Jeanette's Reconing

JEANETTE

I looked over at Randall snoring softly on his side of the bed. He looked so peaceful and innocent that I had a pang of guilt as I stealthily slid from under the sheets and tip toed out of the bedroom. The guilt melted like an icecube on summer pavement under the heat of my lustfulness. In the bathroom, I quickly pulled on a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter white t-shirt that clearly displayed my entire tits, erect nipples and all. Some lip gloss and high heels completed the outfit. This was not a romantic date, it was a time critical mission to rack up as many orgasms as I could and slip back into bed before Randall woke up.

Earlier that day I had thought a bit more about the guilt, and the whole situation in its entirety. It's not that I hate my husband- I don't, I love him immensely- it's more that I'm bored and frustrated. This has driven me to irritation with his habits, and to generally view him with contempt. After ten years of marriage, things have become a bit stale. Our routine is predictable. We repeat the same conversations over and over. We go to the same restaurants, the same vacations. Even our lovemaking has become rote. And he loves it that way! He's happy! He hums the same stupid, stupid song every Saturday morning while making chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. He has three separate hampers to organize his dirty clothes. We work, eat dinner, and watch MovieTron most nights. Friday, we might go to Hannigan's, maybe come home and have predictably satisfactory sex. I'm so understimulated I could scream!

And that's where Kirk comes in. He's everything Randall isn't, for better and worse. He spits and swears. He smokes. He stays up late at night doing who-the-hell-knows-what. He's thoughtless and a little mean. But he's wild and fun. He knows what he wants and gets it. It's weird that he and Randall are friends, they have almost nothing in common- just working on old cars. Maybe that's enough for boys, who knows? I think Kirk respects Randall's attention to detail and ability to get things done, and Randall enjoys Kirk's devil-may-care attitude and sense of humor. Which is understandable, I also appreciate those things about both of them. Anyway the two of them have been close for a number of years, and maybe it was just fate that they would share another passion: me.

I didn't plan for this to happen and it rather took me by surprise when it first started. Randall was out of town on business and I had a big weekend planned of ignoring his to-do list and doing a lot of gaming- which I don't do much while he's around because he considers it a waste of time and isn't shy about telling me so. While I was on a pre-game stocking up at MonoMart, I run into Kirk. He's got a twelve pack of YetiBoost Energy in one hand and a liter of vodka in the other. He's looking for motor oil. We chat for a minute and I invite him over to watch a movie and hang out. He offered a pretty non-committal response and I pointed him towards automotive. Right before we parted ways, he turned and looked right into my eyes for a second. It was the hungry look of a wolf towards a doe, and it made me feel soft and vulnerable and very much on the menu. I was surprised and a little frightened in the moment, but also vaguely excited. Watching his retreating form I thought of him differently, the way a woman looks at a man, rather than how a wife looks at her husband's friends.

Kirk is tall, taller than Randall by a couple of inches, and broad shouldered. He has a slender frame but with chiseled features- washboard stomach, tight pecs and lean wiry arms. His resting face has a severe look, with peaked eyebrows and downturned corners of his mouth. But when he smiles, and that is most of the time, his face is a beacon of mischief and roguish handsomeness. He has straight black hair that is kept short in a sort of quasi-flattop- flat on top with rounded off edges. That day, he was wearing jeans, motorcycle boots and a tight black t-shirt with the words "The Miraculous Nun Fuckers" written in white block lettering across the front, a cross made of dildos on the back. I have no idea what that means, a band maybe?

And that is how he appeared to me later that day on my doorstep. I had quite forgotten about the invitation and had gotten pretty deep into a game of Undead Gang Wars 8 for most of the evening, when the doorbell rang. I invited him in and he sat down on the couch next to me. I recalled the earlier energy between us and felt nervous right away.

"So, uh, what should we watch?" I picked up the remote and started scrolling through the MovieTron titles. He reached out and gently held my wrist that had the remote.

"Look, Jeanette-" It sounded like he was about to say something. Instead he leaned forward and kissed me. Gently, with no tongue. It was a good kiss. Honest. His breath smelled of YetiBoost and menthol. A golden warmth spread through my abdomen, my head abuzz with excitement. He withdrew and looked into my eyes, but this time with a humble, pleading look. A look of asking rather than taking. A politeness uncharacteristic of Kirk. Something snapped in me, our roles had reversed and now I was the wolf. Moisture building in my panties, I jumped on top of him. Straddling him there on the couch, I kissed him hard with probing tongue and dry humped his crotch.

