"Oh, Gawd!... Aw!... fuck... yes... aw!"
As I cum, he continues thrusting inside me at the same pace. He is at his physical peak. His body a perfect athletic specimen. To me, he is a fuck machine. The way he is going in and out, I will be cumming again in a couple of minutes. Maybe less. And just like I have times before, I stop thinking and let him use me. Or I use him.
I get the fucking of my life, and he gets his rocks off knowing he fucked another man's wife. It's a symbiotic relationship. We both get what we want.
He flips me over on my back and spreads my legs. My ass is on the edge of the bed as he pushes that huge cock back inside me.
I gasp...
In retrospect
It is years later since my life changed, but it could have happened yesterday. Every detail of it burned in my mind. Every word said. Every gaze, smell, sound, and touch. Every bit of the pain and fear, guilt, and remorse. Somethings in life are like that. Not when they happen. Not at first anyway.
I remember that Jerasic part movie. I think it was number II when the Jeff Goldbloom character is talking about dinosaurs.
"Oh, yeah. Oooh, ahhh, that's how it always starts. Then later there's running and screaming."
Well, that was what happened to me.
Life has not been bad. I am now a successful fitness and eveningwear model. Who knew that the girl next door/tomboy would do that... after turning thirty and having two children. But then stranger things have happened. I am also in charge of four B-Fit locations in my area. And about to move up the corporate ladder to Midwest Region Manager.
Professionally, I am doing quite well. Physically, I look better than most women my age. Living and promoting the B-Fit lifestyle has kept me fit enough for the modeling I do on the side. A healthy diet, no smoking, rare drinking, daily exercise, and at least eight hours of sleep a day. OK, you get the picture, and you can join one of our locations for more.
I wasn't always this person. But life can sometimes take strange paths to changes. Paths... that often have a price.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Linda Reed-Johnson. Mother of Emma and Tommy. They are twenty and eighteen these days, but they were five and four when it all started. November 26, 2007, to be exact.
Emma would turn six that school year and begin first-grade next fall. We had them in a kindergarten certified daycare center that cost us a fortune. But it was close and accredited with our school district. Lord, I just had a young-child-mom flashback!
Funny how we never know that our life is about to change one way or another on that fateful day it does. It was no different for me. Just days before my husband Jim's birthday, and right after Thanksgiving weekend. How ironic.
Just days before, our family had the annual holiday gathering at our house. We had my parents over and our friends Jane and Phil Nesman; our good friends. Well... they are better friends with my friend Dee and her husband Dave, but Dave was overseas on business, and Dee was surprisingly unavailable. Usually, she invited the Nesmans over for Thanksgiving, as they have no family in town and could not afford to travel back to Alaska. Life right? But no, Dee. I wondered where she was as I had planned to invite her as well.
Any way... we had dinner and said our thanks. Jim and I were thankful for our jobs, family, friends, children, but most of all, each other. You know, the usual stuff people say on Thanksgiving. Things we are expected to say.
The next day, my mother and I went shopping at the mall. You younger people may not know what a mall is. Many such places have either disappeared or are empty buildings waiting for the wrecking ball these days. But back in 2007, before Amazon, Google, and e-bay wiped out brick and mortar shopping establishments, we did our shopping at stores at these mall buildings.
We women used to dress up and make a day of it. Finding parking was near impossible at our closest and most posh mall on Black Friday back then. And the crowds and lines! You won't believe how many people had fights outside stores and inside as well. That was mainly Wallmart. But by then, Jim and I made enough money not to have to shop there much.
Call me a snob, but I started shopping at Walmart during college, and after when Jim and I first got married. The place was not beneath me. I still went there for some things we needed. But how some people behaved and dressed there was.
After all, I grew up on Wendy's, not the posh restaurants I go to now with clients. Hey, I'm not knocking the place. My brother and I worked there during high school; also during my first two years of college. It was where I took Jim when we first met, and he was short on money. But by 2007, Wendy's was an occasional "remember when" meal for us and a treat for the kids.
