Sandie's First Swing Pt. 03

I had always resisted or refused when my husband had attempted to tongue me 'down there' but the new, sexually aware Sandie had had little difficulty overcoming that inhibition too and the results were mind-blowing. The first totally unexpected climax was followed by many wonderful after-shocks as Paul tongued my burning inner lips and clitoris until I thought I would either pee myself or die of pleasure or maybe even both.

I was already exhausted when, having manoeuvred me onto all fours, he finally mounted me. It was a position I had nearly always rejected with my husband as being too degrading for a woman but in Paul's expert hands it now seemed raw, real, passionate and natural to offer myself to my wonderful lover in this brutal, all-surrendering way.

I squealed when he entered me firmly from behind; the feeling of penetration was so extreme that for a moment it completely overwhelmed me. Seconds later my arms had given way and my face was pressed hard into the pillow as he thrust faster and faster into my brazenly raised and obscenely presented vagina, his strong fingers gripping the flesh of my hips tightly, pulling me hard onto his pounding cock with every thrust.

I can't remember how or if I responded to what can only be called a 'good fucking' but I do remember his thrusts being wild, fast and deep and that he reached his climax quickly.

I was too tired to climax again myself but when he ejaculated in me for the last time there were tears running down my cheeks and onto the pillow.

***

The sound of kids playing noisily and happily coming through the open bedroom door woke me on Sunday morning. I opened my eyes to find Paul in his shorts, bringing me a mug of tea in bed. If it were possible, he looked even more attractive with his light morning stubble, his powerful chest and arms bare and I once again glowed inside and blushed outside at the memory of what we had said and done to each other.

I sat up in bed, the duvet barely covering my boobs, smiled up at him and took the tea. I was still nervous; somewhat embarrassed at my performance during the night and worried that, after all the instructions in lovemaking I had needed, he might have lost some respect for me.

To my relief I saw nothing but warmth on his face.

"How do you feel this morning?" he asked, perching on the edge of the mattress.

"Good!" I grinned, sipping the tea, "I ache like hell but I feel the best I've felt in months!"

"Doctor Paul's prescription worked then?" he chuckled.

"Like a dream," I replied coyly then frowned. "You had to give me a lot of help though. Was I really that bad a lover?"

"Christ no!" he exclaimed, "You were amazing. I still can't quite believe it's all happening!"

"But compared to Lisa..." I began but he cut me off.

"Forget Lisa! This weekend is about you..." he kissed me on the lips, "and me..." he kissed me again.

Whether it was the truth or not, it was what I wanted to hear so I didn't press for more reassurance.

The noise from downstairs grew louder and closer and I was slightly relieved when he didn't try to make love to me again. Apart from the danger of discovery, my body needed time to recover too.

Breakfast was fun with all six of us crowded around the kitchen table then we all got dressed for the day. I let the hot water of the shower ease my aching muscles and joints. My not-unpleasant soreness would take longer to fade.

As I put on a little of Lisa's makeup, I inspected myself in the mirror. Apart from looking tired, I could see little outward sign of the massive changes that had taken place within me; no obvious clues to my infidelity; nothing to suggest the surge in sexuality that had taken over my formerly-passive body.

When we were all dressed, Paul and I took the kids to an adventure playground in the forest, which they adored. The leggings and top I had worn the day before were sweaty and unusable after the heat of the bike ride. After a good look through her closet and several unsuccessful try-ons, I found a tight fitting, stretchy dress of Lisa's that I hoped wasn't too revealing and didn't look ridiculously short for my rather older legs. I wore it with tights.

This was a mistake, which I only discovered when we arrived at the playground and it was too late to change; the damn thing rode up my thighs constantly, revealing my nylon-covered panties frequently and I had to wriggle it down every few minutes to cover what was left of my modesty.

Paul of course thought this was hilarious and very sexy so to please him I didn't change when we returned to the house and cooked a very late lunch while the kids watched a movie on TV. Apart from a handful of squabbles, the kids were great too; so busy playing together that I don't think they noticed the surreptitious hand-holding and occasional kissing that was going on between Paul and me at the playground or the outrageous groping that took place in the kitchen afterwards.

