Nighttime Confessions 2: Sunrise Pt. 01

'It's about time you got this cunt chased! I haven't felt that good in a long time! The other "chaste" is your problem. I don't care how or who uses me, just that I get the reasonable use that any healthy, happy vagina requires. And whatever it takes, I want more of the big happy explosion like I had last night! I don't care if you have to fuck a hundred men and women, I want more!'

"Women?"

'Yeah, like I really care whether the tongue and fingers are attached to a male or female. Whatever it takes Marge, or Meg, or Coach, or whatever you call yourself on any given day.'

"I feel so terrible about cheating on Don. You betrayed me too. Did you take over my brain last night when Phil kissed me?"

'Whining does not become you, bitch, but let's put this one to rest. I may siphon a little blood off your brain when I get excited, but your gray matter doesn't move. Neither I nor the Devil made you do it. You are the one who decides when I am going to get fucked and you alone.'

"But how am I going to face Don? I can't keep this a secret from him, can I?"

'You are on your own with that one. And if you don't handle it right, I'll probably never see his lovely dick again. So pay attention! You have probably not noticed, but I don't look any different this morning than I did the last time Don fucked me. Unless you pull a train tonight with the whole resort waiter staff, I don't think he is going to pick up that you got me fucked during this trip. And besides, you can cling to the fact that you made this guy wear a slimy rubber. Is it adultery if you don't let your lover cum in you?'

"I'm afraid so, Monica. Besides, I would have to be honest in admitting that I was so excited that I would have let that guy cum in me if he wanted. He took timeout to put on the condom AFTER I asked him to fuck me. Or you, sorry. And I'm sure I would have violated another marital privilege by letting him cum in my mouth if he hadn't been so hot to get into you. Hell, I would have probably swallowed for the first time in my life if he came right after we got the Big Happy."

'You really are a slut. If it doesn't make any difference, then why did you deprive me of the man sauce I so enjoy? I don't care what you do with your mouth or your asshole as long as I get my fair share of the nectar.'

"Nectar??? You don't have to worry about competition from my ass. But what about Don? I love him dearly and nothing about that was changed by last night. Am I going to screw that up looking for the Big Happy?"

'Fuck him! No, really! I always thought he was a good fuck. You're the one who accepted the quick licks. Maybe if you took a little time with him, he might return the favor.'

"I hadn't thought of that. Do you really think he could give us the same happy time as Phil if Don spent more time at it?"

'You haven't thought, period, Shit-for-Brains. How long do you intend to continue one-note quickies with Don. Do you really think that after 19 years he would still be hot for me? You're the one who keeps saying WOMEN CHOOSE, MEN COOPERATE. While you are choosing, a little effort and imagination would go a long way toward getting me the worship I deserve. And while you're at it, clean me up for God's sake!'

"Some imagination just might be worthwhile, but your hostility is not helping. How do you think I feel?"

'The problem is about how I felt last night! Neither of us seems to be able to get past that Big Happy. And I'll show you hostility, Bitch. How would you feel if you were ignored for 16 years?'

"What do you mean by clean you up?"

'When was the last time you looked at me, you brain-dead cunt. No. Wait. I'm the cunt. Well, you're brain-dead anyway. How long do you plan to grow the beard around this clam? To your knees? If you hadn't pushed out two kids, you would have been growing this tangle for 25 years. How old is Sarah? Twelve years since a razor or scissors have been between your thighs. Cunt-hounds like Phil will put up with the jungle to get a new piece of ass, but nobody likes to pick rope out of their teeth forever.'

"But won't it itch?"

'I didn't say you had to shave it. Scissors will uncover me. What you do with the rest is a matter of tonsorial taste. Are you ashamed of me? Nobody can see me under the bramble bush. Maybe if you and Don knew what I looked like, you might want to spend more time with me. That works for me.'

"OK, I'll think about it. But this is becoming a monologue. Making you pretty is not going to solve my big problems right now."

'Thinking appears not to be your strong suit. Cleaning me up may not solve the big problems, but it will get you started with Don if you can get past last night. And while we're at it, do you realize that you pee through that beard 5 or 6 times a day? Do you really expect your husband to spend 30 minutes sucking the urine off of your scraggly pelt? I'll save the lingerie beef for later.'

