The Last To Know - What I Did While We Dated

by Bridy McAvoy

  Her jaw worked but no words came out. Rising to her feet, she stood there looking at me for a moment then, reaching down for the hem of her T-shirt, drew it up, and tossed it away. I already knew she was naked underneath it—now she was statuesquely naked in front of me.

  “What’s wrong with this body? Tell me, am I suddenly unclean? Is that why you don’t want me?”

  She was really worked up, having gone from zero to a hundred mile an hour hurricane in nothing flat. Sam usually kept her temper under control, but not this time. I’d seen her like this—I mean angry, not naked—only a couple of times. It wasn’t pretty.

  I too rose to my feet, walked across the room and slowly raised one hand to her chin, tilting her head back so she could look me in the eyes. I took her other hand and drew it toward me, placing it on the bulge in the front of my trousers. Rather than shout back at her, I spoke calmly.

  “Does this tell you I don’t want you?”

  “Then why won’t…?” She was struggling to keep her temper up, to stop herself from crying. Her fingers tightened around my cock, wrapping around it as much as she could through my jeans.

  “As a couple, we had a good sex life, right?”

  “Had?” There was a real catch in her voice.

  “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

  “Bastard!”

  I put my arm around her and pulled her close. “We have a good sex life. What upsets me is the fact we could have been having it for at least a year longer.”

  She shook her head. I could feel the violent movement against my chest. She pushed against me, breaking the hold. “No, we couldn’t—don’t you see? I guess Mr. Bryant had programmed me with his dating classification system. If I’d slept with you on the first or second date, you’d have been in the wrong category. We’d have dated a few times, and then I’d have discarded you. Would you really have changed what we have for a few weeks of constant rolling in the sack?”

  What came out of my mouth was not the right thing to say. “Would I swap it for the deceit?”

  “Damn you!”

  She was off again. I’d put my foot in it. I didn’t see it coming. Suddenly her hand crashed against the side of my face as she slapped me. Sam never got physical that way, period. So when she did I was taken by surprise. I reeled back and she turned on her heel and stormed into the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind her so hard I swear I felt the whole condo rock.

  I stared at the closed door for a minute, rubbing the stinging side of my face, wondering how much of a red mark she’d left. Part of me wanted to open the door and yell at her. I was, after all, the one wronged here. Part of me wanted to grab the car keys and walk out. Moving closer to the door, I could hear a quiet sobbing. I wasn’t sure if she was muffling her sobs with a pillow, or just crying quietly.

  To be honest, the crying was something I saw as a good sign.

  My own feelings were mixed. I’d treated her like a princess, put her up on the virginal pedestal she’d asked me to. I hadn’t made a move on her for months. Kissed her, sure. Touched her leg on occasions, gradually working further a half inch at a time. Going home from every date with blue balls for nothing more than hand relief. All the time, she’d been getting her jollies all across town on the nights she couldn’t see me.

  And she was the one angry? Someone—anyone—explain that to me. Of course, I was the only one there, the only one who knew the first half of the story. I was in no doubt there was a lot more to know.

  Did she honestly think I was being a cold fish about it? What did she expect me to do?

  After standing there looking out over the dark lake, I realized there were probably a couple of things she expected me to do. She’d more or less invited me to do both.

  She wanted me to claim her, not just listen to her. She expected me to chastise her physically, or to take her—make her mine again in the most primal sense.

  The first was not my style. I wouldn’t spank her enough for it to hurt. The second, well, that wasn’t my way either. I had never fucked Sam, not once. We’d made love. Even that first time had been tender rather than hard.

  * * * *

  “Sam.”

  “Hmm…?”

  Her big eyes looked up from where she was, her lips wrapped around my cock. I could see her breasts bobbing below it as she sucked gently on my cock. A few minutes earlier she’d blown me all the way, now she was nursing on it, trying to get me hard again.

  “Stop, please. I’m sensitive right now.”

  She pulled her face away, pouting, then rose until she was upright. Her breasts were magnificent. I’d counted myself lucky a fortnight before when she finally allowed me to get her topless. Now she was there in front of me, topless again. Every date seemed to end that way once I’d breached the barrier. Her engagement ring sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the window.

  It was a Saturday afternoon and she’d invited me to her house for only the second time. Once she’d opened the door she’d grinned and jumped into my arms. The welcoming kiss had grown more passionate by the second and I’d had to walk her backward to get her into the house before she started something right there on the porch.

  That ring seemed to have flicked a switch in her somewhere. Since the night I’d proposed and she’d screamed Yes loud enough to startle the entire restaurant into silence, things had changed within our relationship.

  In four short weeks, we’d gone from her only letting me touch her outside her clothes to letting me get her half naked and then her blowing me. She wasn’t an expert, but she was learning fast—her cock-sucking skills were improving in leaps and bounds.

  She rose to her feet, lithe and graceful. “Be back in a minute, honey.” Her house was open plan, so she remained in my sight as she walked through into the kitchen and drew herself a glass of water. She gargled with it and spat it out down the sink—I guess she was removing the cock-breath. Then she grabbed a couple of sodas and walked back toward me. I could see the way her hips swayed, the way her naked breasts bounced, and the sight brought my cock back to life. She noticed too and giggled, but I could see there was a light in her eyes that told me more than words could.

