Laura and Greg

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos.

Welcome to part two of the Laura and Greg epic. And yes, there will be a part three.

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Laura

It was a week after the incident at Greg's parents' house where I realized that I had ruined my marriage for no reason other than my self-indulgence and personal gratification. Not only had I embarked on a long string of sexual encounters with other men, defiled my marriage vows and disrespected myself and my husband, but I had not even bothered to confirm that he was indeed cheating.

Warned by my friend Angela to talk to my husband about our issues, I had declined and looked for an excuse to cheat on him. No... not just him. My husband is not a "him." My husband has a name. He is Greg. The father of my children, friend, lover and partner in life. He is the man I took for granted, refused to look as an equal, stabbed in the back and betrayed. What kind of woman does what I did and still says she loves her husband?

I created all these constructs about how it was all his fault that I was forced... yes, I actually thought in my convoluted thinking that Greg had forced me in to fucking Steve and the other men. What had I become? Or had I been this shallow all along and it just surfaced? The thought of the last shamed me to the core. Realizing what a shit I was hurt. But not as much as knowing how I had betrayed the man who had given me love, his life and our children.

Not once did I make the effort to find out if Greg had actually cheated on me or if he still was. Had it been once? Had it happened again? Had it happened before? Had it even happened at all? Why didn't I follow him that day and see where they went? I may have known then my thinking was wrong and not gone down the road I did. But the long and short of it is that I just didn't want to check. I had the excuse of seeing him with "that woman" and that gave me license to do as I pleased with whom I pleased.

And the worse part of it is that I enjoyed every fucken minute of my double life. It made me feel excited, alive and wanted. Not just because I wanted the fun and excitement. But because I felt I deserved it. I fell for the "you can have it all" and "you can do anything you want" or the "you go girl" mentality of women my generation and did as I pleased and blamed my husband. It's what we do these days isn't it?

Of all the things that bothered me the most was that I withheld anal sex from my husband Greg and gave it to some no name guy I met one night drunk at a bar. Sometime in the night we were in his motel room drinking and having fun for the second time when it happened.

I, being a superior minded, entitled college graduate and member of the office management class decided to go slumming that night. Of course, I went to a bar near a hotel frequented by truckers by the highway. I had heard of it from some women at work who found trysts with those men convenient as they left town right after.

Yes, in my upper middle class mind, I would never have looked at, let alone dated a man like the trucker. But that night I was checking off an item on my recently put together bucket list. Fucking the "common people," like the line from that stupid English song.

Having drunk cheap booze, I had blown him in my car outside the bar and then followed him to his motel. There I let him stick his common person large cock in my upwardly mobile pussy thinking I was doing community service for the lower class country boy in jeans and t-shirt. As he fucked me I saw his travel bag had an army unit badge on it and I found myself thinking I had truly hit the "common people" ranks by fucking an ex-military type.

"Were you in the war?" I asked as he plunged in my wet cunt over and over.

He looked down at me with a "you ask me this shit now?" look.

"Afghanistan," he replied laconically and went back to fucking me.

"Did you kill people?" I asked him and this time he stopped and stared at me.

Right then, I knew I had crossed the line with Trucker, and he had indeed killed someone from the stone cold look he gave me.

"Don't stop," I demanded of him. "Just answer me."

He resumed fucking me, but it was harder and close to a grudge fuck. In fact, the way he was looking at me I knew it was exactly that. He was pissed at me for asking such a personal question, then just ordering him to keep servicing me.

Gawd he felt so good! I was being fucked by a war god with a big dick reaching my insides to rock my world. His cock was long, about nine inches, but not as thick as my other lovers. Still every time he bottomed out the sensation send me to another world. I imagined him being a warrior claiming me as his war plunder after a battle. The more he banged me, the more I spread giving myself to him.

I think my arrogant smirk set him off which is how I got ass-fucked. He looked down at me with disdain and pulled out. Before I could protest, he stared at me pointing to his arm, chest and thigh. He was showing me his war wounds.

