February Sucs: Cleopatra's Pearls

A special shout out to George Anderson and his original story, February Sucks found at https://www.literotica.com/s/february-sucks

This tribute to George's original story picks up after Marc and Linda walk out of Morrison's and Jim watched his marriage collapse. I hope you enjoy.

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Marc and Linda

Marc walked arm in arm out to the parking lot where a few fans noticed them and took some pictures with their phones. Linda, who was still jubilant at been Marc's pick me was at first excited at the attention, but then shortly she began to worry. This "private" fantasy of hers had already become far more public than she wanted. She began to worry how many pictures of her escapades would make it back to Jim. Or their parents. Her concerns quickly faded as they jumped into Marc's sports car and they roared away from Morrison's. As soon as Marc hit the highway, his hand smoothly slid from the shift lever to Linda's knee. He started a gentle and slow but persistent higher trek up and down her thigh.

"Is this okay?"

"Oh, yes." Linda sighed as Marc's hand drifted further and further towards the short hem of her dress.

"Do you want this?" Marc asked.

"Yes." Linda whispered back.

"Say it louder."

"Yes! I want this. I want this more than anything else I have ever wanted."

Marc said quietly. "Take off your panties."

Linda hesitated. "Not here, Marc. Please, let's wait until we get to your place."

Linda was conflicted. Strangely, she wasn't "in the moment" enjoying living her fantasy as she hoped. For an instant her mind flicked back to a scene from the old movie Saturday Night Fever.

Tony: "Are you a nice girl or are you a cunt?"

Annette: "Can't I be both?"

Tony: "No. It's a decision a girl's gotta make early in life, if she's gonna be a nice girl or a cunt."

Later in the movie, Linda recalled Tony looking at Annette with disgust after she let two guys use her in the backseat of the car, "Is THIS what you wanted? You proud of yourself? Now you're a CUNT!"

For the first time she began to worry if that was how Jim would respond to her when she returned home with her expectation of him "reclaiming her." Worse, she began to wonder what the price would be for her Special Night with Marc. It began to dawn on her that the price of her night of expected sexual bliss was something that would inflict unfathomable emotional pain -- trauma -- on a man she claimed to love, but that she was such a bitch that she had decided that it was a price she was willing to have Jim pay. She feared that Jim was thinking the same thing about now.

Her reverie was interrupted by Marc grabbing her left hand and placing it on his crotch. She smiled and began stroking his stiffening cock through his trousers. Marc repositioned himself so she could better access his shaft. She unbuckled Marc's belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, searching with her fingers down the front of his underwear. Marc smirked at her. She tried to lean over the stick shift in order to place the tip of his cock in her mouth, but realized that was a lost cause. The bucket seats of high-performance sports cars and manual shifting aren't quite conducive to on-the-road blow jobs. Instead, Linda just slowly stroked Marc's dick as Marc continued to rub further and further up her thigh. Her beautiful blue dress -- the dress she bought for Jim -- was now (with Marc's caresses and Linda's adjustment) up around her hips. Marc's assault continued, tracing the outline of edge of Linda's panties and slowly slipping his fingers into areas no man had touched but Marc. Pushing her panties aside, Marc's right hand extended and his fingers began tracing her labia and began brushing across her clitoris. She felt her breath start to catch as his assault became more in earnest. She tried to concentrate on pleasuring his cock, but kept getting distracted as she felt her pussy moisten.

The car slowed and the massive gates of Marc's palatial home opened. Marc withdrew his hand to downshift and Linda began to fix her dress. Marc pulled up to the front door, buttoned up and rezipped his pants as he climbed out of the car. His belt remained unbuckled. He walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for Linda. "My lady!" he said with a mock bow directing her towards the front door.

There was no actual discussion during the car ride. Linda and Marc already reached an unspoken understanding. They both had one common goal: their own instant sexual gratification. Raw animal lust. No pretenses. No greater meaning. No romance. An interlude out of their lives -- a time out -- where all that mattered was getting as much pleasure fucking the other -- and the rest of the world be damned. Linda thought of herself (to the extent she was thing at all) as a bitch in heat, about to get mounted by a mongrel dog.

