16 comments/ 40912 views/ 4 favorites No More Secrets By: semolina ONE My wife, Linda, had taken the boys and gone to surprise her widowed mother on the occasion of her 74th birthday. Still young enough to be excited by the prospect of seeing Nana again, Ryan and Alex—7 and 4 —chattered ceaselessly at breakfast, their little mouths stuffed with pancakes, syrup spilling off their Styrofoam plates and onto their bare legs, clearly offending the delicate sensibilities of the elderly woman at the next table while charming the gaggle of high school girls working the counter at this particular McDonald's. At home, Linda hosed them down, buckled them into the Escort, and drove off in time to complete the 4 hour trip before sundown. I smiled and waved as she backed out of the driveway but being nervous about the trip and miffed at me for letting the boys make such a mess at breakfast, she waved but she didn't smile. Her furrowed brow and barely contained anger left me feeling guilty and sad—emotions I had become all too familiar with in the last year. Somehow, in the last year, Linda and I had lost something. That spark. That passion. That...thing. It happens to all married couples eventually, doesn't it? Still, I was surprised somehow that it was happening to us. Linda and me, that lovey-dovey duo that inspired equal parts annoyance and envy in all of our friends. We were in love, damnit. What the hell happened. Sure, the job—my job since Linda had taken a leave of absence from teaching—had intruded but I thought I was doing what we both wanted. Making money, moving up, building a future. I was given a promotion eighteen months ago, a second one three months later and now I was assuming even more responsibility—and at a particularly inopportune time. This weekend was supposed to have been a romantic getaway for Linda and me—to Cape May for a few nights at the Abbey bed and breakfast. No Cartoon Channel, no midnight visitors, no e-mails or phone calls from my office asking me to 'peruse memos' or 'approve expenditures'. This weekend was designed for shopping, sightseeing, reading Michener on the beach and, I hoped against hope, regenerating our dormant sex life. Mostly, it was about finding that...thing all over again. Alas, tt was not to be—the last expenditure I was asked to approve on Wednesday came from my supervisor. Though the payment requisition was carefully disguised as a 'fundraiser,' I became suspicious when I saw that $500 in cash had been earmarked for a 'professional entertainer.' A quick call to the phone number on the bill confirmed my suspicion that the 500 bucks was for a stripper who, as it turned out, picked up a couple thousand bucks of company funds for blowing my supervisor and his two idiot assistants in full view of the well-oiled partygoers, including his horrified female secretary and her 16 year old daughter who had been hired part-time by the caterer. On Thursday morning, my supervisor tearfully confessed the whole thing to his boss (after his secretary had already given her the gritty details of the 'fundraiser.') He was promptly fired and I was immediately given his position, his corner office and his watchdog secretary. The promotion meant I had to work through the weekend to bring myself up to speed for my first senior staff meeting on Monday morning. Cape May was not to be so off Linda went to see her mother and, I'm certain, get away from me. Rather than spend the weekend in the office, I filled my trunk with file boxes, burned 4 CD's worth of material from my ex-supervisor's computer and brought everything home to work while the family was off in Nana-land. Actually, I enjoyed those rare occasions when I had the house to myself. Making all the noise I wanted without concern for waking the kids or annoying the wife was almost as pleasurable as sitting in the stillness and silence of the old house, feeling a sense of peace and solitude that was hard to find anywhere else. I put in a full day on Saturday, stopping work only once to talk to Linda and get the full report on the drive to Nana's—there was hardly any traffic until she got to Columbus which she hates driving through, just hates it! The boys were fine until then but, of course, in Columbus they got hungry, had to pee, started hitting each other, Alex started to cry and wet his pants so they had to get off the highway, stop at a McDonald's. Two happy meals and a new pair of pants for Alex later, they were on their way again when the car started to "shimmy"—she couldn't get any more specific than "shimmy", which had stopped by the time she got to Nana's and now the car was running fine but what should she do if it started "shimmying" again for which I had no satisfactory answer. Nana was surprised and thrilled to see them and, my, hadn't