Fateful Confession

Lauren Sendler walked out into the Arrivals hall with him, her beringed left hand in his right, rolling her carryon beside her, all she had taken with her to Honolulu. She clutched his hand tightly, instinctively pressing herself against him. She belonged to him now, in a way that was deeper and more profound than the vows she had exchanged so many years before.

For seven days, she, a married mother of two, had been repeatedly used and punished, forced to wear less than at any other point in her life. She had spent hours naked on a balcony over a beach, being taken repeatedly and then being instructed to take him in her mouth, which she had done without hesitation, or, all too often, any instruction.

She had swallowed more cum in the last one week than she had in the nine years of her married life. All his; he was not one to share, as she was learning the hard way.

He had told her he was going to break her, bend her to his will, and he had succeeded on the very first day. By the second day she had become his willing captive, aching for his touch, empty without his presence inside her, being parted from him suddenly unthinkable.

She was looking forward to seeing her children after a week away but as she followed him to the long term parking lot, to his truck, her body already quivering with need, she knew she could have easily spent another few days away from them if it would make him happy.

He had been kind. He had let her videocall her children every day to ask them about their day and to wish them a good night. They had been two time zones ahead and he'd wanted no outside concern to disturb her. So she could concentrate on pleasing him.

There had been no need to call her husband. That had not been an option.

Not for the first time, she traced the two rings on her left hand, her mind going to her last view of her children and her husband waving as she left for the airport seven days before... marvelling at the profound change in her life, the reordering of her priorities after the last seven days.

She now had another piece of jewellery, a body chain that bound her from neck to nipples, belly, hips and thighs. She had loved it from the moment he had put it on her on the second day of her captivity, constantly aware of the mystery and sheer eroticism of it.

He liked to pull on the chain at random, and not just during sex, tightening the nooses on the wonderfully sensitive brown tips of her breasts, pleasure mixing with pain as she invariably hissed and shuddered helplessly in reaction. He was cruel that way, she had learned, and she had braced herself for more little tortures.

'Anything. Any time. Anywhere.' She had promised him.

She eyed the wedding band on his own finger, still tracing her own. If he had wanted her to remove her rings in the last week, she would have. But he hadn't told her to, and she had worn them throughout.

They got to his truck and he stopped to kiss her, thorough, rough and grasping, making her arch and gasp against his lips before gently seating her inside, the sudden contrast in his treatment of her causing a familiar thrill of excited confusion to surge through her body.

He drove her to her matrimonial home, his hand gently but possessively resting on her bared thighs, teasing her as it travelled up to where they met, lightly touching the wet petals of her opening because wearing panties around him was a waste of time.

She had watched him with lips parted, shuddering when he found her clit, unembarassed at the wet gleam of her fluids on his fingers when his hand caressed its way back down. Her nipples pointed rudely through her silken top, knotted just under her unencumbered breasts to expose her belly.

That she had worn no bra had been noted by her fellow travellers as they had journeyed back to her home, but she was hardly the only woman on the plane going bra less, or baring her midriff, or both.

But he had been close by at all times and after a week of being subjected to his not-so-tender ministrations, she could not have helped reacting to him. Her nipples had just leapt to attention and stayed there.

He pulled into her driveway and exited the truck with her, confidently following her up to the front door, her carryon in his hand like the gentleman he was not. He rested his hands on her bared waist and kissed her neck as she fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking as she opened the door at last and stumbled in, followed closely by him.

She was shaking because she knew what was going to happen as soon as they crossed the threshold into the house, as soon he used his heel to kick the door closed.

It was a weekday, and it was just a few minutes after one o'clock in the afternoon. The children were at school and no one would be at home.

She couldn't have said the same for a number of her neighbors, who would have witnessed her entering her home with him so intimately close to her, touching her, kissing her.

She simply didn't care.

He needed her as much as she needed him; he had been hard from their drive to the airport in Honolulu and she had pointed to a quiet side street for him to park so she could relieve him with her mouth, swallowing his load as he cried out and held her head.

But he had been hard again by the time they were boarding, and there had been nothing she could do for hours.

Now, there was no reason to allow him to keep suffering. She desperately wanted to relieve him.

She had removed everything and he had bent her over the couch, making her spasm and shriek as he rammed his cock into her, fucking her hard and fast until he came, releasing himself inside her as he grasped her hips and waist.

She had lain on top of him on the couch afterwards, enjoying his caresses and touches as she considered, not for the first time, how her life would proceed from then on. How she would have to balance her roles as a working woman, wife and mother, and her new obligation to satisfy this man's every carnal need.

He had gotten hard again fairly soon, further encouraged by her enthusiastic mouth.

Then she had led him upstairs, naked and holding his hand, to the room she shared with her husband, to her marital bed, eager and excited to share this sacred space with him.

She had smiled, gazing up adoringly at him as as he entered her again, and he had ridden her slowly, taking his time, kissing and licking all over her body as he repeatedly repositioned her, using his fingers and tongue until she had come, wetting the bed with her ejaculate.

It had been years since she squirted, but it had become a regular occurrence in the last week under his not-so-tender attention, and now it longer surprised her.

