There will probably be two or three more chapters. This one came about quickly, but I can't guarantee that the others will.
I appreciate comments and feedback. It helps me a lot in finding motivation.
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Helena did not get much rest that night. Sleep came quickly - almost as soon as her cheek had touched the pillow -, but when it came it was anything but calm. Strange dreams danced through her brain, almost as if she had a fever. There were three things tying them together, though; water, heat and black skin. They made her twist and turn throughout the night.
Then she woke up.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at the opposite wall and the wardrobe. Early sunlight was seeping in through the window next to the bed together with a fresh gush of air. Some unseen bird was sitting in the birch tree growing just outside, welcoming the new day with its chirping.
It was morning.
Helena immediately shot up in bed. Lars grunted something besides her, turned to the wall and continued sleeping. Helena exhaled in relief. Winced. Her arms and legs were hurting even from the action of sitting up. She must have really strained herself swimming in that damn lake. In the silence only broken by birdsong and her husband's calm breathing Helena tried to remember what had happened last night. The images were vivid. Even clearer and definitively more colourful than the shadowy white room that she had found herself in.
Had it happened for real?
Naked Helena slid out of bed, ignoring the pain in her body. The pain was certainly real. But Jack, that patch of prickly grass and the reeds all around - was it? Her hair was a tangled mess and her muscles ached, but Helena felt completely awake. How early was it? She found her phone on the nightstand and stared at the display. 05.55. Early morning. Helena had no idea when she had come home last night. It had felt like in the middle of the night, but now she was herself surprised over how completely not-tired she was. The bikini top and bottom were still hanging from the bed frame, the blouse and skirt were on the floor. Helena dug through the wardrobe and found a pair of modest white panties and a bathrobe. The barely used towel she had thrown on the floor, but now she picked it up, put on the robe and sneaked as quietly as possible out of the room.
The cottage was not very large, but it has more than enough room for the six of them. Lars' parents were sleeping in a small bedroom, leaving the big one to him and Helena. Erik and Alexander occupied the couch futon. It was large and gave them both plenty of space, and during the morning they could watch the TV without leaving their bed. But for now they - and everyone else - were asleep, and for that Helena was grateful. She closed the door to the bedroom behind her and sneaked through the corridor to the bathroom. The floorboards creaked treacherously beneath her bare feet, but it was too early for anyone to stir. Helena made her way inside the bathroom and locked the door. Only then she allowed herself to breathe out.
It took some time for the water in the shower to get hot, and she spent what felt like minutes freezing in the corner of the stall with arms wrapped around herself. When the shower gods finally obliged she nearly scalded herself beneath the hot stream from the plastic head. Helena gasped as the water rushed down her body and immediately turned the valve to lower the temperature, but she did not step out of it. The heat - albeit very uncomfortable - was welcome. She has not showered after the lake - doing so had not even crossed her mind - but now she got to the task with vigour. Rubbing and scrubbing herself she worked the heat into the aching muscles, and cleaned away the lake water and dirt. And Jack's sweat. His scent. Helena's heart jumped as she remembered. She instinctively brought her hand between her legs. God, she felt so sore. So incredibly stretched out after that giant black cock. Helena forced her fingers inside and bit her lip to stifle any inappropriate sounds. Her pussy responded with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort when she explored, jamming index and middle finger deeper. Her insides were warm and somewhat wet, but Helena did not find any semen. Maybe she had managed to get it all out in the lake. She sighed loudly in relief, but a few moment later - when the water was not as hot - she spread her legs and directed the showerhead stream straight up her pussy. Once more she had to bite her lip to avoid making too many sounds.
When done Helena washed her hair. As soon as she had washed the shampoo from her blond hair she got out of the stall and dried off with a towel. For a while she considered using the hairblower, but figured that it would be too loud this early in the morning. The last thing she wanted was to wake anyone up. Towel would have to do instead.
