stood, and swung a leg over my lap, straddling my waist, hanging her hands on my shoulders, her forearms resting on my chest. "When I got past the fear and the shame and the shock, I was still so confused, I mean, how could I have liked that?" She leaned in and pecked me lightly on the lips. "My pussy was sore, my mouth hurt, and my ass is still killing me; hell, this morning I was crying on the toilet, trying to go to the bathroom. That guy really gave it to me." She blew out a breath. "But I admitted it; I've embraced it. I liked it." She paused, then, and her eyes narrowed. "And you liked it, too." She kissed me again. "And I want more." I stared at her, blinking in surprise. "What?" "More. I want more; I want it again, like last night." She dropped he forehead to mine, and I could feel her breath as she spoke. "Tell me how hot it was, tell me how you liked seeing me on my hands and knees, with cocks fucking my face and cunt. Say it," she hissed. "Say you liked hearing me scream as I came, tell me how hard you got when that cock went in my ass, tell me you loved it when my pussy and ass were filled with hot cum, baby." "You were so fucking hot," I heard myself answer. "My dick was so hard for you." "M-mm," she said, squirming her hips in my lap, "Like it is now?" And yes, I was hard, solid as steel under her grinding hips. "Yeah, rub that slutty pussy on my dick, baby, you were so hot, you slut. You loved those cocks, you nasty whore." "I'm your whore, baby," she whispered, and leaned in and kissed me, not a sweet peck this time but a full, open mouth, loving kiss, her soft lips pressing on mine as she pulled her head to me. I felt her grinding her pussy on my shaft, and her breasts pressed against my chest. My arms wrapped around her and grabbed her ass, pulling me tighter against her. "You were so fucking hot, I loved seeing you like that," I managed when she pulled back from the kiss. She leaned back, hands around the back of my neck, arms fully extended. "Good," she said, her eyes half lidded as she slowly moved her hips back and forth, "because you're going to see it again. I want more, Carl. Lots more. I want two guys, three guys; I want to get gang banged and serial fucked. I want cum in my face. I want all my holes filled, baby; I have tasted debauchery, and I have not had my fill." I reached down to my pants and opened them, squeezing my hands between our bodies to pull my zipper down. She stood and whipped her pants down her legs faster than I thought was possible, and as I pushed my pants and underwear down my legs she was back on me, and slipped me inside her wet hole, sliding right down to my thighs in one stroke, taking me fully into her pussy. She grunted as I filled her, then began sliding up and down on my shaft as she talked. "I want you there, watching me be a slut, watching your wife lose her control, surrendering to lust, taking her pleasure. I want to see your face as suck hot cum from some guy's cock, I want you to hear me cum, screaming, begging for more cock." I was thrusting up into her, meeting her hips, driving my cock up hard into her cunt, squeezing her butt cheeks firmly. "Yeah, you nasty slut, I'll watch you get your holes fucked, and when you cum I'll shoot my cum on your face like the slut you are! I'll make you eat the cum from your ass and cunt while you beg for more cock!" I felt my pent up climax rising, feeling my balls tighten and clench even as she opened her eyes wide, her mouth panting and gasping, and then she froze, and came on my cock, screaming as her orgasm took her. "Fuck me! Fuck! I'm coming on your cock, fuck me hard! Cum in me, I want your cum!" And then I exploded as my load blasted into her, filling her wet, used hole with my cream. I gave her short, vicious thrusts as my first big blasts launched into her and then held her still, grinding her hips on my dick as my balls emptied the rest of their load. She collapsed onto me, her face buried in my shoulder, panting and moaning as she rode her climax to the end, my dick slippery and wet inside her. She picked her head up, then lifted her hips off me, releasing my cock, looking down at her pussy as several large globs of cum dripped out, landing on my softening cock, still throbbing as it lay on my stomach. "Oh, fuck," she muttered, and then slipped off my lap, moving backwards and taking my cock into her mouth, sucking my cum from my cock and balls, smearing her face in it, making yummy and slurping noises as she sucked and licked me clean. When she was done, she stood, and pulled me to my feet, and we hugged and kissed. Finally she pulled away, and we chuckled as we gathered our discarded clothing. "So," she said, "how soon can we arrange to have a couple of guys come over?" The Day After Joanne wiped the betraying tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. She had fought hard to keep her emotions hidden from the other typists. From her desk in the back, she had to endure the other women fawning over their gifts as they were delivered one by one. As the clock neared the end of her shift, Joanne's desk still sat undecorated with anything to celebrate Valentine's Day. "It's a stupid holiday anyway," she mumbled under her breath. "Too commercialized for me and Darren." "Maybe he's got a bit surprise planned for you after work, Jo." Joanne turned and saw that her best friend and coworker, Laura, stood