11 comments/ 60359 views/ 0 favorites What Would You Do? By: RedTrickster It's evening... you've had a long, hard day, grabbed something on the way home and now all you can think about is crashing on your bed until morning as the stress of the day wears on you. You walk in the door to see me waiting for you. A smile lights your face briefly then fades. You won't be good company you'll be tonight, but you're glad I'm there. You take me in your arms and kiss me, feeling some of the tension of the day melt from you. I respond with soft passion, tightly held emotion that hints of what lay just beneath the surface. You want to stand there a moment longer, but I pull away and direct you to the bathroom. You follow my directions and to your surprise is a nice hot bath waiting for you scented with some fragrance you don't recognize. Not flowery and feminine... spicy somehow. You like it. After the bath you go to the bedroom where I'm waiting in a slightly see-through peach negligee. You haven't seen this one before. Although it intrigues you, you're still tired and you wonder just how well you'll be able to perform. The bath revived you somewhat, but the day still took a toll out of you. Still, there I am, waiting and looking so good to you. Maybe this is what you need after all. You go to kiss me but I turn away and guide you to the bed and make you lie down on your stomach. A massage will surely put you to sleep, you're thinking. You try to resist, but I'm insistent. Well, if you fall asleep, you can always wake up again later. So you lie down obediently and wait for the massage to begin. You feel warm oil rubbed across your back and like the sensation and wait for me to work the knots out of your muscles. Soon you realize that this is not the relaxing massage you expected. Instead of kneading your muscles into submission, my fingers are trailing lines across your back, your legs, your shoulders, your arms. Your muscles are waking up. The light touch, the warm oil, the feel of my skin on yours has just the opposite effect on you. This is a massage like no other. With your eyes closed, you're concentrating on following the path my hands take on your body. Feeling them as they lightly trail across your shoulders or smoothly glide down your buttocks to your inner thighs. Soon you're trying to anticipate where they'll go next, what I'll do next. You hardly notice what I'm doing with my mouth, my body. As I kiss the back of your neck my hands glide across your hips. I press my breasts into your shoulders and move my hips slowly against your buttocks as my fingertips tickle down your ribs. The sensations make you quiver as you wait for my next move. Suddenly I turn you over on your back. You're ready and waiting for me. So you think. You reach up for me, but I push you back. I haven't said a word yet. This is my time. My turn to please. My turn to tease. You want me, but you'll wait to see what I have in store next. You lie back and I place a cloth along your eyes. It isn't tied. You'll have to lie still if it's to remain in place. That's going to be hard. Still, you try to kiss me when you feel my face near you but all you feel are my fingers on your lips gently pushing your head back down. You can wait, you think. For a little while. I put your hands under your head and you comply with that as well. You're intrigued and want to find out what I have in mind. You feel me kiss your lips softly, gently. I lick your lips, tasting you, but when you try to respond in kind, I pull away. Oh. You have to wait. Okay. Gently I move down to your chin, kissing, licking as I go. Flicking my tongue across your chin I move to your neck, you start to stretch up, but I move your head back into place. No moving? At all? This is harder than you thought. The temptation to reach up, grab me and kiss me passionately is strong but you can still wait though you feel yourself tense as you fight the desire to respond. I move down to your collarbone and kiss and lick along the collarbone then down your chest to your nipple. There is a pause as I run one finger along your nipple. The sensation is almost a shock. You gasp as it runs through you. It's not something you expected. Then you feel me give a quick nip to your nipple. You gasp again. There was a moment of slight pain, but it was followed quickly by my tongue darting in and out on your nipple. It's almost enough to make you break your invisible bonds. Not quite, but almost. Then when I take your nipple in my mouth and play with it with my tongue, you finally do break away, grabbing my hair and moaning. I don't stop as I pull your hands away and place them back at your head. You moan again. Quickly I sit up and look at you with a smile. Whatever it is I'm doing, this is nowhere near the end. You groan in agony and expectation. Still holding your hands I kiss you on the mouth passionately, giving you a brief respite from all the tempting and teasing. Eagerly you kiss me back, taking in as much of me as you can in that space of time I give you. I pull away gently and put your hands back under your head. Again I kiss you, but lightly, with a smile. I leave the blindfold off and this time you wonder if you weren't better off with it on. I return to your nipple, but I pay little attention to it. This time I position myself over your cock so I can rub my clit on it easily. Then, sitting up, I remove the negligee. Another moan from you and, as you moan, I rock back and forth rubbing my clit on your hard cock while I run my fingertips down your ribs. Just as you're about to grab me again, I move away and move down to your cock. Oh, how you want to watch. You want to watch me take your cock in my mouth and suck it. I kiss the tip of it and flick my tongue on the head but I don't take it in right away. I take in the head and suck for a moment then I let it out and run my tongue down the shaft. It's too much. You can't sit idly by any longer. You move your hands away from your head and down to my shoulders. I run my tongue down the shaft to your balls and play with them for a moment. Then, to your surprise, I take one in my mouth and suck on it gently. You arch your back up in wonderful surprise. I let go before you can lose control and take your cock into my mouth. It doesn't matter that I can't take it all in, the sensations are enough that you don't need me to take more. As I come up from sucking you, you decide you can't take any more. You want me. Now. You turn me over and plunge into me softly, gently, deeply. I wrap my legs around your waist and whisper in your ear, "I want you." That's enough. You want me, too. Badly. But you want this to last so you start slow, letting it build, hoping to take me to the peaks I've taken you. As you listen to my moans and feel my fingers digging into your back, you realize that I'm as ready as you are. As you withdraw, my vagina muscles squeeze gently but as you plunge in, they relax. The rhythm coming faster and faster. I'm ready. I'm going to cum now. Matching my rhythm, you move with me, we're sweating and moaning. Kissing and licking. Holding each other as we build to a climax. Then, explosively, it happens. Together we orgasm and hold our bodies still, frozen in time as it happens. After, we enjoy the little explosions that