It made him happy. He ate her out with unhidden relish any time she did.

He made sure to come inside her, his eyes on the picture of her and her husband on the bedside table.

Afterward, she had lain back against his broad chest, between his legs as he leaned against the headboard, his hands roaming her body from behind, playing with her breasts, running over her stomach, caressing and stroking over her freshly used pussy.

She had looked down at herself, seeing the tell-tale dark spots of his bites all over her body, given over the last week. There could be no hiding that she had been thoroughly ravished and used during her sojourn across the country.

Her eyes fell on the picture of her husband and her on the bedside table even as she felt him hardening against her again, felt her own need ignite in response, wondering at her newfound insatiability.

Moments later, her eyes were on her husband's face again as she lowered herself on his cock, a soft cry of satisfaction coming out of her in answer to his groan of pleasure, his hands harshly gripping her breasts as she began to ride him.

____________________

SEVEN DAYS EARLIER...

Lauren could barely keep her eyes off him. It had reached the point where she was only pretending to read the book in front of her. Her lips quirked in amusement as her eyes met his again; he knew it. Richard Matheson knew the effect he had on her. Three dates that had ended in both of them breathing hard and on the brink of losing control and it was impossible for him not to know. She had stopped it from going further all three times with a strength of will she had never known she possessed. All he needed to do was caress her and the next moment her blouse would be open and her skirt would be up around her waist...

Lauren squirmed in her seat as she remembered their last encounter. He had put his arm around her and she leaned in close to him almost as soon as the film began. Then they started to kiss and his hand was suddenly under the waist band of her pants and aiming for the warm and wet cavern between her opening thighs. He fingerfucked her until she came, her quiet squeal swallowed by his mouth on top of hers. She unzipped him and began to stroke his rod as he kept his fingers inside her afterwards, wanting to make him cum too, for the first time.

She felt herself flush with heat as she remembered getting on her knees to take him into her mouth and how eagerly she had swallowed his cum. They were alone in the back row of the cinema and she was aroused to a fever pitch by the time the end credits began to roll. She could not remember anything about the film they had just 'watched'. And she could not have cared less - but her shirt was open so he could suck on her achingly hard nipples and his fingers were still inside her as the few people who could watch a movie on a weeknight began to get up and head for the exits. There was a quiet laughing scramble to rearrange themselves before they both got up and started for the exits themselves, giggling like teenagers, her panties in his pocket.

He had obviously wanted their date to continue, preferably at his apartment where they could consummate their relationship, and she could not think of anything she wanted more, but... she had to head back home to her family. And as much as she wanted him inside her, she wanted her first time with him to be slow and deliberate, to last a whole night without her having to look at the clock and worry about being late back home.

Lauren Sendler was a married woman.

All three of her dates were supposed to be meetings with a 'client', which was true, being that Richard Matheson represented a client, albeit one who set her heart racing the moment she had met him. His pursuit of her, by e-mail, text message and witty double entendre had begun immediately and it had been thrilling in a way she had long forgotten to have such an attractive man chasing after her after two children and nine years of marriage.

The pangs of guilt that accompanied her initial welcoming of his attentions had been quickly overwhelmed by the heat and lust between them. The hairs at the back of her neck and her nipples stood erect just by her being around him and she had literally shivered the first time he had taken her in his arms and her panties had been drenched by the time he was done kissing her. It was a foregone conclusion that she would say yes when Richard had finally asked her out on a proper date.

They had gone to a restaurant far from the suburb where her husband was sitting down to dinner with her seven and five year old boy and girl. She had worn a slinky spaghetti strap dress that had been delivered with an arousingly commanding note to her office, that she had changed into before driving down to his office where she had entered his car. The dress had been far more revealing than anything in her closet at home. But he had looked breathtaking in his tailored suit and the look he had given her had sent a thrill through her spine and chills of anticipation all through her body, vanquishing any concern about her modesty.

He kissed her hand as she entered his car, an excellent beginning to what turned out to be a fantastic evening. The conversation was free-flowing and arousing and the food had been delicious, all the more so because of the man looking at her and listening to her as if she was the most interesting, most beautiful and desirable woman in the world. The look in his eyes didn't change when he took her in his arms and led her unto the dancefloor, holding her intimately close and stroking the bared small of her back with his fingers. Afterwards she had leaned comfortably against him and he had put his arm around her as they walked back to his car.

He had kissed her before they had gotten into his car at the restaurant's parking lot, a soul-searing kiss that made her heart pound all the way up to her throat and left visions of her bent over the hood of his Porsche as he plunged his manhood into her welcoming vagina. His hands cupped her breasts and his fingers stroked her swollen nipples through the thin material of her dress as he kissed her again, pressing himself against her so she could feel his hardness against her thigh.

Afterwards, as she sat beside him in the passenger seat, he had casually placed his hand on her thigh and then gently moved up until his fingers were at her pulsing heat. She had watched silently as he lifted the skirt of her dress up and began to caress her through her panties, a shape intake of breath escaping her as he repeatedly pressed against her clit. She came halfway to his office, crying out and holding his hand. She was still breathless when he slid into the parking space beside her waiting vehicle, the hunger coursing through her body making her shake in arousal, all thoughts of husband, children, and propriety pushed to the side.