behind next to Joanne's desk. She felt the tears sting her eyes. Shaking her head, she replied softly, "No, more than likely he's forgotten. I mean, we've been together for nearly two decades. You'd think I'd learn by now." Laura smiled but couldn't chase away the sadness her friend was feeling deep inside. "You don't want to be like the others anyway. They've had guy after guy and only complain that they can't find someone who'd be there when they're not dressed to the nines. Darren loves you, Jo. He'd walk through fire for you." Sighing heavily, Joanne glanced at her watch. Shift was finally over bringing an end to the torture of high pitched giggles and fake fawning over flowers and candy. Joanne stood from her desk, scooped up her purse, and pulled her coat from the back of the chair. As she slipped into it, Joanne forced herself to smile. "You're right, Laura. I'm going to not let this day get to me until I see what he's got planned at home." "That's my girl," replied Laura. She gave Joanne a quick hug. "It'll be fine." Joanne simply nodded and made her way out of the building. She quickened her pace as she walked through the parking garage. Maybe Darren really did have something planned for her at home. The drive home sped by as her mind raced from thought to thought. Her excitement grew making her anxious as she slipped her key into the front door. The smile on her lips died as she opened the door and saw Darren asleep on the couch. Slamming the front door, Joanne marched over to the couch and tossed her purse onto Darren's stomach. As he bolted awake, she laid into him. "How could you forget? How could you make me the laughingstock of the typists?" "Huh? What?" he asked as he pushed the purse off of him and onto the floor. "What are you talking about, Jo?" "Valentine's Day, you idiot! The day I was sure you wouldn't forget as it's been advertised since Christmas!" Joanne felt the tears again but this time she didn't stop them. They flowed freely down her cheeks. Darren sat stunned on the couch. His surprise at her tears was the least of what he was feeling. Shame at having forgotten her ate at his heart. He could only imagine how she got through the day. He felt like a bum for not sending something at the very least. Darren rose from the couch and started to take his wife into his arms when she backed away. "No, don't touch me. I'm sleeping in the guest room until you can explain to me why you think about things. It's been years since you've done anything for me that was romantic. Even when I send you little emails or write notes and leave them in your lunchbox, you don't do the same. Hell, even a single flower now and then would mean something." "Jo, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I swear." She grabbed her purse and started toward the stairs. Turning back to face him one more time, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "We'll see." The next morning, Joanne pushed the covers from her and sat straight in the guest bed. Though she had slept like a rock, she felt horrible about the way she had yelled at Darren but wasn't ready to forgive him just yet. As she sighed, she stood and stretched her arms over her head. Still wearing her old, ratty long t-shirt as a nightgown, Joanne opened the bedroom door. When she stepped over the threshold, she felt something weird underfoot. Looking down, she gasped in surprise. The hallway was littered with flower petals. She could make out rose petals but they weren't the only ones. Scattered among the roses, she could see petals from tulips, carnations and lilies -- her favorite flowers. Joanne tenderly stepped along the hallway until she reached the bathroom. She half expected the room to be decked out when she opened the door. Instead the bathroom looked as it always did with one exception. A note had been taped to the mirror with her name on it. After she did her morning routine, Joanne gingerly took the note from the mirror and opened it. Inside were instructions to dress in jeans and a sweatshirt and then go out to the backyard. It was signed with a small heart and the letter 'D'. Her interest piqued, Joanne dropped the note into the sink and headed to the bedroom to change. She could feel the excitement and anticipation growing inside her. While she slipped the sweatshirt over her head, doubt stilled her hands. How could she be so sure that he had something planned? Maybe he just needed help in the yard. Joanne sat on the bed, heavy with mixed emotions. For 18 years, she had tried time and again to get Darren to open up to her, be romantic in the small ways. She didn't need big fanfare but every now and then, she wanted to be swept off her feet. After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Joanne finished dressing before walking downstairs. She didn't stop moving until she reached the backdoor. Looking into the large backyard, Joanne noticed a canopy tent had been put together near the tarp covered pool. Of course, it was cold during February but thankfully no snow covered the ground. Joanne opened the door, slipped outside and closed the door behind her. She walked over to the tent pulling aside one of the flaps. "Oh my," she said with a stunned look upon her face. "Oh, Darren." Within the tent, the floor had been covered with more petals. In the center a king-sized air mattress had been made up with several blankets and pillows. To