Racing Into the Night

This is not a romance story. This is an account of what two vulnerable, flawed men do in the shadows over the year of their affair behind their wives' backs (the answer: gay sex™). I was inspired to write this after reading the series, 'Papa Naoto and Papa Tomoyuki' by Chabashira Tatsukichi. If there are similarities between the two, they are purposeful.

Racing Into the Night

Chapter 1 - Thirst

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She was like a valkyrie descending upon me with thunderous purpose, and the sight of her rattled me to my core. It was the sun, approaching high noon, that caused her silhouette to blaze: gold for her hair and red, deepest red, for her outfit. The husband-killing shade of red. Of course.

She headed for me as if to deliver my death sentence, and her presence, her wrath, seemed enough to blow this entire café apart. It was the first time I'd seen her since...then...and it unseated me.

"Jonathan," she said; "it's good to see you." I knew it was not.

"Rachael." I motioned to the chair opposite me, offering dumbly for her to sit. "I'll order for us?"

"Sure, if you want." I tightened my lips and nodded, pretending to thumb through the menu. "Just a drink, though. I'm only here so you can sign off on the papers before I submit them." She paused, straightened her back some. "But...you knew that."

Morosely, I nodded my agreement. What else could I do? Her purpose was clear: to cut me out of her life like I was a maligned growth. The way she looked at me now, her eyes glinting behind her glasses; it felt haughty. She stared down at me from over the graceful bridge of her nose. The beginnings of a sneer tugged at the corners of her thin lips. I was the ant under the magnifying glass.

And after all, why shouldn't I be? I had dragged her and her reputation through the mud. I had made such a fool of her. I deserved what was coming to me.

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She was not a valkyrie, but my soon to be ex-wife, Rachael Aguinaldo. Our marriage was racing towards dissolution, having informally ended two months ago, in an explosion that still pains me to think about. The start of said disaster began long before it finally went off; by my count, it'd been more than a year.

So, a year and two months ago, then. It was December. There'd been a party at Rachael's work. The mayor's office that she worked for as a staffer, had thrown a combination Christmas-and-Hanukkah party, as well as to celebrate the mayor's successful re-election into office. Rachael was one of the mayor's senior staffers. I was just her doting husband who had come along and would DD.

Rachael's world of politicians and their lackeys that orbited them, always ready to personally spit-shine the mayor's shoes, was beyond mine, and she knew that. But she insisted that for this momentous occasion, if she showed up without her husband, it would've been weird. "It'll be uncomely," was the phrase she'd used. I relented, and let her take me out shopping for something to wear.

I was not anywhere near her calibre, and we both knew it. It was the fact that I dwarfed her in height and was exactly the shape she liked that kept me in her world. That, and our Bailey, our daughter. The light of my life. Otherwise, I was the gigantic oafish husband that she kept around because I turned her on. I wasn't about to complain. Sex with Rachael was, after six tepid years of marriage, still amazing.

My 6'4" frame to her 5'5"; my nearly 300-pound, soft, bulky shape to her waspish 109-pound doll's body. She had a proclivity for fat men, and Asian men, that she never talked about but I saw the patterns in her exes. All the better for me, and all the better for her that I was tall. I loved the feeling of holding her down while we fucked, and she did too; all my weight on her. Her pussy, no slouch in her early forties, sucked me in and wouldn't let me go until she'd cum. Her orgasms wracked her whole body; even I could cum just feeling her clench and unclench around my cock. It was a good setup. I couldn't complain much.

My thoughts turned to sex easily around Rachael when she was excited, because whether or not she wanted to admit it, she was actually sort of a nympho. She could slip into a lustful headspace like she would put on a sock.

On the drive to the office, she went on and on about how the mayor commanded a crushing defeat against his opponent in the final stages of the campaign, and how it had been thanks to her and the rest of the mayor's inner circle to do it. The excitement was still new. Fresh.

We were stuck in the Ottawa evening traffic and she was still in the middle of her retelling. Chafing in the congestion of the 416, I kept my eyes forward, but smiled and laid a hand on her thigh. The wiry stocking material underneath did little to hamper me. I rubbed my thumb in a circle, waiting for the traffic to speed up, stop chugging along. As I did so, I heard her breath catch in her throat.

