Zoe's Awakening Pt. 03

Soon enough I see what he was reaching for: a dildo, large, shiny, black, too thick to even consider putting inside me. But oh, he's definitely considering it.

"It's too big, no, don't, please..." I'm crying out, begging you not to, and in the same breath, as you slide it into me slowly, I'm begging you to keep going: "God, yes fuck, fuck mefuckmefuckpleaseplease..." Random strings of words tumble from my lips, begging you to stop, pleading for you to keep going, unable to decide whether it's the most pleasurable thing I've ever experienced or the worst.

Page works the length of the toy into my pussy slowly and then begins a rhythm, plunging it in and sliding it out, over and over, picking up momentum, until once again I feel myself on the precipice of climax, begging him to continue fucking my ass, asking for his cum. The final imaginary, invisible wall between depravity and normalcy has been demolished. Obliterated. I beg, I plead, I urge him to keep fucking me, fuck me like he hates me, like I've taken something precious and sacred from him. Like he's taken from me.

I feel the hot jets of cum filling my ass, and hear his ragged moans and animalistic grunts. The sensations drive me over the edge and I come harder than ever before, feeling like every nerve in my entire body has been lit on fire. After a few moments, he slides out of me and I feel come spilling out, onto the bed and my thighs and I can't even move or think or do anything but just lay there. I'm surprised when Page kisses me - a tender kiss, like we'd just made love, not fucked like wild animals. I stare absentmindedly at the ceiling while he goes to take a shower, deep within my own mind and thoughts, wondering what I'm going to do about Mark. Planning how I'll clean up and make sure that no trace of our frantic fucking is discoverable.

After he leaves, blessedly giving me the rest of the day off, I find the energy to shower and clean myself up, although it's going to be difficult to walk for the rest of the day, as my ass and pussy feel like they took on a battering ram. I strip the bed and stick the sheets in the washer, then vacuum my bedroom, light candles, clean the shower, and generally try to clean the smell of sex from the air. I'm hoping it works, or that Mark won't notice. I'm guessing the latter.

Mark pulls up in the driveway at 6pm, right on time. Never late, Mark. Always the gentleman. I glance at myself in the mirror. I look normal, I think, although I can see the guilt reflected in my eyes. I hope Mark remains as oblivious as I think he will. I've made his favorite meal, made sure the fridge was stocked with his favorite beer, and even baked a pie. A fucking pie. I went from getting my ass fucked by my boss while he slid a a huge toy in my pussy to baking a goddamn pie. The thought is so insanely odd that I can't hold in the insane giggle that escapes my mouth. I recover just as Mark walks in the door, shucking off his jacket and shoes, grinning broadly at me from the door.

"Hi honey, what smells so good?" He asks sweetly, leaning to kiss me. I have to suppress a shudder, I feel so incredibly dirty.

"I baked your favorite. Peach pie. Your mom's recipe." I say, trying to inject a lighthearted tone into my voice. I feel I'm failing miserably, but Mark doesn't seem to notice anything, so I guess I'm ok for the moment.

Mark grins at me like a schoolboy. "Wow babe. Thank you. You're amazing." He leans over to kiss me again but I shy away, turning as if I didn't notice. I turn toward the kitchen to put dinner on the table when I feel Mark's hand grab my wrist. "Babe? Come here, I want a kiss." He says, a confused look on his face.

I try to smile. "Oh sorry, of course." He kisses me, deeply, passionately, running his hands up and down my body. I shiver with revulsion but he takes it as excitement.

"God, I don't know what it is tonight, Z, but you look so beautiful. I'm not even hungry for dinner right now," Mark whispers in my ear. I bite my lip to hold in the cry that wants to escape.

"Mark? I'm sorry, I just don't feel up to it right now," I say, turning my husband's advances down for the first time ever. I'm a filthy slut, but I just can't bring myself to let Mark have sex with me right now. I just... can't do it. I'm too lost in the emotions still churning within me from earlier. I need more time. To think. To do something.

Mark is hurt, but takes it better than I had expected. He certainly would never force me like you would, which is part of the reason I don't even want him. I'm so fucked up. When dinner is over and I head to bed, Mark heads to play online poker and I find a text from Page on my phone: "Bring your sluttiest bathing suit to work with you tomorrow. I have a surprise." I know I should hate him, should text back "No. Fuck you. This is over." But I don't do any of that. Instead, I walk to my dresser and rifle through my swimsuits, passing up the retro style bikini with the high waist that Mark favors and grabbing the skimpiest black tie-side bikini I have, which I wore on our honeymoon. Mark had blushed when he saw me in it and insisted I couldn't wear it on the beach, only in the hot tub with him. I would have preferred to be naked in the hot tub, but... I shake my head to clear the thoughts away and stick the tiny scraps of fabric in my purse for tomorrow. I brush my teeth for the third time since you left, trying to scrub the taste of your parting kiss from my mouth, wishing that cleansing my mouth and body would somehow also cleanse my fucked up soul. I stare at myself in the mirror before I head to bed, where I fall asleep wondering what Page has in store for me tomorrow. And the next day, and the next...

