It seemed implausible that in such a short timeframe we would experience the world of others in the bedroom. I felt our marriage stood on bedrock and in our small-town world the idea just didn't exist. After all, we were viewed as pillars of the community - a church-going solid family that would never consider something so decadent. Perhaps, it was just about the opportunity, as we now had the freedom provided by the condo and the anonymity of strangers in a large city. However, one would have to be intellectually dishonest to conclude we were mere victims of events. Rather, there had to something within us that embraced the experience and repeatedly led us to the edge. In any event, we now existed in two totally opposed worlds.
When I told Rachel there would be no school that day, her eyes grew large and then she burst out laughing. Pleased by the message, she snuggled close to my side and we shared light kisses and soft purrs for a time before we drifted to sleep. I awoke before her, extremely horny, but wanting to be sure her body had recovered enough from the night's activities to orgasm, I left her sleeping while I went out and made some coffee. Three hours later, just before four in the afternoon, she appeared in a long t-shirt looking quite fresh.
"Are you recovered?" I asked.
"Don't..." she whined as she wormed into my arms.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"A little tired...sore," she sighed, and then asked, "Do you really think I'm a bad girl now?"
I knew her question related to the declaration I had made earlier in bed. That was meant as a tease, but the tone of her voice seemed serious. I didn't think she was bad, certainly not in a negative context, so I debated whether to give her immediate comfort or pull the string further.
"Mmmm...I do," I whispered into her ear.
"What? No, I'm not... You don't think that," she fired back, clearly surprised by my response.
Just then, we heard a key in the door, and we quickly looked at each other, both understanding the meaning. Rachel tried to step into the bedroom but I held her firmly and seconds later, Larry appeared at the entrance.
"Uhhh... I thought I was supposed to come back for the sink," he said with a confused expression.
"You were. We got delayed," I explained, and then added, "How about tomorrow?"
He nodded and then looked towards Rachel, and asked, "How are you?"
"Fine, Larry," she responded in a soft voice.
"Okay, then," he said and left.
"Let's go eat, I'm starved," I suggested.
"Wait, buster. You need to explain yourself," she demanded.
I couldn't fathom that she would think my statement was anything but sex talk, which meant what she really sought was stroking. It meant I had more room to play before expressing my undying love.
"Honey, I didn't say I didn't like it," I teased, and fortunately her back was to me so she couldn't see my smile.
"I'm not bad," she whined.
"Do you want to see him, Larry...again?" I asked.
The question made her pause to think, but finally, she answered, "No, I don't."
"Okay, then. One time doesn't make you bad," I said as I kissed her neck.
"Then take it back," she demanded.
"Okay, I take it back," I said and kissed her again.
With that, we began to prepare to go out and thirty minutes later, we found ourselves in a Chinese restaurant. Since it was quite early, only one other table was occupied and after ordering too much food, we started to talk.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Rachel asked.
"I'm thinking last night was crazy...bizarre, but mostly I'm thinking about you and hope you're okay," I replied.
"I'm fine... I mean I'll be okay. A lot to process," she answered, and then said, "God, the kids can never find out. Lizzie would kill me."
"No, of course they can't" I agreed, cringing at the thought as well.
"Tell me what you were thinking...what you felt," she asked.
It seemed out-of-place to answer such an intimate question in our current surroundings, but I liked the fact that we were talking, so I told her, "There was worry, concern, anxiety, and nervousness when I wasn't near you. Not knowing what was happening... how you were doing... was tough. When I got there and knew you were okay, I felt better, and when I saw you...it was very strange. Strangely exciting in a way, but also unreal."
"Did it make you mad?" she asked.
"No, I wasn't mad," I replied.
"Jealous?" she probed.
"It made me want you, too. Is that jealousy?" I asked.
"No, honey... That's lust, I think," she replied.
A little smile appeared on her face as we looked at each other which made me think my admission had pleased her. Just then, the food arrived and we busied ourselves with serving, but after we had taken a few bites, we returned to the discussion.
"Desire maybe, not lust," I said, picking up where we left off.
"Yes, desire is a better word," she agreed.
"Tell me what you were thinking...feeling...when you were in bed with him," I urged.