I could feel him stiffening underneath his jeans, but I wasn't ready for that yet. I pulled my hoodie off over my head, baring my tits to him- no bra because I was in cozy gaming mode. He gazed at them for a moment and then looked up at me smirking devilishly.

"You're so hot, Jeanette." he murmured, almost inaudibly. A wave of attraction electrified me and I couldn't help smiling.

My breasts are my favorite feature. Just slightly under what I would consider too big, but shapely and firm, with perfect little pink nipples like pencil erasers. They feel good and I take plenty of opportunity to hold them and squeeze them whenever I have a private moment. My nipples are soft and sensitive and I get a ton of pleasure from having them sucked, which is exactly what I had in mind.

I cupped each breast underneath and, leaning forward, dropped them gently onto Kirk's face. A muffled moan came from under all of that soft flesh and he squirmed beneath me. He opened his mouth and broadly licked from the bottom up to a nipple and circled it slowly and gently with his tongue. I gasped and a flood of lubrication filled my pussy. He circled again and again, then flicked the nipple with his tongue and went to the other breast and repeated. Slowly and broadly licking up from the bottom and circling the nipple. I panted gently and bit my lip. Okay, I was ready.

"Fuck me," I said, pulling away to stand up.

But he clucked his tongue and said, "Not so fast, little rabbit. You may be wet-" He gestured to the wet spot leaking through my sweatpants, "but this bone is dry." pointing to the bulge forming in his jeans.

He stood and kissed me. Then put his hands on my shoulders and exerted a slight pressure, under which I yielded, kneeling before that glorious pulsating bulge. I sat in anticipation as he slowly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. I was surprised for a moment that he wasn't wearing underwear, but that was quickly replaced by delight as his stiff cock flipped up from its restraint. I noticed immediately that it was bigger than Randall's, a tad longer but definitely thicker. It was flushed and rock hard from all of the riding I gave it, and I was hungry to feel it inside me.

I raised my hand to grasp and stroke it, but Kirk quickly slapped me on the cheek with it and growled, "No hands. Mouth only." He held it up in front of my face, a bead of pre-cum glistening on the glans.

Working up some saliva onto my tongue, I leaned forward and messily licked the underside from base back to the tip. Kirk moaned and I looked up at him towering powerfully above me. I concentrated back on my task and pursed my lips around the head of his cock, lashing the tip with soft licks, tasting his salty pre-cum and feeling its slippery viscousness coating the inside of my mouth.

After a moment of this I was ready to go deeper- opening my mouth wide, thrusting out my tongue- I took him in as far as I could, stopping just short of my gag reflex. I closed my lips around that luscious rod and worked my tongue up and down the shaft.

Kirk exhaled sharply and muttered, "Mmm yeah. Good girl. That's so good."

I moaned, the sound muffled by the meat filling my mouth, then sucked him slurpily like they do in porn. He reached down, running his fingers through my hair and grasped my head firmly but gently in his hands. I knew what was coming and steeled my resolve to take his cock all the way. He pushed his hips forward, slowing forcing more of that thick rod into the back of my throat. Little by little I swallowed it all, my lips resting on his pubis. It felt so good having all of that throbbing meat filling my throat. Being used so wantonly by this man for his pleasure. It took a lot of concentration to suppress my gag reflex, and when he started thrusting gently for ever more penetration it partially failed and I retched gently a few times.

"Awww, it feels so good when you gag on my cock like that. You're such a fine little slut, taking a cock all the way like that."

He thrusted a bit more but released me before the retching got real. I withdrew from his cock, gasping for air, strings of drool connected my lips to his cock.

"Can you fuck me now?" I asked, feeling so aroused I thought I'd die if I didn't cum soon.

"Oh yes, you've earned it."

I stood and slipped off my sweatpants and he hungrily sized me up like a piece of meat he was about to devour. I knelt on the edge of the couch and leaned forward against the back, displaying ass and pussy to him. I could feel him move up behind me and I trembled with anticipation. Time moved in slow motion as his hands gently groped my ass and slid up to hold my hips. They felt hot on my cool skin.

I mewed softly when I felt the pressure of his cock against my vulva and I said, "Slowly."