That night, I sleep like someone drugged me. Dreamless and deep, my sleep stretched out in front of me as calm as Lake Michigan on a clear spring day. I woke suddenly, though, 2 hours before my alarm, the memories of everything that had happened between me and Page invading my perfect slumber and jolting me to life.

Mark sleeps soundly next to me, quiet snores punctuating his deep breathing. I sit up, pulling the comforter tightly around me. I feel my clit start to throb as I get lost in thoughts of yesterday. My boss fucking my ass and pussy, right here on this very bed. I can still smell the coconut oil, even over the scent of the candles I had lit after he left. I feel like touching myself, bringing myself off right next to my sleeping husband, but I can't do it. I'm already ashamed enough. What would I do if he caught me? No, I can't do that. But I can wake him up... rid myself of a little of this guilt by bringing him some pleasure... maybe I'll get off in the process, too, if I concentrate hard enough on remembering the way you fucked my ass with wild animalistic abandon.

I peel my tank top off and throw it in the corner, then roll over, hugging Mark from behind, my naked breasts pressed against his back. Slowly, I start sliding my hand down his body, brushing his hip, then his stomach, till finally, I rest my hand on his cock. Not hard, but that's ok. It will be soon.

I whisper softly in his ear, "Honey? I feel better this morning... wake up..."

I'm rewarded with a sleepy sigh of contentment and can feel him stirring under my hand. I squeeze his dick gently while kissing his neck. Constantly thinking of Page the whole time. His fingers, slick with coconut oil, fucking my ass and pussy simultaneously. His voice, demanding that I beg him to fuck my ass.

I rub more insistently, needing some release, needing to believe I can somehow make this up to him. I need to believe that I can be the good girl again. That I'm not a whore. That I can be whole without what Page has given me/taken from me.

Mark wakes up more fully and rolls to face me. "Wha...?" he starts to say, but I stop him with a gentle kiss, and bring his hands to my breasts, letting him feel how hard my nipples are, silently hoping that this time will change everything for me. For us. His cock is fully erect now, and I make my way down the bed until my face is level with his erection. Slowly, slowly I take the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, then engulfing his whole length in my hot mouth. I'm rewarded with a groan of pleasure from Mark. I keep going until he's rock hard and I'm scorching hot, wet, ready. I wish he would grab me, tell me what he wants to do to me, fuck my brains out until I can't stop coming.

Instead, he smiles sweetly at me and makes a move to climb on top of me, as usual. I know I won't come that way, so I grab his arms and push him back, signaling for him to lay back down. I place my legs on either side of his hips and sink down onto his cock, savoring the way it hits all the right spots inside me. I close my eyes and start to rock back and forth, my clit rubbing Mark's pelvic bone, feeling my orgasm already building as I think of doing this to Page. Riding his thick cock while he hold my hands behind me and pounds away from underneath. Or maybe he'd pull my head back by my hair and tell me to make him come, keeping his body completely still and making me do all the work, fucking him and using my hips to grind down on his dick, making us both come... Or maybe he would even grab my neck, applying only light pressure but making me feel totally overpowered even while being on top... him, slapping and pinching and biting my tits... the thoughts are tumbling through my mind faster and faster and my hips are moving of their own accord, small circles that cause Mark's cock to hit my g-spot, and then I'm coming and I'm thinking of Page the whole time and Mark is coming and I hate myself again when I realize I used him like to masturbate, getting off while thinking of someone else. Of someone I should hate.

I roll off of him and head straight to the shower, leaving my husband bewildered in our bed. I let the hot water pour over me, just trying to brace myself, wondering what new depths of slutty depravity I'll sink to today.

I get ready quickly, give Mark a quick kiss and head out the door, swim suit in my purse. I arrive 10 minutes early and sit in my car, not wanting to look too eager. I walk in to see that Page is already behind his desk, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

"Good morning, Zoe. Sit down, I have something I'd like to discuss with you. An assignment of sorts..." Page says, barely able to contain his excitement over whatever announcement he has in store.

I take a deep breath and reply, with as much dignity as I can after what he's seen me do and say, "Of course. What is it, sir?"