by Jason Lenov
An earthquake of a tremor shook through him and it felt like the floor beneath them might open up and swallow them whole. But it didn’t. A different chasm yawned open, however, the one deep inside of himself and it’s pull was irresistible. Jack threw himself in. “What else?”
For some reason that threw into stark relief the incongruity of the situation. Emily still on his lap. He still inside her, slowly slipping out, a trickle of his seed running from her and down his shaft, warming the sack between his legs.
Emily shifted her weight. His cock fell from her sex and onto the front of his trousers. More of his essence spilled from her, slathering his softening flesh.
They’d never, not once, coupled like this. Out in the open, honest and face to face, not with his mouth pressed against her neck, both of them hiding from the dirty thing they were doing.
“What happened?” Jack asked, feeling himself falling deeper into the abyss. He watched as she recalled the memory.
“I told him I was going to call security,” she whispered.
“And?”
“And I didn’t,” she said with, was it regret?
“It’s okay,” he soothed.
“Not just that.”
That tightness again. Right at the root of his dick. The blood surged back down from his head. “What else?”
“Oh Jack,” she said and for a moment it seemed like she might cry. “When he…when he turned to go, after I’d…I tried to give him a piece of my mind but he didn’t care. He turned away and…” She choked and had to draw in a breath. “I told him to wait.”
A punch to the chest. “You told him to wait?”
Emily nodded. “He’d just…he was so crass. I don’t know why I did it.”
Elation filled him as the understanding dawned that while she hadn’t done anything to imperil their marriage, his worst fear, the one that lived deepest, had come true that day. Emily had found the part of herself that he dreaded. “You called him back? After he talked to you like that?”
Another nod. “I called him back.”
“Because you liked it?”
“Because…I don’t know. I’ve never felt this before.”
“But you called him back. You…wanted more of it.”
Vixen. Harlot. Tramp.
Except she was none of those things. She was a woman, his woman, a perfect pure thing meant only for him. But she’d been stirred. She’d been affected by a boorish male saying dirty things. It had worked on her.
No! And yes…because that was at the seat of his fear. That her desire be stirred? No. That she come to understand what it meant to be desired in that way. How good that could feel to a woman. How it sated a need for attention like nothing else. “Why are you telling me this?”
Emily’s lips parted as she searched for the answer. “I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head. “Because I love you. Because I trust you. Because…I need help.”
“With what?”
“With this. With what to do with this. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day, Jack. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either. It made me…I touched myself, Jack. I never…”
His heart crumpled around itself at the delicate part of herself Emily was exposing to him. Though he was jealous that was only one shade of the emotion that gripped him. “What happened next?”
Emily wilted a little and Jack realized he’d pushed too firmly. “If you want to. Only if you want to tell me.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“So am I,” Jack admitted. “But I think we can do it together.”
“I…” She sighed and shut her eyes.
“It’s okay.” Because Jack already knew. He knew by the way she blushing, by how shy she’d become and by how she was struggling to form the words, not about what had happened but about how it had made her feel. “It’s okay,” he repeated, stroking her hair.
“I thought of him, Jack.”
His cock jumped at the sentence. Hot fear and lust formed into a column and made him sit up straight. “How?”
She met his gaze and Jack saw they were both drawing on the same source of courage inside of themselves. “I thought of him in me. Like you were just now.”
Though he’d seen it coming he could not have predicted the way it crashed over him like a wave over cliffs. Water smashing on rock being flung through the air by the impact.
Only once it had passed did he feel the persistent hardness that was once again rising between them, the tip glancing the lips of Emily’s sex.
She gasped and looked down between them. Blinking her disbelief she raised her eyes to meet his again. “Jack?”
So Jack came to know that he must respond to her courage with more of his. Together they would come to understand this thing, meet it head on like they had everything else. “Emily,” he whispered. “There’s something I have to tell you.” His cock throbbed and pressed against her damp slit.
“Tell me Jack,” she said, shifting her weight on his lap and spreading her legs slightly wider to let the head of his straining cock into herself again.
Jack closed his eyes and a soft breath escaped him. “I’ve thought about this,” he admitted.
“About what? Tell me, Jack,” she coaxed.
“I’ve never told you but I’ve thought about this. About you finding this part of yourself.”
“What part?” Spoken with a hungry need to know what he meant. Perhaps because she didn’t yet know herself. Or perhaps because she just needed affirmation, needed a name for it.
“It drives me crazy that you did. Insane. But I’ve always known it was there. It’s scared me, sure. This whole time it’s scared me.”
She cupped his chin with her hands and kissed him. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”
“I could feel that you’d found it when we…when we did what we just did. I knew you’d found it and it tore me up inside. But it made me happy, too. You deserve it. You’re such an amazing woman you deserve to know it.”
She furrowed her brow, still puzzled, still unsure. “What is it?”
The innocent question made his courage surge. “You wanted him.”
She bit her lip. “Not like…I would never, you know, not like I would ever do it,” she explained.