"Does this turn you on?" he asked with a condescending tone. He was not bragging to a woman he wanted to impress. He was looking down at me. ME! The nerve of this low...

Before I could say a thing, he flipped me over on my belly.

"Hey, what?" I uttered as he shoved a pillow under my thighs. His hands spread my cheeks and fingered my cunt. I guessed he just wanted to switch positions.

"Oh, OK." I said hearing him sneer. I didn't know what was coming, but I should have.

He soon shoved his cock in my cunt again resuming his deep thrusts. I smiled to myself as he gave me what I wanted. Needing to cum, I placed my hand under my body to rub my clit. Soon I brought myself off as he continued fucking me. I could tell I was wet as hell as my pussy wetness dripped down my upturned groin to hit my clit as I rubbed it.

"Well," he said still banging deep into me. "Since you are so wet you get the special tonight."

Between the drinking and my orgasm, I didn't get the gist of his comment until it was too late. I found out soon what he meant as he used my wetness to finger my asshole. But as he was still fucking me, I thought that was all he would probably do. Yeah...probably. Right. I actually said that to myself. Probably meant maybe. By then the thrill of what a man "might" do to me was as exciting as the fucking. And that danger of having my ass fucked or the first time made me hornier if that was possible. Not like I didn't ask for it.

While he fucked me and fingered me, I reached back and pulled my cheeks apart for him. Yes, the educated entitled princess was about to give her ass virginity to a long dicked, war veteran common working man. That's how low I had descended in what I thought of other people. Others who had accomplished something of substance. When here I was betraying everything sacred to me. Even something special I had not given my husband; I was trivializing it into a sexual parody of a bucket list item.

Fuck a stranger; check. Fuck a lower class man; check. Give my back hole to a man; check.

After three fingers in my asshole, and me being drunk and relaxed I let him shove his cock in me and gasped at the sensation. It's a good thing he was not thick; he would have tore me up. Instead he and his cunt lubricated dick slid in me and held me open.

"Take it," he hissed at me spiting on the place our bodies joined. "Take it in your ass you bitch!"

His rude comments both scared and excited me. I rubbed my clit again as he pushed in further. By now it burned a bit, but he pulled back up a little and reached under to pick up wetness from my cunt to rub on my back hole and his dick. I also heard him spit on my asshole again. When he pushed in again, I was ready for it and my ass was starting to yield to him. In two more strokes he was all the way in my ass, and I felt it all.

I never knew how much a person can feel inside her ass when invaded by a cock. From the ring of my asshole to where his head was rearranging my bowels I could feel all of him. Before long, my ass was open wide, and it actually felt better than I thought it would. Why hadn't I done this before I told myself. Why hadn't I let Greg do it when he asked. It felt incredible.

"This," he said as he shoved in me. "Is... for... all... my... brothers... that died... and didn't... get... to fuck... your... suburban... spoiled... rotten... ass..."

Every time he went in, he smacked his groin on my ass going as deep as he could. This had never been love making to start with, and it was beyond fucking now. Trucker was releasing all his aggression against women like me on my asshole and body.

"You fucken cunt... take it up your bitch ass... yeah... I'm going to cum in your ass."

By then I was crying from the pain, humiliation and just wanted this to end.

"Please don't hurt me," I said before he placed his hands around my neck and squeezed. The more he fucked my ass the more he continued squeezing my throat. I began to panic as breathing became harder. I think I started flopping around trying to get lose, but he continued on and on.

Next thing I know I was on my back and he was slapping me back to consciousness. My chest and neck hurt, but I was alive. I could feel the taste of vomit in my mouth. There was vomit smell in the room; my own on the sheets next to my head.

"You passed out and threw up," he said. "You'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked trying to get up.

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly. "I was a ranger in the army. We have good medical training. You'll live."

To give you how clueless I was about the military, I thought he was like a forest ranger and had medical training.

I retched as he lifted me to sit up.