I smiled. This was one of our many games. Even now, I still think about how badly I miss it; how I'll sometimes wake up at night, my fat seven inches dripping at the memory of my wife's hot, desperate squirming. My cock missed her pussy so bad. I continued to rub in a circle as I searched for my off-ramp. The scenes of the surrounding city puttered by, unknowing that I was coming dangerously close to Rachael's warming heat. And she was doing little to stop me.

"Jon..." she muttered, her breath heavy; her stare glassy. "Jon, stop."

"Is that honest?" I asked her. My voice was husky with need. I wanted to pull off into an alleyway and slip under her skirt; the only obstacle between my mouth and her hungry hole. Successful twenty-first century woman she might be, she was not immune to the sensation of me desperately eating her out. Like a man deprived of food. How she fucking screamed....

"Yes, Jon!" She giggled, but she was flustered. "We'll be there in like, ten minutes. I don't have time to fix my hair and makeup. Be serious."

I inched somewhat closer to her throbbing heat. My cock was straining against my underwear; against the slacks she'd picked out that were a touch too tight for me. It was obscene. Maybe it was on purpose. She looked down at my bulge, her fingers twitching; her stare, hungry.

"We could be on time instead of early, for once...." The suggestion was heavy on my voice. I wanted to breed her so fucking bad. I could picture the sight of my dick twitching as it blasted a load in her deliciously mature pussy, and I swallowed back the image. I could've blown in my underwear right there.

"I'm serious." And she said it breathlessly, but a shade more calmly than before. I knew that was my cue to stop. I glanced at her sidelong with a smile on my face; she was already rearranging her clothes and brushing stray, sweaty strands out of her forehead. I loved when we were like this, and I know she did too. The tiny smile on her face told me everything.

"Love you, Rach." I put both hands back on the steering wheel and kept on heading forward.

"Love you, too." I didn't miss her opening the window a crack.

It wasn't long after that we arrived at the offices of the mayor of the city of Ottawa, and if not for Rachael's work, I wouldn't have known anything of him beyond his name. But his office was well-staffed, with almost the entire building given over to this huge party they were throwing. I managed to find a parking spot dangerously close to the dumpster bay, having driven past nearly all the other filled spots.

I could see Rachael's eyes lighting up as we approached. The sounds of animated conversation and soft jazz music were drifting through a slightly-open door. Distantly, she was commenting on how busy it'd be if all of the staff had brought their partners like they were all expected to. In spite of myself, I swallowed. I hated crowds. So much. But I wanted to support Rachael. Rather, I wanted to make sure her image was intact. The successful lobbyist with the happy, unfailing marriage to a decent, if somewhat homely guy.

Doing otherwise would be uncomely.

We passed into the main room and that was when the maelstrom was unleashed. Straight away, Rachael was swept up into a furious haze of hugs, excited chatter, and shared congratulations. A flute of champagne materialised in her hand. I hung to her side, giving smiles and hellos to whoever she was introducing me to, and there were...so many people she introduced me to. I don't think I can recall a single one of their names today.

All except one. After a dizzying solid minute of her peacocking about with her coworkers, she hooked her arm into mine, and pulled me towards the edge of the room. Here, a male-female couple of roughly the same age were in conversation, and like the rest of this crowd, they were caught up in Rachael's whirlwind.

I noticed him before he noticed me.

The man seemed roughly the same age as Rachael, and was around her height too, just a touch bit taller. A well-toned body under a closely-fitting shirt that was open at the collar, to reveal silver and black chest hairs against his nut-brown complexion. Fascinatingly green eyes just like Rachael's, set in a handsome, square face. His sleepy eyes were pushed up by a wolfish grin as he greeted her. And when we made eye contact, his smile for me was much the same. I gulped.

Despite myself, I felt a warmth spreading through my chest while he scanned me up and down. His stare was guarded, yet appraising. I was keenly aware of his scent, of green wood and vanilla; it was so singularly distracting. He shook my hand. In this room full of people, it felt like we were the only ones there. Even Rachael seemed a hundred kilometres away. He...damn, he....

He said something to me but over the din of the party, I couldn't hear. I just smiled dumbly at him. Then he reached over and hugged me, to my shock. He only came up to my chest and I could smell his hair, his cologne. When he pulled away, he was smiling widely; Rachael and the lady were sharing a giggle, an eye-roll.

"Aaron Rodriguez," he was saying, laying a wide, furry hand on his chest. "This is my wife, Nitya." He gestured to the lovely South Asian woman. "You must be Rachael's man?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Jonathan Aguinaldo. Good to meet you."

