I Felt Sorry for Him

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older. The following contains themes of blackmail and coercion, if such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story, although I have used some of my personal experiences which I've embellished for artistic purposes. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

I'm new to this, so if you enjoy or have any constructive feedback, please leave a comment below. I'll be submitting parts 2 and 3 at the same time as this one, so all three should go live around the same time. This is my third attempt at submitting this, but every time I do, as I write the next part, I find myself pulling it down to make changes.

Part 1

"Hi, guys," I say, stepping outside into my garden where my son and his friends are hanging out.

"Hey, Lillian," the group responds in unison.

I settle down between my son's friends Ian and Ben, feeling the warmth of the fire against my skin on this late August evening. Despite the crackling flames, there's a slight chill in the air which makes me wish I'd worn a jacket.

"How is everyone?" I ask.

"Good thanks, Lilian," Ben replies with a friendly smile.

"Not bad," Ian chimes in, nodding in agreement.

"They're doing my head in Lillian," Jess interjects with a playful grin.

Although Jess and I are not related, she is my baby. I absolutely adore her. She's like the daughter I never had. Unfortunately, her mother passed away when she was nine, leaving her father to raise her alone and struggling to navigate the complexities of raising a young girl. He even asked me for help with the more feminine aspects of things, so I took her under my wing.

She's always been the only girl in the group, and she's quite the tomboy. Being the only girl, I was always worried about the dynamic of the group changing as she matured into a beautiful young woman, with her long curly red hair, blue eyes, freckles, and the warmest smile I've ever seen. However, she came out as a lesbian at the age of fourteen, which seemed to put an end to any romantic interest from the other boys.

I met Ian and Scott when the boys were just starting school, and Eric a few years after that. Ben is the odd one out. He moved to my son's school when he was fifteen, but they all quickly became friends shortly after. I don't know why but I've never been able to warm to him as much as the others, I just can't put my finger on it.

I love having everyone over. The house is always full of life when they are. However, today's get-together is bittersweet as my son, Liam, is preparing to go to university, and this is his send-off. He's the only one from the group leaving for university. Jess is in training to become a pharmacist, Ben is training to be a electrician, Ian has a job in a factory, and Scott and Eric are going into construction.

"Where've you been, Lillian?" Jess asks me.

"I've just been out for lunch with one of my friends," I reply. "It was her birthday yesterday, and after that, we went to her house for drinks."

"Did you have fun?" She inquires.

"Yeah, it was alright," I reply. "You know, we're all getting a little old now. Things get much more boring as you get older."

"You're not that old, Lillian," Jess replies slightly disapprovingly.

"Well, since I have a son leaving me to go to university, I definitely feel it," I reply.

"Well, now he's going, maybe it's time to find yourself a man," Jess suggests.

"Too far, Jess!" Liam snaps.

"What?" Jess replies defensively. "Do you not think she deserves someone?"

"Well, yeah..." he replies awkwardly. "But I don't want to hear you talk about it."

"Why not? Your moms still got it," Jess replies. "What's the matter? Can you not handle the thought of your mom getting it on with a man?"

I watch Liam squirm in his seat.

"Nope...no dating for me," I interject. "I put all that to bed many years ago."

I dated Liam's father from the middle of my first year at university until we divorced eleven years ago. Although he was in his second year at the time, he pursued me from the very first week of term. However, at the time, I was chronically shy and very self-deprecating, much like I still am today, so I quickly rejected his advances.

This didn't stop him. Throughout the first few months, he asked me out on a regular basis. He'd often buy me drinks, flowers, and even small gifts as he tried to win over my affection, even after I made it clear that I wasn't interested.

It wasn't as if I had no interest in him. In fact, every girl wanted him. He was tall, dark, and handsome, came from a wealthy family, and exuded confidence abundantly. My friends pushed me to say yes to him, constantly attempting to build up my self-esteem.

My friend Gemma used to tell me that I was beautiful, had an amazing body, great tits, and that she'd kill to have curves like me. But all I could see were my big nose, fat arse, chubby thighs, and those few pounds on my stomach that I could never shift.