her left, Joanne spied several small tables filled with fruits, chocolates and several bottles of wine. Looking to the right, she saw Darren standing with a towel laid over one arm holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. When he took a step toward her, she realized he was wearing a pair of black shorts and not much else. "What is all this?" she asked. Her mind raced to memorize every detail. "Will madam please come inside? It is a bit cold out there," said Darren as he neared her. He waited for her to step further into the tent before he sat the bottle and glasses on a nearby table. Darren quickly closed the flap and secured it tightly. Joanne started to speak as Darren raised a hand. He smiled as her frustration showed within her eyes. Instead of answering, he led her to the mattress and helped her to sit. "Now, let me speak without interruption," Darren began as he lowered himself to his knees before her. "I am not the most romantic man out there. I know I'm also a prick most days than not." "I wouldn't..." Darren put a finger on her lips. The tingle of electricity from his touch sent shivers down her spine that she couldn't hide. He withdrew his finger, smiled and continued. "Yesterday was painful day for you. For that, I can never be sorry enough. Knowing that I caused you to hurt and feel humiliated, it cuts me deeper than I can explain. All my life I've been the one most thought wouldn't amount to anything. You were the only one to believe in me." Joanne couldn't stop him as Darren moved closer to her. She felt him untying the laces of her tennis shoes, slipping them off of her feet and moved onto taking off her socks. The chilly air swirled around her bare feet bringing a small shiver to her. "I know you expected something yesterday with it being Valentine's Day and all. But I couldn't give into the buying frenzy. If I can't show you how much you mean to me during the entire year, I shouldn't do it on the same day as everyone else in the world. You mean so much more to me than that." Joanne's heart quickened as he spoke. She barely realized that his hands had never left her right foot and was slowly massaging her foot moving toward her ankle. His touch never failed to make her want him. Combined with his heartfelt speech, she knew she'd be lost within moments. "I'm an idiot. I'm a thousand different names you could ever think to call me. But I'm also sorry, so very sorry that I have hurt you. I will spend this day making it up to you." She started to tell him that he shouldn't be so hard on himself when she felt his lips upon the top of her foot. Darren kissed his way to the hem of her jeans on the right foot before moving over to the left and doing the same thing. Joanne couldn't help but feel turned on at the image of her husband on his knees before her. His hands began to message her legs through her jeans reaching the knee and then working their way back down again. Darren repeated process trailing his hands with kisses. Joanne couldn't stop her fingers from slipping into his dark brown curls. As he kissed up her inner thighs, she gasped and gripped his hair tightly. Darren stopped kissing her as he let his hands wander further up. Joanne didn't fight him as he undid the buttons on her jeans. It wasn't until he began to tug the jeans off of her that she felt the stab of uncertainty. She tried to grab the jeans but he had already tossed them from the bed. "Darren, we're outside! It's winter and the neighbors could be outside!" she said as her voice quivered. He had begun his trail of kisses from her right ankle again. When he had reached the top of her inner thigh, he trailed the edge of her underwear with his tongue. "No one's going to be out here on Saturday morning when there are a ton of sales going on. We have this tent which I have added enough blankets here to keep us warm. Just let me love you." Joanne bit her lower lip as she fought to keep from bolting back inside. She and Darren hadn't done anything like this since they were teenagers in the back of his Cutlass. Now, nearly 20 years later, she was finding it hard to fight the waves of pleasure and excitement he was causing her. The waves were battling the anxiety for her and were winning. Darren had his sly grin upon his lips as he helped Joanne out of her sweatshirt. He was happy to see that she had decided to go braless. Her nipples instantly reacted to the chilly air inside the tent and hardened into the nubs his lips desired. He leaned into her, lightly kissing one nipple before doing the same to the other. Joanne drew in a breath as his tongue flicked the nipples and his lips teased her. "I'm getting ahead of myself," he whispered before placing a kiss upon her lips. Joanne shrieked with delight as he pulled her legs forward causing her to fall back onto the air mattress. Amid all the pillows and thick covers, she found herself giggling like a younger woman until she felt Darren's hot breath upon her inner thighs once again. She moaned as his hand rubbed her mound. Darren slipped the fabric to one side and used his finger to trace her nether lips. She could feel herself growing wetter with each touch. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the attention that Darren was giving to her. As he slipped her panties from her, she opened her eyes and tried to sit back up. "Darren!" He surveyed his wife as she half-laid, half-sat upon the air mattress. Her hair flowed over her shoulders making her look like a pagan goddess. Darren could wait no longer. He lowered his mouth to her and began to lick her juices from her lips. Loving the taste of her, he pushed his tongue forward into her again and again. Joanne bucked her hips and moaned as he teased, sucked and licked. Her moans cheering him on, Darren slipped two fingers into her as he continued ministering to her. "Oh, Darren, please don't stop." Joanne whispered loudly as she curled her fingers into his hair. Her back arched as she slipped closer to climax. Feeling her inner walls tighten around his fingers, Darren stopped and pulled away from her body. Joanne whimpered in disappointment as she moved onto the air mattress completely. She looked at Darren and noticed how well he had enjoyed what he had been doing. She reached out to touch him only to have Darren block her hand. "Not yet," he said. Darren stood and stepped out of his shorts. He had gone commando for this purpose. For a moment, they just looked at one another. Time had changed their bodies but love erased those changes. Lying down next to Joanne on the mattress, Darren touched her face softly with his hand. "What do you want, Joanne? Name it and it's yours. Tell me what you want me to do?" She stayed quiet and looked directly into his eyes. Most nights there was little foreplay and then the deed was done. He never asked her what she wanted or took time to please her. Joanne's heart filled with renewed love as she realized he was stepping out of his comfort zone to make her feel special and wanted. She pushed him onto his back keeping her hand on his chest. "I want control," she answered him. Without waiting for Darren to answer, Joanne pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply. She slid her tongue along his lips and gently sucked his lower lip before breaking the kiss. Dropping her head to his chest, she placed kisses down his stomach with an occasional nip along the way until she reached his cock. Joanne shifted on the mattress until she was in a comfortable position and gripped his cock with one hand. She felt him stiffen at her touch. Not waiting another second, Joanne took his hard cock into her mouth as far as she could without gagging. She began to move her head up and down slowly. Darren fought to keep his hands away from her head. He was trying to give her what she had asked for. She continued to move up and down slowly, twirling her tongue around the head while stroking the shaft of his hard cock with one hand. The taste of him drove her momentum. She continued to stroke him as she moved her mouth from his cock down to his balls. Darren's gasp as she suckled them filled her with happiness. Wanting more of him, Joanne took his cock into her mouth one more time before she straddled Darren. She positioned herself over his cock and guided the head to the opening of her pussy. Darren's eyes locked onto Joanne's as she lowered herself onto him. He groaned as he filled her. She stopped short of taking in all of him. Her hair falling forward, Joanne began slowly riding his cock. As she moved, she took all of him into her. Darren's hips found her rhythm and thrust into her as she rode him. Joanne moaned softly at first. With him filling her again and again, her moans grew louder. Darren reached up rubbing her hardened nipples with thumbs. As they moved together in time, Darren began rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefingers. Joanne gasped at the sharpness as he pinched them harder. Soon the pain gave way to pleasure. She began forcing herself onto his cock harder, faster. She rocked her hips feeling his cock completely within her. Wave upon wave of pleasure coursed through her pushing her toward climax. Unable to stop herself, Joanne moaned loudly as she clenched her legs together. His cock still inside her, she arched her back as her climax took hold. As the wave subsided, Joanne smiled at Darren who was still massaging her breasts. "Momma, what that noise?" Joanne and Darren froze as the voice of their neighbor's five year-old traveled through the chilly air. The neighbor responded with something though they couldn't hear it. Joanne fell onto the mattress next to Darren. They both laughed quietly as they could at their predicament. "Oh, my god. I can't believe we just did that," Joanne said as she slid her hand up and down Darren's arm. "I wonder what Roger told his kid." Darren brushed the wisps of hair from Joanne's eyes. "The next party is going to be awkward." "So what. He'll just be jealous. I love you, Jo." "I love you too, Darren." "Ready for your next surprise?" "There's more?" she asked. Joanne pushed some of the pillows off of the mattress to snuggle closer to Darren. "Oh, yeah. There's more." Darren's hand slipped between her legs. He dipped his head to her breast, suckling her nipple as his fingers explored her again. Joanne clung to Darren as he brought her to climax for a second time. She lay panting on the mattress wondering what else he had planned. Pulling a small box from under one of the tables, Darren opened the lid. He took out a set of fuzzy handcuffs and twirled them on his finger. His eyes twinkled with delight. Joanne was shocked at first. Then she fell to giggles as he slipped them on her. So much for Valentine's Day. She'd take the day after it anytime.