"How thoughtful. I'm still not sure we are getting anywhere. What do you think accounts for the fireworks? Obviously not the way you look. And obviously not love or emotional attachment, which were utterly lacking last night. That bothers me a lot. Was it technique? The excitement of a new lover? The freedom of time away from family?"

'I think I would go for Door #2 if those were the only choices. But now that you've found the Big Happy, I don't necessarily think you have to go on to a succession of strange lovers to recapture the moment. Make the effort at home first. Your husband is more likely to give it to me on a regular basis that a succession of strange dicks. But maybe not. Like I said, I couldn't care less who does it, only that I get it often enough. And your hand won't get it, not that you try more than a couple times a decade.'

"Sorry, but as you know I have never been that interested before. But now who is the slut? Any tongue in a storm, eh? To tell you the truth, that is what I am most worried about. I'm leaning toward Doors #2 and #3, and there may be some more choices."

'Actually I would go for a Door #4 if you asked me. Behind that one you would find the mature adult pussy that you have never gotten to know. You know, I got my license and voter registration about 24 years ago, but I didn't develop a taste for drinking the hard stuff until we were about 30 years old. So maybe we couldn't get the Big Happy until we learned how to use my mature good stuff. But for the last eight years, you haven't bothered. Maybe the Big Happy has been there since thirty when you approached or reached your peak, and anybody with an indefatigable tongue could have given it to us since then.'

"Actually, that IS beginning to make sense. But it's getting late and I should be getting downstairs. If you don't mind, I'll pass on the jill-off. You've had enough happy time for one 24 hour period."

'Bitch! If you had a clue.....'

I removed my hands and closed my thighs. People were moving about the courtyard and I'm really not an exhibitionist (I don't think). Besides, it was time for a shower and a face-off with my "friends".

I don't think I had any answers yet but the questions were beginning to get organized. At that point I really had only two resolutions. I would not have a drop of alcohol today. And I was not going to get laid tonight. But I didn't think I was going to make any progress that day on the two questions that haunted me the most. Where did those fireworks come from and how could I keep them in my life? And what was I going to tell Don?

When I left my room, I looked to be a cross between the worst hangover I had ever had and a flu victim, with the bags under my puffy eyes, my sallow skin, and my red nose. I had never been very good with makeup, so I don't think I hid it very well even though I spent more time than usual with my morning toilette. At least I had a brighter blouse and dark slacks to draw attention from my face, and you may be sure that I wore bulletproof underwear that morning.

The resort restaurant was nearly empty when I entered at 7:15 a.m. I took a small table where I could watch the door. Judy was at the top of my list and she had been an early riser all week. She didn't disappoint.

"I'd say good morning if you didn't look like you had such a bad night, Marge. How about a little hair of the dog?" she greeted me as she sat down next to me at the table.

"You, on the other hand, look like you slept the righteous sleep of a well-fucked woman," I replied without a smile. "No thanks. I'm not drinking today, so I'll pass on the Bloody Mary. I'm not sure whose hair or whose dog it would be anyways."

"Well, we offered you the opportunity for the same righteous sleep," she chuckled. She had not picked up my distressed mood.

"Fuck you!" I exploded in a low whisper to get her undivided attention. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about your little swing club. You just let me walk into it blind, deaf, and dumb. That is not the act of a friend."

The expression on her face was one of shock. Clearly she had never anticipated the negative reaction that I was having to my first extra-marital adventure. But she listened carefully as I shared my anguish with her and I began to see a glimmer of remorse in her face.

"Couldn't you at least have warned me or told me about your little "gang?" I asked again.

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking. I assumed that you would welcome the opportunity for some exciting no-strings sex during this oasis from everyday life. I thought you would enjoy it more if it just happened without pre-meditation," she temporized.

"When is sex ever "no-strings" when it is extra-marital?" I practically shrieked at her. "Have you been so long without a caring relationship that the concepts of loyalty and deceit are now totally alien to you?"