As soon as he had pulled up the brake, she had crawled unto his lap and they had spent ten minutes ravenously touching, caressing and kissing each other, making heady promises with their bodies, tongues and lips before she finally disentangled herself from him and got out of his car. Grinning, he had gotten out and followed her to her car where he had kissed her again, pressing against her to let her know how much he wanted their date to continue, and easily wrangled another date out of her.

Lauren swiftly changed in the nearest bathroom of her office building before she finally drove home. She had met her husband packing their children off to bed and the guilt she had been dreading barely registered; she was still on a high from being the subject of another man's attentions less than an hour earlier. She had quickly kissed her children good night and immediately entered the shower without the customary 'I'm home' kiss for her husband, wanting to wash off any tell-tale remains of Richard's cologne off her, feeling her nipples harden under the water as she remembered the smell of him.

She had immediately climbed into bed after her shower, expecting her husband to not be far behind her, fantasizing instead that it would be one Richard Matheson who would be climbing in after her. She started to touch herself gently as she imagined how he would take her, how he would suck and lick her aching breasts, how she would take his cock into her mouth, how he would taste and lick her wetness before he entered and rode her to an earth-shattering orgasm. Her masturbating became more intense and she came, burying her squeal in the pillows.

Her husband entered the room a few minutes after her self-administered and fantasy enhanced orgasm, moving around for a while, changing into his pyjamas from what she could hear, and then he crawled under the covers with her. He snuggled up to her and kissed her neck, reaching a hand in front of her and under her sleep shirt to cup her nude breasts under the silken material.

"Umm" she moaned quietly, a pang of guilt, and also surprise that she was so aroused and wet, and yet she was not in the mood for sex. Sex with her husband, that is. It was Richard she wanted. "I'm so tired honey... maybe tomorrow?" she said, pretending a sleepiness she did not feel.

There was some disappointment in his voice, but her husband just kissed her neck again and moved his hand away to rest on her waist. "Alright... Good night."

Lauren's eyes were open long after her husband had fallen asleep, guilt and the pleasure she gotten from being with Richard warring in her mind. Michael Sendler had been a very good husband for nine years and an excellent father for seven, and she'd always thought she was a happy woman, but... she could not remember ever feeling as excited and alive about a man as Richard made her feel.

Maybe there was something Richard was providing her that Michael was not, she thought. Or maybe it was that Michael 'could' not provide her with what Richard so effortlessly was.

He simply commanded her and she felt compelled to obey. Somehow, he had detected the deeply hidden submissive side of her under the hard charging executive she was to the rest of the world, and brought it out of her, arousing her to a fever pitch.

And as she lay there beside her sleeping husband, remembering the touch of another man, Lauren made her decision; she was going on that second date with Richard Matheson. Just to see if there was something more...

So more than three weeks of secret phone calls, furtive meetings in the park near her office, and a movie date later, Lauren was getting wetter by the minute as she sat opposite him in the waiting area, waiting for their flight to the other side of the country. As far as Michael knew, his wife was on her way to close a few deals with some potential clients and get them to sign the appropriate documents on the dotted lines. She had also told him she would be travelling with a few of her colleagues. Which was all true. But what he didn't know was that her lover was travelling on the same flight and would be staying at the same hotel for the four days she would be away from him and their children.

Where she and her lover would finally take their relationship to the next level.

Lauren's feelings of guilt at betraying her husband, jeopardizing nine years of marriage and two children had long since faded since that night, pushed aside for later if they ever came. All she felt now was anticipation. Later on that night, in a hotel room across the country, she would be taking Richard into her body for the first time and she fully expected them to be making love until the sun's rays began to spread across the dawn sky. Richard had already pre-ordered champagne and ice to be delivered to the suite he was taking for them both; he'd told her as he hungrily kissed her goodbye at their last rendezvous.

She quivered in excitement as their eyes met again - she had not had sex since before that fateful night of her first date with Richard, notwithstanding her murmmuring of "tomorrow" to her husband in bed that night, and she was as horny as she could ever remember being. But she had increasingly consciously chosen to save herself for her soon-to-be lover. She wanted him to feel the heat of her unblunted lust that he had so easily stoked to a blistering inferno...

She suddenly felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder, breaking a very erotic daydream featuring the handsome man sitting across from her. A very familiar voice accompanied the hand, questioningly whispering her name. "Lauren...?"

She turned immediately in recognition, a squeal of surprised delight escaping her. "Christina?! Oh my...! Christina!" She leapt up from her seat and both women rushed to embrace each other.

"You were in town and you didn't call me... how could you?" Lauren could not keep the genuine hurt out of her voice as she held her cousin, tears in her eyes after nearly two years of not laying them on the other woman.

Christina Paccione had her Korean mother's eyes and cheek bones and her father's curly hair and full cheeks. They were first cousins through Lauren's mother and Christina's Marine father, who had met his wife and future children's mother at a Seoul outdoor market and insisted on helping her carry her groceries back to her University campus. He was late getting back to the barracks, earning himself three days of latrine duty; all totally worth it.