As they entered the house, Linda was taken aback by the grand entryway and living room. Marc closed the door and swept past her and turned on some "mood lighting" and music. Linda walked up closer to him and he took her in his arms, much like he had at Morisson's. Again, she melted into his embrace. As they danced, Marc reached behind her and slowly unzipped the blue dress that she had chosen for her husband. As it slid off of her shoulders, she held it briefly at her stomach and then let it fall to the floor. Marc pulled her closely and kissed her deeply. His tongue began at first tentatively and then more passionately to explore hers. As she stood swaying in Marc's arms wearing nothing but her bra and panties, she suddenly felt sad. She didn't quite understand why. It was like something important had just been lost.

As their hands began to mutually explore each other's bodies Linda reached up behind her back and unfastened her bra. As it fell to the floor, Marc began to caress and then kiss her nipples. Then Marc placed his hands on Linda's hips with his thumbs under the edges of her panties and looked into her eyes and said, "May I?" "Yes, Linda said quietly." Marc looked in her eyes. "Say it. Out loud. I don't want there to be any misunderstanding about what we are doing here," Marc said. "Yes," Linda said a little louder. "Please remove my panties." Marc smiled and slowly pulled her last bit of clothing down to her thighs. They fell to the ground and Linda stepped out of them. Linda began to undress Marc. His jacket. His shirt. She again undid his trousers and shortly he was standing in just his boxer shorts. She felt the heat of his shaft as she began to again gently stroke his length. Slowly, she lowered his shorts and his dick stood out erect.

"Do you want to lick it?" Marc asked? "Yes." Linda said quietly. "Then you have to ask, Linda." "Please," Linda said a little louder remember Marc's prior admonition, "may I kiss your cock?" Marc nodded and Linda dropped to her knees and began to gently lick and then suck on the first adult cock she had ever seen besides her husband's. "Was it bigger?" she thought. No. "Thicker?" No. It was just different. She began to realize that the thrill of this whole experience was that it was strange cock. A different cock. Linda began to quicken her pace as her head began to bob up and down on the shaft. Linda began to realize that the real thrill she was experiencing was simply that this was all "forbidden fruit." It was illicit. It was wrong. It was taboo. To step out on your husband. To play the whore. The slut. To be a woman who's greatest virtue -- whose only virtue -- was her cunt. To -- for once in her life -- not be the virtuous woman. To not be the Madonna who was a virgin until marriage and chaste after marriage.

Marc was ready to cum and he pushed her off of his cock. "Let's take this upstairs to my bed, shall we?" he asked. Linda only nodded. She didn't trust her voice since her throat was tainted with pre-cum. Marc led Linda by the hand into a bedchamber that were massive and decidedly too masculine for Linda's taste. But none of that mattered. Marc led her to the edge of the bed and she turned around with her back towards the bed. Marc crowded her until she fell back on the bed and she crawled up towards the pillows at the head of the bed. Jim then climbed in at her right hand side.

"Tell me what you want, Linda." Linda looked at him confused. Surely he knows what I want! "You have to say it." Linda looked at him, "What do you want me to say?" Marc looked at her. "I told you. I want there to be no misunderstandings here. You are going to have to tell me that you want me to fuck you. You have to tell me that you want me to make you an adulteress. You have to tell me that you are knowingly and deliberately being unfaithful to your husband. You have to tell me that this cunt is mine."

Linda shook her head. This was getting a little too real. Marc reached over into his nightstand and took out a bottle of lube. "Let's take this bit by bit. Ask me to touch your pussy," Marc said as he squirted sex lube in his right hand. "Please, touch my pussy." Linda whispered and resaid it louder. Marc began working on the outer folds of her labia and then began the wet ministrations closer and closer to her clitoris. She could feel her arousal growing. She knew only one thing. She needed to be fucked. Soon.

Marc slowed his pace. "Tell me that you want me to fuck your married pussy, Linda." Linda paused and then said, "Marc, I want you to fuck my married pussy. I want you to make me an adulteress. I want to be unfaithful to my husband. This cunt is yours." Marc smiled triumphantly and took Linda's left hand and took off her wedding ring. Linda started to object but Marc said, "Don't worry. I'll give it back." Then he took her right hand and placed it on his cock as he maneuvered between her legs. "You are the one who has to do this, Linda. You are the one who is going to put my cock into your pussy." Linda tried to withdraw her hand, but Marc stopped her. "This is all on you, little lady. You either want it or you don't." The sheer wickedness had capture Linda's imagination and her heart. There was no turning back. She caressed Marc's cock with a few slow pumps of its slimy surface and began shaking as she guided into herself. Just before the tip touched her she paused and looked at Marc and said, "Condom?" Marc looked intently into her eyes and simply said, "No." Linda had a worried look on her face but nevertheless both her hands guided their two well lubricated sexes together. Linda gasped as Marc sunk his whole length into her moist channel.