follow, kissing and falling into each other's arms to wait until we're ready to go again. What Would You Do? "Gimme a little taste," he whispers. I give him an are-you-sure look. The road we are on turns and twists with the coastline; beautiful to look at, treacherous for those types of games. But he's had his hand in my jeans for the last quarter mile. At first he'd had to coax, but he knows just where to touch, and just how to press. Now I was wide open to him, responsive to every touch, deliberate in every returned caress. "Quit being mean," he sighs, as I give his cock a squeeze. I'd been toying with him, stroking, squeezing, caressing. Part of me knows that this is torture so I lean over and run my tongue along his cock from base to head in one smooth motion. "You call that a taste?" he asks me as I flash him a grin in response. I lean over and do it again. I feel him shiver beneath me, and my body tightens. I think instinctively he knows that teasing him is turning me on because he chooses that moment to ask me exactly that, "You like to tease don't you?" I flash another grin, this one lopsided because I've caught my bottom lip with my teeth, and hold my thumb and forefinger up. "A little bit?" he asks. I answer by taking him into my mouth all the way to the base and flexing my throat around him. His reaction causes another pulsing reaction deep inside of me. "Oh. My. God," he moans as his whole body tightens and he grips the steering wheel. His hips have lifted off of the seat bringing me with him, and I flex my throat again. "Evil," he hisses, "my God!" I giggle. I have nothing to say, really; I am enjoying everything that I am doing, most especially the being evil. I can't help it; I love how he reacts to me. And even though I know that on the other side of the narrow winding road there are vehicles that shine their lights into ours, and I know that they can see what we are doing, and that the guy in the van behind us is absolutely just loving the show...I don't care. But I pretend to, for appearances sake. "Are we ever going to stop somewhere, someone is going to see us?" "In a second. Don't stop," he answers pulling me back towards his lap. At that moment, I see a patrol car, and pull away protesting. "The cops," I say to him. He thinks this is funny. "Yeah, like maybe they've never gotten their dicks sucked in a car." But he isn't stupid, and quickly finds a place to pull over. The spot he's chosen is perfectly private and beautifully romantic. Behind a cluster of trees, another turn, another cluster of trees, and the ocean dancing with the rain in front of us. Because of the weather, the beach is completely deserted. A lone boat rocks a couple of hundred yards from the beach. I take him back into my mouth for a little bit, but then I get other ideas, so I let him slide slowly out and I pin him with a stare. "I want to give it a little bit of flavor," I say to him. "Baby, you can do whatever you want to do with me," he whispers. I feel more moisture wet my walls at his answer. In one motion, I sit on his lap and let him slide into me. As I moan loudly and shudder at the penetration, I hear him say how much he's missed me. I too have missed him. But the months and months that have separated us mean nothing and we find our rhythm without missing a beat. In just a few strokes, we have the car rocking harder than that boat being battered by the waves. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he pulls me down to him for a kiss. As we kiss, I let my body glide up and down his, I feel my muscles pulse around him, I ride him and I work him simultaneously. He moans and sighs and I know I am pleasing him. He pushes roughly into me and I cry out startling myself when I hear my voice echo sharply in my ears. My eyes fly open, and I stop mid-motion. "Can I make noise?" "Hell yeah. You can make all the noise you want. I love when you scream. It's so fucking hot." "Really?" I ask. I've never been able to do this with anyone else, this talking while we do it. Full on conversations about just about anything. And there are no fumbles, no missteps; it just is what it is. "You never told me that," I say, surprised that after so many years it was the first I knew of this. "Yeah, I love it. Just like this, the way you feel inside, I love it." "Too bad you never loved me," I say softly, unsure whether or not I want to be heard. Unsure of why I am even saying it. We were always star crossed and we have always known that. But knowing that we cannot be together doesn't mean that we can't wish it were different. It is what makes these visits golden. They come along when he can't stay away from me anymore, when he can't fight the urge to see me, and hold me, and touch me and taste me. When he can no longer fight himself, I get to hold him inside of me. But he fights me, and I fight him, and we do it so no one has to get hurt but us. It's mean of me to bring it up, and I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. The words find their way out on their own. I am tired of fighting. I see the reflection of what I feel for him shining from his eyes when he looks at me. "Who says I never loved you?" he asks me. "Did you?" I have to hear the words. We have danced around this question so many times. He never comes out and says the actual words. It maddens me. When he doesn't answer, I clench my vaginal muscles around him, and his cries echo my moans. "Yes," he moans in my ear, "yes I love you." Grabbing my hair again, he pulls me in. I let my tongue trace the outside of his lip, before allowing him to kiss me fully. He lets his hands fall down my side and wraps his arms around me. He hugs me tight and I fall into him, my face buried in his neck, as I whisper the words back to him, "I love you too." The orgasm sneaks up on me, slamming into me with a force so strong that I wail as my body is thrown backwards and my legs tighten around him. My fingers find their way to my clitoris and I rub myself with my body bowed back in front of him. I say something nasty about coming on him and then sucking it off and it makes him slam into my body and spank my ass. Another orgasm grips me. The heat in the car has reached a boiling point and the wet slapping sounds of flesh on flesh are harmonizing beautifully with the whispered words and the strangled moans. We are home and neither tries to deny it. "Suck it," I say, as I push a breast to his mouth. He actually says "oh God thank you," before latching onto my nipple. He sucks, nibbles, and bites me, and I rock harder on him. I let him slide almost completely out, before slamming back down onto his lap. His fingertips bite into my hips. The rough mixed with the sensual, the tenderness of the words mixed with the raw chemistry, did what it always does to us. It reduces us to animal. It brings everything into focus and nothing else matters but the moment. "Yeah that's it baby, give it to me," he begs. This is really not a problem since I'm dying to give him all of me. "I don't wanna wet," I answer. And I don't, want to wet him, that is. He's hitting my g-spot and if he keeps it up, I will squirt on him. It feels great but cleaning up can be inconvenient if you're not ready for it and neither of us planned for this impromptu adventure. "Get