This man with the confounding grin nodded as if he was deep in thought. "Aguinaldo.... You're...Filipino?"

"How did you guess?"

"You remind me of my Tito Boy," he said with a smile, and a shrug. "I was the only Peruvian kid out of my Filipino friends growing up. I'm practically one of you guys!" Again, that smile. He smelled...so good. The ladies were lost in their own conversation, all lit-up eyes and wide smiles. Leaving me and this strangely magnetic man in a bubble.

I smiled too, and took a small sip from the champagne that I forgot had been thrust into my hand. My god, was Mr. Rodriguez attractive. The last time I'd had sex with a man was before Rachael, 10 years and 50 pounds ago, but still. Those urges don't disappear once you're married. In fact, with the way he was forced to look up at me, and how close he was standing in this cramped room...I was feeling heady.

As the night wore on, I was introduced to more and more people, and I was sussing out what things to say to keep the conversations going, but not for too long. I didn't want to exhaust myself that badly. At one point, the mayor himself had come out to personally congratulate everyone involved, and took a moment to highlight key individuals that had "made my re-election all but a shoe-in". Rachael, of course, was one of them, and she flourished in the praise like a blooming orchid. Good for her. I drifted back and forth between the main body of the party and the hallway to get some fresh air.

I saw people coming up and down the main floors of the office. And shit, it was only 6 PM; I could look around some, why not? On the second floor, I found another gathering area, with more food, and more drinks that I really wished I could have; overall, an overflow area for the party below. This place was busy. The third floor was significantly more relaxed. A sitting area; windows had been opened to let the chilly evening breeze in.

"Looking for the bathroom, sir?" someone asked me.

"Sure, yeah," I replied in haste. They pointed up the next set of stairs. I nodded my understanding, and to fulfil my fib, I followed. The fourth floor was dark, all save for a soft wash of white light at the far end of the hallway I'd found myself in. Here were the bathrooms, then. In the nature of exploration, I headed towards them...and caught whispering.

"Aaron." And it was Mrs. Rodriguez. "Aaron, you're drunk."

"Yeeeaah," came the slurring reply; "and you're not drunk enough. C'moooon." A disgusted sigh; a deep, low chuckle. "C'mooon...baby."

I inched closer to the sounds of conversation, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I could feel it in my jaw. "Aaron, seriously," came Mrs. Rodriguez's voice, somewhat falteringly. "Not here. It's too dangerous."

"That's what makes it fun." And I choked. Mr. Rodriguez's voice was heavy with lust. Want. Whatever he was after, he wanted it now. I heard the sound of wiry fabric shifting; Mr. Rodriguez's restrained appraisal. From the missus, a small moan. "Ah...fuck...love your tits." I was getting so hard. In between mine and Rachael's game on the way here, and this? My cock was stirring to life on its own.

I heard a solid clap! sound and a sigh. "Aaron, stop. I'm serious. If anyone finds us, we're fucked."

"Mmm...fucking." A low, slow giggle. Oh, Mr. Rodriguez.... I wanted to hear him closer.

"I'm fucking serious, Aaron!" Mrs. Rodriguez's anger snapped out like a match being lit. "It's enough the mayor's got you on his shitlist, but if he heard we were having sex in his office building? God help us all. God help you." Two bitter sighs. I shuffled somewhat. That fabric rustling noise again; huffing. The faucet started running.

"He's been elected again. Why can't we relax for once...? Neet...it's been so long...."

Mrs. Rodriguez sighed. "Let's not talk about it at work, please. I'm going to head back down. Please...sort yourself out." When I heard the footsteps coming toward me, I jerked away from the wall, torn from my torpor. God, was my cock ever hard and leaking. Close to the stairs, there was another hallway. I ducked in.

As she passed, I saw Mrs. Rodriguez rearranging her blouse, no doubt having been mussed up by the mister in his failed tryst. With a bitter sigh, she headed back down the stairs, not seeing me in the shadows. I watched her descend, and listened for Mr. Rodriguez's footsteps. They never came. When I chanced a peek around the corner, I was immediately met with the sensation of woody cologne, and a pair of electric green eyes staring back at me.

"Hi," said Mr. Rodriguez, his grin pushing his eyes up.

"M--Mr. Rodriguez!" I let out. "Hi. I was, uh...looking for the bathroom." He smiled wider, inching closer to me. His smell filled my vision, and though he was a head shorter than me, his presence commanded this moment.

