An Innocent Question Ch. 01

The third time I did begin by sucking him until he was hard again. Well, actually that's not quite right. I began by stroking and exploring his body all over, with my hands and my own body. I slid over him, slipped my hands up and down his arms, then his legs. I rubbed his scalp with my fingers, I slid my breasts all over his chest, I licked his nipples. I just adored his body for a while! It was after that that I sucked him back up to a big, beautiful erection.

Then I rolled up on my knees and offered him my well-upholstered ass, while I put my shoulders down on the bed. I didn't have anal sex in mind, just doggy-style into my pussy, and Chris obliged me. I love that position because I can be passive, just letting myself be taken by my man. (Usually Dan, of course!) He can be slow and gentle or hard and forceful, and I'm just there for him, wide open.

Chris seemed to love doggy-style too. He took his time, running his hands all over me. He stroked my breasts over and over, pinched and pulled my nipples lightly, slid his hands all over my hips and back and ass, caressed me everywhere as he stroked in and out of me. As his own excitement built he reached beneath me and worked on my clitoris, making me gasp with the double stimulation from front and rear. When he could tell I was very close to coming he used a finger of his other hand to slide an inch or so into my ass. I shrieked in surprise and pleasure, and came like crazy beneath him, shaking and gasping.

Chris slowed down a bit to let me enjoy my orgasm. Then when I relaxed, he laid me flat on my tummy, his cock still deep inside me, and began stroking more forcefully. It took him five magnificent minutes to reach his own orgasm, while I just lay there, feeling like a boneless cat, soaking up the pleasure of his gorgeous dick going in and out of me. It was indescribably delicious.

After the third time we both slept for a while. When we woke around 5:30, Chris felt he needed to leave, but I told him Dan wouldn't be home until 8:00. So he led me into the shower and we washed each other, lingering gently around each other's tired-out genitals.

I wouldn't have believed it, but a few minutes of that got Chris nice and hard again, and I could feel my own moisture inside me. We jumped out of the shower, laughingly dried each other with big towels and dived for the bed again.

This time Chris sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me onto his lap, facing him with my legs on either side of him. In no time he'd lifted me up and slid me down over his erect penis. After three earlier fucks, I still couldn't believe how great it felt!

This position allowed him to bounce me slowly up and down, rocking me an inch or two up or down his cock. At the same time it put my breasts right in his face, and he teased them deliciously with his teeth and lips and tongue.

I just clung to him, my arms around his neck and my head tilted back, moaning with the pleasure of it. We'd been in bed together for five hours by then, and I just wanted it to go on and on!

I was in no need of any more orgasms by this point; I was just enjoying all the feelings. But I could feel Chris getting more and more worked up, so I started cocking my hips a bit with each thrust to give him more leverage. He pumped harder and harder, getting faster and more urgent, and to my surprise I felt one more orgasm racing towards me like a freight train.

When he was close to coming Chris grabbed my nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, pumping forcefully into me, and I came like crazy one last time. A split-second later he was shuddering and bucking into me with frantic energy. Our last fantastic come of the day had been together, at the same moment.

After we lay, sprawled side-by-side for a few minutes, we pulled ourselves together and got up. It was nearly 7 pm. Chris took another quick shower, then I walked him downstairs. We didn't say much, just grinned at one another. I knew I wasn't the only one who'd just had an unforgettable day of fucking, and it excited me to know that I could give this 36-year old hunk a run for his money.

With no discussion of any "next time", just some gentle kisses, we said our goodbyes. I dragged my tired ass upstairs, got the soaking and stained sheets off the bed and into the wash, re-made the bed and jumped into the shower again. I washed my body and my hair thoroughly, brushed my teeth, and looked all around the bathroom and bedroom to make sure there were no traces of our day of lovemaking.

Finally, utterly exhausted, I pulled on an old nightie and flopped back into bed. I didn't even have the energy to reflect on what I had just done—I was asleep in what felt like seconds.

When Dan came home from work, he must have been surprised to see me already asleep but he didn't disturb me. Like the considerate man he is, he scrounged some dinner from the refrigerator, watched TV or read or something, and came to bed without waking me.

