by Ben Boswell
"No, I'm a bad person," I moaned.
He took me in his arms and hugged me. It felt so good, so right. This was where I belonged.
We talked for a while. I tried to apologize. Tried to explain what was going on. But it was so hard. I couldn't pretend Greg meant nothing to me. I tried to explain that while I loved Dave, Greg was so exciting. How Greg was bringing out in me something I didn’t even know I had inside. But Dave wouldn't, couldn't understand.
"It's just hard, you know?" I finally exclaimed.
Dave looked at me coldly. "Actually, I guess I don't. Either you're married or you're not."
"I wish it were that simple," I replied, trying to convince myself as much as anyone else.
A real tragedy of having an affair is the way the situation becomes self-reinforcing. Dave was understandably angry, hurt, and suspicious. And while he tried to hide it, I could feel it in every moment we were together. When I went out to do some errands, Dave tagged along, keeping an eye on me. He was brusque and cold. At the same time, there was this other man in my life, exciting, enthusiastic, amorous, and eager to see me. Spending the day with Dave was work. It was work that I knew I needed to put into the marriage to save it, and yet it was draining. As the day wore on, the lure of play with Greg tugged ever more insistently.
Dave and I had a quiet dinner. We watched some TV and then retired to bed with barely a word spoken between us. I couldn't sleep for a long while. The tension between us was too palpable. I think Dave felt the same way, though I couldn't be sure. He was curled up with a pillow on the opposite side of the bed from me, seemingly as far away as he could get.
I thought of Greg. Of how we'd fucked and then made love in the office. I thought of his body, his cock. I slid my hand down under my panties and lightly rubbed my shaved mound. I could feel myself getting excited. Dave stirred, and I stopped, panicked. But then he just shifted around slightly and began to breath deeply, either asleep or pretending to be. I was embarrassed for a moment, but then convinced myself it was okay. It was okay to fantasize. I started to touch myself again. My clit was swollen, my nipples hard and pressing almost painfully against the fabric of my nightie. I came quickly, biting my lip to keep from gasping. The release was just what I needed to get to sleep, finally.
***
I'd like to pretend I played hard to get. But the reality is that from the moment I got into the office the next morning, after yet another nearly wordless breakfast with Dave, I was primed for Greg's attention. He was running from meeting to meeting in the morning, working on closing out his duties as he prepared to move on at the end of the week, but he stopped by a few times just to flash me a quick smile. I was between projects, just cleaning up some admin work and with plenty of time to think. And the more I thought, the more I thought about Greg, and his imminent departure. That became my escape hatch. I didn't have the strength to turn him down, but he was leaving anyway. I could continue to see him, discreetly, for the rest of the week and then he'd be gone, and I'd have a lifetime worth of delicious memories as I tried to rebuild my relationship with Dave.
Greg finally came for me at lunchtime. I half-heartedly try to resist. But it was all a show, and Greg knew it. He pulled down his zipper and took out his prick, and I took him in my mouth, worshipping his cock, so big, beautiful, and hard. I slurped at him thinking about how good he would feel inside my slick, swollen pussy.
He bent me over my desk, lifted up my skirt and took me from behind. I would never have imagined I might tolerate that, much less enjoy it. Impersonal, disrespectful, as if I were just a convenient hole. And yet, so hot.
"Oh yes, oh yes, I love it so much, love it so much," I gasped as he fucked me with deep, hard thrusts.
"Come to my place tonight, Red, and I'll show you something new," he offered.
His moistened thumb gently circling my anus.
"Show me what?" I asked, but I knew.
And he confirmed my thoughts... or fears... or desires... by firmly pressing his thumb into my butt.
"Oh God," I moaned, overwhelmed by the sensation of being fully filled, but also at the realization of how raunchy and slutty I was being. I was cheating on my husband, at work, bent over my desk, in broad daylight, penetrated by vaginally and anally. It was all too much. I came hard. And Greg was right behind me, filling me yet again with his seed.
