Midsummers Eve

Helena was not surprised at how fatigued she was after swimming the short distance between the two islands. She knew that the combination of alcohol and such vigorous rutting had drained her. As she waded near the shore, she glanced down at her sex. The water of the lake had rinsed away most of the Coca Cola mixed with semen from her vagina, but more semen tainted with Coca Cola was still seeping from between her swollen labia. Helena paused to pee, hoping that her urine stream would rinse away more of the semen, then splashed her sex with water to rinse away the urine.

The walk along the trail to the tree where she'd left her bikini took only a few minutes. The sight of the tree growing from a split boulder evoked memories of her two sons playing earlier that day. They had imagined that the shattered boulder with the tree was their pirate ship. They had spent happy hours repelling their indulgent father's attempts to board their pirate ship to rescue their little sister whom they'd taken hostage. Helena had exploited the welcome respite from her maternal responsibilities to read while working on her tan. She was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. For the first time since her wedding sixteen years ago, she had cheated on her husband.

As Helena tied her bikini bottom on, she noticed that semen tainted with Coca Cola was continuing to seep from her sex to soak her pubic hair. The thought of the daunting swim back to the cabin on the lake shore dissuaded her from expending the time and energy to rinse herself again. She waded into the water.

The shore was near when Helena felt the once familiar sensation of her flowback. She had learned during her nurse's training about how after a half hour or so, a woman's vagina would expel all but lingering traces of semen from a recent insemination. She would have to wash the stain from her bikini bottoms.

Helena was almost to shore when she realized that she had became so fatigued that she couldn't go on. She began to fear that she might drown. For a moment her guilt and shame almost compelled her to yield herself to the waters of the lake. However; images of her husband, sons and daughter having to struggle with the revelation that their mother and wife was an adulteress while they were grieving inspired her to struggle on. Unfortunately; she was barely treading water.

The sensation of her foot touching a fallen, waterlogged tree offered Helena redemption. Her other foot found the log. She was able to hold her head above water only by standing on her tippy toes. Helena carefully used the slight traction offered by the fallen tree trunk to slowly ease herself closer to shore.

Helena crawled rather than walked onto the lakeside lawn that Lars's father so carefully maintained. After a minute or so of rest, she summoned the energy to rise to her feet and walk to the cabin.

Lars' parents had strict rules about people stripping off their swimsuits, showering, drying and changing into fresh clothes after swimming in the lake before entering their plushly decorated cabin. Helena was far too tired to obey their rules. She also didn't want to risk waking anyone. She walked past the outdoor shower gazebo to the back door then carefully crept through the great room to the bedroom that she shared with her husband.

The sight of her snoring husband laying comfortably in bed provoked Helena's irrational resentment. If Lars hadn't allowed his apathy, fatigue and stubbornness to dissuade him from going swimming with her, she wouldn't have had the opportunity to cheat on him. Even if they'd encountered Jack swimming naked while they were skinny dipping in the lake, it would have been nothing more than a mildly embarrassing incident. She giggled as she thought that it would have been far more embarrassing for her husband than for her and Jack.

As Helena stripped off her bikini, she noticed that the bottoms were soaked with semen tainted with Coca Cola from her flowback. Her pubic hair was also soaked with Coke and cum. She would have to wash herself and her bikini in the morning. She draped her bikini over the footboard of the bed as a reminder to herself.

Helena found the same towel that she'd used that afternoon to dry herself after her shower and used it again to get most of the moisture off her body. Her fatigue tempted her to just crawl into bed nude but the cramped cabin offered far to little privacy for such an indulgence. She quietly slipped into her nightgown before slipping into bed. It was her irrational resentment rather than her guilt that dissuaded her from cuddling up to her sleeping, snoring husband. She rolled over to face away from him. They would sleep back to back as they sometimes did after quarreling.

When Helena was awakened by the rising sun, she discovered that her husband was cuddled up to her back. One hand was gently squeezing a breast through the cotton fabric of her nightgown. The tactile reminder that her husband still loved her even though his ardor had cooled in recent years provoked a resurgence of shame.

