Calculated Confessions

It was a small slip up. So small in fact, Kathleen did not even realize her comment was a clue. Mike almost missed it.

Almost.

Keeping secrets is never easy. Too many secrets can certainly complicate matters.

Kathleen's comment that casually referenced something that she could only have knowledge of by having read Mike's journal made him instantly suspicious. He hid his surprise and held his tongue, but he tucked away that point of revelation.

The next time he picked up his journal, he took special notice of the position it held in his desk drawer. His heart dropped as he immediately recognized that it was not as he had left it. He remained silent. He was not sure if he was more angry or fearful. Angry that she was snooping on his private musings without his permission. Fearful of just how much she had read, knowing there were passages of confession-like material; some of those confessions were definitely secrets kept from her. He shuddered at the thought of what her eyes might have read.

He was never one to panic. This moment required a level-headed response. He did not want to rock the boat unnecessarily. So he developed a plan; a well, thought-through plan.

Almost.

As the year came to a close, Mike scribbled out what he documented as his "final entry" of this chapter of journaling. His words indirectly referred to the next level of journaling. Then he tucked his journal back in the desk drawer, uniquely positioned in a way that nobody else would think of which would signal him if and when Kathleen snuck a read.

It took three days, and multiple checks driven by his curiosity, but his suspicion was confirmed. Kathleen had accessed his journal. He was now certain. He decided to move forward to the next step in his plan.

When Kathleen first discovered the new journal, she actually felt a moment's pause. That new journal was for the "next level" as she had read. This would be a good time to stop this snooping. Then again, perhaps this is exactly why she was snooping. She actually closed the drawer without even touching the journal. She shook her head. Her moral compass was tilting 180 degrees away from this temptation.

It took less than 24 hours for her moral compass to spin out of control. Her hand slipped the journal from the drawer. She had been reading his previous journal for nearly six months. She had read it from cover to cover, spanning his thoughts for over five years. She believed that Mike had no idea.

She turned the page to the first entry.

--Tuesday, June 22.

Today I quest to move to the next level of how I capture my thoughts. I have grown weary of chronicling my analysis of things that seem to matter far less than I think they do. Work and politics make for spirited debates, but there seems to be a much deeper weight to my life possessed of things I keep hidden and struggle to admit. Things that sometimes haunt me, other times arouse me. Things that push the limits to both the acceptable pursuits of erotic pleasures with my sweet Kathleen and the unacceptable fantasies and thoughts that fuel more perverse and twisted lusts. I do not dare entrust these thoughts and feelings to anyone by way of a confession, even Pastor Bill. He is a good man, but I doubt he could ever view me responsibly as a church leader ever again. He might not even be able to handle my confessions. So here, my next level of journaling, will be my place to reckon with these things. Perhaps the efforts of simply expressing these secrets here will be what I need.

Kathleen's heart was racing. She had crossed a line for sure. The previous journal was a body of work that revealed Mike's inner thoughts about things that mostly were in line with her expectations. There was the occasional entry that offered her a portal into his mind and thinking that was unique. Certainly there were those passages that touched on topics that expanded her knowledge of his inner thoughts beyond what he otherwise shared with her. There were even a few pages that she wished she had not read. But this moment was like a line in the sand with a warning sign flashing brightly: WARNING - NOT FOR YOUR EYES.

She slipped the journal back in the drawer. She told herself that perhaps this is where this bad habit should end. She worked to convince herself that there were several reasons to never open that journal again. Her arguments were self-convincing.

Almost.

When Mike found his new journal askew in the drawer, he knew. His plan was set in motion. He held the pen in his hand and pondered just how he wanted to proceed. There were options for sure. He pondered his intentions and struggled to find the right idea and tone. After careful deliberation, he put pen to paper.