“But you felt it,” Jack said and pressed a hand against her pelvis. “In here?”
Emily nodded.
“It felt good to feel wanted?”
Another nod.
“Not just that?” Jack asked, a shaking smile flirting with the corners of his mouth.
“Not just that,” she echoed.
“What else?” His cock throbbed again and Emily moved forward, settling onto him, her pussy latching onto the stiff muscle and working it into her orifice.
“It’s hard, Jack. It’s hard to say it.”
“You can do it,” Jack whispered.
“It’s dirty,” she said.
Clench.
Emily gasped in response to his hardening. “You like this?”
“I love you.”
“I liked the way he looked at me, Jack,” she confessed, now slightly breathless and eager, too, in a way that made it hurt. “I liked knowing he was thinking of me like this. With his…his thing between my legs.”
“Tell me,” Jack gasped.
That gave her courage. That made her brave. “I thought…I thought of how he’d do it. How he’d…fuck me, Jack. How he’d fuck me with his cock.”
Jack’s hips bucked at her profanity, spearing his engorged manhood into Emily’s tight crevice. Up almost off the chair, hands gripping her hips as he searched for the deepest part of her he could spill into.
“Oh my god Jack,” she said, quivering atop him. Her sex clenched again.
Their two bodies nearly suspended, they locked eyes and Emily began to sway again, rubbing his hard organ with her pussy lips as the muscles in her cunt tried to choke more essence out.
“You thought of him filling you,” Jack gr
unted, straining to push each word past his lips.
“I thought of him inside me,” Emily whimpered.
“Fucking you,” Jack groaned.
“Fucking me,” Emily echoed.
The straining between his legs snapped like an elastic stretched too tight. His hips shook as the first spurt of his emission gushed from him and into Emily.
With her hands on his cheeks she pressed her lips against his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth in a deep kiss as she began to shake. The way her muffled moan travelled down his throat, touched the deepest part of him, made the room seem to flex and bend around them.
When the heat between them broke they stayed on the chair, panting, sweaty foreheads pressed together, the smell of sex wafting up from where their bodies met.
As Jack’s excitement waned to relief a steady calm settled over him. Twenty-one years of pent up anguish felt like they’d been not released but at least let out to see the light of day. And they were still there, the two of them. As in love and as happy as they’d ever been.
When Emily finally opened her eyes they were an even brighter blue than usual. A confused smile formed across her lips. She shook her head. “What does this mean?” she asked.
Jack smiled and shook his right back at her. “It means I need some steak.” Which could have gone either way.
But it set Emily off giggling, pulled her off his lap and to the oven where what should have been medium rare was well done but who cared because they’d cracked through this thing and come out the other end together.
Or so it seemed to Jack just then.
Chapter Five
Sleep eluded Emily that evening. After the ruined steak, which was still edible, and the rest of the wine and pillow talk once they were in bed, it seemed like a good night’s rest would be just what she needed.
But as Jack dozed off, Emily lay next to him on her side, staring at the hunched outline of the man she’d married beneath the sheets. It was still difficult to believe what had passed between them that evening. You think you know a person.
It was hard to find the right place in her mind to stow what Jack had shared. He had always been so…normal. Not that this made him abnormal, it was just so kinky.
Just thinking of the word made her giggle. Kinky, at least from her position, belonged on the internet. Kinky lived in those books people read, the ones she’d never even thought of opening because it just so wasn’t her. So to find out that Jack had these thoughts, that he’d had these fantasies of her with other men? Nothing could have been farther from who she thought he was all these years.
And all those things he’d said about her, or rather made her say. About how she thought of Carter going into her. Even just remembering it made her tremble. But not a moment later a tight heat began to glow inside her again. Down in her core, down where they’d done the dirty thing in the kitchen together.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Was Jack right? Had that always lived inside her? Could you live thirty-nine years and not know something like that about yourself? Or was it all just part of his fantasy?
Closing her eyes, she tried to reconstruct the feeling. Gliding back in her mind, back to the grocery store except this time there was no one else there but her and that dirty-handsome landscaper, she gasped as a shiver raced down her spine and stoked the heat between her legs.
Her eyes snapped open and a jolt of adrenaline coursed through down to her toes at what she’d just done to herself. Just by thinking about it, too. She glanced at Jack. Still sleeping.
Now it scared her a bit, too. Maybe not the same way it did him but it was frightening. But the way it tickled her had her closing her eyes again to see if she could catch it by the tail. Sure enough there it was and this time not just lurking in the shadows. This time it was sitting on it’s haunches, grinning at her displaying razor sharp teeth.
Emily knew she shouldn’t. She knew it would be wrong to let her hand fall to her sex and touch it. It would almost be betraying Jack, in a way.
It goaded her with it’s wicked grin. Crooked a finger and drew her to itself whispering “it’s not cheating unless you act on it.”