The hand on Helena's breast stirred. Her husband was awake. She turned her head to welcome his gentle kisses. She rolled over to face him as their kisses became more passionate. She soon felt the hem of her nightgown being pulled up past her waist and over her breasts. She blushed as she realized that as a result of the ravages of time and gravity, he no longer had to pull her nightgown up as high as he once did.

Helena almost panicked when she felt her husband's lips leaving her nipples to kiss their way down her belly. She suddenly recalled how her pubic hair had still been soaked with cum and Coke as she was putting her nightgown on so late last night. However; it was far too late to do anything about it without provoking Lars' suspicions.

Shameful memories of her wanton behavior during those tumultuous years when they were merely betrothed rather than formally engaged eased Helena's panic. A glance at the promise ring that continued to reside on her right, ring finger along with the diamond anniversary band that Lars had given her for their tenth anniversary reminded her of the resentment that had provoked her premarital promiscuity. Lars had given her that promise ring while the blood from her ruptured hymen was still seeping from her vagina. Lars' failure to formally propose to her and give her the diamond engagement ring that she'd presumed that she would be entitled to rather than that silly promise ring had provoked her wrath. Her suspicion that he had been acquiescing to an ultimatum from his parent's had only inflamed her anger.

Helena was consoled by the thought that this post adultery lovemaking was far from unprecedented. During their prolonged, informal betrothal, there must have been dozens of occasions when Lars would eagerly make love to her when he was visiting home. These reunion lovemakings would invariably occur within at most a few days but usually within a few hours of a dalliance with another man. His ardor had been understandable after they'd been apart for weeks or even a few months.

In retrospect, Helena understood that their reluctant yet overt agreement that they remained free to date others when they were apart had inflamed Lars' desire for her. Their tacit understanding that her dalliances with other men should remain a taboo subject had not provoked the reticence that she had expected from Lars. However; Helena had been dismayed that their "Don't ask, don't tell, policy" had inspired her seemingly irresistible urges. She had felt compelled to have a final fling with one of her more recent paramours in anticipation of Lars' expected return home.

Helena savored the once not totally unfamiliar and wanton pleasure of allowing Lars to pleasure her orally when she was almost certain that traces of another man's semen remained in her vagina. He interrupted his lovemaking. "Your snatch tastes like honey," he murmured lovingly before continuing to make love to her. As always, his loving lips and tongue soon succeeded in bringing her to climax. This time, he wasn't content to bring her to orgasm only once.

When Lars eagerly repositioned himself between Helena's thighs, she had to remind him, "put a damned condom on!" For only a moment she felt guilty about reminding him. She rationalized that not reminding him might provoke his suspicions. However; it was her lingering resentment about Lars' stubborn refusal to go swimming with her last night that motivated her determination to deny her husband's penis the pleasure of entering her bare and unprotected.

After having sex twice with Jack, the sensation of her husband eagerly plunging his penis into her vagina was disappointing. Not only did his penis feel much smaller, the unnatural sensation of the damned condom seemed to be even more annoying than usual. Helena dutifully submitted to Lars' seemingly desperate thrusting. Except for flexing her vagina to massage his penis through the damned condom, she remained passive. Although her husband usually had more stamina on the now rare occasions when they were having sex more frequently than once a week, it soon became evident that he was about to climax.

After nearly two decades of marriage, Helena knew when her husband was on the verge of climax but struggling to restrain himself to please her again. Unfortunately; it was once again simply not going to happen for her. Given her recent adultery, she had no right to be resentful, but she was. She ignored her resentment and encouraged him, "relax. Don't worry about me. Just enjoy yourself but pull out."

Lars carefully gripped the base of the damned condom as he withdrew his penis and held it as he once again safely wasted his seed. Helena suddenly felt strangely guilty about reminding her husband to use a damned condom and then to pull out after she had been so reckless during her tryst. However; she dismissed the idea as irrational. It was her adultery, not her demand that her husband be careful that was shameful.