The next morning was really when my nightmare began. I woke early. For a brief moment my tired, happy body reminded me of the utter bliss I'd had the day before with Chris; but that was followed almost instantly by a wave of guilt that tied my stomach in knots. How could I have betrayed Dan that way? Cheated on him in our own bed, without an instant of regret?

I slipped downstairs to make coffee. I was frantic to try and pull myself together before Dan awoke and I had to face him. I was sure he'd take one look at me and know what I'd been doing.

Bustling around the kitchen, making Dan an extra-nice breakfast of pancakes and bacon, I grappled with my tangled thoughts. Two ideas kept pushing all others aside, no matter how hard I tried to keep them in line. The first was that I had done something awful, disgraceful, shameful. I had behaved in a selfish and dishonest way, I'd done something that would hurt Dan beyond measure if he ever learned of it. I was filled with remorse.

The second was that I absolutely, positively, without any doubt would do it again. The pleasure and excitement of my afternoon with Chris were like a drug. My whole body tingled, my skin felt like it was radiating light, I wanted to dance around the kitchen and shout for joy. I'd never experienced anything like it, and I couldn't possibly imagine never having it again. It was unthinkable.

So that's how I was when Dan came down and joined me—beside myself with guilt and anguish, and at the same time so full of joy I was like a kid on Christmas morning.

He noticed the joy first. Smiling at me, he took me in his arms.

"You woke up on the bright side of the bed today, didn't you?" He gave me a kiss. "Don't know the last time I've seen you so cheerful."

I sighed inwardly with relief. At least my guilt hadn't given me away.

"I feel great, Dan. For some reason yesterday I was just exhausted. I went to bed earlier than I almost ever do, and I slept right through. I didn't even hear you come in! I'm sorry not to be up to make you some dinner."

We had a nice breakfast, Dan chattering away about some problems at work while I pretended to listen, pushing my own feelings as far down inside as I could. And the rest of Saturday was uneventful.

We did our usual Saturday errands, Dan did some yard work, we had dinner out and went to a movie—all the usual activities. To my immense relief he didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss, that I'd been turned completely inside-out, that I was no longer the same person he'd kissed goodbye on Friday morning.

Of course with every free part of my mind I was obsessed with my problem. I had to stop seeing Chris, I couldn't stop seeing Chris. Fucking Chris was horrible and wrong, fucking Chris was the only thing in my whole life that mattered. The battle inside me was utterly draining, and making sure that none of it showed on the outside was equally hard.

By the end of the day the only resolution I'd reached was that I couldn't decide anything until Monday anyway, since Dan and I would be together all weekend. That helped ease my self-torment a little, and on Sunday I was somewhat less out of my mind. Until Dan's innocent question, when I felt myself falling off the edge of the earth and down towards Hell.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, when the subject was safely changed and I seemed to have dodged the disaster that was coming right at me, my guilty feelings returned more strongly than ever. I love my husband so much! He has been so steady, so loving, so thoughtful, so responsible. He is a wonderful friend and lover. And so loyal to me. In return, I've cheated on him like a whore.

While I was making dinner, I figured out that one way to convey my feelings to him was to surprise him with a hot time in bed. Things had been pretty active recently anyway, as my constant lust for Chris had been heating me up with Dan. But tonight I'd top myself, go all out and let my body tell Dan how much I loved him.

I went the whole nine yards—make-up, my hair down, the sexiest nightie I own, candles in the bedroom. And when he came up and gaped at me, I chased him into the shower. I was fully prepared to give him a major blow-job and I wanted him clean.

I was very aggressive with Dan that night. I used my lips and breasts all over him, and then I delivered on the blow-job. I took a long time, teasing him and changing from sucking to licking, moving from his cock to his balls and back, building things up for a long time. When I finally took him over the top he went crazy, arching his back and groaning. I knew I'd given him a good one!

But I was determined there would be more sex that night. After a few minutes I got us started again, and this time after some foreplay he ate me out—and damn well, I might add. I was really wound up, and I had several intense orgasms in a row. I could tell Dan was pleased with himself, and I certainly wasn't complaining.

When we got around to fucking it was wild, about as wild as Dan and I had ever been together. I was just so excited I kept thrashing around and humping up against him, and he matched me stroke for stroke. We came pretty much together at the end, and then we just cuddled up to go to sleep.