  She put the two cans of drink down on the coffee table and, swinging around, sat on my lap, her legs either side of my legs, and her arms around the back of my neck as she pressed forward for a kiss. Since my trousers were down around my knees, and her mini skirt was forced up her thighs by her position, we were naked leg to naked leg. I could feel the heat from her mound as she pressed against me.

  I was hoping she was going further—she seemed to be on fire. I slipped my hand between us, fining her bare stomach, and then scrabbling her skirt fabric up to reach the front of her panties. She gasped as I touched the lace, and leaned back a little as I slid my hand down the front of them. When I reached low enough I found moisture—she was soaked.

  “Honey…”

  “Yes.”

  “Do it.”

  “You mean…?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  I pulled the panties to the side, sliding my hand onto bare, untouched flesh. She groaned and then her face plunged forward, kissing me hard, her tongue spearing into my mouth as she ground against my fingers.

  She was hot at that moment. Her hands left my neck but she didn’t stop kissing me. They moved behind her and I faintly heard a zip being drawn down as she undid her skirt. She broke the kiss and opened her eyes, keeping eye contact as she pulled and wrestled the skirt up. For a moment her head was tangled in her skirt and I took the chance to bring my other hand around to cup her breast. She moaned fiercely into the muffling belt that was her skirt, and then that was off and discarded on the floor behind us. Sam always wore stockings, never pantyhose. That had surprised me, and delighted me when I’d found that out months earlier, but I’d never been allowed to see them in all their glory. That day she was wearing hold-ups, so all she now had on was her stockings and her panties.

  She kissed me
again, leaving us both breathless, and I was rock-hard again. I was sure she could feel it as she pressed against me.

  “Do it, please. Put it in.”

  “I thought you wanted to wait…?”

  “I have waited. Waited long enough. Do it, please.”

  She was grinding against me, lifting herself up and then dropping down, pushing her belly against me, trapping my cock between us. The friction was doing incredible things to me.

  “I’ll try to be gentle.”

  She bit her lip then grabbed my face in both hands. “It won’t hurt. They…they had to cut me when they operated after the accident. There’s nothing to tear, no pain, no blood.”

  “Oh.” I believed her. There was one more thing I needed to check. “Birth control?”

  “Silly, I’m on the pill, have been to control my periods for years. Just stop asking questions. Please do it, I’m ready.”

  I felt stupid—of course I knew about the pill—she’d told me that months earlier too.

  I put my hands to her waist as she dropped one hand between us. She stroked me a couple of times as I lifted her up, then I felt her outer lips against the head of my cock. I started to lower her slowly and she let go of my cock. Her head went back, her mouth dropped open and she moaned softly. I held off, lowering her very slowly. My cock felt like it was on fire.

  “That feels…incredible.”

  Her head came back upright and she stared into my eyes. Deep limpet pools of love that seemed to strain for my very soul. Her breathing was harsh, gasping for air and her hands dropped to clutch mine. I thought she wanted me to stop, to give herself time to adjust, so I stopped lowering her. Panic flared in her eyes but she wasn’t stopping me. She pulled my hands out away from her, and dropped straight down on my cock, taking all of me in a single move.

  Her eyes flared wide, her mouth too, and she grunted, then screamed. For a moment I thought it was too much, that she was hurt. My hands returned to her waist as if to lift her off, but no, incredibly she was cumming. It wasn’t pain—it was sheer ecstasy. Her body shook and quivered as she mewled and moaned for what seemed like ages.

  “Oh, shit! That’s something else.” She rested her forehead, slick with sweat, against mine and started to lift herself up. She got about halfway then dropped down again. Each time she bottomed out, she grunted. Each time she pulled almost all the way off me, she wailed out her loss.

  For me it was the most incredible sensation of my life and, under that much pressure, despite having cum so soon before, it didn’t take me long before I came too.

  We rolled apart, panting for breath.

  I’d just taken my fiancée’s virginity and she’d loved every second of it.

  She might have loved every second of it, but it had been a lie from start to finish. An act, a performance, above all a lie.

  * * * *

  I stood there staring out over the lake, realizing there were tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t heard the bedroom door open, but suddenly she was there. How long she’d stood watching me while I’d been thinking about that first time, I don’t know. Anyway, there she was, standing behind me, her body pressed against my back, her hands initially around my chest. One hand stayed there, holding me, her other sliding upward, reaching my cheek, her finger scooping up the soft salty wetness running down my cheek.

  I had no idea if she’d heard me crying, or simply seen it. I didn’t think I’d made a noise, but I didn’t know for sure. In any case, she was there, holding me as tightly as she could. She didn’t say anything, just held me, I guess like I’d held her on the Wednesday night, unconsciously knowing that was what she’d needed then. What I needed now. She’d always said it took a special man to be able to cry. Not a weak one, a special one.