--Sunday, June 27. Kathleen looked as stunning as ever today. Having the neighbors over for a swim and BBQ to enjoy the arrival of summer weather was a great time for all. I encountered another of those twists as I found myself lost in admiring how hot she looked in that red bikini. When she slipped from the pool, dripping wet, I knew there were other eyes drinking in that view other than my own. But still, it was a bit of a startle to my senses when Brian whispered in my ear, "You are a lucky man, Mike." His tone. His lingering stare veiled by his sunglasses. I knew he was remarking on more than what met the eyes. He was aroused by his view of Kathleen. But my confession is that I was aroused by him being aroused by her. So much so, that later, after everyone had left and we were relaxing on the couch together, I slipped my hand up under her tee and as I fondled her 38c breasts that I know Brian couldn't stop thinking about, I whispered in her ear, "I am a lucky man, Kathleen." The echo of Brian's words as I fondled her formed a naughty mix of arousal she would never understand.

It was the next day. Kathleen was stunned. Her body was suddenly trembling. Her eyes stopped reading as she shook her head, her mind dazed and trying to process what she had just read. The residue of her and Mike's lovemaking still clung to her flesh. The seduction and sensations were still fresh in her mind. They had fooled around on the couch. Then, they stood and purposefully enjoyed grinding their bodies against each other as they moved toward the hallway. She felt herself pinned to the wall, his desire for her bursting. Their kisses were deep and passionate and sloppy wet. Their tongues danced. Entwined as her legs wrapped around him, they migrated to the bedroom. She felt exhilarated then. But now, as she reflected back, she remembered him speaking that phrase more than once. She was so affirmed in the moment. But now, this journal entry, this confession; it pulled the veil back on his inner thoughts causing a filthy shadow to be cast over her. There was more written. She had stopped. She had shut the journal. She was ready to slip it back into the drawer.

Almost.

Her trembling fingers flipped the pages, reopening the journal. Through misty eyes she continued reading.

... she would never understand. That our close friend, member of our church, would dare express those secret desires. That his hands would crave to be where mine wandered. Later, somewhere deep inside my most filthy cravings, I could not help but find extended pleasure as I suckled on those large, pink nipples, knowing that just two doors down was the erect dick of our friend who allowed his mind to indulge in thoughts of joining me.

Kathleen felt the inner conflict of both anger and arousal. Had Mike been able to witness the moment, he would have taken great pleasure in how his strategy had worked to perfection. He would have felt justified at her feeling the anguish due to her own fault of snooping. He would have allowed her to dangle in the turmoil long enough to learn her lesson. He would have then moved on, bending the narrative of his manipulative musings towards more constructive ideas. And indeed, if not for a random distraction that kept him from capturing a glance of her in that unguarded moment, he would have seen it happen and thus relented after a lesson well-served by him and well-learned by her.

Almost.

Over the days and weeks that followed, Mike scattered snippets of filthy thoughts throughout his journal entries. He chose to simply sprinkle in the unthinkable amidst the otherwise typical musings of his mind. It became a daily ritual. He would find the journal, slightly eschew and thus signaling to him that Kathleen was still sneaking between the pages. This discovery would inspire him to continue. It became intoxicating.

Never, not even once, during all those weeks that extended into months, did Kathleen ever let on to Mike that she was reading his journal. Mike never hinted that he even suspected her doing such a thing. Afterall, to reveal such a suspicion would prevent him from further enjoying how he played with her mind with an ever-increasing appetite for revenge.

There were days when it was obvious to him that Kathleen's mood was obviously altered by what she had read. There were reflections of real life which would otherwise have gone unnoticed by her if she had only not read that journal. As intoxicating as it was for Mike to refuel on the rush of concocting a filthy narrative for her illicit discovery, it was becoming just as intoxicating for Kathleen to discover what could be unveiled next.

On the weekend she might be enjoying how they walked hand-in-hand along the beach, one of their more enjoyable things to share. Then, perhaps just a day or two later. . .

Monday, August 18. Just before going on a walk with Kathleen, I got a text from Brian. Sent his best wishes to us with the naughty caveat that he wondered how many eyes were drinking in the view of Kathleen's great tits. He suggested I have her wear that red bikini if possible."