"It happened so fast... after you told me to..." she started smiling at her phrasing before she continued, "I worried too...about you...about us...but I was so excited, too. And after the first time, I don't...I just kind of let go."
"Quit worrying...about us?" I pushed.
"Yes, I guess. Is that bad? Is that why you said I was bad?" she asked.
"No, that's not why and I'm glad you enjoyed it. It would be much more difficult having the conversation if you didn't," I counseled.
"I agree," she answered and then added, "You don't really think I'm bad, you're just teasing."
"Am I?" I asked.
"Yes, you would never let me. If you thought I was bad you would stop me," she answered, and impressed with her thinking, I gave her a little nod.
We made love when we returned to the condo and although it took patience and persistence, I finally managed to get her to release. I think, much like me, she was pleased to have that mountain behind us. Early, the following morning, we drove home in separate cars so she could make her teaching assignment and I could catch up on all the things I dropped. I made her stay home and drive up and back for her Thursday classes in the city, which meant we were in the same bed for six straight days. That togetherness helped and by the time the weekend arrived, our conversations were very open.
"Do you feel naughty in that bed?" I asked in a low voice on Monday evening when she was back in the city.
"Mmmm...why would I?" she giggled.
We had already talked about kids, school, and work along with the maintenance man. He had not tried to contact her, which was good news, and now she lay naked as we engaged in a little phone play.
"You're right, there's no reason," I teased.
"These sheets are making my nipples hard," she whispered, and then she whined, "Let me touch... I need relief."
"No, baby. You know the rules. Save it for tomorrow and I'll take care of you," I said.
"Promise?" she asked.
"Yes, baby. I promise," I told her.
I was pleased that the encounter with Larry didn't interfere with our phone time. I had come to enjoy it a great deal and felt Rachel did as well. Interestingly, it never resulted in orgasms for either of us, but still had its own special intimacy.
The following day, when she returned home, we did manage to sneak away from the kids late in the evening and enjoy some spectacular lovemaking. Our sexual psyche, still fueled by her experience with Larry, took us down a path of extreme passion. Part of it came from the simple decadence of the event, but there was also a sense of heightened caring driven by our need to emotionally heal. Combined, these elements created incredible energy that kept us going for hours.
As normal, on Wednesday afternoon after she completed her teaching schedule for the day, Rachel departed for the city. Based on the outcomes of the last two evenings, I looked forward to speaking to her later and hopefully engage in a sexual exchange. Thus, I phoned her near our normal time but the call rolled to voicemail, and twenty minutes later when I tried again, the same thing happened. At times, Rachel would dive into her studies and work late, but she always called me back within thirty minutes. So, when an hour had passed, I started to wonder what she might be doing.
"Hi, I'm sorry it took so long," she said when she finally called back, and by the tone of her voice, I knew something had occurred.
"Rachel, what's wrong?" I asked.
It took her several seconds to respond, and then she said, "I...I was bad."
Instantly, I knew she had met with the maintenance guy, but I wanted her to admit it, so I asked, "What happened? Tell me."
"I...I let Larry..." she whimpered.
"You had sex with him?" I pushed.
"Yes..." she forced out.
"Is he still there?" I asked, recalling the last time.
"No...he left," she replied.
"How long was he there, Rachel?" I probed, feeling strangely calm.
"I don't know...four hours," she answered.
Connecting the dots, her admission meant the man had gone to her shortly after she arrived and for the bulk of the evening, he had enjoyed her body. Also, it reinforced my belief that somehow, he kept track of her coming and going.
"How long did it take him? Did you put on the robe?" I challenged her as a vision of her swift capitulation entered my brain.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered.
"How long, Rachel," I demanded.
"I...I guess...not long," she admitted.
"Did he cum in you?" I asked.
"No!" she answered emphatically, and then quickly added, "I wouldn't let him."
"Okay, Rachel, go to sleep, but we need to talk about this more tomorrow. A serious talk. This is going too far," I said.
"Okay...I...I should have...I'm sorry," she replied.
Just as I started to end the call, a thought struck me, and I asked, "Did he put the plug in your butt, again?"