  After a few moments she dropped her hand down to mine, softly entwining her fingers between mine and pulled me away from the view. “Come on.” I let her lead me through to the bedroom where she pushed me down to sit on the edge of the bed. A glance showed me the drapes in here were closed. Before I could stop her she’d climbed into my lap, her legs straddling me. She was still nude. Her arms went around me, her head went to my chest, turned sideways so she could press her ear against me and hear my heart beating. She didn’t say a word, just sat there.

  I knew she’d sit like that for as long as it needed, all night if necessary, however cold it got. It was her way of healing, of saying sorry without words. It was comforting, and I already knew I loved the woman giving herself to me this way—really, truly, loved her. The question, though, remained unanswered. Could I forgive her—not for the sleeping around—but for deceiving me so cruelly?

  After a few minutes I wrapped my arms around her, lifted her up and then turned and laid her down on the bed. She lay there watching me as I undressed, and crawled into bed beside her. We spooned up together and, after a while, still with nothing spoken, we both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Nine – Poker Night

  Once more I awoke to the smells and sight of my wife cooking breakfast without bothering to get dressed. When I emerged tousle-headed from the bedroom she rushed over and grabbed my face and kissed me.

  “I’m sorry about my tantrum last night.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I have to find a way of making it up to you.”

  “Oh?”

  She posed for a second. “I’m sure you can think of a way.”

  I allowed my eyes to rove up and down her brazenly displayed naked body. “I’m sure I could, but I want a shower and some food.”

  “Have to be breakfast first, honey. It’s nearly ready.” She dashed back the other side of the counter to stop anything burning, and a couple of minutes later we sat side by side on the couch, balancing plates of toast and scrambled egg on our laps. We ate in silence and, once done, she headed for the shower while I did the dishes and cleaned up in the kitchen. Once she’d showered, I took my turn then went back into the bedroom to change. Sam was sitting at the dressing table blow-drying her hair, completely naked. The drapes were, of course, open. Her blatant, almost aggressive nudity around the condo was getting a little bit much.

  “What are we doing today?”

  “You’re going to have to give me some more of the story, and then I thought we’d have a picnic on the lake.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “After which I thought I’d take you shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Sure. We’re supposed to be on holiday, so why wouldn’t I take my wife shopping?”

  “Good idea, honey.”

  “One condition, though.”

  “What?”

  “No flashing, no accidentally on purpose leaving a gap by not pulling the curtain closed.”

  She pouted. “Spoilsport.”

  “No, honey. Until the computer forensics team report they’ve successfully compromised that laptop, I don’t want any risk of pictures of you behaving like you are now getting out and The Gazette revitalizing their story. We didn’t go through all this to make one slip and get your career and reputation destroyed.”

  “What if someone has taken a picture of me, like this?”

  I shrugged. “You’re in your own home. If they publish we’ll sue for invasion of privacy. Out in the street, or a shop, that’s different. Mustn’t give them an excuse to reopen the story.”

  She forced a smile and nodded. “Makes sense.” The smile deepened. “Does that mean you won’t want me to cover up around here?”

  “On the boat, yes. In here, you better not. You can show me everything you’ve got as often as you like.”

  She put down the brush she’d been holding and spun around on the stool. Her legs flared open, I mean wide open, displaying her entire pussy to me. Her right hand snaked down, and she used her fingers to spread her pussy lips, showing me the deeper pink skin inside her glistening folds.

  “You mean like this.”

  I grinned. “Not really. Now put some clothes on
, Sam. Time to tell me some more.”

  “Even if it’s hard?”

  “Even if it’s hard. We have to work through this, and I don’t know any other way.”

  She sat up straight, and nodded slowly, her smile slipping away. “Okay, but I’m not going to stop trying to get you inside me.”

  “Good, I don’t want you to stop trying, but I do want you dressed.”

  * * * *

  I guess over the next couple of weeks, I found out you were the perfect boyfriend—potential husband material. You were studying or taking undergraduate seminar classes all day. Did you ever have a workload—you had some seriously lazy professors. But you did it without complaint. Of course, I was working too, so daytime in the week was out. On weekday evenings you were making money to live on by working at the supermarket on the swing shift. What time did you get off—ten? After a fifteen hour day you’d go home and study for a couple of hours and then crash and sleep. You worked Saturday mornings too, and Sunday was your day for studying.

  I could only see you on Saturday evenings, one date a week. One fabulous, sweet date every week—that was it. Most of the time we couldn’t even talk to each other in between because you were so busy.

  That left me free to do whatever I wanted on the weeknights. Mr. Bryant was still sexing me up several evenings after work, and Thursday afternoons were turning into three hours of non-stop sex. On Mondays and Wednesdays, Max took me out in the boat for an hour just to teach me the basics, and get me more confident. Those lessons always ended with a quickie on the boat, or he’d come back to the condo—sometimes both. I always kicked him out early and came back to the house afterward.

  Thursday nights were my night in, and Sunday became my lazy day, but I needed the study time too. Remember, I still hadn’t passed my ALA board at that point. That left me Tuesday and Friday nights for fun, outside of my two older partners—guys my age.

  I had a lot more confidence now. I knew what I wanted, and I knew I had the weapons to get it. I went out to bars and clubs, wearing tight tops, little denim skirts and no bra. I tended to go bare-legged—for the younger crowd that seemed more appropriate.