As she read, she felt the conflict. She remembered how Mike had actually suggested that she wear that top for him on the walk. She felt sexy and desired when he made the request. But the journal made her feel a sense of conflict, sensing the influence of Brian on Mike's request.

A week or so later, Kathleen was hesitant to say "yes" to a Labor Day neighborhood BBQ and pool party in their backyard with neighbors. Although it had been their custom for years, she couldn't help but struggle with what would be an obvious conflict for her. Brian and his family always were there.

Her mind had slowly become littered with words and phrases and collections of thoughts and fantasies reflected in that journal. It was apparent that she had a secret admirer, who was not so secret to her husband. It was equally apparent that although Mike had never mentioned a single word about this to her, that he was quite conversant with Brian about it. She felt betrayed and desired. She tried to reason that the journal was just Mike's way of trying to deal with it. That perhaps he was trying to protect her in a way that would bring the least amount of harm to their families. That perhaps he had a level of trust in Brian that made this safe banter. That perhaps it was just the things guys do. She mulled over many of those rationalizations as she repeatedly confronted new revelations that seemed to continue to push the envelope further and further.

There were some comments that felt safe within the boundaries of her own security radar, such as . . .

... felt both shocked and horny when Brian mentioned that he couldn't help thinking about Kathleen's heavy tits as he fucked his wife last night ...

There was another passage that reminded her of what Brian's eyes seemed to be capable of . . .

... demonstrated impressive skills in calculating to perfection the size and shape and color of Kathleen's wonderful nipples, adding his own mouth-watering suggestions...

With each new passage, Mike continued to twist the knife further in his attempts at teaching Kathleen a lesson and venting his own vengeful appetite. With each new passage, Kathleen continued to feel assaulted by a blend of her own guilt and anger.

Mike felt sorry for Brian. There was no doubt that Kathleen had all sorts of unwarranted feelings and opinions and judgments that were based upon what she read in the journal, 99% of the material completely fabricated. But whenever Mike thought about it, he figured Brian was suffering no real harm, and whatever small stigma she might project silently upon Brian was more than acceptable as she went through the process of learning her lesson.

Kathleen felt desired by Brian. There was no doubt in her mind that Mike had allowed Brian the space and confidence to express what she counted as nothing less than "coveting thy neighbor's wife." Although she certainly did not approve, it was also nice to know that she was desired, as naughty of a thought as it was. Her mind sometimes was twisted into imagining just how far the thoughts of her husband and his buddy would go as she read these intermittent passages embedded within the narrative of that journal.

... I felt such a rush when Brian admitted that he has masturbated many times to the photo I texted him of Kathleen in that red bikini...

... I never realized how amazing Kathleen's braless jiggle can be to others until Brian told me about his fascinations with her tits ... how he looks forward to the opportunities to see her 'bouncing around' as he likes to put it ...

The passages continued to become more and more graphic and filthy. Over time, Kathleen became almost desensitized to the fact that she was reading filthy thoughts shared by her husband. It was as if she were reading erotic fiction. Mike continued to write without showing any sense of security concerns. Kathleen continued to read with what she felt was complete immunity.

Then, the first time it happened, she was taken by surprise. She and Mike had been swimming. She was in that red bikini. Things got fun and handsy and before she knew it, he had slipped his tongue in her mouth while he slipped that top off of her. As they made out in the pool, she felt invigorated being topless out in the open. Nobody was home and the landscape surrounding the pool provided plenty of privacy, but just the feel of his hands pawing away that red top ... and his hungry tongue dancing with hers ... and the sloshing of the pool water between them ... a variety of sensations and sounds and actions that had already been reflected - foreshadowed - in that journal prior to that moment. It all pushed her to suddenly feel the presence of Brian in that moment. She was shocked. She felt shame. She could not believe that there as she fell into the arms of her husband and felt the pleasures of sexual intimacy that her mind actually wandered to thoughts of Brian.