Marc immediately began to slowly but rhythmically pump into Linda. At first, gently, but as the pace increased so did the force. Linda's body quickly responded. She came. Too quickly. She climaxed almost desperately -- and disappointingly. It was the first time she had ever had an orgasm without any hint of intimacy. She had heard of a climax described as "la petite mort." The little death. She had never understood that term until now. Because this was the first time she was fucked with no meaning. And it felt somehow tragic. Empty. Her arousal instantly dropped to zero.

The buildup. The illicitness. The betrayal of her marriage, her husband, her vows, her family and herself created a strange maelstrom of feelings. Of disconnection. This wasn't making love. This wasn't love at all. As she looked up at Marc as he continued to ravage her body with thrust after thrust, she realized that this was a hate fuck. He was just using her body. She was nothing but a fucktoy to him. She began to feel ill as she realized that for Marc taking a woman away from another man -- especially a married woman from her husband -- was an act of violence. It was an act of dominance. It was an act of malevolence against the man, certainly, but more so an act of violence against -- her. Against her marriage. Against her family. And she had been complicit in making that violence happen.

After what seemed to be an interminable period, Marc grunted and finally flooded her most intimate chamber with his cum. Marc collapsed on top of Linda for a few moments, rolled off of her and reached over to the nightstand where he had placed Linda's wedding ring to retrieved it for her. He reached down between Linda's legs as copious amounts of Linda's juices, sex lube and now Marc's deposit of sperm into her cunt leaked out of her vagina and with a quick swipe of his hand returned her wedding ring to her encrusted with cum. She began to shake -- not from arousal, but from shame. She thought about how precious she had held making love with her husband. She truly enjoyed when he pulsed within her and filled her with his cum in each desperately passionate act of intimacy called marriage. Linda began loathing herself. And she began to cry uncontrollably. Marc just looked at her with indifference -- and contempt.

Marc got up and went into the bathroom. He came out and unceremoniously tossed her a wet washcloth. "Do you want me to call you a cab?" Linda was too despondent to answer. "A cab it is!" Marc rejoined jauntily. "The asshole got what he wanted," Linda thought. "And so did I." she thought bitterly.

Linda did her best to gather what was left of herself and her clothing. Her panties were missing. She began to wonder where she should go. Back to the hotel? Home? She couldn't face Jim. Not right now. Since she didn't know where Jim was, she decided that she had better try Dee's. After a whispered telephone conversation and a thirty minute wait the cab showed up and took a defeated woman to a spare bed at Dee's house. Despite Dee's insistence that Linda tell her everything, Linda merely sobbed and went to bed and passed out in a state of emotional exhaustion.

The Return Home

It was around 10 in the morning by the time Linda screwed up enough courage to venture home. Dee drove and Linda asked her to drop her off and not come in. Linda braced herself for what she knew would be a very unpleasant homecoming. She decided to try to put a brave face on it. "Jim? Jim, I'm home. It's still just me, the same old me as always," she said with a tender smile. "There's nothing different; nothing has changed. My love for you is just the same as it was yesterday."

"If that's true, then I guess we never had what I thought we did." Jim replied from the kitchen area. Linda's face fell.

Linda sighed and went into the kitchen where Jim was taking a Pyrex mixing bowl out of the microwave. He looked coldly at Linda as he returned to his seat at the kitchen table sitting the pungent smelling bowl in front of him. Linda looked at the table. A yellow sheet of paper and pen and a napkin was open laying flat with something underneath it.

"Please, Jim. We need to talk."

"Do we? Between adults relationships are voluntary. I don't 'have' to do anything."

"Jim, this was all a big mistake."

"No, Linda. It was a betrayal." This wasn't on her script, she thought.