***

We were all disappointed later that evening when it was time for the party to end and for the three of us to return to our own home. The kids were bubbling over with chatter having enjoyed themselves immensely; all sleeping on the floor in the same room as they had done in Wales, and were now obviously exhausted.

As I drove home and their two heads lolled in the back seat, I knew I would pay the price through bad tempers the following morning when it was time to get them to school but right then that didn't matter; it had been a wonderful weekend that not even the hard reality of Tom's deceit and Lisa's conniving had been able to spoil.

The emotional rollercoaster that had been the past year of my life had taken many turns over the two wonderful days we had spent together. Paul and I had made love at least half a dozen times in all - I had lost count and had fallen asleep on him at least twice - each penetration better than the last as our bodies had tuned into each other, our desires had become clearer and my remaining inhibitions had fallen away.

Indeed our farewell kiss - in the bedroom so the kids couldn't see - had resulted in a brief, hasty but wonderfully passionate penetration on the edge of the mattress with Lisa's tight dress bunched up around my waist. There had been no time to shower afterwards and I could still smell Paul's distinctive musky, masculine scent on my body as we rolled home through the half empty streets.

I suddenly realised that I had made love to Paul in a single weekend more that I had with my husband in all the months since my termination, and would have even done more if Tom and Lisa's imminent return hadn't brought the adventure to an enforced end.

I pulled into the empty driveway remembering how different I had felt when I had bundled the kids into the car only forty-eight hours ago. So much had already happened; surely life couldn't be the same again.

Waking the sleeping kids gently I cajoled them into washing their faces and brushing their teeth before going complaining and exhausted to bed. As I kissed them goodnight and closed their bedroom doors, I sighed with relief then went to the bedroom to bathe and change out of Lisa's tight clothes.

I relaxed in the hot, deep water for a long time, letting it soothe my aching back, legs and hips as it washed away the last traces of Paul's juices from the outside of my body. I could only imagine what might remain inside me but the thought brought a happy glow to my cheeks. As my fingertips began to prune, I reluctantly stepped onto the fluffy bath mat and, wrapping a large towel around me, went back into the bedroom.

"What's this about spending the weekend with Paul?"

I span around suddenly at the sound of my husband's angry voice behind and turned to see him standing up aggressively, his eyes burning into mine, Lisa's dress in his hand. I hadn't heard him come home but he had clearly been waiting for me to come out of the bathroom, growing angrier and angrier the longer I took in the bath.

"What?" I said, still recovering from the shock of his presence, "I didn't hear you...".

"Emily just told me about your weekend. How the kids shared the playroom and how 'Mummy and Uncle Paul shared a room too'."

My blood ran cold but I said nothing. My first reaction had been one of terrible guilt, but then I remembered what he had been doing all weekend and how he had deceived me for so many months. My fear and guilt turned to anger. I silently crossed to the dresser, picked up my husband's mobile phone - the one that had started the whole course of events - and handed it to him.

"Read it!" I said coldly.

"What?"

"Read it, Tom!"

He tapped in his password then looked at the message from Lisa that immediately appeared on the screen.

"Oh fuck!" he said quietly, staring at my bare, wet feet.

I laughed mirthlessly.

"Fuck is right! Fuck is exactly what you've been doing with Lisa, and for the last nine months...!"

The row that followed remains the worst in our entire relationship. Although we both managed to keep our voices relatively low for the kids' sake, we held little back.

I called him a lying, cheating bastard, a useless husband and lover (which was partly true) and a bad father (which wasn't true at all). He called me a slut (unfair) and accused me of having sex in front of the kids (which wasn't true).

He said that he had been driven to find a lover because I was so utterly useless in bed (which probably had been true but after my weekend with Paul was certainly not true now) and that fucking me was like fucking a sack of potatoes (this might have been true too but it was still cruel).