up," he says. Ever the obedient closet submissive, I jump to obey his command. "Turn around," he says turning me before I can comply. "I want your ass." Something strictly for him. He is the only man that I have done this with whom I haven't been in a deeply committed long term relationship. Whatever lies between us cannot be described as deeply committed. Long term yes, deeply committed, no. I've always felt anal sex is intimate, personal, something you share only if there is trust. He knows well how I feel about it. He knows I only give this to him. I only protested that first time; now I give it freely...he does it so well. I feel him behind me, his hands caressing my ass. I melt against the seat, his shirt pressed beneath my skin where it lay discarded. His scent has become a part of the fabric and I breathe him in. Suddenly, his tongue is pressed against my ass and a bolt of pleasure travels up my nerve endings at a thousand miles per second, leaving a trail of blazing fire. Time is suspended. Completely. I don't know if I cried out, if I pushed into him; I don't know what I did. All I remember is pleasure. Then I feel him. He begins to push into me, and I flinch. It has been ever so long, and I am no longer used to him. "Easy," I say, "no one has been there since the last time you were, and we both know how long that has been." He lifts my hair off my neck and kisses me there, traveling down to my shoulder, before coming back to my mouth. His hands travel down my arms and nestle in mine. He pushes again, this time gently. Kissing my ear, he whispers to me, "Let me know if I hurt you." I nod and turn my mouth up to meet his. Inch by inch he fills me. Reaching the hilt, he rests against me, allowing my body to open to him. In slow motion, he moves. The friction is delicious. We begin to rock together, and I cry out sharply. "Am I hurting you?" "It's good pain," I answer. "Good pain," he repeats. It's kind of a question and kind of an affirmation. I know he understands because he holds me closer, tighter, and speeds his thrusting a little. I match him stroke for stroke, lost on a cloud, moaning and shuddering in ecstasy. He pulls out of me and I protest. "One second, I'm uncomfortable. And this feels too damn good to be uncomfortable." He adjusts his legs, and pushes back into me. I reach back and pull my ass apart for him. I've missed him so much. I reach down and grab his hard thigh, pulling him into me. I rock back against him. I can feel another orgasm building. I rock harder, and swirl my fingers in little circles above my clitoris. "Are you fingering yourself?" he asks. I can only nod. "I fucking love when you do that. It is so sexy." Something else I didn't know. But I can no longer hold a conversation. The sounds coming out of me are guttural; an animal making mewling noises. I can hear him moaning behind me. I know he is holding himself back, making it last for me. I don't want it to end, but I want him to feel the pleasure I am feeling. "Come. I want to feel you come inside of me." A few moments later he complies. His orgasm sends me over the edge and I scream. I don't feel the scream coming, I don't send it out on purpose, he rips it from me. I shiver in his arms as we fall forward in a heap. I feel him start to withdraw. "No," I say, holding his hips with my palms and squeezing him in with my body. I begin to sway, and twirl my hips in little circles. After a few twirls he cries out again and my voice becomes his twin, a duet. "You made me come again," he says after catching his breath. His voice sounds strangled. "I did?" I am truly surprised. "Yeah," he answers, kissing my back, my shoulders, my neck. As we take a moment to catch our breath, he apologizes. Why? For not taking more time with me, for this being a "quickie". I had almost forgotten that what is an average encounter for most men is just a quickie for him. Like him, I would have loved to spend more time to languish in our lasciviousness. Like him, I know how to play the game. But he gives the word marathon a whole new meaning and there is just not enough time. Today we don't have time to enjoy the afterglow for more than those first few moments. An unfortunate reality of our situation, it happens. Not all the time, just often enough to hurt at times. But I have always understood the rules of engagement; they are what have allowed us to be "together" for so long. We know he has to get back to the real world, where we get to pretend that we mean nothing to each other. We are not supposed to be together. Too many people would get hurt as a result. But for us, it is like this every time we touch. So my question to you is: would you stop? If you had this magic with someone, even if that someone was supposed to be strictly off limits, would you stop? As I sit here and write this, my body aches deliciously. Pleasure has ridden me hard. Small movements bring about pain in the most delightfully unexpected places. They serve as reminders of what we've done. As if I really needed any. As I sit here and write this, I am not ashamed to say that it's like a drug. For both of us. I can't stop this. And you know what? I really don't want to. Not anymore. What Would You Do? © 2011 Paul B. Garland (Belgarion10) I thought I was on to a good thing. My neighbour Melanie was a stunner and a complete slut in bed. A petite brunette with small but perky tits and bright blue come-to-bed eyes, I wanted her the first minute I saw her. The problem was that she was married, and to this huge builder type guy who looked like he'd kill anyone who ever want near her. But I had to get to know her, and over the next few weeks I made it my mission to bump in to her and introduce myself, and slowly get to know her. We became acquaintances, then got chatting online and became friends and finally I managed to get an invite to her house while her husband was out. I learned she'd kept me from her husband, and I confessed to her that I was married too - that led to a conversation about how we were attracted to each other and in no time at all, we were fucking. I would sneak out from my wife every few days, while her other half was working and we'd have regular no-strings-attached sex whenever we could. It was perfect, until it all went wrong. Melanie and I were at it in her house. We usually went up to the bedroom or went for a drive and fucked in the car, but this day I couldn't wait and had ripped her knickers off and screwed her right there on the hallway floor. Big mistake. Another neighbour, Ray knocked on the door and before we could stop and cover ourselves, he poked his head through the door which I had accidentally left unlocked. Melanie screamed as we dashed to try and cover ourselves, but it was too late. Ray stepped into the hallway, and closed the door behind him. I only knew him in passing but he was a good friend of Melanie and her husband, Steven, and my heart thudded as he folded his arms and faced us, waiting for us to finish dressing before speaking. "Well, what do we have here?" he asked, with the very slightest of smirks ruining his otherwise disapproving expression. "What does it look like?" Mel said, smoothing the front of her dress, "Don't play games Ray. Please don't say anything to Steven, it was just a one-off