"Ah yeah, it's right down the hall my friend." And yet he didn't so much as budge. "Though, uh, between you and me? I might need to occupy it for a little while longer. Hah!"

"What...do you...?" But the act of playing dumb died on my lips as he continued to drill his stare into me. So green. Like Rachael's.

"Come on, Mr. Aguinaldo! It's a joke!" His laugh echoed in the deep empty shadow of the fourth floor. "You already know my dark secret."

I fumbled around for the words, but him being so close to me and my straining cock was making it difficult. "I don't think I know what you mean."

"Oh? Are you sure?" And he inched closer, placing his hand on the wall next to my face. "You have very heavy footsteps, Mr. Aguinaldo. I know you were listening to us. You heard I like to play in public." Fucking in public. My head swam with the idea. I was no stranger to public sex, but just with Rachael. A stranger though? Mr. Rodriguez's lust was pouring off of him in waves. I could barely think.

"You ever do that...? Ever have your cock sucked in public? What a dangerous situation. Exciting, right? I think so...." But whatever he was saying was blurring together, my breaths were coming faster, and he was coming closer. Before I knew it, he'd put his wide, warm hand under my balls. I gasped with the sensation.

"Fuck...you feel big, Mr. Aguinaldo." His face was so close now. I could close the distance in an instant.

"M--Mr. Rodriguez, I--we--we're both married," I offered feebly. "This isn't right. Please don't do this."

He just smiled at me, his face filling my vision. When did he get so close? "If this isn't right, then I hope I never know otherwise." He pursed his lips. "Having a strange mouth around your cock...knowing that stranger is a taken man. Fuck. It's exhilarating. Y'know? I...could show you."

My dick throbbed in heavy anticipation at the thought. The dark, cursed thought that was quickly getting away from me. "Please don't."

He trailed his hand up my bulge more, his fingers delicate against the material. I was soaking my underwear, I just knew. My hot length threatened to burst out of the seams, or shoot right then and there. Whichever came first.

"You know, you're just my type, Mr. Aguinaldo," he was saying in his throaty voice, thick with desire, right into my chest. "Big...tall...and you're so cute. Mmm. Like a big bear." The image of Mrs. Rodriguez flashed in my mind, very much unlike myself. Was his own wife not his type? As if he'd read my mind, he said then; "Don't get me wrong. Nitya is so sexy. The curves on that woman. But you? Fuck." He continued to rub my package in my slacks, and I nearly buckled. "Oh. You've leaked right through."

"I...I precum a lot..." I offered weakly.

"That's so fucking hot." I closed my eyes against the sensations, and that's when I heard him licking. His fingers--his palm? "Tastes so good. Fuck. I need it right from the source."

"Please, Mr. Rodriguez...."

"I wonder why you're this horny, Mr. Aguinaldo." He continued rubbing me. I wanted to cave under him so badly. "Sex with the missus not enough?" I shook my head and he just laughed. "Maybe you've always wondered what strange meat is like, huh?" My reply died in my throat as he squeezed my balls. "Maybe it's because I'm a man? Or...maybe you're a exhibitionist freak like me and you don't know it yet. Hmm?"

"I've fucked men," I muttered, though I wasn't sure why I was defending myself like this. "Rachael and I fuck in public sometimes...." Rachael...she was so blurry in my mind now.

Mr. Rodriguez laughed at that. "Fuck! You're already a fucking animal. Then you won't mind, huh?" To my horror, or lust, or shame, I don't know which--I felt him tugging at my zipper. Cool air met the prison of my underwear, tight against my angrily erect cock.

"Mr. Rodriguez, please!" I groaned. But it was too late. He was already under me, the shelf of my belly threatening to mess up his hair. I felt his hot, wet tongue on my cock; his throat trying to stretch around my girth. My mind was spinning; my cock was leaking more and more precum into his waiting mouth.

Instinctively my hands travelled up my sides until I reached my nipples. I tweaked at the sensitive, hard nubs until I felt my knees twinge; my head was swimming in the ocean of my own lust. Mr. Rodriguez kept at it, and he wasn't gentle about it at all. He was an expert sucker, I knew; he closed his lips around my fat cock like a vacuum and I could feel myself pushing further and further past his throat.

He was moaning around my dick. Interminable seconds passed while he sucked me off. My hands twitched, unsure where they needed to be, and, without meaning to, I thrust my hips into his hungry, sloppy mouth. He moaned around my cock like a man starved; like this was everything he needed.