Lars collapsed beside his wife. Helena stripped the damned condom from his waning erection and tied it to keep the semen from leaking out. She then set the soiled condom on the nightstand where she had placed the condom from last night's lovemaking. It was as if the two condoms were trophies that attested to the unexpected resurgence of their lovemaking. They hadn't been so frequent since their Caribbean vacation. Two condoms within less than half a day seemed pathetic compared to the two condoms in an hour that she hadn't used with Jack.

After cuddling for a few minutes, Lars drifted off to sleep again. He almost always drifted off to sleep after making love, even if it was morning or afternoon. Helena had long since convinced herself that she shouldn't resent this natural, post coital drowsiness that so often afflicted men. It was nature's tactic to dissuade them from running off in search for another woman to inseminate like a stag in rut. Falling asleep with their woman also enabled them to hopefully deny any rivals an opportunity to inseminate their mate.

Helena giggled quietly as she considered how this natural tactic that so often annoyed her had failed her husband last night. The fatigue and complacency that had dissuaded him from going swimming with her had presented her with a perfect opportunity to cheat on him. A stag's fuck 'em and forget 'em strategy might have served him better. Unfortunately for Lars, he was no Casanova and there were few, available women at the lake. The angry, black women that had been gathered around the bonfire at Jack's party last night certainly wouldn't have been interesting in a middle aged, balding, honky who wore spectacles and had a noticeable paunch. She had no doubt that their boyfriends would have kicked Lars' ass if he had propositioned or worse yet, offended their women. Without a burly bartender armed with a baseball bat to back him up, hiss ass kicking could get really ugly.

In spite of the early hour, last night's swimming and her sexual exertions, Helena was feeling restless. She didn't want to lay awake in bed just so she could cuddle with her sleeping husband. She needed to get away by herself to do some serious soul searching. She needed to contemplate the consequences of her adultery. Going jogging would provide her with a pretext to be alone. The exertion could become her partial penance for her sin.

Helena quietly slipped out of bed. She'd laundered her sports bra and running tights after her run yesterday morning. Almost two decades ago, Lars' father had installed a washer, a dryer and a sink on the back porch of the cabin so they wouldn't have to make long trips to the nearest town to use a laundromat. Although Lars' parents had sold their large, suburban family home near the city so they could live in their cabin on the lake during their retirement, he had no intention of walling in the porch against the bitterly cold, Minnesota winters. Instead he was building a pole barn for the motorhome that would enable them to become snowbirds. They would simply drive South for the winter.

Helena dumped the two soiled condoms that she had retrieved from the nightstand into the trash bin on the porch. She noticed that the condom from Saturday night's lovemaking that was used but unsoiled remained at the top of the rubbish heap. Three condoms over only a few days was actually somewhat impressive for them. Helena giggled as she wondered what Lars' parents would think if one of them noticed the condoms.

Helena rummaged through the dryer to find her sports bra and running tights. Lars' mother had taken it upon herself to do the laundry again so Helena's clothes were mixed up with everyone else's. For some reason, it offended her maternal obsession with order. Keeping everyone's clothes separate was far more efficient.

The shower gazebo was merely a three sided enclosure with the opening facing the laundry facilities on the porch. The minimal privacy was further compromised by the fact that Lars' father had built the walls from decorative wood lattice. It merely screened rather than shielded people from view as they were undressing, showering and dressing. He had explained that since the nearest house was almost a hundred feet away, no one could see much anyway. Helena once again found herself wistfully wondering if her in laws might be closet nudists.

Helena stripped off her nightgown to hang it on one of the many hooks on the gazebo. She looked down to appraise her naked body in the light of the morning sun. She was doing rather well for a mother of three children who was pushing forty. She'd put on a few pounds since resuming her career had compromised her exercise regime, yet she still retained a classic, hourglass figure. Lars didn't complain. Unfortunately; his opinion wasn't very reassuring because he was her husband and didn't want to sleep on the couch. The fact that a stud such as Jack had desired her had been a welcome reassurance that she remained desirable.