the boys grown and Linda looked lovely though, naturally, "Mother said I had gained weight which I haven't" and she hadn't and I told her she looked great, her figure was as enticing as ever to which she replied "Don't start in with that again." That killed a half-hour. Being alone in the house means that I can watch whatever movie I want when I want without concern for offending my wife's tastes or exposing the boys to sights and sounds that they should not yet be seeing or hearing. I don't normally enjoy pornography though I certainly won't look the other way if Nicole Kidman or Susan Sarandon suddenly decides to jump into the shower as part of the perfectly justified dramatic action. And yes, I have rewound the tape to re-watch Kate Winslet pose for Leonardo DiCaprio in that movie about the big boat. I had something similar in mind as I poked through our disorganized video cabinet. I had to dig through an ocean of Blue's Clues videos, wade through the swamp of Disney movies and crawl across the desert of Linda's DVD's "that I would really enjoy if I would just give them the time" and besides "not all movies are about big guns and big tits!" True, but maybe they should be. I had found what I was looking for—"Basic Instinct!" Sharon Stone crosses her legs a nobody and uncrosses them a star. I cracked open a beer, popped some popcorn and settled into my chair for a few hours of decadent entertainment. It was a bad copy and I impatiently played with the remote trying to get a clear picture but to no avail. I was about to take it out of the VCR and find something else when the screen went blank. I heard a familiar voice coming through the TV and a muffled male voice in the background. The familiar voice—female—was saying "OK" every so often to the muffled male. It wasn't until I heard her utter a full sentence—"On my knees or on here?"—that I recognized the voice. It was Linda. TWO This was not the Linda that pulled out of the driveway in a bad mood this morning but the Linda I knew in college a decade ago—bright and happy, smart and funny, with a killer ass and a pair of 36D's that she loved to show off (though she never admitted so) by wearing halter tops or unbuttoning her blouses just enough to show some cleavage for her aging male biology professor who always gave her better grades than she deserved. The voice coming through my TV was that of the girl who once accepted a dare (and won a hundred bucks) to go skinny-dipping in the college pool during regular hours; the carefree, slightly naughty girl who posed naked for an art class and gave me a blowjob in the front hallway of her parents' house while the rest of the clan was on the front lawn playing capture the flag. The voice belonged to a girl who used to whisper "My cunt is wet" to me during biology lab and frequently demanded that I "cum on her tits." In the last year, our once fruitful sex life dwindled and Linda hadn't 'whispered' anything to me in nearly four months so hearing her young voice made me hard in spite of the fact that I couldn't imagine what the hell she was doing on my copy of "Basic Instinct". No picture had yet appeared on my TV but I could hear the sound of men working in the background: shuffling feet, furniture scraping across a concrete floor, the whirring of electronic devices. My wife's voice had disappeared and for a moment I concluded that it wasn't Linda after all, just someone who sounded like her. And that this program, whatever it was, had been recorded by mistake in the five years since my last encounter with "Basic Instinct". I convinced myself that this was indeed the case and waited patiently for the glitch to stop. But it didn't stop. After about thirty seconds of the work sounds, a male voice shouted out, "OK, let's shoot one." And suddenly an image appeared on the screen. Nothing conspicuous, just a pile of scrap wood heaped in a corner. The camera swept suddenly to the right and landed on what looked like the bottom rail of a bed. A man's bare legs crossed in front of it and, shortly after that, the bed shook slightly under the weight of someone sitting on it. The camera moved up slowly and I could now see the naked body of a man, his toned ass center screen. A woman in baggy jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt stood on the far side of the bed reading off of the clipboard. The man said something inaudible; the woman giggled, pushed his shoulder teasingly with her free hand and walked away. The man rolled onto his back, revealing a large, flaccid penis that flopped toward the camera. He was casually smoking a cigarette while another woman—a girl really, skinny and pale, in a dirty brown tank top and tight fitting cut-offs—stepped into the picture and sat on the far side of the bed. "I'm Lisa," she said