He pulled out and sat in my chair, breathing hard. Without thinking, I squatted before him and took him back in my mouth, eagerly cleaning his cock of our mixed juices. He never fully softened, and soon I could feel him stiffening again in my mouth. I swallowed him deeply. I was getting better at that after three days of practice with him. He moaned.
"Play with yourself while you do that," he commanded.
I did. My pussy was soaked and swollen and very tender. I thought, "oh, God, if my mother could see me now."
And then it hit me. This wasn't about Dave, wasn't about Greg. This was about me, for the first time really pushing my boundaries, letting go, and losing control. I was, for the first time in my life, actually being submissive, allowing a man to dominate me. And it scared me how much I enjoyed it. I know it sounds crazy to have this sort of existential realization in the middle of performing oral sex, and it probably sounds like yet another rationalization. But the insight just rocked me. It made me question who I was, who I'd been raised to be.
Greg coming in my mouth brought me back to the present. I swallowed his jism like a good little whore, suddenly wondering if I could ever get back to who I'd been, and whether I'd even want to.
We straightened ourselves up, and Greg again invited me to his apartment that evening. I demurred. I knew I needed time to think.
"Red, we have so little time left together," he said softly. "Let's not waste any of it. Unless, unless, you want to come out and stay with me in San Diego?"
I felt my insides twist. Blood rushed to my head.
"You know… I can't do that," I replied.
"Can't? Or won't?"
"What difference does it make?"
"It makes all the difference in the world, Red."
"I can't see you tonight," I said firmly, side-stepping the deeper issue.
"Okay." He kissed me on the forehead, and disappeared back into the hallway.
***
At home, Dave and I had another morose and tense evening. Dinner in silence. TV in silence. Bed together with a wall of tension pushing us apart. I fell asleep finally, but awoke with a start around 1:00am.
Dave wasn't in bed. I got up and looked for him. He wasn't in the house. His car was gone. He was gone.
I called his cell. No answer.
I needed to speak to someone, so I called Emily. She's one of my oldest friends. She's a real estate agenda and sleeps with her phone by her bed, so I knew I'd reach her.
"Hullo?" she answered groggily.
"I think Dave left me," I began.
"What did you do?"
"What do you mean? Why do you think I did anything?"
"Because, Sweetie, Dave is hopelessly, desperately committed to you. He'd never leave until you provoked it. So, what did you do?"
That cut me to the quick. I burst into hysterical sobs again. And then it all came out. Greg, my mother, Bobby Battle, how terrible I felt about hurting Dave, how I'd always been in control, always perfect, all in a long, rambling monologue punctuated with jags of crying. It was an embarrassing confection of self-pity, self-loathing, rationalizations, and maybe a few glimmers of insight. The kind of thing only an old and dear friend can handle.
"So what are you going to do now?" Emily asked after a long while.
"I don't know. What should I do?"
"Go back and time and not fuck Greg," she answered curtly. "But since you can't do that, I don’t know. But I can tell you what not to do. Don't go to Dave until you're sure that's what you want. I don't know that he'll take you back. But I do know that you've hurt him enough already."
"Okay," I said softly.
&n
bsp; "Good luck, Honey, good luck," she said finally as she hung up.
It was after 3:00am now, and I called Dave again. This time he picked up.
I told him I was worried about him. He told me not to be. I told him I didn't want to lose him.
"You also told me you'd try not to fuck Greg anymore," he replied coldly. "How can I believe you when you can't even follow through on that?"
I gasped. His tone made clear that he knew, that my “discreet” nooner had been anything but. I wondered if he had dropped by to see me, only to see Greg enter my office and close the door. Or had my secretary tipped him off? It didn't matter.
I tried to reassure him, "He asked me to move to San Diego with him. I said no."
"Good for you."
"You're not making this easy," I pleaded.