I said the problem was him, his tiny cock (I wanted to hurt him - it isn't small at all) and useless technique (which was true but partly my fault) and that if he wanted to know what I was really like in bed he should ask a real man like Paul...

You get the picture? I'm not proud of myself. We spent the night in separate bedrooms but interestingly, neither of us told the other to get out of the house or threatened to leave.

Trying to hide things from the kids the next morning was very difficult but their tiredness and self centred bad temper helped and we succeeded in delaying the next stage of our row to the evening as we both had to go to work.

Mid morning I had a text message from Paul.

'How are things?'

'Not good. You?'

'Same. Tom texted Lisa. Not good here.'

'Sorry'

'Regret it all now?'

'Not at all it was wonderful. You?'

'Same. Even more in love with you now.'

I thought a while before replying.

'Don't know what to do.'

'I'm here if you need me'

'Need to put the kids first'

'True but remember I'm here anytime anywhere x'

'Thanks. Will know more tonight. Bye for now x'

'I love you Sandie xx'

I couldn't bring myself to tell Paul that I loved him too but the pain I felt in not doing so told me I was in love with him and badly too.

***

I tried hard to concentrate on my work all day, which did help distract me, but when we were all home that evening the tension in the air was palpable. Eventually the kids finished their homework and went for an hour's TV before bed so Tom and I could talk with the kitchen door closed and locked of course.

The outcome of the many bad words, hurt expressions and even more tearful outbursts from both of us was that we decided we would try to put it behind us, forgive each other and stay together.

Tom promised he would end things with Lisa straight away. I agreed I wouldn't see Paul again.

This reduced both Paul and me to tears when I called to tell him. I don't know how Lisa felt when Tom told her. He said she had cried but I can only take his word for it. I hoped it hurt her but I suspect it didn't.

***

For the next month there was an eerie calm in the house as we both tried excessively hard to make things work, though some of the damage that had been done was permanent. Tom took me so violently that first night that it frightened us both and made me so sore that it was a full week before we made love again.

When we did make love I tried very hard to be a more interesting lover; to be more like I imagined Lisa to be in bed without appearing to have been turned into a slut by Paul. It was an impossible balance to achieve.

It was also impossible not to compare Tom's lovemaking unfavourably with Paul's amazing technique and I'm sure Tom was comparing me with Lisa so I suspect we both felt disappointed after each coupling.

We persevered for another month, each passing week making it easier to forgive if not forget. Even now I believe we could have reached an adequate on-going relationship if it hadn't been for one massive event that ended all chances of normality returning.

I found out I was pregnant! Again! I was stunned! After my last mistake, how the Hell could I have let it happen?

I have had a long time to think about things since that eventful morning and of course in practical terms, there is no mystery at all.

Just like our one previous sexual encounter, all Paul and my lovemaking had been entirely unprotected. Paul didn't know I was fertile; he didn't know about the previous pregnancy and presumably thought I was on the pill. He was wrong.

Because of my husband's vasectomy, I wasn't on the pill and despite my previous unplanned conception, the idea of using a condom or anything else still hadn't even occurred to me. I hadn't expected to have a weekend of sex when I had stormed out of the house that fateful Friday evening and had had completely unprotected sex multiple times.

So the answer is simple in practical terms - in psychological terms, things get much murkier.

Why in God's name had I been so careless, so irresponsible? After all I had been through the first time, why did I let it happen again? I have only come up with a few possible answers:

Is it possible that I am the kind of girl so flattered by the attention of an attractive man or so driven by animal lust that it overwhelmed my natural defences and turned my brain to jelly? Given that I have had so few partners in my life and have only had two children, this seems unlikely.

Was it just a subconscious desire for revenge against my cheating, deceitful husband, as if getting pregnant by another man was the ultimate punishment for Tom's philandering? I'm sure there must have been more to it than that, though revenge certainly will have played an important part both in my willingness to be overpowered by Paul and the incredible pleasure I experienced at his tender hands.

Or was there something else subconsciously driving me too; something darker and deep within me that subverted my common sense long enough to get me pregnant.