timidly. "Where's Lorraine?" asked the man. Lisa shrugged. An offstage voice called out, "Jail." "Again?" said the man. "Christ. OK, Lisa. You clean?" She nodded. "OK, do your stuff. No teeth." And without another word, Lisa leaned over and took the man's penis into her mouth. The man's face registered nothing but boredom although his penis did get bigger and harder as she sucked on it. Lisa ran her tongue around the tip of his huge dick, smiling into the camera as she did so. The clipboard woman reappeared and, taking no notice of Lisa's performance, took the man's cigarette and walked away. After about 30 seconds, the man said, "That's enough" but Lisa was still performing and kept sucking the man's dick, taking it as deep as her pretty little mouth would let her, until a male voice from behind the camera said, "That's enough, honey." Lisa smiled mischievously, pulled down her tank top to reveal two small, innocent looking breasts while mouthing the words "Fuck me" into the camera. "Get her outta there!" A voice in the distance called out, "I'll fuck her. Put the camera over here! Can I fuck her?" Laughter followed until the clipboard woman grabbed Lisa's arm and pulled her out of the shot as the man absent-mindedly stroked his now rigid cock. At this point, another woman walked into the shot. Her back was to the camera, she wore a bathrobe, and the top of her head was out of the shot but I recognized the strain of her frame immediately. It was Linda—the college girl Linda. She was being touched up by clipboard woman until an off-camera voice barked, "All right already. We're doing porn, not the cover of Vogue. Christ." Clipboard woman scurried out of shot, as did a few crewmembers behind her and for the first time, I could see the setting—a locker room. For a split second as Linda removed the robe, I tried to convince myself that it wasn't her but if the thick reddish hair tumbling down her back didn't give it away, that amazing naked ass did. It was more beautiful than I remembered and I remembered it well. Clipboard woman jumped back into the shot, took a comb to Linda's patch of pubic hair and disappeared. And then Linda turned around. THREE Even today, after nine years of marriage, the site of Linda naked still arouses me instantly. Every night before bedtime, she will sit on the edge of the bed absent-mindedly applying lotion to her hands and legs. One ankle is propped on the opposite knee leaving her vagina slightly open, the pink of her vulva peeking through the thick, reddish brown patch of hair. Her round, voluptuous breasts are topped off with large areolas and pink, puffy nipples, still pert and inviting after all these years. Linda has always been proud of her body, and when we were first married, before the kids were born she would spend Sunday mornings walking around the apartment wearing only a tight fitting tank top, the sweet scent of her cunt filling the air. On Sundays, we made love at least twice before noon and usually once more before sunset. I would fuck her from behind while she mixed up the pancake batter or tongue her clit during "Meet the Press." She would be wet again within an hour, her juices leaving a telltale stain, always an invitation to another erotic adventure. In those days she was insatiable, her hands almost constantly fondling some part of me—the back of my neck, my shoulders, face, back, thigh, ass, cock. We would be in the midst of a conversation about politics or art or where to go for dinner and she would work my dick free and take it in her mouth without missing a beat. Sometimes she swallowed, sometimes she spit, letting it drool over her lips and onto her chin. Or she would take me out at the last minute and let my seed shoot all over her breasts. She liked to rub it around on her tits, getting hotter as she did so until she had to ask me—no, beg me to "stick your tongue in my cunt." It was bliss and my longing for it now was painful and intense. As I watched this video of my young bride my cock was harder than it had been in years. "Hi. I'm Linda." My naked and beautiful wife, her nervousness betrayed by fidgety hands, goosebumps and magnificently erect nipples, was speaking to the hunk of testosterone spread out like a roasted pig before her. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his face and his dick, which he continued to stroke. "Turk. Give me the blowjob first—no teeth, I don't like the teeth—then Ill eat your pussy for a minute, maybe more if you're diggin' it. Then I'll fuck you. You like it up the ass?" "Ummm...not this time if that's OK. It's my first...one of these." "One of these what? Fucks?" "No. Um...movies. Sex scenes." "Oh. Whatever. I look good doing it doggie style so we'll start and finish that way. Mix it up in between. Where you want it?" "I'm sorry?" "You want me to cum on your face, your ass, your tits?" "Um... I like it on my breasts." She instinctively covered her breasts with one arm. "You got nice tits so, yeah, that's fine. Hey, how 'bout I fuck your tits? You like that, the titty fuck?" She shrugged shyly. "We'll see where it takes us. Oh, and don't forget to say stuff." 