I was a busy, busy, busy woman yesterday.
Very busy.
I did... oh, mother and child stuff you don't want to hear about in the morning, then took the Spawn up to my mother's in the next-door town. After staying there for a while, I headed down into the centre of that little town, where, keeping my eyes on the time, I waited. And waited. Eurgh, but I hate waiting. I'd just about decided that he had two more minutes before I crossed the road and caught a bus back to my town, having waited 13 minutes, when 54 drove around the square, slowed, stopped.
I got in. "Isn't this a bit dangerous for you?" I said. I know he lives along one of the streets leading to the square. "This, I can get away with, he said. However, I called two hotels. One is full, and the other one, I knew the receptionist. Shit. What do we do?" "Let's go to mine." "But where's your husband?" "The other side of the {state-equivalent}" I said, lying, as he was actually downtown. "What if he comes back?" "He won't." "But what if he does?" "OK, I'll call him and check."
I take out my phone, call my husband, ask him what time he thinks he's going to finish tonight- we're supposed to meet when he's done and go to a gig. He confirms that he's working, won't be done until 5 p.m. at the earliest (it turns out to be 6). I close my phone, smile at 54. We drive to my village, him telling me a story about his wife and a gay friend of his. He occasionally surprises me with this sort of tale- he really does come across as being a stereotypical bigoted sexist bully, and then suddenly he'll be all sensitive and accepting.
Not that it's going to make any difference when I do dump him.
I interrupted him at one point, telling him that he had better drop me off just before my village, and I'll go home, he can park outside and then come up. Going up together would be... well, abso-fucking-lutely foolish, obviously. He pulls over and drops me off a bit further out than I'd like, but that's OK, his problem if he has to drive around long enough for me to walk home! And he does have to go past me twice.
I get home, and, duh, pick up the mail, which I have to put back in the mailbox later because I Wasn't Home Today. I drop my coat and bag, keeping an eye out of the window for when he pulls into the parking lot, and go and open the door for him. He comes in, grins at me, grabs me and kisses me. He takes his coat off, kisses me. Holds me against him, holds me tenderly against him, and kisses me, nuzzling me, cuddling me.
I start thinking "This isn't going to last much longer, is it?", and then get distracted by him asking to see my bruise. I strip my shirt off, and he grins, saying that it really shows up from far off (it does, it's bright green!), and did my husband say anything? I say No, which isn't quite true, of course he noticed it, but he just commented on me having yet another bruise, and left it at that.
He strokes me, pulls me to the bed, kisses me, undoing my belt and pants, and then pushes me over onto the bed. At which point he realises that my pants are still in the way, so he tries to take them off, really clumsily. I laugh, push him away, take them off myself (taking off my socks). He steps back, strips. I still have my panties on (I have a gorgeous grey satin with purple edging and cream lace set on today, not that he takes the slightest bit of notice), and after he's leant over me and kissed me some more, I take them off whilst he lies down on the bed. I lie next to him, we kiss, we squirm against each other, he pulls me tight against him, wrapping arms and legs about me and saying something about how he could stay like this for ever (whatever), I go down on him briefly then come up for air, he kisses me... and pulls me over on top of him.
Straddling him, I look straight at him, take his cock, and slide it up me. No questions asked this time!
We're close to the edge of the bed, so I have one foot on the floor for extra purchase, the other leg folded by his side, and... I ride. I ride, and grind, and squirm, and moan, and lean back to squeeze my tits, and move, loving it. He comes, squeezing my hips, but keeps me on him, keeping hard inside me whilst I squirm and move some more. He finally wraps his arms around my ribs and squeezes hard- for some reason, this causes his cock to pop out of me, as my muscles contract insiide. How odd...
I lie down next to him- and notice that he has his socks on! What a passion-killer. But I don't say anything (don't really care). He keeps them on right up to the end. We talk a bit, he fondles me distractedly, pinching my back and my hips, until he rolls me onto my back, holds the base of his cock tight to make it hard, and goes up me. He fucks... and I tell him Yes, just there, put it in me deep, right at the end (he's nowhere near the end, he's not that long), knowing that the words turn him on as they do me... As he fucks me, I feel, to my surprise, that little release inside me that says "You know, if you play with yourself, you're could come". Unexpected, and rather nice, as I wasn't expecting to get that close with him. I don't do anything about it, however- I just lie back, my legs wrapped around his ribcage and my feet resting almost on the backs of his shoulders, my hands clenched on his shoulders as he kisses me, smothering my moans, me feeling my cunt so slippery with come that I wonder how much friction he's actually getting or if he's just battering his way through, until he comes again.
After which again he keeps going, until again he squeezes me tight, and it pops out. I think he quite likes that maneuver, that way he can claim I'm the one who stopped.
We lie chatting again, and end up wrestling a bit. He hates it when I fight back- I've always thought the expression "his eyes flashed" total nonsense, but when I answer him back or fight back, his eyes go wide and sort of glow, and his mouth changes and goes hard, until I stop and let him do what he wanted to do in the first place. He likes it a lot better than if I just let him do anything to me- it gives him a sense of being able to overpower me, and he likes that.