"You hurt me," I said still afraid of him.

"You asked for it and deserved it," he replied sneering at me.

"I'm sorry for what I said," I told him.

Part because I wanted to get out there alive, and part because I felt ashamed. For the first time since I started down this road, I felt ashamed for what I had become.

"You should take a shower before you go home to your husband."

I still had my rings on. I felt like a cliché.

"What time is it?" I asked still a bit nauseous.

"Twenty three hundred," he replied.

"What?" I asked confused.

"Military time. Eleven o'clock. Ten past actually."

The shower helped clean me up; on the outside. But not inside. The alcohol effects were clearing enough to make me actually think about what I had done and what I had been doing. I tried pushing it aside but blaming Greg for his infidelity didn't work anymore. This was now about me.

That night's escapades made me feel dirty, stupid and guilty. Not only had I disrespected and looked down at a war veteran, but I had given something that belonged to my husband to a total stranger. My ass virginity.

Conflicted, I drove around avoiding returning home. I pulled in to a 24/7 diner and sat in a booth ordering coffee and some toast. As I forced myself to drink and eat something to settle my stomach, I had trouble sitting. My ass hurt, so I had to shift constantly from cheek to cheek. But the real pain was inside. A conflict between who I had been and who I had become.

Just as wishing to have that man at soccer practice had been the start of my slide in to cheating, so was that night with Trucker the beginning out of it. But I was a long way away from that.

I had done too much, been with too many and loved it too much to just give it up. I didn't even think of giving it up. It was too exciting to just give up. I didn't even think of doing so. I convinced myself that this had not been a mistake on my part. That it had all been a collection of bad coincidences. I was still in denial. I was still lying to my husband, family and myself.

Somehow I made it home. As I locked the car, I thought of what I would tell Greg? He was in the living room and the kids were asleep. I avoided his gaze. I fell back on the similar excuses.

"Sorry," I blurted out. "Girls' night out dragged out."

He said nothing as I went upstairs and changed. He came into our bedroom as I tossed my night short over my body and got under the sheets.

"By the way," he said. "Amber's team won today. She scored a goal."

"Oh my! Was it today?"

He said nothing and got in to bed on his side. We didn't kiss or even say goodnight. There was no further talking or touching; let alone sex. We hadn't fucked let alone made love in weeks. I needed him to hold me, but I felt so ashamed for what I had done that night I couldn't bring myself to reach the foot of space that divided us and hold him. The chasm might as well have been between galaxies.

Ten days later, everything crashed on me at the family gathering.

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I came too on my in-laws' kitchen floor confused and hurting. It took me a few seconds to realize where I was and what had happened. Not just that I had passed out when Greg introduced me to his cousin. But because I realized that I had based my entire excuse for cheating on Greg on the false notion that Greg was fucking another woman. A woman who turned out to be his cousin.

He had mentioned her a few times in the past, but it was about her staying at their house when they were younger. Greg was five or so years older than her. But the story had been of a young girl years ago. This was a full grown gorgeous woman. And not knowing who she was, I had just assumed she was someone he was having an affair with.

Everything. Everything I had done in my cheating run of men had been based on the excuse that my husband was cheating on me. And realizing he had been going to lunch with his cousin had been too much to handle.

"Are you OK?" Greg asked with concern.

How this man still cared about me after all I had put him through the last few months was beyond me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied. "I just got dizzy."

The circle they formed around me dissolved as the show was over and I sat up. I had a bump on my head from hitting the floor. But the shame inside me hurt more. I wanted to fall in a hole and disappear.

Hell, of a way to meet his cousin. It didn't help that she wanted to assist me to the bathroom and be attentive. She was so slim, big breasted and nice. Oh Gawd! What had I done?

For some reason, she talked allot to me about how she had looked forward to meeting me. So cheerful. I wondered of it was a bit forced. But I was still groggy as she washed my face and placed a compress on my forehead. I didn't bother scrutinizing her. All I knew was that I had based my entire thinking on a falsehood because I... I had wanted to cheat. I was the slut, the adulterer, the cheater. The family whore.