Was it a desperate desire for forgiveness? A need it for atonement perhaps; as if the only way I could make amends for the grave sin I had committed in having Paul's baby aborted was to get pregnant by him again?

I don't know. All I do know is that without thinking, I had behaved in a way in which I was most likely to conceive and that nothing else had mattered. I had opened myself completely, both physically and emotionally as if I was trying to draw all that was good in Paul into my body. Every time he had ejaculated inside me I had cried real tears, holding him deep within me until he had softened completely and every last drop of his seed had passed into me.

And after each climax, I had lain on my back a long time with his fresh semen inside me, as if unconsciously afraid to lose his life giving seed; allowing the millions of tiny sperm to wriggle their way in the darkness, through my post-orgasmic, open cervix and into the womb beyond.

Whether fate had played any part in it I can't ever know, but it's clear that, as I drove back to the house I had called home that Sunday afternoon, history had already repeated itself and I was a pregnant woman again.

But this time when I came out of the en-suite bathroom with the positive test in my hand, my mind-set was entirely different. Despite the shock, there was no way I would even contemplate having a second abortion.

This time the baby was going to be born.

***

So what happened next?

It's over a year since these events took place and Tom and I are divorced, which won't come as a big surprise.

At first he really tried to make things work. I was surprised and pleased when he told me he understood my refusal to have a termination and for a while he tried hard to behave as if the baby was his, explaining to anyone who asked that his vasectomy had failed. He even joked about suing the surgeon who had carried it out but I suspect few of our family and friends were convinced and as my belly grew larger he found it harder and harder to ignore the fact that his wife was pregnant by another man.

The end came early in the seventh month of my pregnancy when I found the faded remains of a hickey on my husband's neck and he confessed he had been seeing Lisa again for a few months. I felt cold, rejected and, predictably, fell back into Paul's warm and still welcoming bed within a week though Tom and I kept living together for the kids' sake.

The baby was eventually born prematurely and with a very short labour so neither Tom nor Paul was with me at the birth. Fortunately my mother was there at the time but when my new daughter emerged with her real father's very distinctive looks, so very unlike my husband and our other children, my mother knew instantly what had happened and soon so did the rest of our family and friends.

My family were horrified; their own sweet innocent daughter and sister very obviously giving birth to another man's baby was a big shock and a source of shame for quite a while, although they did their best to support me despite their disapproval. Tom's infidelity, though far in excess of my own, was hidden away and was much easier for everyone to deal with or ignore.

Living with another man's child is one thing when only you and the mother know. When it's obvious to the world that you've been cuckolded, it's much harder to bear and, not surprisingly, Tom couldn't manage it - though to his credit, for a while he did try. We separated a short while afterwards and started divorce proceedings straight away. There was no point trying to heal things yet another time.

So it's a sad ending? Maybe not!

Paul and Lisa are separated and I now live with Paul in his large house with all five of the children as one big, happy if rather noisy and complicated family.

We're trying for another baby too before I get too old. It will be my fourth child but of course my fifth pregnancy. I will never forget that termination as long as I live.

My parents and siblings are much happier now that I'm nearly respectable again and I suspect Paul and I will marry one day, which will make them happier still. They really like Paul - who wouldn't - but we're in no rush. He has proposed three times but everything is working quite well right now so why force things? Besides, he and Lisa would have to get divorced first and that would take time, money and stress.

If I'm really honest, I still don't understand what he sees in me, a divorced mother of three nearly ten years older than him. I've lost weight over the last year despite the pregnancies and have toned up a lot by running and using the gym but I still wake up many mornings amazed at my good fortune - in that respect at least.

I'm much more confident and pro-active in bed now too. Even living together all this time, we make love almost every day. Paul has taught me a few more tricks and techniques. He says I'm a fast learner which makes me childishly proud. We've discovered a few more exciting things together which I'm too embarrassed to put in detail here.

Let's just say that I never thought I could be 'that kind of girl' and feel good about it!