It had been real after all. There was no longer any shadow of doubt in her mind when she pulled on the fresh pair of panties. Yesterday evening had happened. For the first and only time in her entire thirty-four year long life Helena had cheated. Not with a male friend, a neighbour or even a co-worker. Of all people she had given herself to a complete and utter stranger at the shore of some shitty lake. Jack was a man she had never seen before and did not know at all. For all she knew everything he had told her could be a complete lie. And yet she had let him fuck her senseless, even shoot his sperm straight into her unprotected body. The thought made her shiver from fear, but also excitement. It disturbed her something immense. Helena had never considered herself a racist, or someone that even held views that could be counted as such. People were people and she herself had a couple of coloured friends. But the fact that it had been a black man to take her made everything so much stranger and taboo. Her cheeks were already burning, and now shame over her own blatant racism added to the red. What difference did it make that Jack was black? It was cheating no matter what colour he was. It was the cheating aspect of this whole affair she had to concentrate on, not the fact that her mistake had been black.
After putting on the bathrobe Helena sneaked her way back to the bedroom. As quietly as she could she opened the door and peeked at the bed. Lars was still sleeping, back turned towards her. Helena closed the door behind her and made her way over to the window. The garden outside looked even greener than yesterday, and the grass was glistening with morning dew. It must have rained during the night. There were a few clouds in the sky, but that was also it; the sun was rising without opposition. Early morning. Helena remembered what Jack had told her yesterday, and those words sounded as clearly in her head as if he had whispered them into her ear at this very moment. Her skin and hair were still damp and the air coming in through the open window was cool, almost chilly. Helena's fingers tightly gripped the window frame. The only logical, right and just thing to do was to ignore what Jack had said to her. Just forget it and pretend like that conversation - or anything else for that matter - had ever happened. She had already done the unspeakable, and even considering to follow up on it was treachery of the highest order. Yet Helena hesitated, heart and stomach fluttering. The logical part of the brain was screaming to her to back off and go to bed again - hug her husband and let everything go. Helena would have to make up for her sin by being a better person, because never, EVER would she breathe about yesterday evening to anyone for as long as she lived. That would be the reasonable thing to do.
But a certain loud and very pushy part of Helena's mind was not reasonable.
She glanced at her sleeping husband. Lars' naked back was slowly rising and falling. He had stopped snoring and his breath was calm and quiet. It was still early in the morning, and hopefully he would be asleep for a couple of more hours. For once Helena was grateful for the fact that he liked sleeping so much. Right now she could not stand the thought of having to explain to him where she had been and where she was going. This was for the better. Helena let go of the window frame and opened the wardrobe. There, under a layer of other clothes she found the garbs she used for workouts. When she held it up before her she involuntarily winced. God, why did they look so revealing all of a sudden? The black shorts with white strips along the sides were tight and form-fitting. Almost like a second skin. The grey tank-top was not much better. Once more Helena glanced at her husband. Still sleeping, thank god. There was a wicked cocktail of emotions boiling inside of her. Just looking at the clothes made her want to throw them deep into the wardrobe and return to bed.
She would not go for a run with Jack. No. He was probably not even going for a run this early in the morning. Or maybe his early was later than hers? Helena shook her head. No, she would go and take a look. If she met up with Jack she would just tell him that yesterday had been a mistake. Then she would go back home. Yes, that was what she was going to do. Helena looked down at the clothes she held in her hand and bit her lip. Alright.
A minute or two later she was dressed. She inspected herself with a mix of disgust and satisfaction. Her legs were long, smooth and bare. A pair of white, almost completely new shoes adorned her feet. The workout bra felt tight under the tank-top, making Helena try and adjust it. The breasts felt sore to touch. She looked at herself in the wardrobe mirror. A woman with damp blonde hair tied into a ponytail stared back at her. The blue eyes were big and anxious, the lips pressed together into a thin line. Helena raised her right leg and balanced on the left as she bent the knee a couple of times. The muscles ached, but less so than before. But then again, she was not about to go running. Meet with Jack (if he really was going out) and tell him that everything was a mistake and that they were done with each other. Then go home and prepare some breakfast. Yes.
"Where are you going?"
For a split second Helena thought that her heart would break through her ribcage. She twisted around and stared at Lars who was slowly sitting up in bed. He was looking at her with squinting but vigilant eyes.
"Did I wake you up?" Helena muttered, trying to pretend that she had not just suffered a minor heart-attack.
"Yes." he rocked his head back and forth and then shook it. "Almost. I was starting to wake up anyway."
"I'm so sorry." she was legitimately remorseful. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's alright." Lars looked at his watch and then back at her. "It's like quarter past six in the morning. What are you doing up?"
"I... I couldn't sleep." that was actually a truthful answer on her part. "Woke up, thought I would take a shower."