Jim looked down at the weathered yellow sheet and picked up his pen. Linda didn't recognize the paper at first. "Look familiar?" he said quietly. Linda approached the table and saw what appeared to be a tattered list, part in pencil and part in ink. The pencil entries were all but faded to illegibility.

"Here. I will give you a hint. Two broke kids sitting across the table from each other in the college student union after their friends left for their dorms. Two young dreamers. Two lovesick kids. Each nauseatingly in love with the other. Us. Each 'date,' one of us would put one item on the list and explain to the other why anyone who lacks those traits was a 'hard no' for a long-term relationship."

"Jim, I..."

Jim held up his hand insisting on quiet.

"First my Marc story. Then yours."

Linda nodded.

Jim continued, "Have you ever heard of the legend of Cleopatra seducing Marc Anthony?"

Linda shook her head "no" looking confused.

"Cleopatra decided to pull out all stops to impress and seduce Marc." Linda started to interrupt but then thought better of it. "She hosted a series of banquets, each more expensive and extravagant than the last. Then one day Cleopatra said that she would host and consume the most expensive meal in antiquity. On the day of the feast, Marc was not impressed. The feast was sumptuous, yes. But not much greater than the rest. Then Cleopatra had a specially prepared large goblet brought to her. The legend goes that Cleopatra was wearing two of the largest, most perfect pearls ever found as earrings. She took them and placed them beside her plate as Marc watched. She took the oversized chalice and dropped first one and then the other pearl into the chalice filled with boiling vinegar. Each dissolved as the crowd watched in shock. After some time, the chalice cooled and Cleopatra put the chalice to her lips and drank to the last dregs the contents of the chalice. And so she consumed the most expensive meal in antiquity."

"Jim, I am not following. What are you saying?"

Jim picked up the napkin off the table. Beneath it was a string of ten pearls on a thin chain. Linda gasped. "Please, Jim. Please. You know how much those mean to me! You bought them one by one while we were still broke college students and newlyweds."

"What was that called? Jim asked. "Oh, yeah. Add-a-pearl. Piece by piece probably the most expensive jewelry I ever bought for you back then. They cost me dearly when money was scarce."

Jim held the string in his hands and removed the napkin. Underneath was a pair of wire cutters. Linda watched as Jim cut the thin chain that held the pearls together and they fell on the table. The ten little orbs sat on the table.

Jim took the faded sheet in his left hand and the pen in his right.

"Let's see... Loyalty. It is in pencil. In your handwriting. How appropriate." Jim drew a line through the word "loyalty" and picked up the first pearl and threw it in the still hot Pyrex dish where it began to bubble." Linda stifled a sob.

"Love. That is in ink. It is mine. Do you know what love is, Linda? Love is not a sentiment. Love is a verb. A choice. Love is always, always, always, looking out for and protecting the one you love. Love is getting up early each morning -- even when you are sick or exhausted -- and taking your tired ass back to a job that you hate and working overtime to provide for your family. Love is self-sacrificial. It is preferring each other in love. It is protecting that person. Protecting their heart, Linda!" Linda watched as another pearl hit the bowl and begin to bubble.

One by one the items were read off, scratched off the list and the pearls splunked into the bowl. Fidelity. Honor. Integrity. Honesty. Self-control. Kindness. Empathy. Compassion.

Jim looked at Linda as she sobbed and fought off his own tears asked, "One for each year. What is left, Linda?"

Linda was in no condition to respond but she squeaked out "I am left. The kids are left. A future together is left. We can still grow old together. Linda looked at Jim and quietly said, "Our love is built to weather life storms and last a lifetime. I can't live without our love! I know you're hurting, badly. I know I need to make it up to you, and I will, whatever it takes. But above all, I know you love me enough that eventually, you'll get past your hurt and we'll be fine."

Jim looked sadly at Linda. "You say that your love for me is just the same as it was yesterday." And you know? I believe you. I believe that you are that fickle of a person. Someone who could leave me at the drop of a hat. Someone that can betray me, our family, our marriage, our love and our vows for a piece of strange cock. If that is your definition of love, I want none of it."

"Linda. Look at me. You keep saying that we have to make it through this. That I have to get over my hurt. You act as if it is a given that our marriage wasn't destroyed by this. That my love for you wasn't permanently crushed by this "little bump in the road." It wasn't a 'bump in the road.' As far as my love for you is concerned it was an extinction level event."