Retribution Oh So Bittersweet

The night I found my fiancée in bed with another man, was when seething anger ripped though me and I swore immediate revenge. We had been engaged for more than three months and were to be married in another short two, to finally become man and wife.

My fiancée was more than beautiful, she was gorgeous, blond hair streaming over slender shoulders, blue eyes flashing above a patrician nose and bud-like lips; her oval breasts tapering to narrow waist and rounded ass, ending in long shapely legs.

From our first meeting, she had denied me her maidenhead, coyly saying she was saving it for our wedding day; until the day I finally found her declarations to be false.

Arriving at her apartment early, letting myself in with the key she had given me, I heard noises coming from the bedroom. Wondering what could be wrong, I hastened down the corridor, to arrive in shocked surprise outside her bedroom door.

The sounds that reached me were not of distress, but more animal in nature, guttural groans of pleasure, accompanying the slap, slap of heated intercourse.

Carefully, I opened the bedroom door and, with dismay, witnessed my future wife spread-eagled on the bed, legs wide, with a dark, hirsute youth thrusting deeply within.

Filled with rage, I emitted a strangled roar, crying out in choate anguish, as hurt, anger and primordial grief coursed through me. They stopped in mid-thrust, disengaged and turned towards me, guilt etched upon their faces. Fear was also there, as they recognized the wrath and determination in my eyes.

I calmed myself, thinking how to proceed. I knew what I now desired, to punish this interloper and, also, to humiliate and hurt my unfaithful lover.

A plan began to form, even as the youth leapt from the bed to hastily don some clothes.

Again, I shouted "Stop, we aren't finished yet. In fact we have hardly begun."

He stopped in midstream, unable to don more than underwear and one sock, one foot still in the air, suddenly frozen in a ridiculous tableau.

"Remove what you have already put on, young man; then hand me your belt and prostrate yourself over the bed to receive the thrashing of your life."

With shaking hands he pulled the broad leather belt free and gave it to me.

My fiancée still lay on the bed, legs invitingly spread, her golden pubic hair now growing amber in the dying light. Turning away, I ignored my would be temptress.

Meekly the youth stretched over the bed, ass raised, as if he had done this before.

I administered the thick belt without mercy, striking hard, glorying in each welt raised, exorcising some of my demons.

Soon his ass took on a rosy hue and then deepened to a darker red, splotched with claret, where bruising began to surface.

At first he was quiescent but soon he was crying, sniffling softly. I wanted to break him, so I increased the force of each stroke.

He held up well and it was only towards the end that he finally broke. It was then he began to cry uncontrollably, face crimson, matching his ass, blubbering, as tears mixed with mucus rained down upon the bed

When I had finally done, I ordered him to depart, never to return. In pain he tenderly bent to pick up his clothes and departed the bedroom without a word. I heard him as he quickly dressed in the corridor, before his final departure, as the outer door closed.

A worm of shame, mingled with guilt wriggled to the fore; being abashed at any thought or hint I was a cuckold, I had taken my angst out on a mere youth.

Now I could tend my second client, my lovely intended, soon to be discarded, wife.

As my anger cooled, I still ached for her, seeing her angelic face, framed in hair of summer corn, her graceful neck and shoulders descending to jutting breasts, nipples erect, still aroused, then to narrow waist and widening hips, above her long tapering legs.

It gave me pause, halting me in my purpose, until I quickened my resolve and knew I had to continue.

She thought she would get away with a good spanking, brazen it out, and then continue as before, but I had other plans.

Once denied her primary maidenhead, I knew I would take what was still intact, her remaining virtue, her virgin ass.

I originally planned to penetrate her hard and relentless, but that would never satisfy my intent, since I wanted her consent to explore her rear passage. I wanted to be invited in.

I left to hunt up oils or creams, to ease her penetration.

When I returned, she was crying quietly, golden locks cascading beneath her chin, tears streaming down her face, grief in every aspect of her body. I steeled my heart, even as it burst, knowing what I must do.

I hesitated a moment, struck by her pose of quiet contrition, wondering if it was false.

In silence, I offered her the instrument of her pleasure or pain, a thick cream, to accept or reject.

She knew what was expected of her, applying the rich lubricant thickly to my prick, then to my hand, so that I could rub it deeply into her ass.

Then she said, in tiny voice: "I freely give you all I have left to offer, my last bastion, my final virginity. I surrender it totally to you." Those words made my heart throb because then I knew that I had finally succeeded.

She understood my intent, having denied me before, she now willingly accepted me.

She knelt upon the bed in silent surrender, ass high and proud, wanting to be entered.

I met no resistance; the initial sensations were glorious, not only sending thrills through my prick but my whole body.

She was so tight, truly virginal, gripping me like a clenched fist, seizing me hugely as if she would never let go.

Then I began a slow rhythm, pushing forward, ever slow to withdraw, drawing it out lovingly.

She offered herself totally now, open, as if in recompense for her former betrayal.

She moved of her own volition, pushing back, wanting to be reaved, demanding to be penetrated deeper.

Her contractions then began, seizing and holding my essential manhood, clenching me tightly, until, with shuddering bursts, I began to come.

Too late, my questing hand sought her clitoris but she was already there, denying me, already pleasuring herself.

She finally came in gasps and great shuddering groans and elongated cries.

I continued to come in heaving spurts, splattering her inner walls, my spasms still reverbing long beyond their passing, Finally, we were still, as our last passionate throes died, having spent ourselves in total exhilaration.

Then she washed and tended my prick with care, stroking and kissing it softly. It saddened me that this was our final night; she was so achingly beautiful.

Now bereft of all anger, feeling tender regrets of what might have been and where our futures might have led, my soul aching with sudden loss, I hesitated.

After dressing I tried to leave, but my footsteps failed me, refusing to obey.

My emotions were shattered, wanting to stay, needing to go, feeling so wrought between anger, love and pain.

It was she who made the final decision, "Go, go now, although I would rather you stay, but that would be foolhardy, since I have wounded you so cruelly."

As I passed through the door, I took one last longing look at her, my once bride to be, suddenly seeming very young and venerable, coiled upon the bed, silently weeping.

I paused and almost broke, then I gave her the only gift I could; I silently forgave her.

In grief and anguish I left this woman I had truly loved.

Analasis.

June,

2011.