Only one thing wrong with all of this, of course. I couldn't get Chris out of my mind the entire time I was having all this wild sex with Dan! I wasn't judging, and it didn't feel like the sex with Dan was less good. Sex with Dan is always good, and the love and trust and familiarity that we have are such a crucial part of that.

That Sunday night with Dan had been as exciting and fulfilling as any time we'd ever had together. But my sex with Chris two days before had been mind-blowing, out of this world. And I couldn't stop thinking about Chris's hands and tongue and beautiful cock, even while I was enjoying Dan's.

To say I felt horribly guilty doesn't begin to cover it. I hugged Dan tight and whispered to him that I loved him; then he peacefully drifted off to sleep. On his face was just the sort of "happily-fucked" smile I'd been hoping to leave him with.

But I couldn't sleep. Miserable, guilty, ashamed, I tossed and turned. At about 2:30 am I got up and went downstairs, just to be sure I wouldn't wake Dan. Before I knew it I was in tears, crying and then sobbing as I realized that my lust for Chris might be about to cost me my marriage. How could I have done what I did? Was a fuck, even an amazing and cosmic fuck, worth risking destroying my whole life?

To my dismay, Dan came down and found me. I tried to clean myself up, but it was obvious that I'd been crying. I lied and said I'd been thinking about my father, but I doubt he really believed it. Nonetheless, he didn't press me. Instead, he sweetly held me as I calmed down, then led me back up to bed.

Soon Dan was asleep, while I, my guilt worse than ever because of his unfailing kindness, just lay there in the dark.

***************

Monday was simply awful.

Dan and I had a routine breakfast, then each of us went off to work. I couldn't concentrate, couldn't think about anything but Chris. And Dan. The unspeakable joys of fucking Chris, and the horrors of having cheated on Dan.

I fought a battle with myself all morning—I won't call Chris. I won't call Chris.

At 10:25 I called him. To my disappointment and relief he wasn't home. I didn't leave a message—I certainly didn't want Emily to hear my voice! Good, I thought, though I was crushed. I won't be tempted if I can't reach him.

The relief lasted until about 10:45. I called again. He wasn't home—thank God.

I managed to get through the day, calling him only three more times. I never reached him, and never left a message. When I wasn't fighting myself not to call Chris, I was agonizing about Dan. My feelings there were an equal mixture of guilt and fear.

Finally at 3:30 I couldn't stand it. I told my supervisor I was feeling queasy, and she let me leave early without much protest. I ran to the store, picked up things for a special dinner, went home and began to cook.

I made a blueberry pie, Dan's favorite, and then put together a nice dinner of things I knew he liked. I guess I was so worked up, so desperate, that I didn't realize how suspicious all this extra attention might seem to him. I just knew that I was terrified, and that I loved him, and that I wanted him to know it.

In retrospect it was utterly foolish of me. We had our nice dinner, and he appreciated it. But afterwards we strolled in the back yard and he began to question me about what was going on. He was kind, as he always is, but relentless. He wouldn't let me off the hook—it must have been very obvious to him that something was bothering me.

Finally, I just couldn't hold it back. All the tension and fear and worry inside of me just burst open. I started to sob, while he held me and comforted me, and then I jumped off the cliff. I couldn't help it.

"Dan, I slept with Chris Doebe."

There was a long, long silence. Dan just looked at me closely, his face impassive. His jaw didn't drop open in shock—I guess he must have suspected something like this, though I don't imagine he knew anything about Chris.

I couldn't hold his gaze, and I looked away. My whole body felt as though it would explode. I was aware of two thoughts above all. First, I was utterly petrified that my marriage had just ended. Second, I knew that I had just done the one thing that would ensure I'd never have sex with Chris again, and I was both relieved and crushed.

There was absolutely no chance of Dan letting me continue to see Chris—unless he simply decided to divorce me and move out of my life. So my "affair", if you could call it that, was over. But at what price?

When Dan finally spoke, I could hear that he was controlling himself with great effort. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Dan ... yes, I'll tell you. Only please don't forget how much I love you!" I started to cry again.

"I've fucked things up, I know it ... and I'm so sorry! But it's not because I don't adore you!"