thing." "Yeah, right," he turned and stared at me, "I've seen you coming and going into Mel's house for a couple of months. This is why, huh?" Ray lived right over the street, a big guy with dark skin and thinning hair. I don't know what he did for a living, but he was single and had a sports car so I figured out he wasn't short of cash. The reason he lived on his own though was simply that he was ugly. He was a balding man in his fifties, had a weak chin, tiny piggy eyes and a huge nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. Right now I felt like breaking it again but as old as Ray was he towered over me and I had a feeling he wouldn't be a pushover in a fight, so I resisted the impulse to smash his teeth in. "Yeah. What's up?" I cocked an eyebrow. "Jealous?" "Hell, yeah, I'm jealous," he said, cool as a cucumber, "Who wouldn't be? Mel's a fine piece of ass." "Don't be a jerk," Mel muttered, shaking her head. "What's it worth?" Ray mused, "If I told Steven or your wife, what she called again?" "Heather," I said, through gritted teeth. "That's the one," he grinned, "Can't say I've seen her much, but I reckon they'd both be pretty pissed off if they found out about this." "Fuck off," I told him, "You wouldn't do that." "Wouldn't I?" Ray said, and turned to leave. "Wait," Mel called after him, making him stop in the doorway, "Stop fooling around, Ray. What do you want?" "To keep my mouth shut?" Ray laughed, pushing the door closed behind him. "Tell you what, girl. Why don't you shut old Ray's mouth by opening yours?" "What?" I said, aghast. Mel didn't say anything. She just stared at him appraisingly. "A blow job. And you promise to not say anything to Steven or Heather?" "Scouts honour," Ray said immediately, unbuckling his belt. "Mel, you can't do this!" I exclaimed, "What are you doing?" Ray's cock flopped out of his jeans, longish and thick. Mel took it in one hand. "What choice do we have?" she said. I tried to interrupt her, but she waved me away with the other hand. "It's just a blow job," she shrugged and took his cock in her mouth, but I could tell from the look on her face that she was far from comfortable. I couldn't stand here and watch. I felt like I should stay, to make sure the devious bastard didn't try anything further with Mel, but I was all too aware of the anger building inside me. I yanked the door open and strode away, but Ray's voice followed me out. "That's it, buddy," he taunted, almost making me turn around, but I didn't rise to it, "Go home and look after your wife, like a good boy." - - - I called Mel that evening, when the sense of anger and humiliation had faded, to check if she was okay and she said she was. Ray had demanded he cum in her mouth, then he'd warned her not to let him see her cheating again or he would have no choice but to tell her husband. He'd cleaned himself up and left. "Do you really think he'll keep his mouth shut?" I asked her, looking around to make sure that my wife or kids wasn't about. "He gave his word," she said, "Besides, if he does ever come around threatening again, I suppose a hand job or blow job will keep him quiet." "You can't let him blackmail you!" "I've got no choice, have I?" she hissed down the phone at me, "If you had locked the door behind you, or even took me upstairs, this wouldn't have happened. It's your fault for doing it right there, on the stairs! What came over you?" She was blaming me. I swallowed deeply before speaking further. "So, what about us?" "You heard what he said," Mel sounded sad, but spoke matter-of-factly. "We're going to have to cool it for the foreseeable future, aren't we?" "Oh," was all I could say, though I knew she was speaking the truth. "Do you want to risk everything? Your family? Mine?" Mel said honestly, "Just for a fuck? I don't. We might be able to start up again sometime, after it's all cooled down." And that was it for me and Mel. We agreed to stay friends, and keep in touch, especially with any news on Ray, but when the phone went down with a click, I knew that was the end. I just hoped she would be okay. But it wouldn't be the end for me and Ray. I was determined about that. - - - A couple of days passed without incident, but then one evening I came home from work to see Heather talking to Ray just down the street from where we lived. I parked the car on the drive and went to see what was going on, but he had gone. It turned out Heather had just been to the shop, but I asked her who she'd been chatting to. "Just a guy who lives across the road. Ray, he's called, I think you know him?" "Oh, him," I said, trying to act cool, "Yes, I know him. Strange guy." "Strange?" Heather said as we entered the house, "He seems nice to me. He lives on his own, and is just trying to be friendly, I think." "What was he saying?" I asked, as casually as I could manage. "Just passing the time of day," Heather said, smiling at me, "You're not jealous are you?" When my wife smiled, she was beautiful, and I suddenly felt terribly guilty about cheating on her. Heather had long, curly red hair, twinkling green eyes and such a pretty smile. She wasn't as slim as she had been when we first met, but she wasn't overweight either. She had curves, a lovely turn of hip and a pair of large D-cup breasts that caught many a man's eye whenever we went out. "No, I'm not jealous," I smiled back, "Just curious." "Right," she said with a teasing smirk, "If you say so." I stayed cool for the rest of the night, but I was furious with Ray. What the hell was he playing at? - - - So, the next day, I stormed round to Ray's house on a bit of a mission. He opened the door, took one look at me and laughed. "I guess you want to talk?" "You'd better fucking believe it," I said, pushing past him into the house. He stepped out of my way and closed the door behind me. "Sit down," he indicated towards the kitchen, "I'll get you a drink." "What the fuck are you playing at?" I asked him, "I saw you talking to Heather." "I just said hello," he said, tossing me a beer, "She's a hot woman, your wife. You're a lucky man." "I know I am," I didn't need to be told that, "Listen Ray, we did a deal - Mel sucked your cock. I don't need any silly games." "No," he corrected me, "I did a deal with Mel not to tell her husband, but not with you." "Me and Mel are finished," I pointed out, "It's over. I just want to get back on with my life without any interference from you." Ray sat there for a moment thinking and drinking his beer, before speaking purposefully. "Listen buddy. You come storming into my house, making demands, when it's you who's been fucking around behind his wife's back. Not only that, but you're messing with another man's wife too. Who do you think you are?" "Why can't you mind your own business?" I countered, but he shook his head. "I'll tell you how it is," he leaned over the table at me, "I'm going to tell your wife everything. Because I don't like you, and she deserves better." "She won't believe you." "You've got nothing to worry about then," Ray necked the rest of the beer and stood up, "Now get out of my house." "Why are you doing this?" I said, standing up. I hadn't touched the beer he'd given me. "Because I can," he shrugged, "I'll offer you a deal. Take it or leave it. Either you somehow get your wife to suck