But even that wasn't the full extent of my insecurities. The real reason I was rejecting him was that I didn't want to be seen naked by anyone for two reasons. The first being my giant areolas. I loathe looking at them and always ensure they're covered when looking in the mirror. In reality, they're a little under five inches across, but to me, they're comically huge. When I was pregnant with Liam and they darkened, for me, it looked like I had two burger patties on my chest.

The second thing I've always despised about myself are my elongated labia. Over the years, particularly when watching porn with my husband, I've been inundated with images of women boasting flawless, symmetrical, aesthetically pleasing vaginas. And then there's me with lips that spread out like giant uneven butterfly wings.

Before my husband I'd only ever had sex with one guy. My friends all lost their virginities quite early on, I waited until two months before I left for university.

It was the beginning of July. I had just left college, and I had been seeing my boyfriend Matt for four months. His parents were out for the night, and I went over to his place with the intention of finally going through with it. Yes, I'd fooled around with boys before, but I'd never let anyone touch me down there or see me naked.

When I got there, Matt wasted no time in ushering me upstairs to his bedroom. Once the door was closed, he guided me to his bed, laid me down, and began kissing me. His clothes soon came off, and he immediately began trying to remove mine.

The moment my bra came off, I swear I heard him snigger under his breath before he began sucking on my nipples. I should've stopped, but I chose to ignore it. I convinced myself that I didn't hear what I thought I did and carried on regardless.

Shortly after, he began licking and kissing around my areola awkwardly, constantly telling me how much he loved my tits. However, I was not enjoying any of it, and having him pay so much attention to my areola made my skin crawl.

Then, I felt his fingers undo the button on my jeans. As the fabric loosened, I felt my zipper being pulled down. His hand pressed flat against my abdomen, causing me to shudder and tense up, before his fingers attempted to slip into the waistband of my panties.

I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest, and held my breath as I felt his hand slide down over my pubic region. Touching my vagina for the first time, his fingers briefly tangled in the delicate folds of my labia, sending a jolt of discomfort through my body.

"What's wrong?" he asked once his fingers finally slipped between my lips.

"Nothing," I replied, trying to conceal my unease.

"You're not wet," he remarked in a disappointed tone.

"Sorry," I replied. "I'm just nervous, I guess."

"That's fine," he assured me. "I know what to do."

With that, he moved down towards the bottom of the bed in front of my legs. He took hold of my jeans and panties before pulling them off. As I spread my legs, I ran my hand over my vagina briefly, feeling self-conscious yet oddly aroused. This was the first time anyone had ever seen my vagina, and I had shaved it completely bald just for that night.

"Oh, wow," he said, clearly surprised as he made his way up my legs.

I felt him touch me, spreading my labia with his fingers.

"Your pussy lips are huge," he said, emphasising the word 'huge.'

I watched in silence as he lowered his head into my crotch, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness churning in my stomach. His tongue touched my labia, and I closed my eyes, clenching my fists and toes as he began to lick away at them, not once going near my clitoris. With each pass of his tongue, any semblance of pleasure was overridden by the discomfort of his focus solely on my labia.

I eventually got to the point that I just wanted it over with. I grabbed him by the head, pulled him up my body, took hold of his cock, and placed it against my hole. A few minutes later, it was all over. He had come inside me, pulled out, and lay down beside me, his penis covered in blood. I quickly covered myself up, sore, ashamed and no longer a virgin.

Despite my initial reluctance, I ended up sleeping with Matt two more times after that, after my friends convinced me that nobody enjoys their first time. However, I hated those times just as much as the first, if not worse.

I ended things with Matt shortly after, unable to bear the thought of sleeping with him anymore. Matt was incensed and told everyone about me, mocking my body, my big burger nipples and huge pussy lips. It was devastating, and I felt more self-conscious than ever before. My only solace was that I was leaving soon.