"Shut the fuck up." he muttered and pushed my face into the cushion.

He kneaded my vulva with the head of his cock until it slipped in between my slickened labia and then sank into my hole with agonizing slowness. I breathily mewed into the couch cushion as he filled and filled my pussy with throbbing meat. I felt like it would never stop pushing in- farther and farther. I was right of the verge of it being painful, his glans firmly against my cervix, hips straining against my ass, when it finally stopped. He held it there for what seemed like an eternity. It was then in that suspended eternal moment, filled to the hilt with another man's cock, that I had a flood of guilt. I thought of the crushing betrayal of my beloved husband I was committing and there was a moment of horror. Nothing would ever be the same. Those words echoed in my head. Nothing. Would. Ever. Be. The. Same. And then the horror inverted into soaring freedom. Nothing would ever be the same! I felt a delicious schadenfreude at cucking that tedious boy scout. I reveled in being a vicious heartbreaking slut. My whole inside shook with pleasure and I cried out repeatedly with muffled lust.

Kirk took his hand off the back of my head and I gasped for air as he withdrew as slowly as he had entered. Then once again penetrated me agonizingly and completely.

And he grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back, whispering into my ear, "Are you ready, Little Bunny? Are you ready to be fucked?"

"Oh yes! Please fuck me! Fuck me hard!" I whispered desperately.

He withdrew slowly again and there was a solid ten seconds of silence before his cock slammed into me with crushing force. And again and again in a tick-tock rhythm that racked my body with waves of electric heat. I cried out with a lingering breathy screech that scarcely sounded like my own voice. The vibrating electricity was building and building in my abdomen as that luscious meat hammer rained slapping blows upon my flesh.

His hand that was gripping my hip slid around and he repeatedly began pressing on my clitoris and that was enough. The electric heat exploded throughout my body in an echoing shockwave and I lurched forward against the couch back, spasming and contorting in orgasm.

I cried out, "OOOOOOOHHHHH FFFUUUUUUUUCCCCKKK!"

Reverberations of electric pleasure rippled out from my abdomen for another twenty seconds or so, and as I was beginning to cool, Kirk reached under and repeatedly tapped my clit. My orgasm spiked lightly again and again under the playful pressure, until I was spent for the moment.

"Turn around and sit on the edge of the couch."

I did as he said and took his cock in my mouth again for a few strokes. It had the luscious tang of a well fucked pussy and I drooled copiously. He withdrew and nodded.

"Your jugs are fucking spectacular. Let me fuck them."

I sat up a little and leaned back slightly as he stepped forward and painted each breast broadly with his slippery cock and slapping it on each nipple until they hardened into pink little points. Then he pressed it into the valley in-between and I squeezed them together around it. He starting thrusting and I twisted my nipples lightly while maintaining the pressure on his cock. On the forward stroke I would lap the head with wet lashes of my tongue as it pressed up between my soft mountains. I could tell he was getting close.

"Oh Jeanette, you're so good. You feel so fucking good. I love these tiiiiiiiiiiiiits!" And he came, ejaculating copiously all over each breast. Warm, sticky fluid ran down my tits and stomach, covering me and I loved every drop of it.

When he had cooled, he looked me in the eyes, and we both smiled. I felt a bit messy and cold so I excused myself to clean up. When I returned, he was gone, but there was a slip of paper on the couch. It was a drawing of a rabbit. Above it was written "Thanks for the movie."

I cried a little, a cocktail of lusty afterglow and guilty conscience squirmed around in me like oil and water. I felt amazing and alive. I felt cruel and treacherous. But I didn't feel bored anymore. Far from it.

And, for a time, that's how things went between us. Sometimes he would come by in the afternoon and throw me down, fuck a load into me and leave with scarcely a word. And I'd sneak out at night like a slut-ninja and repay the favor- riding his face and cock until I was spent, and then slide back between the sheets at home, Randall none the wiser.

RANDALL

It was a hellishly busy Tuesday at work when I got the text from Ronny:

Hey, I have to talk to you. Can you stop by after work?

I'm swamped. What's up?

It's important. I don't want to say over text. Just come over. Don't tell Jeanette.

Okaaay. See you at about 6?

That works. See you then.