'Yes, I've been told—" "Y'know, fuck me, fuck my pussy, I want your big cock in my mouth, spank me—spanking OK?" "I guess. Not real hard but—" "Those are some great fuckin' tits, honey. You'll do OK in this business." Without a word, he put his hand up to her vagina and ran two fingers inside. She gasped and tried to hide the fact that she was aroused by Turk's bold gesture. "Good, you're already wet. C'mon, let's shoot this puppy. I want to fuck this girl. What's your name again? " "Lin—" But the director interrupted her. "You two got this straight? Dialogue first, then suck-lick-fuck-fuck-spritz. Where you gonna do it?" "She wants it on her tits," said Turk, helpfully. "And great tits they are. OK, let's shoot one. Speed?" "We have speed." "Camera?" "Yep." "Slate it." "Cunning Co-eds number 22, scene 5a, take 1." "And...action." FOUR Linda was married before she met me. The man's name was Eliot Brody, they were married for six months before he was arrested—I still don't know why—and sentenced to fourteen years in prison. Linda, barely nineteen at the time, divorced him immediately after the arrest, her father coming to her welcome if somewhat smug and "I-told-you-so-ish" rescue with a pricey lawyer who, according to Linda, "waved his magic wand" to bring the whole sad affair to its anticlimactic denouement. She enrolled in college the following fall where she strode absent-mindedly into the snack bar late one Tuesday night. I was there, my shaggy mane dangling over an economics textbook and that first glimpse of her—in ripped jeans and a red t-shirt that read "I make boys cry"--pierced my heart with the kind of instantaneous fervor bordering on madness that you read about it in novels by women with names like Juliet Cornwallis and Alicia Haverford St. John. There—now you know as much as my wife's first marriage as did I at the time. For a while, I was obsessed with learning more about this dark chapter of my beloved's romantic history. One night after a bout of deliciously sloppy lovemaking a month prior to our wedding, I pressed her for details. She got out of bed, left my apartment and disappeared for three days. When I finally tracked her down at her parent's cabin on the Outer Banks, I apologized tearfully and vowed never to ask her about Eliot Brody again. And I never have. Might I now be watching a remnant of her mysterious past? No time to consider that now. I had a video to watch! On the word 'action' Linda's body language changed instantly—her hip shot out as she shifted her weight to her right leg. The arm that had been shielding her breasts was now propped haughtily on her hip while her other hand reached behind her neck and ran through her long, thick red hair. Her back arched and her breasts quivered as she launched into the corny porn dialog. "Hiya, coach, they told me I could find you in here. What's that you've got in your hand?" "This?" asked Turk. "This is what I call...the shotgun?" "The shotgun? What's that?" "Here, let me show you," he said, placing her hand on his penis. "You cheerleaders oughta be good for something. You know what to do, don't ya?" Linda smiled mischievously, fell effortlessly to her knees and, staring hungrily at his rock hard mass of unleashed sexual power, licked her lips and said, "Mmmmmm." I had my own cock out by now and was stroking it as my young bride took Turk's cock in her mouth. A poorly executed zoom brought the camera close enough to see the streams of saliva winding their way down Turk's mighty shaft. He let out a satisfied sigh and Linda responded by taking the cock from her mouth, stroking it with both hands while she said, "I like the shotgun." She consumed it now, almost the entire shaft disappearing inside her mouth. Sucking feverishly for a full minute, Linda finally stopped long enough to say, "Oh, coach, I want my cunt full of your cock. Do you want to be inside me? Do ya?" "Oh, yes," he replied. She stood up, a hand still rubbing his dick. "Eat my pussy, first, little boy. Stick your tongue in my cunt." Linda straddled him, slowly lowering her pussy to his mouth as his tongue reached toward her hungrily. Finally lowering her box onto his face, she let out a long low moan. "Oh, yes. Lick me. Lick my pussy, coach." I knew Linda's orgasms well enough to know that the shrieks and moans she emitted over the next few moments were genuine. At one point, she grabbed Turk's hand and placed it on one of her tits. His