Making A Very Long Story Merely Long
When she woke up early the next morning she had time to stew over the previous night’s activities. It felt too much like fooling around behind L’s back and not just friendly cuddles. She didn’t want to stop spooning, but anything below the belt just somehow didn’t seem right. At least, less right than pretending spooning with a married man was okay. She informed him of her decision. However by the next week, she had managed to squash her guilt.
. . .
Selfishness won out. Desire had completely taken over, disposed of her Conscience, and had made Sanity its bitch. The next time he shared her bed she decided to actually give him the feedback he had requested. She liked some pain. The gentle boob mashing was nice, and lord knows she was tickled pink to finally be touched by someone, but it didn’t really do anything for her. She asked him to pinch, twist.
“So, you’re one of those people.”
“Yeah, I like a little pain.”
“I guess this is where it fits in that you said you were a tooth and nail kind of person.”
“Yep.”
“How much pain? How far can I go?” he said as he pinched her nipple between hardened fingertips and twisted. When she gasped out after the pleasure became true pain, he bent his head down and gently kissed the hurt away. Both hands came up to cup her small breasts, kneading and pulling, sucking and biting. He left teeth marks on both breasts. Just when she thought she could take no more attention to her flesh, he slowed his movements, and caressed her with his coarse skinned palms.
They pulled apart.
“God I am such a hypocrite.”
“Yeah, you are.”
. . .
Was she temporarily insane? Because she wasn’t so sure she would stop whatever happened next. She was caught between really liking him, enjoying his company greatly, and luxuriating in the physical contact they’d shared, but hating him for it. He was vile and wretched: married and fooling around with her. She wasn’t excluding herself from those sentiments. She was as much at fault as he.
‘It’s fine,’ she told herself constantly. ‘This has an expiration date. You’ll move away and it will be like it never happened. As long as no one tells L and she doesn’t get hurt, where’s the harm?’
And as long as his behavior towards L didn’t change, who cared what they did? It’s not like this would become a long drawn out emotional affair in which she would desperately want him to leave L, his child, and future baby #2 behind. As long as no one suspected, and no one was told, why stop? He would get that little extra he’d been missing and she would no longer feel starved for touch.
And yet she wondered how she turned into this person that lies to her best friends and family. Why wasn’t the guilt fucking crushing her soul?
Occasionally she’d hear a little echo coming up from where Desire had imprisoned her Conscience.
“You know it’s wrong! Woman, where are your morals?? ADULTERY, hello! One of the big 10. And there’s no guarantee that no one will find out. And if L should ever suspect anything, or find out, it will ruin the entire group dynamic. You’d have to do the “walk of shame” move home. If you stop now, you’ll definitely be able to keep the private hang out time. And be an actual friend and not some lying twat fooling around with her husband.”
And then Desire would go tromping down into the cellar of her brain and duct tape over Conscience’s mouth. Charming.
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Dear Jewrotica
Confess
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