Extramarital

Explicit Material, Eighteen and over only

I gulped down my tall glass of lemonade. It didn’t help for long. With sweat running down my neck and rib cage and scrimmage shirt damp and sticking to my skin, I lifted it up to let air from the reciprocating fan cool my breasts. Ahh, that feels good.

It was a blistering day in the valley, so, being without air-conditioning, I opened all the windows and doors. I glanced at the thermometer through the kitchen window. One hundred two. Screw this. I went into the bathroom to take a shower.

Undressing, I gazed in the mirror and recalled the terror of the previous night. My gray-blue eyes stared back, the skin under my left eye swollen but not blackened. My straight pointed nose was intact as was my long auburn hair, though it had been pulled hard. I looked over my slim 5’ 5” frame. My left breast and shoulder were still bruised, but, thank God, no new bruising.  

 Minutes later, I came out, went back into the kitchen and stood in front of the fan undressed and undried. Finally, my skin began to cool.

I glanced up when I heard a hard knocking on the screen door.

It was him—Lane. I could feel the area between my legs warming and became angry. After all these years, he can still push my buttons. Then a flush of mortified heat coursed through me as I realized he could see me as well and his eyes were hungrily scanning my unadorned body. I dashed into my bedroom and returned momentarily wearing a short, floral, silk robe. He was still there.

I showed my distain by heavily padding to the front door in my bare feet. He smiled that smile. My stomach clenched.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” His smile suddenly tuned mischievous. “Seeing all of you was a bonus.”

I ignored that and placed a closed hand on each hip. “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in? I’ve been talking with Pam and I don’t like what she’s telling me.”

“You can talk from there. About what?”

“About your sham of a marriage.”

“My marriage is none of your business—Pam’s either.”

Lane was silent as he turned his head and gazed up the street. “Listen Shelly, normally it wouldn’t be, but when your husband mistreats you, we make it our business.”

“Why should you care? You chose your career over me.”

That apparently hit a nerve since he screamed, “God dammit.” and yanked on the screen door until the latch broke.

I retreated as he stepped in, still screaming, “You know I wanted both. A career and you. It was you who dumped me for that no-good husband of yours.” 

I continued to move backward. I knew what the bulge in the crotch of his pants was and I pleaded weakly, “Please leave, Lane,” while, to my shame, I wanted him. I wanted him to take me into the bedroom and make love to me.

As he stomped toward me, I kept stepping backward until a wall prevented further retreat. I tried to move to my right, but his left hand against the wall stopped me. Before I could even make a move left, his other hand blocked the way.

I’d been afraid to look at him, but a gentle hand lifted my chin. My heart stirred as a tear ran down his cheek. “All you had to do was wait, Baby.”

I ducked under his arm and scampered into the kitchen, where I pulled a large knife from a drawer.

As Lane followed me into the kitchen I swung around, knife extended in front of me. “I think you should leave. I’m a married woman and we shouldn’t be alone like this.”

“What’s not right is that you’re stuck in a loveless marriage with an abusive philanderer.” He walked right up to me, the knife poking him in the abdomen, just above his bulge. “Are you going to cut it off?” He bent down and kissed my lips lightly. Shivers shot through me as he whispered in my ear. “It wants you, you know?”

His musky cologne and his closeness clouded my senses. I shook it off. “I know it wants me Lane and truthfully, I want it, but I’m married, for better or worse. And Harley doesn’t abuse me.”

His hands covered mine and gently relieved them of the knife. The heat I felt earlier was nothing compared to now as his hands untied my robe and parted the left side. With my eyes closed, I almost swooned as I felt a tender touch on the bruise upon my breast. “And did you get this walking into a door?”

I silently giggled. I also silently wished he would take my nipple into his mouth and suck on it.

“And what about this one?” he joked, “did your wicked grandfather clock fall upon your shoulder?”

“No, Harley did them,” I admitted, “but only when he drinks.”

I moaned as his leathery hand began to gently knead my bruised breast and tickle the nub. “Please Lane. This is hard—“

Suddenly, Lane’s left arm swooped under my bottom, his right arm wrapping around my back and his lips covered my mouth. As his tongue begged entrance into my mouth, my body became limp. Airborne, his tongue teasing my teeth apart, I watched in near panic as we entered my bedroom. I was so hot, my resistance dissolved away like ice in a microwave.

Set gently upon the king size bed, virtually naked, my robe parted and laying open, I was so no longer reticent to the inevitable. I reclined onto my elbows and feet flat on the bed bent my knees and spread my legs enough to display my humid target.

Standing above me, I was frozen by lust as Lane began to undress. My vision zeroed in on his large hands as he removed his clothes. I shamelessly reached down and fingered my bud as he unbuttoned his shirt. He smiled in apparent appreciation, shrugging the unfastened shirt over his arms, letting flutter to the floor.

Lane inhaled deeply, tensing the muscles of his lean strapping frame as if posing, thus drawing my gaze from hands that unbuckled his belt to his muscular six pack and bulging abs. I could sense juices running from my well down upon the sheet of the unmade bed.

As my fingers slipped down and slid into my sopping wet core, he spoke. “You are lovely.”

My gaze lowered to his hands, thumbs slid behind the denim fabric as he lowered the jeans. My stomach clenched and my heart beat faster as I noticed the crown of his cock peeking above his briefs. “If you don’t hurry, I cum from watching you strip.”

The sides of Lane’s lips curled. “From what I remember that’s not a problem.” He looked upward, “Let’s see, I seem to remember you having eight orgasms once. Can Harley do that for you.”

Harley, what a pathetic lover. What a pathetic man. I haven’t had eight climaxes in our two year charade of a marriage. “Please don’t remind me I’m married. I want it to be just us.”

Naked, his sizable pole jutting upward, he mounted the bed and adjusted my position. “Hurry, Lane, I’m dying for your…”

He spread my legs wider and kneeling edged forward toward my starving opening. Teasing me until I thought I would die, he slid the bottom of his silky appendage up and down, back and forth between the blossom of my folds. I groaned as his hot prick skirted over my super-sensitive love bud. I was so keyed up, I held my breath, then inhaled deeply. I wanted it so bad I reached down. Grabbing the object of my desire, I shoved it downward toward my sex-hungry vagina. His meaty cock was primed at the rim only needing a good shove, when his powerful hand stayed mine. “Not here.”

I must have looked incredulous because he continued, “Not in Harley’s bed.”

“Why?”

“I want you more than once. We don’t have time for that here.”

My confusion grew. “A motel?”

He shook his head emphatically. Taking his prick in his hand he began to beat it against my swollen clitoris.

I tried raise up to embrace him but his other hand stopped me. Laying back down the hand kneaded my right breast, teasing the nub with his thumb.

“No, I want you in my bed, permanently. I’m taking you with me.”

He pulled away, then grasped my hand and pulled me into the embrace he’d precluded a moment before. I shivered as he whispered breathily into my ear, “I want you so bad. This is tough stopping like this but I love you so much, I want…no, I need you tucked safely at my apartment away from him.”

“What then?”

“Throw something on and pack a few things. We’ll come back in a day or two and get the rest of your possessions. All right?”

“Why stop. I’m really revved up. Why not finish what we’ve started and then take me with you?”

Again he shook his head forcefully. “Not in Harley’s bed. I just can’t. I’ll take care of you at home. Like old times.”

Remembering how he used to drive me bonkers, my pussy clenched. “Promise?”

“Absolutely, I thought I could, but I just can’t do it here. I hate him for taking you away from me and for what he’s done to you, but he is still my brother.”