other hand spanked her ass harder than I would have ever dared and she received it with a squeal of delight. The camera backed away and in the corner of the screen I could see a movie camera dollying in for a close-up. It became apparent to me then that the video I had been watching was not the actual film but a lesser quality video camera—a movie of the movie. I couldn't figure out why they'd make what must have been a lesser quality video like this. But then I noticed something unusual—Linda looked directly into the video camera and made a face, a 'can you believe I'm really doing this' look. "Goddamn," said the unseen cameraman—whose name I suddenly suspected was Eliot Brody. "Goddamn!" No More Secrets Turk had Linda against the lockers now, her legs wrapped around him as he fucked her hard and the thought of his huge dick inside my wife was too much for me. Cum shot out of my dick with unusual force and splattered on the TV screen. Linda, put her hands on the bench, Turk fucked her from behind; Linda spun around and fell back on the bench, Turk jammed his cock into her from above; Linda threw her legs straight up in the air screaming, "Fill my cunt with your huge cock." She came again, her body convulsing as Turk forced his rod as far into her wet, hairy pussy as it could go. Finally, he straddled the bench above her, stroked his cock fiercely for a few seconds and a stream of jizz spilled across her face. Turk recalibrated his aim and shot a stream of cum onto Linda's tits; as she had done with me dozens of time, she rubbed his juices all over her breasts like lotion, sitting up as she did so to take his cock into her mouth again. He came into her mouth some more and she let it dribble out onto her chin. The movie camera rolled in front of the video camera to get a close up of her cum-covered face. As it did so, the video camera pointed towards the floor. I could hear fingers fumbling at the camera controls as the man's voice said, once again, "Goddamn!" And the screen went dark. I stared in amazement at the blank screen, so lost in my thoughts that when "Basic Instinct" suddenly reappeared on the screen, I was startled and let out a small gasp. The phone rang and I instinctively turned off the TV. FIVE "So, what should I do about the car?" My wife's voice was tense and constricted, an indication that she had spent more than twenty minutes with her mother. "Linda?" I must've sounded shell-shocked because her tone changed to one of concern. "Are you OK?" and when I didn't respond right away she added, "Jack?" "I'm just..." I searched for a suitable adjective that didn't in any way reveal that I had just jacked off onto the TV while I watched a stranger with a big cock fuck my wife's brains out. All I could come up with was, "...tired." "Oh. OK. So, the car..." "Is it still shimmying?" "Well, I took Mom to the store and then the kids wanted to go to the mall so their grandma could spoil them by buying them all the expensive toys that they don't need. And, of course, with every toy she buys she has to say, 'I'm surprised you haven't already bought this for them.' Jesus!" "Linda, honey. Is the car still shimmying?" "Um...no." "Well, then..." "I stopped for gas and the man said that the rear tire was a little flat and so he filled it up and..." "Is that when it stopped shimmying?" A long pause and then, "You know, I think it was." "Well, then, sounds like the problem is solved." Another long pause. "Are you sure you're OK?" Linda asked me again. "I'm fine. I just...miss you." "You do?" I was as surprised by this admission as she was. "Well, this was supposed to be our weekend away. I'd rather be in Cape May with you than alone here." It was true. I suddenly wanted her more than I had in years. My semen was still dripping down the TV screen but talking to Linda I could already feel my dick getting hard again. She didn't say anything. "Linda?" "I'm here." Pause, and then I heard her mother asking, "Who are you talking to?" "Jack." "Did you call collect?" "Mother!" "I'm just asking." Linda spoke to me next. "Jack, honey?" "Yeah?" "Um...so what have you been—?" I heard a shrill cry which I immediately recognized as Alex's. Ryan's equally shrill voice followed, saying: "What'd I do? What'd I do? I was just kiddin' around, geez!" Linda said, "I have to go." My heart sank. I had hoped she would ask me to drive the four hours to her mother's which would get me in by maybe midnight, plenty of time for us to...well...act out a scene from a movie, perhaps? "Everything OK?" "Same old same old." Then to Ryan, she barked, "Put the light saber down. I told you not to hit your brother." "It was a accident." "I thought you were just kidding," Linda countered. "I was but then it was a accident after." "Put the light saber down." The crying