This time he let me cry, sitting back without reaching to comfort me. I could hardly blame him. After I calmed down a little he said, "well?"

I wiped my face. "It only happened once. On Friday. We bumped into each other in Elgin's and had lunch together. Then we came back here for ice cream and ... and we went to bed together."

I stopped. Dan just waited.

"I don't begin to know how to explain this, Dan. I have never cheated on you before in my life, I swear it. Never even a little flirtation. When we met Chris at Emily's party last month, something about him got to me. I had some sort of crazy, instant attraction to him. It's never happened to me before, just meeting someone for the first time and getting so turned on. You remember how I dragged you home early from the party for sex?

"Well, I'm ashamed to tell you ... but it was ... thinking about Chris that got me so excited."

Still keeping his voice quiet, Dan said, "so is that what the last few weeks of terrific sex have been about?"

Looking down, I said, "mostly. It was like I caught a fever when I met him. I couldn't help thinking about him all the time.

"I didn't see him again at all after the party, Dan—except glimpsing him once downtown from the other side of the street. Until Friday, and we ran into one another completely by accident."

I raised my head to look at my husband, and was shocked by what I saw. His face and body were tense, as though it took all his concentration to hold himself together. There was an icy rage that went far beyond the occasional outbursts of anger I had seen in my husband over the years. I knew he would never hurt me—but he looked as though he could reach over and kill me with his bare hands.

"Maybe you should tell me about Friday." His voice was barely above a whisper.

I knew I was treading on thin ice here, to say the least. My husband deserved my complete honesty—that was the least he deserved. On the other hand I felt that depending on how I told this story, my marriage might be over.

"It was my fault, Dan. Totally. Chris is not to blame. I came on to him over lunch, and he just took me up on it. I'm the one who invited him back here."

"Exactly what does that mean, 'came on to him'? Would you care to enlighten me a bit?" Dan's voice was harsher, and the sarcasm was biting.

"Just like at Emily's, I was ... aroused just from being around him. I didn't plan to ... I didn't plan to seduce him, Dan. I didn't plan anything. I kind of lost my mind. I flirted, smiled a lot, touched his hand when he made a joke. All the little things that women do to convey that they're ... interested.

"I am so sorry."

"Yes, you keep saying that. Would you go on?" His voice was cold.

I felt more and more frightened. "Dan, should I ... how about if I save the details for another time? When we're both calmer?"

"No, Goddammit!" Suddenly he was shouting at me. "I want to hear about the whole nasty business, right now! I want to know everything, so I can decide what the rest of my life will be like!"

I waited, terrified, and finally he said in a quiet voice, "it's all right, Ellen. You know I'd never hurt you. But I need to know all of it, right now."

I sighed inwardly. I didn't see any other way but to go on.

"By the end of lunch, it must have been obvious to Chris that I was flirting with him. When I invited him back for ice cream, we both knew it meant for sex.

"So he drove me back, and we had the ice cream. And then we went to bed."

"And?"

"Oh Dan, what do you want me to say?"

"How was it, my darling wife? Did he fuck you good? How many times did you do it? Is his cock bigger than mine? Does he have a good tongue? Did you let him come in your mouth? Did you learn any great new positions? When is the next time you'll be fucking him? Are you going to leave me?

I gasped. "Jesus, Dan! There isn't going to be a next time, and I'm never going to leave you. Unless you throw me out. I love you, and I always will. This was ... some crazy thing that I never planned, and that I'm thoroughly ashamed of. I don't want to be with Chris, I want to be with you."

What I had said was all true. Of course, what I hadn't said is that the only reason I wouldn't be with Chris again is that Dan now knew about us.

I looked at him. He had relaxed, just a fraction.

"All right then. The sex—the fucking. Tell me."

I waited as long as I could, then began to speak.

"Dan—I'm sorry. The sex was ... very exciting. I told you, there's some crazy attraction I felt for him from when we first met him, and it got me very turned on. We did it ... we did it four times. Different positions—missionary, doggy style. I came a lot. Then he went home."

All true, but not the whole truth. I'd die before I'd let Dan know the whole truth—that the sex had been mind-bending, awesome, beyond the impossible. Whatever happened now, he didn't ever need to hear that.