Veronica is Jeanette's best friend. We've always been on friendly terms, but this is the first time she ever contacted me directly, to say nothing of the weirdly cryptic tone of her message. My interest was definitely piqued, but I also felt a tad anxious. Veronica was always a little cold towards me. Maybe that's not quite right. Not cold, but stiff. Like when you walk into a room and you can feel that people were just talking about you. Well I get that feeling from Ronny, which is weird because we've known each other for years and there's no reason to be coy. I've always been frank with her, but I've always felt like she was hiding something from me.

As I said, it was a hellish day. It began by waking up 45 minutes late. My phone cord didn't seat properly and overnight the battery discharged, leaving me with no alarm. I woke to Jeanette's alarm, and the realization went through me like a lightning bolt. I leapt out of bed and raced to my closet.

"Dang! I'm so late! I'm so late! Babe, did you do my laundry?"

Jeanette mumbled something sleepily, barely stirring from her slumber. I scanned my wardrobe and all of my normal office clothes were in the hamper. In a panic, I grabbed down my dress shirt and slacks- which normally I save for special occasions when I want to look extra nice- but in a pinch they'd work for work. Minutes later, I burst out the door. The rest of the day didn't go much better. It got much worse.

I arrived late to Veronica's house, but she wasn't bothered- her eyes lingering on my attire for a moment and then offering a drink. I don't drink much usually and never on a weekday, so I declined. She poured whiskey over ice and slid the tumbler into my hand anyway. We sat down on a couch in the living room. She sat awkwardly for a moment, trying to find words.

"So Ronny, what's up?" A moment passed.

"Look. Randall. I have something to say." After another moment oozed by, she continued, "Randall, Jeanette is cheating on you."

The silence solidified like water freezing into ice, but it didn't freeze around me. I laughed. "What? Naw. Not Jeanette. She doesn't have a cheating bone in her body. Where did you hear that? Is this a joke. I don't know-"

My words stopped coming. Ronny said nothing. The ice creeped into me, and starting freezing my guts. Facts that I had noticed but not internalized now connected like a puzzle. Jeanette's restlessness at night. The sleeping in. Her emotional distance. The random text messages she would subtly hide from me. A minute went by and I hadn't taken a breath. The ice penetrated my core like a dagger.

"Randall breathe." said Ronny and I gasped a breath of air.

I drained my drink, "Okay. Tell me. Let's hear the whole story."

Ronny got up to refill my glass, "It's been going on for a couple of months, her and Kirk. She tells me everything. He visits during the day, she visits him at night. A few times a week."

I felt like I was falling. I put my head in my hands and rubbed my eyes. "Goddamit why!? I work my ass off for her. I've given her everything."

"No. Not everything. She's lonely, Randall. You work too much. You're not there for her. Really there. I'm not saying that it's right, but it's understandable." Ronny handed me the freshened tumbler and sat back down near me on the couch.

"It's understandable to stab me in the back? To betray our marriage vows? To throw away our life?"

She shifted closer to me and looked me in the eyes, "Yes, it's understandable. She has tried to talk to you. She's tried to let you know she's not happy. She misses you. Your attention. She just got tired of trying."

I knew it was true. I've been so wrapped up with work and the car project I haven't really been there for her in months. I was struck by the feeling of a Jeanette shaped vacancy in my life.

"Besides," Ronny continued taking my hands in hers, "It's just sex. It's just a thrill. You think she loves Kirk? She's not a fool. She loves you."

I felt strange. Maybe it was the revelation. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was Ronny's closeness and personal warmth. I felt like I'd somehow slipped into another timeline and was trapped in a similar but unfamiliar universe.

"I don't know what to do, Ronny." I said and sighed.

"The way I see it you have two options." She let go of my hands and held up a forefinger, "Option one: divorce your wife. Ruin your marriage and your closest friendship. Torch your life. Start over."

She lifted another finger, "Or option two: Teach your wife a lesson about honesty and have some fun doing it." She smiled coyly, putting her hand on my leg.

I looked into her eyes and it all made sense. Her cool aloofness. The awkwardness. She had been attracted to me all these years and was hiding it. But now she had dropped the subterfuge and it was like I was seeing her for the first time. I always thought she was pretty, but her impersonal demeanor had put me off. Now I saw her for the truly stunning woman she is. Petite and slender, but athletic, not skinny. Flawless olive complexion. Shining, straight brown hair so dark it was almost black, with eyes to match. Those eyes. So full of passion.