By that point in our life, going with mom to the mall turned into shopping at the name-brand corner stores, including Nordstroms and Sax. In between, we hit a few boutiques and mom's favorite shoe store. Mother kept making jokes about some lady called Emolda or Esperalda, something Marcos and her shoes, but that was before my time, and I just nodded along as if I knew who this Marcos woman was. Or what she had to do with shoes. Then we went to, where else but Delmonico's for lunch. No Wendy's or Walmart at that mall.
It is where all women on our side of town went after shopping to show off their outfits. It's a good thing mom knew the owner and reserved a table, or else we would still have been standing outside that Christmas Eve waiting to be seated. One thing led to another, and mom had a bit much to drink. She explained the whole Marcos woman and shoes thing and had me in stitches with that and other stories. I love mom.
Distracted by the special mother/daughter time we had, I forgot to get presents for my husband Jim's birthday as I had planned to do. After driving mom home and making sure dad walked her in, I had to get back home where Jim had been watching the kids with Phil. More like watching football than the kids, that is. But then... men.
It's why on Monday morning, the 26th, after getting Jim off to work, I took the kids to daycare only to find the place had a small fire over the weekend. It was closed for cleanup. Great! Calling my boss, I asked for a day off after telling him. He was nice enough to give it to me. I had fifteen days of vacation I had not taken, so he didn't mind. He hated us turning those days in for money at the end of the year. So... mom had the day off with the kids.
Then I remembered the gifts I had to get for Jim's birthday. So back to the house to get dressed up and go to the mall. Look. Even to this day, I will not wear trashy clothes to go shopping. Style had always been my way, even when I had to make the kids' and my own clothes for a time. These days, I can afford to dress better, and I do because I choose to. Class is a state of mind. You can be living in a trailer park and be classy.
Some of you may think I'm prissy and pretentious. But it's not that at all. I was never the beauty queen or poster girl. Yes, I was athletic in high-school. I played soccer, volleyball, field hockey, and I even gave cheerleading a try for two years. Girl jock of sorts, you could say; semi tomboy type. The cheerleading attempt was to salvage my social reputation and hopefully land a date with the popular guys.
It's a miracle I made the squad. The girl that beat me contracted mono, and I was the backup as a junior. At least I didn't have to suffer that indignity senior year. But you get the picture. Highschool Linda was cute and fun. But let's face it. None of the popular guys, jocks, or pretty boys ever asked the girl working Wendy's on weekends out. I learned my place and carried that with me for years to come.
Those days were a decade and more in the past, back in 2007, but they had formed my self-image. Older, smarter, fit, and shapely, but not one of the stunning types at the top tier of womanhood. And we women indeed take measure of each other by that scale. And harshly at that. What is worse, we judge ourselves harsher than other women.
And that is what I thought as I dressed the kids and put on a green off the shoulder blouse with white circle designs. Complemented by tight fitted jeans and black mid-thigh heeled boots, they made Mommy looked good! At least I thought so as I fixed my then wavy blond and highlighted hair. Yes, I was blond then as I am again now. But that story is for later.
"OK, kids," I said joyfully. "We got dressed up. Now let's go to the mall!"
"Yeah!" they both yelled and jumped up and down.
And off we went to my and their destiny.
The Mall
The mall was not as packed with shoppers as it had been that Black Friday. Still, it was busy of sorts with the coming holidays. Dragging the kids around didn't help much either. Now don't get huffy with me. I love my babies, but ever try to shop at a busy mall with two little ones in tow? Yeah, now you remember. Those that never had the "privilege" take my word for it. It's tiring and stressful. You can't let them out of your sight for a minute. Pervs go shopping for kids at malls, and they target busy moms. But not me. I made sure of that as the stress mounted.
After a couple of hours, I had to go to the bathroom, and so did the munchkins. My boy was coming with me. With him being four, it was easy to take him into the ladies room. I wondered how long it would be before he refused to go "in there" with mom.
And then it happened.
Just as we were going in, I saw this dad with a little boy and girl by the men's room. She looked around my daughter's age and was not happy with her father. I could only see him from the back. He had muscular legs, thick dark hair, and yes a tight ass in tight jeans. I made out broad shoulders, but I couldn't make much else as he was trying to convince his daughter that she had to go with him.