Helena had been elated when she discovered sports bras in her size that had a zipper in the front. Sports bras that offered enough support while relying on merely elastic fabric could be difficult, even painful, to squeeze her big breasts into. Trying to jog without adequate support was even more painful. The men, including her husband, who were so obviously fascinated and delighted by the sight of a women's bouncing breasts had no idea what an imposition it could be.

As was her habit, Helena didn't wear a panty under her running tights. Wearing a panty only aggravated the chaffing while ensuring that she'd have a prominent camel toe showing through her tights. She was also afraid that having visible panty lines showing through her running tights also made her butt look big. Her husband had surprised her by not objecting to her lack of modesty.

It was a beautiful morning to go jogging, sunny and warm but not yet hot. The gravel road that looped around the lake was two miles or so longer than her usual routine, but the challenge had been good for her these last few days. Perhaps meeting the challenge all week would help take that needed inch or two off her butt and waist?

Helena could soon feel herself beginning to sweat profusely. Since no one else seemed to be on the road, she partially unzipped her sports bra to allow more air to circulate through her cleavage. The sensation of her breasts swaying and bouncing as a result of the diminished support from her sports bra inspired the hope that she might tone them up to. Lars had once tried to explain the concepts of undamped, harmonic oscillations and resonant frequencies to her. While she really hadn't understood the math and the physics, she had understood the concept. Simply varying her running pace could minimize the bouncing of her breasts. She sped up a bit which allowed her bouncing breasts to settle into a tolerable jiggle.

Jogging had always provided Helena with opportunities to think or even pray. As she jogged, she contemplated her adultery. The initial, serendipitous encounter with Jack had actually been at least somewhat innocent. She could even rationalize that the unexpected encounter had been almost as much Lars' fault as her own. That encounter with Jack might have even remained mostly innocent if she had refused his invitation and then his challenge to swim to the next island to join the party. That invitation would not have been offered if Lars had not been to fatigued and apathetic to go swimming with her.

As she continued jogging, Helena glanced down at her rings. Along with her diamond engagement ring and wedding ring on her left ring finger, she continued to wear that silly promise ring that Lars had given her almost exactly two decades ago along with the diamond anniversary band that he had given her only a few years ago. Lars had given Helena that silly promise ring while a trickle of blood from her ruptured hymen was still seeping from her vagina. Lars had given Helena that silly promise ring in lieu of the diamond engagement ring that she had deluded herself into thinking that she would be entitled to from the man who had seduced her after courting her off and on during her high school years. That silly promise ring had symbolized Lars' refusal to make a formal commitment because his parents had disapproved of her.

Although it was tempting for Helena to blame her infidelity on her husband, she knew that the sin had been hers. She wouldn't have succumbed to temptation if she hadn't allowed herself to get drunk. She wouldn't have gotten drunk if she hadn't accepted Jack's invitation and challenge. The omnipresent sensation of the gold cross that dangled from a necklace to nestle in her cleavage inspired Helena to pray. She prayed to confess her sin. She prayed for forgiveness. She prayed a promise of repentance. She prayed for inspiration on how to atone for her sin.

With her guilt reaffirmed, Helena contemplated the practical aspects of her adultery. She'd allowed Jack to fuck her without a condom. She chastised herself for even thinking that vulgar word, but what she'd done with Jack had been vulgar. It couldn't and shouldn't be characterized as lovemaking. She could clinically characterize their rutting as copulating, but that clinical term couldn't convey the sordid, animalistic carnality of the encounter. She felt compelled to verbally confess her adultery by almost shouting, "I fucked Jack."

The practical, biological reality as well as moral reality was that Helena had allowed Jack to inseminate her. He had actually inseminated her twice if she included that second fucking that had culminated with him pulling out but not until after he was already ejaculating.

Helena took comfort in the fact that she had taken the precaution of douching with Coca Cola after that first insemination. Although she had been studying to be a nurse, she'd felt compelled to resort to using that trick on perhaps two dozen occasions during those confused, rebellious years of her betrothal. She had actually discovered some research that had confirmed that Coca Cola, particularly Classic Coke, could be a potent spermicide.