Judy studied her coffee for a moment but ventured no response. Her shock then returned when I suggested that I would tell my husband. She had obviously never considered that possibility. She was finally beginning to realize the enormity of my distress and the price to pay for thoughtlessly initiating the uninitiated.

"Why would you tell your husband?" she asked, her voice hinting at panic.

"I have always held him to a high standard of honesty and disclosure. No secrets. I can't imagine anything more important to share than this stupid adultery. If I didn't tell him, I would be the worst kind of hypocrite. And I would hate for him to find out from someone else."

"But who else knows and would tell him? What he doesn't know won't hurt him," she rationalized (again). "I can guarantee you that no one in the group will tell. If you tell him, he might complain to the Association. Think of Phil and Rachel and the impact on their marriages."

"They will have to deal with that; not my problem," I said. "That was the risk when they decided to go along with this swinging scheme. I will certainly not name names but I will have to put my stupidity in the context of this club or gang or whatever you want to call it. I feel like I was tricked into Phil's bed last night, so I don't feel too sympathetic or solicitous of the people who helped him."

She persisted in trying to persuade me against confession, and I told her I had not made up my mind for sure yet. Leaving it at that, we interrupted our talk to attend the breakfast buffet line. All I felt like was some oatmeal and toast, but Judy had a surprising appetite for such a small woman. She was no more than 5 feet tall and weighed maybe 100 pounds after her big breakfast. Short blond hair and blue eyes completed the picture, which was quite attractive. I put her about 40 or 41 and she looked to be one of those fortunate women who never had to watch her weight.

I knew she had been married some ten years ago when I had last seen her at a coaching clinic, and that she had returned from out-of-state 7 or 8 years ago with her daughter. She had been single for some time before the group had ventured into extra-marital sex. I wanted to know why she agreed to limit herself to this gang when she was single and could form whatever liaison appealed to her at this convention. Men outnumbered women by 3 to 1, so she had an ample stable of candidates. What did she get out of this arrangement?

She pondered my question as she ate her scrambled eggs. I could tell she would rather return to the confession issue but realized that I was in control of the discussion now. What she told me was not that surprising, had I thought about it before hand. Of course I hadn't thought about any of this before the shock of last night.

She explained that, after her divorce, she had "sworn off" men for a couple of years before starting to date. She did then have one relationship that lasted about two years but it ended badly. The older she got, the more difficult it became to find eligible men she found interesting. The good ones were married and she didn't want to get into destructive affairs. When this group formed, she saw it as the perfect opportunity to have safe sex with interesting men, three of whom were married, without having to invest in a destructive affair or a relationship.

"With the rules we agreed on, it seemed the ideal way to have good no strings sex that we all had incentive to keep confidential," she explained. "None of that rationale changed when the majority of the group became single. We all lived in different places. We still did not have to worry about cultivating daily relationships or our reputation."

I was not really satisfied with that explanation. "Would you have done this if you had been married?"

"I'm probably not a good person to ask. I ended up in a horrible marriage with a contemptible "wife-watcher." In fact, I did some screwing around for the last nine months of the marriage, although you really couldn't call it "cheating". It's a long story," Judy explained, "and I'll tell you some other time if you want. But I think you should talk to Dee-Dee and Rachel about where this fit or fits in their marriages."

"I suppose I don't need to talk to the men," I said. "Married or single, they are not going to turn down no strings pussy, are they?"

That remark cut the tension between us a little bit. I could tell she was about to bring up my confession for discussion again when we were interrupted.

"Mind if I join you to twist your arm to vote for Rule 14f?"

I looked up to find Frank Morello standing before us. With two empty seats at our table, I could hardly say no. I introduced him to Judy, but he said he already knew her – by reputation. When I raised my eyebrows at that comment, he told her that he heard she was a "damn fine coach." After discussing the merits of changing the freshman playing time rule 14f, he learned that we would both vote in favor.

"You do not look well this morning, Marge," he said, shifting the conversation. "A little too much to drink or too much party last night?"

I had prepared to answer that question because I knew how I looked.

"A little too much rum and some bad shrimp," I replied, with a grimace. "But I got to bed at a decent hour."