Kathleen fumbled with Mike's shorts and felt his hard cock beneath the surface as their bodies spun together in the shallow end of the pool. As Mike's kisses transitioned down her neck to her exposed breasts, she tilted her head back and accepted his attention as if . . . as if he were Brian. It was the most erotic, forbidden, edge of a moment she had ever allowed her mind and body to share.

Less surprising, but just as sexually intoxicating, was that at that same exact moment Mike's mind wandered to the journal ... to how his embellished-buddy-Brian would indeed love to be in his place at that moment ... tasting Kathleen's nipples... removing that sexy, red top... sliding his hard dick into her wet, married pussy.

In the days and weeks that immediately followed, thoughts of Brian were never far from the sexual exploitations they shared. Mike pushed the narrative to filthy limits in the journal. Kathleen embraced the filthiness in secret as they fucked. Mike's mind increasingly submerged itself into the world of "what ifs" to help stimulate his mind to further journal entries.

Neither of them were aware of when exactly their sexual playtimes featured the corequisite of a fresh, newly-penned, journal entry. Neither of them ever admitted to the other the secrets they held; Kathleen's reading and Mike's fictional writings. It seemed that the entire arrangement had merged into an alternate reality they shared, although in a completely unspoken way utterly void of a hint of admission. Their alternate worlds of secret lusts coexisted in harmony, ironically both fueled and partitioned by the secrets of the journal.

Mike had not envisioned this naughty payback to last much more than a few journal entries in the earliest strategies. Kathleen never dreamed that her snooping would have evolved into what it had become. Yet, nearly a year had unfolded, a year that had nurtured the secrets that pushed the limits one boundary at a time. It all would have worked for them for who knows how long if life had run without any disruptive surprise. That he would dare to write such filth for so long and that she would dare to snoop and read for so long was a tribute to their shared belief that they could manage this no matter what. To their credit, they came close to pulling it off.

Almost.

When Kathleen arrived home from shopping, she was met by the surprise of Brian sitting on their couch, in tears. Mike immediately stood up and guided her to the kitchen. He quickly got her up to speed that Marsha, Brian's wife, and he had just had a pretty bad blow-up. No time for details, but Brian was pretty torn up.

Mike saw a look in Kathleen's eyes that silently alerted him that he had a problem. His realworld buddy was in real need. The fabricated-persona of his buddy in the journal was now his own worst enemy. There was no way for Brian to have any idea the conflict that existed. There was also no way, or at least time, for Mike and Kathleen to finally admit to the journal not being a secret between them. Kathleen could not balk at the moment based on her secret readings. Mike knew Brian was no threat at all since all the filth in the journal was fictional. Mike knew Kathleen was reading the journal on a regular basis, but dared not give up that point of leverage now. There was no way Kathleen was going to spill the beans to Mike about her voyeur eyes either.

Later that evening, after some desperate attempts by Brian to get Marsha to talk on the phone, or at least answer his texts, he gave up hope. He needed a place to stay. The complications were twisted. Some were based on fact; others on fiction. Mike and Kathleen briefly argued about it. Without that damn journal, this would have been a no-brainer. Brian was a good friend. Mike and Kathleen were gracious and hospitable. Kathleen limited to only being able to silently sort out in her mind the confusing dynamics. Why would Mike be so willing to let Brian sleep in their home after the filthy things written in that journal? How could a husband put his wife in such a difficult position? She realized that she needed time to approach things with Mike. She did not want to forfeit the secret access she had enjoyed to that journal. It was a gift. It was a curse. When it seemed that Kathleen was not going to give in, Mike almost reached for the ultimate leverage and prepared to confront Kathleen about the journal.

Almost.

With a nod and submissive wave of her hand, Kathleen signaled her resignation to Mike; Brian could stay the night.

As Mike and Brian moved to the patio poolside to talk, Kathleen prepared the guestroom. After fluffing the pillows, she glanced outside. The boys were still deep in conversation. She quickly moved to the home office. Opened the drawer. Flipped to the most recent journal entry. She skimmed the first part that only made mention of a few mundane occurrences. Then, her eyes slowed to a crawl as she felt the filthy passage, written earlier that morning, assault her good senses.