my cock, like Mel did, or I tell her." "What?" I exploded, incredulously, "How am I supposed to do that?" "That's your problem. Now fuck off out of my house before I call the police." Again, the desire to just kick the shit out of this guy was becoming almost too much to resist, so I walked out and yet again he called out to me as I walked away. "One week. You've got one week to talk your wife in to sucking my cock." - - - The next couple of days were horrible. All I could do was think of my predicament. I called Mel and we chatted about whether he would really do it or not. Would he really tell Heather about Mel? I could deny all knowledge to Heather, but she could read me like a book and I was sure she would know I was lying. Was he lying? Should I call his bluff? Mel's problem with that was that she would be drawn into it - even if I managed to convince Heather that it was a lie, she would no doubt want to speak to Mel and that would then raise issues with Steven. It was all just a hell of a mess. There was no way on Earth I could get Heather to suck Ray's cock. It was impossible. My wife a straight-up, honest and clean living woman. She had only been with one boyfriend before me. She wasn't some easy slut like Mel who would suck a guy's dick at the drop of a hat. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it became that there was only one way out. I had been bad, evil, despicable. I made a huge mistake and I had to sort this out myself. It was time to take control of the situation, and wrestle the initiative away from Ray. So I decided to confess. - - - "Heather?" I said that night, when she came home from work, "We need to talk." "Okay baby," she said, dumping her bag on the kitchen table, "Can it wait? I'm tired and really need a shower." I decided it would go better if she was relaxed, so I waited for her to wash and come downstairs. She was sitting on the sofa next to me, in just her bathrobe, and I took her hand in mine. "I need to confess something," I said quietly, "You're going hate me." She could tell straight away that something was up. "I've had an affair," I said simply, and Heather burst into tears. I told her everything while she just sat there, eyes trained on the floor, even when I told her how Ray had tried to blackmail me, demanding that she suck his cock to keep quiet. Heather didn't say anything for quite some time. "Heather?" I prompted, "Are you all right?" "You've just confessed to cheating on me, and you ask if I'm all right?" she screamed at me, breaking the quiet of the room. "Stupid thing to say," I said, holding my hands up, "I'm sorry." "Would you have stopped seeing Mel anyway?" Heather asked. "If it wasn't for Ray, you'd probably still be fucking her, wouldn't you? Why? Am I no good in bed any more? Don't I satisfy you?" "I don't know what I was thinking," I sighed, "I've been such an idiot. Thinking with my cock. I'm so sorry. You're wonderful in bed, I promise you, you're more than enough, I was just being stupid." "I get so many men checking me out," my wife glared at me, "Nice men too. I've had so many opportunities in the past to play around, but I never would. Because I love you. Because I have morals!" "I know I've fucked up," I muttered, "I just don't know what to do, so I'm trying to do the right thing now. I want to try and make all this up to you. I want to fix it. I promise I'll never cheat again." "And you think that's okay?" she stormed at me, "Your apologies and your promises aren't worth anything." I didn't know what to say. I hadn't expected this to be easy, but I was finding it so difficult and upsetting. I had been such a fool. "I'm going to see this Mel," Heather hissed, "She's going to get it with both barrels from me." "I know," I said reluctantly, "But please don't ruin her marriage too. Don't tell her husband?" "Why shouldn't I? Why should my marriage get screwed up, and hers gets away with it? Her husband deserves to know!" "You're a better person than that," I tried to soothe her, "This is my fault, not hers. Punish me, do whatever you have to do, but don't punish Steven. He's innocent in all this, just like you are." Heather didn't say anything. She just stared at me, blinking as though she was trying to work something out. Then she got up, and threw her coat on over her bathrobe. "Where are you going? " I asked, confused, as she put her shoes on to her bare feet. "I know why you were panicking now," she said, "When you saw Ray talking to me the other day. You were scared he was going to tell me." "That's right," I said, still wondering what she was doing. Was she leaving me? "Well, I'm going to go and see him. Sort this out." "Heather, no! How can that help anything?" "He was trying to blackmail us," Heather said as she walked out the door, "I need to see him, and don't even think about following me, or we are finished." I had followed her to the door. "He's not a nice man, Heather. I can't let you go to see him." "Why?" she screamed, making me wince as I didn't want our neighbours to hear our argument, "Are you scared about what else he might tell me? Are there still things you haven't told me?" "No," I insisted, "I've told you everything." "Then you haven't got anything to worry about. I have a score to settle. Don't follow me," and with that she walked away. I thought about trying to stop her, but she was right, so I walked back into the house and slumped on to the sofa with a huge glass of whisky to calm my nerves. Had I done the right thing? - - - I expected Heather to come back within ten minutes or so, but a half-hour rolled on with no sign of my wife. I was starting to worry after a further half-hour went by, and was going to go out and see where she was, when she finally walked through the door. "Where the hell have you been?" I asked concerned, "I was starting to worry." Heather didn't say anything. She just stood there staring at me. She looked sad. "Do you want a coffee or something?" I asked. "Want to talk?" "I sucked his cock," she said simply. "Do we have any wine?" My heart sank. I wanted to shout at her, but I wasn't in any position to have a go at her for anything. I went to the kitchen and came back with two large glasses of red wine. Heather was sitting on the sofa, coat discarded, just in her dressing gown with her head in her hands. "I suppose we're even now," I said sadly, as I sat next to her and gave her the wine. Heather took a huge drink from it. "We're nowhere near even," she said grimly, "You've been fucking Mel for months. I only gave Ray a blow job." "But you didn't need to do that now. I don't understand." Heather looked at me through angry, teary eyes, "I let him undress me. He took my dressing gown off and played with my breasts and pussy. He wanted to fuck me, but I wouldn't let him, so I sucked his cock and let him cum in my mouth." Ouch. That hurt. But I deserved it. "I thought it would make me feel better, but it didn't," she continued, after another large gulp of her wine. "It still isn't enough." "So what would make you feel better?" I said, dreading the answer. "Killing you? Strangling Mel with my bare hands?" she said, "But I can't do those, can I?" "I deserve it. I really am sorry, you know. I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you." Heather sat up straight and downed the rest of her wine. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this, if I'm honest. I'm just going to see how I feel tomorrow, but right now I feel like going out and fucking the first guy who offers to buy me a drink." "I can understand that, and I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I don't think it would help." "Maybe it would make me feel better. I'm going to get myself something to eat, and spent the night upstairs away from you, then have an early night. I need to think." Heather tossed the wine glass into my lap as she stood up. "And don't think you're sleeping in our bedroom any time soon. I'll throw you some blankets downstairs." - - - So I slept on the sofa that night, and the next day Heather completely ignored me. I called Mel and told her what had happened, and to possibly expect a phone call and then I went to visit Ray. "Hey buddy," he said with a smirk as he invited me in. "Don't buddy me," I warned him, spreading my fingers an inch, "You're this far from me kicking the shit out of you." "Why?" he asked innocently. "You know why. I came to say that I hope we're even now." "Come in, man, have a beer," Ray said, all smiles and friendliness. "I don't want your beer." "Heather gives great head," Ray said, "Much better than Mel actually. I can't understand why you'd cheat on her." "Because I'm a fucking idiot, not that it's any of your business," I retorted, "Anyway, I've said my bit. Just leave us alone now, okay?" "Sure," Ray grinned, "But I don't think Heather feels the same." I ignored that comment. One day I would get my own back on that evil old bastard, but for now I needed to rebuild my marriage. - - - The next day was much like the last one, me being given the silent treatment, but Heather didn't make any moves to kick me out, so I was hopeful that she might forgive me in time. But everything changed when I got home that day. Things had been playing on my mind at work, so I made an excuse to leave early. I parked the car on the drive and walked in. The door was open as usual but Heather wasn't around. It wasn't that out of the ordinary, I just assumed she was upstairs putting clothes away or cleaning up, so I didn't shout out that I was home. I just made myself a sandwich and turned on the television. Then I heard something. A thump from upstairs. And a groan. I switched the television back off straight away and listened. Another groan. Or a moan. And a thumping sound. Rhythmical. I knew what that sound was, and my heart rose into my throat. No way. No fucking way. I crept upstairs, trying not to make a sound and saw that our bedroom door was shut to, but not quite closed. The sounds were definitely Heather having sex, but with who? Whoever it was, they were going to get their fucking neck broken, screwing my wife in my house. I stepped up to the door ready to burst in and beat the shit out of them but when I saw through the gap I stopped dead in my tracks. What Would You Do? There was Heather. There was Ray. No great shock there. I had half expected it. But I didn't expect another man. Certainly not a black man. They were all naked. Heather was on all fours on the bed, her large D-cup tits swinging underneath her as Ray fucked her hard from behind. The black guy was kneeling in front of her, wanking his long, black cock right in front of her face. Again, I reached out, ready to swing the door open and confront them but again I stopped. The first thing that had entered my mind was that Heather was doing this reluctantly, either blackmail, or just doing it in spite to get her own back at me. But she wasn't. "Oh yeah, Ray," she purred, "Fuck me harder, you cunt." Then she reached out and took the black cock in front of her in her hand. "Let me suck that big black dick." That is what made me freeze. She was actually enjoying this. I watched in horror as Ray began to really screw her hard, making her moan and gasp around the chocolate-coloured cock in her mouth. She was sucking it with enthusiasm, licking up and down the shaft, and even sucking his balls as the old man behind her pumped her pussy for all he was worth. Even more horrifying was the realisation that I was hard. My cock had sprung to a full erection while I watched my wife get fucked. What kind of sick fuck did that make me? I had no option, I couldn't handle this. I wouldn't subject myself to the humiliation of letting these two men have the satisfaction of knowing I had seen them fuck my wife. I sneaked back downstairs, got in the car and went for a long drive. To think. - - - I came home at the normal time, to find Heather cooking dinner. She greeted me with a kiss, which felt rather strange, knowing that just a few hours ago, those lips had been wrapped around a black dick, and probably Ray's as well. "I want to talk to you," I said, and sat at the table. While driving around, I had realised that our relationship was over. We were too damaged. I'd never be able to forget what I had seen earlier, let alone cope with the odd sensations of arousal it had instigated in me. And if I couldn't forgive her for cheating, how could I expect her to forgive me? "I want to talk to you too," said Heather, pouring me a glass of wine. "I've done a lot of thinking." I wanted to say, 'You've done a lot of fucking too,' but I resisted. Instead, I just said, "Fair enough. Do you want to go first, or me?" I was going to tell her it was over, and go through the plans I had made for how we should separate, and I expected her to say the exact same thing. But she didn't. "I love you," she blurted, then broke down into tears. For some reason, I found myself putting an arm around her, and she kissed me again. The kiss turned passionate against my expectations, and before I really knew what was happening, we were pulling each other's clothes off and I was pushing her on to the kitchen table. "Fuck me," she said urgently, and I pulled her panties down off her legs, even tearing them in the process. My cock was rock hard, and even though I knew what she had been doing in our bed this afternoon, I didn't hesitate to shove it straight into her pussy. Normally, Heather kept her reddish pubes trimmed into a tidy strip of hair, but I noticed she was completely shaved apart from a small tuft around her clit. Had she done that deliberately for Ray and his friend? For some reason, that turned me on even more and I began to fuck her rough and hard as I'd seen Ray do earlier. We screwed like animals. I even grabbed her tits and pinched her nipples as I fucked her hard. Part of me was angry at her, and wanted to hurt her, but she only responded to it by groaning in pleasure. After a few urgent, passionate minutes, I came explosively inside her, adding my cum to whatever she'd already had before. Her pussy had felt wet and slippery when I first penetrated her, so I had no doubt that at least one of the men had cum inside her earlier. When we were dressed and had both got our breath back, we sat in the front room to talk. I had no idea what to say now. How did this change things? I was so confused. Was that a 'goodbye' fuck? "I meant what I said," Heather said, "I do love you, so please listen to me before speaking." When I nodded that I would, she spoke at length. "I was so angry at