"So what they say about the hot tub isn't true, huh?" he asked.

A glance at Judy did not change the blank stare on my face. Say what?

"You know, that getting in the hot tub before going to bed prevents a hangover. Sweats out the alcohol," he explained. "I'm sorry, I saw you walking down the hallway barefoot in a robe last night. Your hair was damp around your face, so I assumed you had been in the resort Jacuzzi."

"Oh, ... yeah," I replied. My mind was racing to evaluate the information that he saw me last night. Considering the alternative, a trip to the Jacuzzi was a plausible excuse that I grabbed onto with both hands. "With my stomach in turmoil, I didn't want to stay in very long, so I guess I didn't sweat out much rum."

"Well, I'm glad I avoided the shrimp in the Association hospitality suite," Frank commiserated with me.

Turning to involve Judy in the conversation, he said, "You look all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You were smart to leave that party early last night."

Now it was Judy's turn to gulp and back-fill. "Yes, I wanted to be in good shape for the farewell dinner dance tonight," she replied.

Frank asked if we were going to the baseball game downtown that afternoon. Most of the attendees were going to the beautiful ballpark, seemingly all of the men. But we told him we had not signed up and Judy said she was looking forward to having the spa mostly to herself that afternoon. We then prepared to excuse ourselves to have time to go to our room before the plenary session began at 8:30.

"Have a good day," he said. "I hope you two will grace me with a dance tonight."

"Count on it," Judy replied with a smile. I said nothing, ignoring the question.

"What was that all about?" Judy gasped when we were safely outside the restaurant in the hallway.

"I don't know," I whispered. "He must have been in the hospitality suite before you and Wayne left. How he saw me in a robe is beyond me. Did he see me with Phil or on my way back to get dressed?"

I racked my brain to remember whether Phil and I had shown any familiarity when we walked back to the suite after sex. Did we hold hands? I think the expression on my face reflected only my confusion, but Phil's may have shown triumph. Don't men always wear a smirk after scoring a new piece of ass?

"You know the cocktail lounge is also on the second floor, just a little ways down from Phil's suite," Judy replied. "He must have retired to the lounge after Sam closed the hospitality suite. So he probably knows you were in there when the door was locked."

"Jesus Christ! How could I be so stupid as to not notice he was in there last night?" I exclaimed.

My anger toward Judy and the gang returned. The seductive atmosphere had made me oblivious to more than just my marriage vows. And what if he had seen us in the hallway on the first trip to Phil's room? I shuddered to remember that my arm was around Phil and his hand was on my ass during that short trip. We were locked in a passionate embrace before the door closed. Why couldn't we have just snuck into one of the hospitality suite bedrooms, occupied or not?

"And just to make things a little worse, the Jacuzzi gate locks closed at 10:00 p.m.," Judy prompted. "You could not have been in the Jacuzzi before he saw you."

"Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit."

So he knew I was lying. Uh-oh. Did he know or could he guess about last night. Had he seen me with my underwear hanging out of my handbag? The last person I wanted to know about my little peccadillo was Frank. I thought I was going to cry again as Judy hugged me and encouraged me to "think positive, things are never as bad as they seem."

Bullshit! I made it to the meeting, sitting alone, lost in my worries and feeling sorrier for myself than ever before. If Frank knew, would he tell Don or my school? Would he try to blackmail me into sex? When would I know what he knew?

Several times during that initial hour and a half session I had to cover my eyes to hide their welling with tears. I never felt lower than I did at that moment, rock bottom. In less than 12 hours, my life had turned from almost a peak of happiness to ashes and shit. I thought my life was over as I knew it. And all this just for a little strange sex, "just sex," that I can't remember consciously choosing? I thought Job had nothing on me.

DeeDee and Rachel joined me after the first break. Judy must have told them about Frank and that I was thinking about telling my husband. They were understandably concerned but I mostly ignored them. I got through the sessions, voting on those items required. I was elected to the Competition Committee by acclamation. I did not want to draw attention to myself by withdrawing my name from the consent ballot. I would be back next year. Oh, goody.