What he hasn't noticed, is that I have only used my arms to fight him back, and, other than hauling a 23-pound toddler around in my arms on and off all day, my arms aren't that strong.
I could do some serious damage to him with my legs, though. They're solid muscle. I walk miles almost every day, with said toddler on my back, and there's a lot of uphill going on. I kick like a mule... and, to quote a favourite author (points for those who don't know me in RL guessing the author without Googling!), have thigh muscles that could crack coconuts. My legs are my last, best line of defense (no points in guessing that reference!).
After the wrestling match, ended by me letting him pinch my mound- and twist- but not by showing him that it hurts because I have enough time to cut my mind away from it and it doesn't too much, he says he's cold, and asks me what I can do to warm him up, then telling me I have one minute to do so, starting "Now", as he slaps my side. I ignore this deliberately, and say there are several options, what does he have in mind. He lies back and thinks, saying that he has lots in his mind, what am I offering? I say Well, there's always my mouth, that works. He grins, and tells me to get to it. I grin, go down. He's soft, and semi-hardens with a bit of effort, me holding the base tight, working him.
After a couple of minutes, however, I come up, and explain what the problem is. Other than grabbing my hair and yanking (not very subtle), I have no idea if he likes anything I do to him, because he doesn't make a sound. How the hell am I supposed to know if he likes the head licked, his balls licked, or just wants to batter it down my throat, if there's no applause? He thinks about this a second, nods, and pushes my head back down.
He's still not hugely helpful (his "applause" seems to be confined to "That's gooooood"), but it's better. We can work on this. And so I blow him nice and hard, until he pulls me up and over him again, holds himself hard, and gets into me.
This time we're on the other edge of the bed, my other foot on the floor, so I move on him some more. He gets his thumb down where he thinks it's resting against my clit (better aim than previous times, but still not quite). I rock back, letting him see where we join (if I lift up too much, he pops out, as we discover, so I can't quite do the Crab and let him watch me move up and down on him), and he watches me move on him, making that peaceful face he gets when fucking, unlike my own Bride of Dracula expression. I ride on, changing positions so that I lean forward, at which point he grabs my hips... and, this is odd, he pulls me slightly sideways on him, his fingers digging into my ass, and it really feels like... is that a finger hovering near my ass? It is, isn't it. Is that going to go anywhere, or is he just keeping it there? He's just keeping it there... until again he comes,
After which he showers, dresses, I dress without showering because I'm a filthy slut and love the idea of having his come and smell on me for the rest of the day, he kisses me, cuddles me, adjusts my clothing tenderly (wtf?), reminds me to tell him when my period starts... and heads off. We've been an hour. I think he's come three times, it may have been more, but definitely three.
He's worried about my period. If it does turn up (next week some time), I'll tell him. If it doesn't... I'll tell him it did. He's already made it clear that he won't tolerate not knowing if anything growing inside me is his or not, and would obviously make things difficult for me, so I'll just fudge the issue.
I check the time, grab the mail, grab my coat, drop the mail back in the box, and head back down the hill to the train station. A few minutes later, I'm on the train into town, when he calls me. He says he's forgotten his wedding ring (which I don't believe, he doesn't take it off), and his {other country} mobile phone, and he's heading back to mine. I play along, but I'm seething inside- I hate that he thinks it's funny to jerk me around like this. So eventually he confesses that it's a joke, teases me about being in a hurry and having to stop it when he could have fucked me some more (he had to go pick up his kid and take her to the swimming-pool- I had scheduled another half hour, not that I had told him), so it's just more macho posturing from him trying to annoy me (and succeeding, but not the way I think he means).
I get into town, do some things to cover my ass re the time I've been in town, and then spend ninety minutes in a bookshop, without, amazingly, buying anything, waiting for my husband's work meeting to end and him to meet me. He finally does, we go for a very very nice dinner, and then go to a both very enjoyable and very disappointing concert (the headliner was not so good, her backing band was extremely good- nothing like a tightly-melded jazz band jamming away in harmony- but the sound system seemed to be designed to spoil everything, fortunately we were close enough for it not to make too much of a difference in the case of the band), after which we come home.
The Spawn is spending the night at my mother's.
We get ready for bed, and go to bed. I've been asked to keep my underwear on, which I do, thinking that I'll let him jerk off on me, and then can go to sleep, as I'm pretty wasted. I've been awake for 18 hours at this point (the Spawn howled briefly early in the morning, enough to wake me up before going back to sleep herself, and I've been awake ever since), and I'm really not that interested. However, I get into bed, and lie there reading for a bit, whilst my husband does the same. I ask him if he's going to notice me at all (teasing him), and he comes over and starts to stroke my ass.