I made things very difficult for John. He pursued me relentlessly for months. I gave him no indication that I was interested. In fact, the complete opposite. By November, he seemed to get the hint, and I began hearing stories of him hooking up with other girls, including some of my friends. It was only then I realised how jealous I actually was, but I couldn't actually blame him. I'd pushed him away.

It was the final night out before everyone went home for Christmas. I drank heavily, watching him flirt and kiss girls all night long, until I was just drunk enough to cast away my inhibitions but not yet drunk enough to pass out. I put down my drink, staggered over, grabbed him, and kissed him in front of everyone.

That night, I brought him home, filled with determination to make him mine. As we stumbled through the front door, unable to keep our hands off each other, I felt a surge of excitement and anticipation. I was finally ready to give myself to him, but just as I was about to surrender completely, he stopped.

"Wait," he said.

"What?" I asked, confused by his sudden change of tone.

"Not tonight," he replied softly.

"What do you mean not tonight?" I replied in frustration.

"I like you, Lillian," he replied. "I want to do this right."

"What do you mean?" I replied. "I want you to make love to me!"

"Believe me, I want to," he replied before kissing me. "But I don't want to mess this up, and I don't want this to be a one-time thing."

"It doesn't have to be," I replied. "Just please make love to me."

"No, you're drunk," he replied. "I like the normal Lillian. That's who I want to make love to."

"I am the normal Lillian!" I replied in frustration.

"Lilly, I'm going to take you out on a date as soon as we get back from Christmas break. January fifth, you and me are going out," he declared.

I'd always hated being called Lilly, but coming from him, it felt normal. I did my best to persuade him, but he didn't break. He left soon after that. True to his word January fifth came around he took me out for a meal and out for drinks afterwards. We stayed up until the early hours talking before falling asleep together.

It was another three months before I could build up the courage to sleep with him. I was so nervous leading up to it. I couldn't stop shaking. But when he took me in his arms that night in his room, all my fears, all my insecurities melted away. He was loving, gentle, affectionate, and my God, did he know what he was doing.

After that night, I knew he was the man I wanted to spend my life with. After I graduated, we moved in together back in my hometown. I got a job as a Junior Analyst at a bank, and John went into the restaurant industry.

For me, I was living the fairytale life. Before I knew it, he proposed, and we got married on my twenty-third birthday, with Liam following a year later.

For almost six years, everything was perfect. I became Assistant Branch Manager at the bank, and John opened his own restaurant, finding a niche selling gourmet burgers. It was so successful he opened two further branches before franchising six more locations.

Then, early one Sunday morning, while asleep with John beside me, the phone rang. John answered it, and a police officer informed him that there had been a break-in at the restaurant. Devastated, we quickly grabbed Liam, dropped him off at my mother's, and rushed straight to the restaurant. The burglars had turned the place over well, but were disturbed and they only managed to make off with the next day's float.

While standing there, assessing the damage with the officers, it seemed they weren't genuinely interested in solving the robbery, rather, we felt more like an inconvenience to them. Angered and frustrated, I left John to speak with them while I headed into the office to duplicate the security tapes. Lacking any real trust in their ability to carry out the investigation thoroughly, I decided to make a copy for myself to review later.

The following morning, I opted to stay home while John headed to the restaurant to prepare for the evening opening. As I settled down at my laptop with a steaming cup of coffee, I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that the burglars must have scoped out the place in the weeks leading up to the break-in.

I began by reviewing the break-in itself. Fortunately, the CCTV system highlighted periods of movement on a timeline, making everything easily accessible. On the external camera, a dark-coloured BMW pulled up by the rear door, and four masked men jumped out, rushing the rear door. Once inside, two headed for the office while the other two made their way into the dining area. It was obvious from the footage that they knew exactly where they needed to go.

Working backwards, I began scrolling through more footage from the external camera, starting with all the triggers from closing onwards for the week leading up to the break in the search of the same car.

With the restaurant typically closing most evenings at ten, and half-past ten on Fridays and Saturdays, there wasn't a lot of footage to review. I worked my way through the days fairly quickly, going back to the previous Saturday. I noticed a time stamp starting at eleven forty-seven, which only lasted fifty-three seconds.