in the background stopped and Linda sighed into the phone. "Christ," she moaned. "Mother is intervening." "That can't be good," I said. "Mother, don't give Alex the light saber, he'll just..." Ryan's crying burst through the phone lines. "What an idiot! I have to go." "Lin?" "What?" "I can be there by midnight." "I thought you were tired." "If I jumped in the car right now I—" "Jack, honey, that's very sweet but it's a four hour drive and—" "I have a surprise for you." She sighed heavily into the phone. "Get us a room at the Holiday Inn." I said quickly. "The one off exit 27." She sighed again. A long pause and then..."Be careful driving." She hung up. I dropped the phone, wiped the TV screen clean, ran upstairs for a quick shower, shaved and dressed, retrieved my cell phone from under the nightstand, and threw a few things into my gym bag. Just before leaving the house, I remembered that I had promised her a surprise. I scanned the room quickly, my eyes landing on the TV. I hesitated for a heartbeat before I grabbed the "Basic Instinct" video and shoved it into my coat pocket. SIX I stopped once for gas, once for a fish sandwich, once for a bottle of cologne and still managed to make the four-hour drive in just less than three hours and twenty-five minutes. Linda beat me to the hotel but just barely. The front desk gave me the room number and the key she had them put aside for me. I took the stairs to the 2nd floor two at a time, feeling like a 19 year old rushing up the stairs of a sorority house. Inside the room, the shower hissed and sprayed from behind the bathroom door so I hurriedly undressed, hoping to surprise her in the shower. OK, sure, I was dying to ask her about the tape. But I hadn't yet made up my mind to mention it and there was something I wanted even more and I wanted it right now. "Jack? Please tell me that's you and not the bellboy," she called from the shower. "Where you want luggage, lady?" I called back, doing my best impression of an indiscriminately foreign bellboy. "I'll be out in a second." "No hurry, honey," I said, frantically removing my sweaty t-shirt and kicking off my sneakers at the same time. After wrestling briefly with the zipper on my jeans, I kicked them across the room and practically ripped the briefs off my body. I dashed into the bathroom and yanked open the shower curtain like Mrs. Bates in a bad mood. Linda screamed, instinctively covering herself. I stepped into the tub as her scream turned into relieved laughter. "You didn't drive all the way like that, did you?" "You mean with my dick hard? Yeah, actually I did." "I bet you were a big hit at the toll booth." "Nah, the guy wasn't all that impressed. The drive thru girl at Long John Silver's however..." She chuckled before changing to the officious wife and mother tone with, "OK, before I forget, when we get home Ryan needs to—" I kissed her and pulled her to me. Her soft, velvety breasts pressed into my chest. My tongue sought out hers and we consumed each other with a passion that neither of us had felt for each other for a very long time. "Where was I?" she said unsteadily as she pulled her mouth from mine. "Ryan needs something. " "Right. Ryan needs—" I kissed her again, reaching my hand down to her perfect ass. I grabbed it hard and moved my finger into her pussy from behind. She shivered and moaned softly as I pushed further into her wetness. "Still such a naughty boy," she moaned into my chest. I used my free arm to grab her ass and, as her right leg hooked around my left, I roughly jammed three fingers into her cunt. Wrapping both legs around my thighs, she pulled herself up higher while my fingers worked furiously, her hips now thrusting violently down on my hand. It only took a minute for her to come, bucking wildly as she did so. As the orgasm reached its highest peak she fell silent and still, finally releasing the pressure with a long, slow exhalation ending in a single syllable: "Fuck!" Linda slowly and sensually slid down my body until she was on her knees and facing my throbbing, hungry cock. She teasingly stuck out her tongue and flicked the head a few times. "I suppose you think I'm gonna suck this cock, don't you?" All I could do was smile and try to regain the breath that the look in her eyes knocked out of me. "I thought so." She flicked the head with her tongue again and cradled my balls gently in her palm. "You want me to take this big, beautiful cock, wrap my wet lips around it and slide it in and out of my mouth until you shoot a load of your tasty juice down my throat." She put her fist around my rod and took the first two inches into her wet mouth. After pulling it out at a painfully slow pace, she smiled up at me. "Like that?" "Just like that," I was able to squeak out. Her hand was pumping my