you. You betrayed me. I wanted to lash out at you. Walk out. Never come back. Instead I did something stupid. I went to Ray's house and talked to him. He was very surprised to see me, he thought at first that I was going to have a go at him but I didn't. I just said to him, 'My husband says you want your cock sucking?' He replied, 'Yeah,' and gave me this weird smile, but when I told him to get his dick out, he stopped me and said, 'You don't really need to do this,' but I told him I wanted to. I needed to. I had to get back at you. And you know the rest. We very nearly fucked. He took my dressing gown off, put me on his sofa and fingered me while I sucked his cock. When I came, he tried to fuck me, but I stopped him." "Why? You probably wanted to?" I asked, but Heather shushed me. "Let me finish, there's more," she said when I shut up, "He came in my mouth. I got up and came home to you, but as I left, I told him to leave us alone, just as you did the following day." She saw me about to speak and put a finger on my lips. "Yes, I know all about that and I love you for it." Heather took a deep breath before speaking further. "What I have to tell you is that I enjoyed it," she looked at me with an anxious expression, "I got home to you, feeling regretful, but I couldn't deny that for some reason, giving Ray that blow job had turned me on. I felt dirty for doing it, but that night, when you were sleeping downstairs, I masturbated, imagining what would have happened if I had given in and let Ray fuck me. "I've only slept with one man before you, and that was so long ago that I've forgotten what it was even like. I couldn't help but fantasize about what other men might feel like, how other men might be different to you in bed. I know it's bad, I know it's slutty, but I couldn't help it. "It was a mixture of being angry at you, hurt, confused and not knowing how I should act. I didn't want to lose you but I didn't want to be with you either. I needed something to fill the huge hole that you'd created inside me. So, the next day, I lay in bed after you'd gone to work and again I ended up playing with myself. By the time I'd finished, I'd somehow made my mind up that if I fucked him, I would feel better. It would get these thoughts out of my system. You and I would be even, and we could see how things felt after that." She paused, taking another deep breath. I couldn't have said anything if I'd wanted to. My throat was dry and tight. My heart was beating hard in my chest. I knew what was coming. She has discovered the pleasures of being single. She was leaving me. Heather cleared her throat. "I went to Ray's that afternoon. He was shocked to see me again, but guessed why I was there. We didn't even say anything, he just took my clothes off, undressed and we fucked on the bed. I thought I would feel dirty and ashamed, but I didn't. He's a very skilled lover. His cock is nice and thick and he knows how to use it. He can use his tongue well too. My first orgasm came from him going down on me. We fucked all afternoon. I made him cum twice and I lost track of how many orgasms I had. By the time I left, I was exhausted but felt better than I had done in a long time. Exhilarated. Energized. And wanting more. "I don't even find him attractive. I've no idea why, but that in itself was some weird sort of turn on. Again, alone in bed that night, I masturbated, reliving that afternoon in my head, and of course the next day we fucked again. I called him and he came around here. We fucked in our bed, while you were at work, and we finally talked about what was going on. Ray's actually very understanding. With his help I realised that I resented you a little. I was angry at you for cheating, but also jealous because I'd always regretted settling down so early and not having more sexual experiences when I was younger. I regretted not sleeping around a bit, like all my friends did. I now felt stupid, because despite feeling like this all these years and having opportunities with men who obviously fancied me, I always stayed faithful to you and to our marriage vows. "So Ray suggested that I do something about it. He said he could bring some friends around for me to enjoy too. Perhaps if I fucked around a little, with a few guys, it might get it all out of my system and then I could work on rebuilding things with you. And so that's what I've been doing." I blinked in surprise. I had caught her with the black guy this morning, but what was she saying? How many men had she been with? "In the past few days," she answered my unasked question, "I've slept with five men, sometimes with Ray, sometimes alone. I've had a threesome, a foursome, and I've fucked a black man too. I've sucked them, fucked them, had anal sex, let them finish inside me - my mouth, pussy and my ass - and even let them cover me in cum. I've been a total slut. You fucked me just now, when just a couple of hours ago, both Ray and a black guy had been doing the exact same thing. "So there you go. I know I've slept with different people, but you've been fucking Mel for months. God knows how many times you've cheated on me. Now, after doing everything I've ever fantasized about, I finally feel like you and me are even. I even planned to confess all this to you. I want you to feel hurt and betrayed, like I did. I want you to see me differently, like I see you differently. "But still, most of all, I want us to stay together. If you can't forgive me, or accept what I've done, then you don't deserve me anyway. You don't have to give me an answer right away. You can think about it, if you need to, tell me tomorrow. But I'm willing to make a go of it, if you want to." And with that, she kissed me on the cheek, and left me sat alone with only my thoughts for company. So here I sit. Wondering what I should do. What would you do? To be continued... If you want to read the rest of this story, email me! What Would You Do? ***Inspired by the writing "Licking Your Brain: The Art of Talking Dirty" by Dominant_Soul2 from another website. Thank you for your permission to give you credit where credit is due...and for the inspiration.*** --- What would you do if we were lying in bed... If I whispered, "Hello, my love," my lips barely touching your ear, would my warm breath tickle? Make you shudder with chills? What if I traced your ear with my nose? If I darted my tongue out to lick your earlobe? If I gently took it between my teeth? Would you sigh if I kissed your neck behind your ear? If I ran my tongue down to your collarbone? If I trailed kisses along the same path, nipping your skin with my teeth? How would your body react if I told you everything I wanted to do to you? That I would like to pull back the covers, slowly revealing your body inch by inch. That my heart rate picks up whenever I see your silky negligée draping over your curves down to your thighs. That the rise and fall of your breasts as you breathe makes my cock harden...my mouth dry. That I cannot stop myself from licking my lips when I see how your nipples pucker through the sheer lace covering them. That I would like to trail my finger along your skin from your knee up to the lace hem of your nightie. Would your breath quicken? Your breasts swell? When I actually inched up the fabric, my