I don't know how I got through that family get together, but I did. Everyone was having fun while I was reviewing my fucked up choices and letting the guilt overcome my emotions. And with Celia being so damned cute and friendly to everyone reminding me what an idiot I had been.

On the way home I cried facing away from Greg who was quiet for a change instead of trying to be the dutiful husband. I needed the quiet. But I missed how in the past he would have asked what was wrong and tried to take care of me.

"You need to get your shit together," he finally said.

We were in the back deck while watching the kids play on the grass. They had energy to spare.

"What was that about, at my parents?" he asked.

"I fainted," I replied looking away.

"Right," he said and started to walk away. Then stopped and turned back. "When you want to continue with a real marriage, let me know."

I was stunned at the fact he was talking to me about our relationship. We had stopped long ago. How did we get to this? No. How did I get us to this?

Was there hope for us? In spite of what he just said, did he still want me? Did I deserve him? Did I deserve a second chance to be a wife he deserved? And what about our children?

The kids were so innocent and loving when they would look at me; their eyes smiling more than their faces. Pure unquestioning love. I tried not to let them see me cry as it hit me that I had not just betrayed Greg. I had betrayed them as well.

As I watched our children, I realized that they deserved a better mother than the one I had been the last two months. They had not asked to come to this world. Greg and I had planned to have them. They were no accident. We and we alone were responsible for their upbringing, protection and education to become adults. No matter what I had to do, I had to repair my children's home and family. I had to change my ways. No matter what it cost me.

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And believe it or not I did. The girls' nights out stopped. No more shopping trips alone on Saturdays or overnight getaways with "the girls" out of town. And I cut the boys off cold turkey.

All but Steve were no problem. He took it badly. His marriage was a mess by then and he was keeping his head mentally above water by using me as his life preserver. Our time together was all he had to look forward to. Him not being my boss or in my department helped as I didn't have to see him. But he was on the same floor and same offices. We ran in to each other and I could see the bitterness on his face.

Meanwhile I took the time to reconnect with my... I mean our children. They had missed me on so many events in school and home. Yet they bounced back or acted like they did; happy that mom was back in their lives. They fussed over me and near ignored Greg who had been there for them all along when I was busy whoring around. Yes, that's exactly what I had done. And I knew it.

Finding out how I had failed and having the opportunity to salvage my marriage was my salvation. Things with me and Greg were still rough, but I embarked on a trek of recovery and repair. I had never been religious, but I got on my knees and begged God for forgiveness and for his help to make things right.

There will be people who would be insulted that a person like myself, a cheater, liar and adulteress would have the nerve to ask God for help or to even think of God. They can think as they please. If their life is fine with our God it's their life after all. But I remember being taught that Jesus had stood up for a prostitute once. If the Son of God could stand up for her, maybe He and God could help me get my life in order. If God could forgive her, maybe He could forgive me.

No. I did not go to church and talk to a priest. What could a man understand about being a woman and what goes on in our heads? We ourselves don't. Instead I focused on the little things. Being there for the kids, coming home on time and making sure Greg saw that I was no longer acting as I had. I had to start with the basics.

There was no more drinking. That had been part of my problem as well. I was lucky I had not gotten into drugs. I also went to the doctor and then breathed in relief when the test results for STDs came clear. I had used condoms with strangers, but not with Steve. I had this stupid idea that he was a family guy just straying with me. But if I could screw others, he could have done the same. To think he wouldn't and endangering my health was another in the long list of bad decisions on my part.

The guilt was still overwhelming. I would cry in the bathroom locking the door behind me. I avoided people at work I had partied with and wore less-revealing outfits. People noticed. I saw it in their faces. 'Oh, look the office slut is trying to clean her act!'

I kept my head down and accepted my shame. I was lucky that my boss never said anything and that I still had my job. One day I was in his office and finished talking about an account he raised his finger to let me know to wait.