dick, as she said, "Doesn't feel quite right to me. Sure it's not like this?" She swirled her tongue around the tip a few times before taking it deeper. Every little motion, every little flick of the tongue, every millisecond of the experience created a sensation so intense that the boundary between pleasure and pain was crossed again and again. Years ago it was not uncommon for Linda to have an orgasm while fellating me, even without any direct stimulation, so when she spontaneously climaxed in the shower—her body stiffening and silent but her mouth working even more furiously on my cock—it was yet another delicious reminder of those halcyon days. She took a short breather and looked up at me. I could see tears in her eyes and I instinctively pulled her to me for a gentle kiss, followed by another more passionate one, our tongues melting into one another. Sweetly and with a deep longing that mirrored my own Linda said, "I want you inside me." I kissed her again, picked her up in my arms and, still soaking wet, carried her to the bed. As I slid gracefully inside her, the tears flowed from her pretty green eyes freely and joyfully. "I love you, I love you," she whispered over and over, every 'love' accompanied by the thrust of her hips, each one sending a wave of piercing pleasure through my entire nervous system. She came once more just as I did, my semen shooting into her with a force matching the intensity of my orgasm. We lay on the bed, she on top of me, my manhood still inside, my hips thrusting almost imperceptibly into her. A good ten minutes passed before she slid off my chest. One more sharp sensation of pleasure raced through my cock as it emerged from Linda's cunt, the scent of which permeated the stale air of the hotel room. She nuzzled in beside me, her breasts cushioned against me, her leg across my thighs, her hand tracing the contours of my chest. Within minutes we were both sound asleep. SEVEN "Jack?" Her voice seemed to come from miles away as I stirred from my sleep. "Jack? Honey?" I opened my eyes to find Linda's face next to mine. "I have to go." "Where?" "Back to Mother's." "What time is it?" "Three-forty." "Don't go." I kissed her on the nose, lay my head down, and closed my eyes. "Jack?" She shook me this time. "I can't stay. I told Mother I was going to a late movie and I don't want her to wake up and not find me there. She'll panic." "What time is it?" "And I don't want to leave her alone with the boys for very long." My eyes opened as I considered the consequences of leaving Alex and Ryan with my mother. "Good point," I said, for the first time seeing that Linda was fully dressed. "Listen, honey—" "I'll come over when I get up and take you all out to breakfast." "You can't. They don't know you're here." "Why not?" "I didn't want to tell them." "Why not?" "I don't know." "Wanted me all to yourself?" "Something like that." "I'll tell 'em I got at up at five and drove down so I could take them all to breakfast." "You sure you want to deal with my mother?" "Right now," I whispered close to her ear, a rush of emotion coursing through me, "I would do anything in the world for you." She nuzzled her face into my neck and I tenderly kissed her cheek, her hair, her eyes, her mouth. She giggled, then sighed, then moaned, then giggled. "Stay," I whispered and she lay down beside me. "Get naked," I whispered in precisely the same tone and she giggled again. But before I could make another move, she sat bolt upright and said, "Let's watch TV!" "TV?" "Yeah. Wanna?" "No. I wanna—" "I know what you wanna but I wanna watch TV." "Why?" "You know, they have DVD players here." Before I knew what was happening, Linda was sliding a disc into the shiny black cube beneath the television. "Honey, it's almost four a.m.," I complained. "And there's nothing on but infomercials which is why it's so great they have these DVD players!" The TV screen buzzed to life and I decided to give up. I knew how determined and stubborn Linda could be so I figured I would just drift off to sleep while she watched whatever Meg Ryan video she had brought along. I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes. "You don't wanna watch?" I groaned and rolled over on my side. "Suit yourself," she said and I was about to drift off to dreamland when I heard a familiar voice coming through the TV. The familiar voice—female—was saying "OK" every so often to a muffled male voice in the background. It wasn't until I heard her utter a full sentence—"On my knees or on here?"