Emily Robertson, cheerful suburban soccer-mom, mother of two, solider (at least in her own estimation) heard her resolve snap like a twig. Her palm drifted down past the tiny curve of her belly. Down between her thighs that were still a little sticky from Jack’s…from his seed (the word made her shudder). Down to where her pussy was hot and wet and greedy.
She indulged the thing she hadn’t named. Thought of Jack telling her he liked it that she’d thought about another man inside her. Thought about what it would feel like if she ever let anyone else but him in there. Maybe Carter, even.
Her eyes shot open as a trickle of her lubricant ran out of her. She pressed the tip of one trembling finger against the throbbing bud of her clit and twisted a shaky circle around it. Her legs shuddered. Her head fell to one side.
There was Jack. Sleeping, snoring slightly, his hunched shoulder moving up and down with each breath. There he was, the man she thought she knew so well. The man who’d just revealed his dark secret and made her responsible for keeping it.
What would it be like?
What would it be like laying on that bed and letting someone other than her Jack into her tight space? Not that she ever would. This was just a fantasy. But thinking of Jack sitting in the chair across the room, the one with dirty clothes piled high that they never used, and watching her be used by someone else was…exhilarating.
Could she ever do it?
Her finger started spinning faster.
Her mind moved from the hypothetical to the concrete. Allowing herself to consider not just what it would be like, but whether she could was fantasy hardening into intent.
She’d never been with another man. Never seen another penis, even. Thought she might faint if she ever did. So why was considering Carter’s hard package so thrilling?
The vision of him climbing onto the bed, splaying her legs with those muscled, worn paws of his and lying down on top of her nearly drove her crazy. She struggled to control her breathing. Panting, she flicked the bundle of nerves that was sending fingers of hot bliss pulsing through her.
What would it be like letting Carter in?
And suddenly she wasn’t thinking of him just in her. She was thinking of him riding her, his thick prick stabbing at her pussy as she moaned and wailed, occasionally glancing at Jack and feeling drunk from the attention he was giving her. All as she fucked another man.
She stifled a squeal as she came. Her body shuddered so violently it shook the bed. Clapping a hand over her mouth she snorted out a breath as she crested the apex of her climax and tipped forward, her body racing back toward it’s normal self.
The contractions in her pussy weakened. She curled her toes to try and spread the tension. Her belly was tight, the fingers of her other hand had curled into a claw and were gripping the sheets so hard they threatened to rip.
Her sixth climax of the day (she’d only mentioned one to Jack because, well, it was all so dirty) caused an exhaustion to flood through her. She let out a tired breath and rolled onto her side, away from Jack. Shame and guilt wormed into the base of her mind and set up camp.
Why?
Jack had said he liked it. He’d liked hearing about her with another man. He’d said so himself. Why should she feel guilty?
She knew full well. Because on his lap, listening to his dark confession, Emily had been including him in her fantasy. Here in the darkness, or throughout the day when she’d tried but been unable to resist the hungry ache throbbing between her legs, it was just her. Her and the little monster that had taken up residence in her head.
Jack had nothing to do with that and she knew it. And that felt wrong.
Sleep was fitful and full of lucid dreams. Terrible dreams. Dreams she’d never had before. Of hard men, construction workers and roughnecks, eyeing her and laughing and doing other things
she couldn’t admit once the first light of day cracked through the curtains.
Waking up was a relief. She sprang out of bed and skipped to the bathroom. After peeing she trotted downstairs, the spring in her step there not because of her usual sunny disposition. She was running. Running from the thing as it chased her around the kitchen while she tried to make breakfast.
She made coffee in the new coffee machine, even though Jack preferred espresso. Even that felt like cheating. The coffee machine she’d bought when Carter had told her she had “nice legs.”
Worst of all every time she thought about it, about the casual way he’d said it and how she’d reacted, it ignited a burning between her thighs she couldn’t escape.
By the time Jack made his way down the stairs in his bathrobe, groggy and rubbing the sleep from his eyes she was in a frenzy. Her smile almost maniacal as she handed him his morning Joe.
He sniffed it and raised an eyebrow. “New coffee maker?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the apology having nothing to do with the quality of the hot drink. “I can make you a…”
Jack reached out and touched her arm. Holding her stare he took a long gulp of the jet-black liquid. He swallowed loudly, set the mug down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It was unlike him. He usually used a napkin. “It’s perfect,” he said softly.
Emily nearly melted. Though she couldn’t be sure it seemed that Jack’s acceptance of the coffee had as little to do about the drink as her apology for it had. A swirling, churning confusion coursed through her. What were they doing? Should she just ask like she wanted to so desperately? Should she just blurt it out, say what was on her mind like he had the night before? “I…” The single syllable caught in her throat.
“You’re perfect,” Jack whispered.
Tears threatened to roll down her cheek. She didn’t deserve him. Didn’t deserve this man with all the bad thoughts she’d had the day before. He was too good for her. Too nice and too kind.
That was all she could think about while he was up in the shower. While she prepared his lunch and put the sandwich and apple into a brown paper bag she couldn’t run away from what she felt herself becoming.