Now, the front of these panties is quite thick grey satin, with purple ruched satin at the sides, and cream lace to the sides of that. The back is grey mesh, fortunately, as the satin doesn't stretch. Consequently, the whole thing is quite tight. He lies next to me, me lying on my stomach reading, and strokes the mesh, fondling my ass... then bends down and sniffs at me. I... still haven't showered, or washed. He tells me I smell really good. I mention how tight the panties are, how I've been wearing them all day, hoping to cover myself. I needn't bother, he's carried away, in fact, he's well gone. He keeps on sniffing my ass, burying his face in my panties, first up high, then getting down to my crotch, sniffing, kissing.
I get to the end of a section in my book, put it down, roll onto my side, squirm my ass against him. He slides his cock under my panties from the side, but that doesn't last long, they're too tight! So he rolls me onto my back, and says, disappointedly, that I'm going to have to take them off. I do so, as he lies next to me. He says "Are they all dirty?"... and I lift them up, show him the stained crotch, and... he sticks his tongue out, and I hold the crotch against his face. He licks and sucks it, moaning, and I play with my clit, watching him, thinking of what he's eating.
Part of me notes the utterly unjustified nature of what I'm doing to him. The rest of me tells her to go fuck herself and shut up, we're busy here! Fucking distracting moral bitch...
I take it away from him after a while. Look at him, and tell him to go down on me. He disappears on down, and, for once, I don't hold him off, but yank his face into me. He licks my clit... and I shove his face down to my hole, telling him to lick me. His tongue laps against my hole. I have the comforter up over him, my hands holding his head against me, my head up above the sheets, and... oh, there's only me up here, and I can smile to myself and admit that doing this is really turning me on.
I don't want him to know that I fuck other people. I wouldn't get half the enjoyment out of it that I do as things are. It's not the cheating part that turns me on- it's this aftermath, this particular bit, him fucking me and (oh, just go ahead and say it!) eating the come out of me without knowing, this shameless and cruel betrayal... Oh yeah, the cruelty of this is really making me wet.
My name is Violet, and I am a heartless, cruel bitch when my pussy is wet, and I really don't care.
My pussy is really wet- I shove his head down further, lifting my legs up so he can lick my ass where 54's come must also be dried, then pull his head back up to lick my cunt and my clit, back down... for once, I'm really getting into this, and not lying there hating it. I like that 54 doesn't bother trying to eat me. (And I asked him, and he loved trying to fistfuck me last time- which is good, I want him to do it properly!) I take my huband's right hand, slide it under my ass. He cups my ass with both hands for a bit (not what I want, although I do like the feeling of being on a platter for him), then slides a finger up my ass, slowly, too slowly for me, so I buck and jerk myself up and down on it so that it goes deeper.
Finally, knowing that he must be suffocating under the comforter, I pull him up to me. He stops to put his finger back up my ass- although instead of doing it as usual, reaching around the side, he does it straight down, meaning that when he gets his cock into me, his hand is in the way, and thus he doesn't get into me as far as I'd like. He tells me he can feel his cock the other side, he's playing with his cock through me, and I can feel his finger moving.
Feeling... oh, so dirty, such a bad girl, I want his come in me too... I come, twice, very close together, hard, my fingers on my clit. To my surprise, he pulls out without giving me time to go on, goes down on me, licks my cunt again. I wonder fleetingly whether the spasms have pushed any of 54's come out or whether I've soaked it all up by now. His tongue is good, but I keep my fingers over my clit, protecting it, as I know it's too sensitive right now for his tongue on it. He tries to push my hand away with his tongue, but I don't let him. He licks my cunt, licks my ass... comes back up, and sinks his cock into me. I tell him that I want his come in me. He tells me You're a dirty little slut, aren't you? I agree. He reaches back down, shoves one finger against me- then the second comes in, and he shoves both of them together up my ass, hurting me infinitesimally but surprising me quite a bit, saying "You want them both up you, don't you, you bitch? Now I'm going to come in you", and he does.
Feeling his come making me all slippery again as he continues to move, just the way it was earlier with 54... and, to my immense surprise, as normally after I've come once (or several times, but sequentially), I don't come again, I start to spasm around him, gasping, biting his shoulder, slapping at his back, my legs wrapped around him so hard that he can barely move, my feet against the backs of his thighs, pulling him into me and keeping him just... there... as I keep on coming, maybe four-five times more, hard, I can't remember coming this hard for so long, gods, the release, thinking about this afternoon, thinking about the hour's fucking where I didn't come and then this... this so-good fucking by my husband, he's just so much better in me than 54, but then 54 primes me for him, doesn't he just, oh, yesssss...
When my husband pulls out, I feel broken. My hips ache, my knees ache. He's battered me flat into the mattress, and if I don't stand up and go to the bathroom now, I won't move until tomorrow, and I need to move or I'll be in agony in the morning. I grunt and moan as I roll over and try to stand up. Gods, but it hurts. My hips are stiff, my knees are stiffer. I've bent myself out of shape squeezing him into me as hard as I could, and my arthritis is reminding me that I'm genetically predisposed to be limping around anyway this damp time of year, let alone having my joints handed a serious beating like this.
I stagger to the bathroom, stagger back. My husband is smirking, very pleased with himself. He teases me about getting old, and I grunt at him, get into the bed, roll over for a kiss, roll over again... and go dead asleep.