finger barely grazing your skin, my breath still caressing your ear as I spoke to you...would you let out a moan? Or merely a soft gasp, your lips parting ever so slightly, your eyes dark and half-lidded as you process my words? Would your hips lift as the fabric crept up your thighs, waiting for me to reach where you most need to be touched? Would your mind be focused on what I am saying and doing to you, or what you want me to do? Where you hope this will lead? When your thighs and pussy are finally bared, would you spread your legs or clench them together in desire? Would you suck your lower lip between your teeth and tilt your chin down in anticipation? You know how that turns me on. Would your body undulate under my fingertips if I slid the fabric further up, grazing your hips? Your ribs? The sides of your breasts? Could you hear my low growl of approval over the sound of your heart thumping in your ears as I expose your breasts to my hungry eyes? Does it make you shiver again? Does it make you want me to mount you right now? Would you lick your lips as I knelt beside you to finish removing your negligée, my hard cock at attention in reach of your mouth, your hands? What would you do if I told you not to touch me? Would you whimper? You know how that sound makes me want to delay your satisfaction. Or maybe that is what you want? Would you protest if I tell you I wanted to tie your hands? Would you resist me? Or would you willing submit, knowing how badly you want me to control you? When you are restrained, would you whimper again as I knelt and kissed your belly? As I licked around your navel? Maybe I could pour vodka or rum there, as we did once before, and I could lap it up slowly. Would you like that? Could you hold still and not let it spill? Would you moan if I spanned your hips with my hands and traced the curves there? Caressed your soft skin down to your thighs and back up again? Slid up towards your breasts but didn't touch them? How would you react if I told you in explicit detail how I wanted to touch your pussy and clit with just my tongue, but I never actually did it? Would you writhe beneath my gaze? What would you do if I sat next to your head so I could bury my hands in your hair, massaging your scalp? Would you move your head towards my bobbing cock again, licking your lips? Would you plead with your eyes to allow you some respite? How about when I moved to kneel at your feet, massaging each one in turn? Or when I slid my hands up and down your calves, your shins? Would you bend your knees and open wide for me? Would your pussy be clenching with desire by now? Would I be able to smell your essence wafting up to me? Would you pull on your restraints if you saw me sit back and take my cock in my hand, realizing my intent? Would your eyes follow my hand if I began stroking my cock? If I brushed my thumb over the tip and spread my precum all around the swollen crown? If I cupped my balls in my other hand and caressed them? Would you wish it were your hands on me? Would you mimic sucking my cock if I asked you to? Would your body take on a mind of its own as I masturbated in front of you? Would I be able to see your pussy throb? To see it glisten with your arousal? What if I moved back towards your head and leaned down to brush my lips against yours? Would you dart out your tongue to taste me? Or would you wait for me? Would I hear your sweet moan if I licked your lips? Feel it vibrating inside of me as I pressed my mouth to yours? Would your tongue tease mine as I entered your hot cavity? Or would you submit once more and let me taste you at my leisure? Would I leave you panting as I broke away and swept my palm over your nipple? Would your back arch, trying to get your breast closer to my touch? Would you mewl like a kitten or growl like a tigress when I finally cupped your swollen globe and lowered my mouth to cover it? If I suckled you like a baby? If I captured your nipple between my teeth and teased it with my tongue? What would you do if I told you I just wanted to rub the tip of my cock against your clit? Or if I said I wanted to stroke you languidly, but only on the outside? Would you come undone in my hands? Would your cries be ones of frustration or delight? Would you beg me to stop? If I told you to be a good girl and not make a sound, would you listen? Or would you intentionally disobey to provoke a punishment from me? A spanking? Further denial of an orgasm? Or maybe a hard fucking from behind with you on your knees while I pull your hair like a leash? Would you scream as I suddenly plunged my cock into your pussy as you wondered what I would do next, if what I said were just words? Would you come on contact, or could you hold out? Would you call my name? Would your body thrust against mine in animalistic need? Would your body glow with your sweat as we moved together, joined in the most primitive way? Would your legs wrap around my legs, my hips, trying to draw me further into you? Would you lift your head, begging me to kiss you? Would your hands tug on their bindings in an effort to touch me? Would you rise to the peak with me? Would you fall over when I told you to? Would you shake and shiver in my arms as I came inside of you? Would you mumble incoherently when I collapsed on you, your breasts squished against my chest, as we both came down from our highs? Tell me, my love. What would you do? --- That's what the letter had said. The letter in the envelope that I'd found on the kitchen counter after work, propped up by an empty wine glass. The envelope that said to curl into my favorite chair with comfortable clothes and a glass of Blackberry Merlot by the fireplace. At first, I had needed the fire for warmth, as it had snowed all day and the temperature outside was dropping into the teens. But now, now I wanted to shed my clothes. I wanted to lay down on the rug by the fire, my head propped on a throw pillow, and bury my fingers in my pussy. My pussy so swollen and wet that I knew I would come on contact. All because of your words. I gulped down the rest of my wine and rose on shaky legs to stare out the window, watching the snow. My body shuddered. Not from the cold but from need. A glance at the letter made me wonder if you had lasted long while composing it. It had not been typed but scrawled in your masculine handwriting. It had been penned with a purpose. And its goal had been accomplished. That's when I heard the growl. The very manly, deep growl. A hungry growl. I turned with a start, feeling naked—exposed—although I was fully clothed. You emerged from the shadows of the hallway, and my throat tightened. My pussy clenched. I could not get your words out of my head. Without another thought, I dropped to my knees, feeling the heat of the fire against my back, the heat of my arousal between my legs. My gaze locked onto the rug beneath me. I did not hear your approach, but your bare feet and the hems of your jeans appeared in my line of sight. There was a gentle caress of your hand on my head before you spoke. "Hello, my love." "Hello, Sir." I could not resist the need to lean into your touch. "I see you have read my letter." I gulped, closing my eyes briefly. "Yes, Sir." "Lie down, my love. I would so like to know...what would you do?" ~ H