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.