Hopeful, I clicked play and watched intently as the media player opened. The system always adds thirty seconds before any trigger, so I sat there, hunched forward in deep concentration, waiting for the video to start playing.

The picture is grainy, as any CCTV system usually is. Everything seemed completely still. I watched the top of the screen where the road is, anticipating a person or a vehicle appearing at any second. However, no car appeared. Instead, the rear doors opened, and out emerged John followed by Jaime, dressed in her waitress uniform. I never really liked Jaime. She was pretty, too pretty for my liking, a five-foot, pint-sized, slender, blonde princess. She was always slow, made mistakes and generated a lot of complaints. But she did manage to sell a lot of drinks, especially to men.

As I watched, I thought nothing of it at first. John often stayed back with staff to do prep for the next day. However, what caught my attention was that nobody else left the door. Even with the grainy picture, I could see the two were smiling and laughing as he closed the door behind them, locking it.

Dismissing the video, I moved my mouse cursor towards the 'x' icon in the top corner when I saw John place his hand on Jaime's cheek. Then, to my utter disbelief, he moved his body up against hers, leaned in, and kissed her. I froze in total shock, unable to comprehend what I was witnessing, my husband kissing his eighteen-year-old waitress.

I couldn't stop shaking as I watched the video repeatedly, my disbelief growing with each rerun. I knew what I was seeing, I just couldn't believe it.

I wanted to stop watching, but I needed to know more. I closed the video and looked at the internal cameras. I skipped over the corridor camera and instead chose a video from inside the dining area starting shortly after closing. The camera itself covers most of the restaurant floor, the booth, as we called it and, in the distance, the entrance.

The video began with John walking with Charlie, the chef, and his two other wait staff, Paul and Emma, towards the door. With Jaime visible behind the bar, sweeping up. John opened the door for them and waved them off. I watched on as he closed the door locking it behind him. Next, he walked over to the security panel, and through the windows I saw the security shutters begin to close.

My heart sank as I watched John walk towards the bar, and Jaime, after placing her broom down, almost sprinted from behind it and up to him. She threw her arms around him, and they kissed passionately. My fists clenched as I watched him pick her up her up, her legs wrapping around him as they moved towards one of the booths, kissing the whole way.

I watched on as my world came crashing down around me. John placed her down on the table, swiftly removing her trousers before diving between her legs. She writhed around in pleasure on the screen as I sat there close to vomiting.

I couldn't understand it, John and I, had what I felt was a really good and active sex life but there he was between the legs of another woman. A younger, skinnier and prettier younger woman.

I watched the whole video from beginning to end, taking note of every sordid detail. From him performing oral on her, to her returning the favour, before he fucked her over the table and on the seating in various positions, finally concluding with what I assumed to be him finishing inside of her.

The pair then sat in the booth, naked, cuddling as John stroked her head for around twenty minutes. Afterward, they got up, collected their clothes, and left the restaurant floor. I quickly found the corresponding corridor camera footage and observed the pair heading into the employee changing facilities, which included a shower room.

I was livid and checked through an entire month's worth of videos for events after closing, finding another seven such encounters between the pair. Distraught, I packed John's suitcase, loaded it and Liam into the car, and took Liam to my mother's before heading to the restaurant.

I didn't hold back. I can't even remember who was at the restaurant that day, only that John and Jaime were. I threw the suitcase at John, screamed at him, hitting him repeatedly for what he'd done to me as I cried my eyes out. As for Jaime, I turned and looked her in the eye as she cowered behind a table and simply said, 'You've destroyed my family.'

As far as I was concerned, that was it, we were done. But somehow, against my better judgement John managed to convince me to take him back. Jaime left the restaurant, and John started coming home on time every night. He was more attentive and put in way more effort with Liam than he'd ever done before. I hated his guts for what he'd done to me, but I decided it would be the best thing for Liam to have his father around as he grew up.