"Good," he said with a finality that sent chills up my spine. And then he hung up.
For a long while I just stared at the phone. I had made an insane hash of my life. I had been selfish and stupid, and I was paying the price. But before I could even begin to fix things, I had to finish the journey I'd begun.
CHAPTER SIX
I called in sick the next morning, and sent Greg a text.
[Ann]: I need to see you.
[Greg]: I'm in my office, drop on by.
[Ann]: No, in private.
[Greg]: Okay, I have a lunch appt. Come by my place after. I should be home by 2.
At 2:01pm I rang his doorbell. He was in his suit, but had loosened his tie, giving him a slightly rakish look.
He let me in.
"So, is this big breakup?" He asked.
"I don't know."
He looked me over. I was wearing a light sundress and heels and nothing else. My nipples were pressing through the fabric.
"You're not dressed for a breakup," he noted. "Or is this a last fling?"
"Don't make this hard," I whined.
"Then tell me what you want," he snapped.
I blushed. I had practiced what I was going to say, but actually saying it was harder than I expected.
"You can do whatever you want to me," I said in a whisper.
Being with Greg would mean changing who I was. He was too strong, too confident for it ever to be equal. He had never even considered staying with me, instead he had asked me to move to San Diego to be with him. And I realized that was the real question. Did I continue to want a relationship of equality with Dave, or did I, contrary to what my mom had always tried to indoctrinate want a man to take care of me, to possess me? And so, I had to see what it would be like to give in completely, to submit to him unconditionally.
"What?" he asked.
I could tell he'd heard. His grin got just a touch cockier. He just wanted to make me repeat it louder.
I looked up, fixed his gaze. "You can do whatever you want to me."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"So, is this instead of coming with me to San Diego, or part of your way of deciding?"
"I don't know."
"So, if I want to bring another girl over and watch you make love to her, you'd do it?"
I shuddered. I had never done that… and yet, the idea was oddly thrilling.
"Yes."
"And if I wanted to invite a bunch of my buddies over and have them take turns with you, you'd do that too?"
My stomach did a flip. A wave of terror washed over me. But also a dark excitement.
"Yes."
He observed me curiously.
"No, I think I'll keep you for myself... for now."
After a pause he continued, "Take off your clothes... except your heels... and come to my bedroom."
He turned around and disappeared up the stairs.
I took a deep breath and obeyed. I'd never been to his place. It was a typical corporate townhouse, nicely but blandly furnished. Most of his belongings were already packed. It felt weird walking around this strange house naked. I peeked into several empty rooms before I found his.
He was sitting on the bed, a collection of sex toys arrayed beside him like tools at a dentist’s office. As I approached, he stood, and took me by the shoulder. Firmly he spun me around and pushed me back onto the bed.
He was on me in an instant, roughly spreading my legs and attacking my pussy with his mouth. I gasped. Dave had performed oral sex on me often, of course, but never like this. Greg ate my snatch like a man possessed, licking me deeply with broad tongue strokes, sucking my clit into his mouth almost painfully, ramming two fingers into me. I was thrashing about. It was too much, too much, but then suddenly it was just right. I came hard.
I was still dazed as he flipped me onto my hands and knees. I heard him pull down his zipper. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled back hard.
My pained whimper turned into a loud gasp as he entered me fully, hammering my pussy from behind. I was already so wet that squishing sounds filled the room. My breasts were bouncing wildly. Beads of sweat ran down my cheeks. He fucked me harder, harder. He was so big and so rough that it hurt, but in a good way. The pain fed the intensity of it.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” I yelped.
“That’s it, Red, let go.”
Instead of doing that, though, I bit my lip. I was fighting through conflicting instincts. On one hand the temptation to give in, completely and fully. To scream in passion. To acknowledge that I couldn’t resist him. On the other, the need to remain in control. To refuse his demands. To remain my own person.
He paused, his cock still fully pressed inside me. I thrust back against him instinctively. He chuckled.