—that I opened my eyes and nearly jumped out of bed. Linda calmly looked back at me and said, "It starts off kinda slow but gets really good real soon." "What did you...how did you...where did you...?" The first image appeared on the screen and Linda's commentary began. "The stupid shit started shooting with the lens cap on." "But who...what..." "That's not why he was arrested, in case you were wondering." Stunned into silence, all I could do was watch the screen. The bare legs crossed in front of the bed frame, the girl with the clipboard pushed Turk and he fell back, his huge dick flopped toward the camera. "Don't worry, honey. Size doesn't matter as much as they say. It was fun that one time but it was nothing like the first time that you and I—" "STOP!" Linda calmly clicked the pause button on the remote and looked at me. "I know you've already seen this," she said calmly. "The tape is still in your jacket and, yes, it's stopped exactly where I thought it would be stopped. If you'd like, I could tell you the whole story of how this tape came to be, how my first husband, before being arrested for drug trafficking—about which I knew nothing, incidentally—was involved in the pornography industry. As it turns out, I was just another in a long line of lonely and unhappy young girls who fell prey to Eliot Brody's charms and submitted foolishly to his desires, thinking I was making a new life for myself when all I was really doing was sticking it to my parents and making money for him." She accidentally hit the start button and the video resumed. The young girl in the tank top appeared on screen, ready to help Turk reach his full potential. "This girl's a big star now. Peekaboo Polly, she calls herself. Of course, she had her tits done." The girl had Turk's cock in her mouth. "And her lips. Both sets." Linda giggled, if a bit sadly. She hit the mute button but the video continued to play. "Three days after this was shot, Eliot was arrested," she continued. "A week later we were divorced and the lawyer quickly saw to it that all the copies of the video were destroyed. This copy I found in Eliot's video camera the day after the arrest. It's the only evidence of that whole stupid...I thought about destroying it hundreds of time but something always stopped me. I don't know what ... I'm sorry I've kept this from you all these years. No more secrets." Linda's voice broke and she wiped a solitary tear from her cheek. I sat beside her and carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. She clutched it tightly, entwining my fingers in hers. I kissed each of her fingers gently. Silently, on the screen, Turk reached up and touched Linda's vagina. Earlier, as I had watched that moment, I saw in her face a desire not to betray how aroused she was. Now, though, it appeared as if she were trying not to cry. I looked to her seated beside me now as she wiped away another tear. "Surprise!' She said with a sad and silly grim before bursting into tears. I took her in my arms and held her tight. Both of us watched the screen as she sank to her knees and took Turk's bulky penis into her sweet and innocent mouth. "You left the tape there for me, didn't you? For me to find?" She nodded. "How did you know I would be watching 'Basic Instinct'"? "I also put it on your copies of "Fatal Attraction", "Boogie Nights" and all three "Die Hard" movies." "Why?" "Because I miss you. Something happened a year ago, I don't even remember, but there was a moment when I thought, 'he doesn't love me anymore'. You didn't look at me the way you had, you didn't seem to want me, you seemed to be...I don't know...sick of me." "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. No. I just...I mean, work was getting so—" "I know. I understand but I just felt so...and then when we couldn't go to Cape May I thought, well, I have to do something. I thought it might make you want me again. And it occurred to me that you should know about...well, about Eliot, about...everything. How could I expect you to love me if you didn't know me, truly know me? Including the really stupid stuff..." On the screen, Linda sucked hungrily on Turk's cock. "...like this." We watched for a few more seconds in silence. "God, you're beautiful," I said before immediately apologizing, "I'm sorry, honey, I just..." Before I could finish, Linda buried her face in my chest and pulled me close, her strong arms encircling my waist. I reached for the remote and just started pushing buttons until the screen finally turned to black. We held each other for a long time before she said, "Do you love me, Jack?" "More than anything in this world, Lin. More than anything." "Do you forgive me?" "There is nothing to forgive. Do you forgive me? She nuzzled and sat silently, so warm and soft against my bare chest and I had my answer. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her, a long slow kiss, our tongues dancing softly together. She drew away and putting her mouth next to my ear, my beautiful, beautiful wife whispered, "Jack" "Mmm-hmm?" "My cunt is wet."