“Why are you fighting it?” he asked.
I started to lie. “I don’t know… ugh--”
Another hard thrust cut me off.
“Don’t know what?” he asked, amused.
He paused again.
I began to answer. “What you’re talking… ugh—“
He pounded into me. It felt sooo good. Overwhelming. And I knew it wasn’t just the physical sensation, but that sense of being in his power.
“Ugh… ugh… ugh… ugh….”
Another respite. My chest heaved.
“What were you saying?” he asked.
“Just fuck me, you asshole.”
“Tell me you need me, Red.”
Not want. Not love. Need.
“No… ugh… I… ugh… don’t… Ugh God!!”
Without warning he buried his thumb into my butt, which he proceeded to churn in and out even as he continued to batter my pussy with his huge cock.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet,” he taunted. “But you will.”
He took another break, but I knew he wasn’t done with me. I shivered as I thought of his desire to break me. The way it left me both eager and scared.
While keeping his prick inside me, he pulled out his thumb. I looked over my shoulder to see him squeeze a small dollop of lube onto my anus. I felt a surge of terror as I imagined him trying to force his huge prick into my virgin ass… and a corresponding wave of excitement.
“What are you doing?”
No answer. Just a smirk. I shuddered.
He reached down to grab a slim, metallic dildo. I whimpered softly as he pressed it into my ass. It was only a little larger than his thumb, but it was harder, unyielding, and much longer. Painful, yet delicious. Dirty. Slutty. That wasn’t who I was…. Or was it?
I felt a rush of panic as he began to sodomize me with it, but he went slowly, giving me plenty of time to adjust until I could take several inches into my bottom. He was obviously experienced, and it showed. He kept me right on the edge where my excitement overwhelmed my discomfort, but just barely.
Slowly, he began thrusting his penis into me again. There were points when both his cock and the dildo were deep inside me, when I felt so full I might burst.
"Do you like this?" he asked.
"Yes," I grunted. And I did. I imagined myself as one of those porn chicks – and yes, I o
ccasionally watch it – double-penetrated by two hung studs, helpless to resist, completely in their power. My feelings frightened me, but it was like my body was on automatic pilot, my nipples almost painfully swollen, my clit as well, my hips thrusting back against those two invading phalluses.
Then Greg decided it was time for the next step. I gasped as he showed me what he planned to use on me next, a thick butt plug the size of a plum.
"I can't take that," I whined, though I hoped he’d prove me wrong.
"Just relax."
He withdrew his cock and then slowly pulled out the dildo.
"Rub your clit," he commanded.
I wanted the release. As I did what he asked, he pressed his middle finger deep into my ass. Having adjusted to the dildo, this was actually more comfortable, pleasant actually. He pumped his finger in and out of my butt, and I found myself actually enjoying the physical sensation rather than just being turned on by the situation.
"Make yourself cum," he ordered.
I rubbed my clit faster, and he finger fucked my ass in time. I came with a series of soft mewls and as I did, he pressed a second finger into me.
"It's too much, too much," I whined.
But he was insistent, pumping his two fingers in and out, and then twisting them side-to-side. And then without warning, he pulled out his digits, and I could feel the well-lubed butt plug pressing insistently at my anus, stretching me more than I thought possible, to the point that I was sure I was about to tear.
I squealed in pain, and as I did, the plug slipped inside me and my ass closed on the slimmer stem.
I was sweating and gasping, my whole body shaking. The feeling was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It wasn't pleasant, but not really unpleasant either. But it was different, very different, and there was something about pushing my boundaries that was a real turn-on.
I looked up to see Greg standing now naked before me, his hard slimy dick in my face. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pressed my mouth to his prick. And now I was in another until recently unthinkable scene, naked, on my hands and knees, a huge butt plug up my ass, slobbering on a massive tool. As I sucked him off, he roughly kneaded my dangling breasts, pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
