Robin's Rage - 5 - Sedition, Seduction & Success free porn video

A couple of weeks passed. Jackie and I saw each other a few times but I suspect she was wary of me and my part in her ‘evening of shame’.

Her fertility treatment continued though and to my fury, she looked even more gorgeous. Almost as if she was already pregnant, her hair simply shone and her skin took on a fresh, bright complexion. I hated her for it! It should have been me with the warm feminine glow; me waiting for Johnny’s baby to grow inside me.

In revenge, every few days I posted another small video clip from my threesome on the wife swapping website. Every time I did so from Jackie’s house, I took care to leave plenty of traces in the ‘favourites’ and ‘history’ folders on the cottage’s desktop PC.

The girl calling herself Fiddler’s Fancy had by now amassed quite a following across the swinging, cheating world. The local rumours were reaching fever-pitch too and from our online conversations, Carl was as keen to have a second helping of the cool, sophisticated blonde swinger in Fiddler’s Cottage as she seemed to be herself. All that was needed, she had told him in her messages, was a night when her husband was away.

Only Johnny seemed to be unaware of all this; partly through spending most of his time in London but also because, as the pub regulars used to say, ‘the husband’s the last to know.’

Gradually more and more of them were saying it and were saying it increasingly openly.

Unsuspecting, Jackie and Johnny strode around the village at weekends with an air of smug contentment which in other circumstances would have made my blood boil. In this case however, I knew that it was merely ‘pride coming before the fall’ so I forced myself to be patient and waited.

That wasn’t an easy thing to do; my feelings for Johnny were growing stronger and stronger and, now I knew what great sex could really be like, they had a harder, more visceral edge alongside the adoration I had suffered since childhood.

Many nights I had to bring myself to climax with my fingers or the new vibrator I had daringly bought from Ann Summers in a futile attempt to recreate some of the sensations from my threesome experience.

It was good but was no substitute for what I now knew was the Real Thing.

It was equally hard to resist all the offers and propositions from men that came my way as they come the way of all barmaids pretty or otherwise, but I managed to keep myself pure and unsullied.

Well, as pure unsullied as a girl can be who knows what a threesome is really like.

Given our shared secret, I think Jackie viewed me as both a close confidante and a potential danger but our friendship continued almost unaffected and we saw each other most days, if only for coffee.

I can’t tell you how painful it was to hear her making plans for all she and my beloved Johnny were going to do once she had conceived and later, once the baby was born. Several times I had to stick my car keys into my thigh to prevent myself crying.

I took out my frustration by sending increasingly explicit messages and photos of the mysterious married blonde to the most promising of my online correspondents.

*

“So we’re going to do it again when he comes home next weekend,” Jackie confided over the phone the following Saturday morning as I sat staring at my laptop and waiting to go to my lunchtime shift at the pub.

Johnny was in the USA on a long and important business trip and wasn’t due home until Friday evening.

“Do it?” I asked distracted by the surprisingly large number of emails the woman calling herself Fiddler’s Fancy had received over the weekend.

“Trying for a baby, silly! I’ll be at peak fertility again. I’m not going to mess it up this time!”

“I thought you were going to wait a few months,” I said.

Her disturbing words had snapped my full attention away from the highly sexual emails and back to my friend.

“I was going to wait but I keep feeling my biological clock ticking,” she laughed. “With my family’s medical history every month counts. And we might want more than one child too.”

A cold chill passed over me. If Johnny knew his wife was pregnant; that he was going to be a father then his whole attitude might change and my work would become much more difficult. There would be another important person involved; the baby. There would be another important reason to stay with his wife, whatever he believed she had done.

I had expected to have a few more months before the fertility cycle peaked again; a few more months to lay my traps. If Jackie got knocked up too soon, my whole plan might be scuppered. But what could I do?

The first thing I had to do was act the good friend Jackie believed me to be. With my knuckles white I forced myself to congratulate her on her strength of character, wish her good luck, assure her Johnny would be delighted, praise her good looks and self-control and offer to help in any way I could.

But I knew I had to create an opportunity quickly. After we had kissed our goodbyes I went to work then spent the afternoon making phone calls and sending emails.

For some of the messages I used another freshly-created email address.

When the phone calls were received there was no trace of local accent in the professional female voice the recipients heard.

*

“So I’ll be away until late tomorrow,” Jackie told me four days later.

It was Wednesday morning and as usual, we were standing in the kitchen of Fiddlers Cottage having yet another coffee before I went to the pub for yet another lunchtime shift. Johnny was due home around Thursday lunchtime; Jackie had been looking forward to an afternoon with him.

However, a series of anxious emails from a potentially lucrative new client in Bristol was calling her away for the day so Johnny would be coming home to an empty house.

“Will you make sure Jonathan is okay for me?” she asked innocently. “He’ll be a bit jetlagged and always needs a bit of TLC after an overseas trip. A friendly face would be good but then….” She looked around guiltily before continuing. “When I get back we’ll need a bit of private time, remember?”

I gritted my teeth and assured her I would be only too happy to greet her husband and my oldest friend on his return and would then make myself scarce so they could make all the babies they wanted in privacy. It would be painful to do so but my heart was racing.

The final phase of my plan had started.

“Who are these new clients?” I asked deliberately using the plural by mistake.

“There’s only one; he’s a young freelance designer who’s just come over from the US. He’s just landed a new account in Bristol but it’s a rush job and he needs local help urgently. I’ve worked with his new corporate client before so they recommended me.”

“A young, talented American designer?” I said in a suggestive voice. “Is he gorgeous, Jackie? Does he need a gopher in scruffy jeans? Has he got a friend?”

Jackie laughed.

“I’ve not seen him at all yet; it’s all been done by email. He’s booked a meeting room at the Marriott for tomorrow afternoon after he’s had the full brief from the company. He wants to start work right way, that’s why I’ll be late.”

“Congratulations! It sounds like a great opportunity,” I said, trying to keep my face straight.

In fact my friend was heading for disappointment; the great opportunity was mine.

“And don’t worry about Johnny. I’ll take care of him,” I added, my tummy rumbling with excitement.

“Thanks Robyn,” she smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

*

I was at Fiddler’s Cottage early on Thursday morning making sure everything was ready. The desktop computer was on but sleeping, the web browser open, its browsing history undeleted and containing just the right combination of entries to reveal a certain pattern – with a little detective work of course.

I slipped the mobile phone I had registered in the name of the blonde occupant of Fiddler’s Cottage down the side of the sofa where it might have been accidentally dropped. It was switched on and there was a trail of calls and text messages in its memory.

Johnny arrived home just before ten o’clock, tired and a little grouchy after his long overnight flight. I smiled inwardly; a little bad temper on his part would do me no harm.

“Jackie asked me to make sure you were okay,” I smiled as I passed him a mug of freshly made tea and a plate of the chocolate biscuits which had always been his and my favourites.

“It’s sweet of you Robbie,” he smiled. “Do you know anything about this new client she’s seeing?”

I told him all Jackie had told me, trying to make it sound as exciting as possible.

“Why don’t you freshen up? I’ll make some more tea,” I suggested.

He was clearly disappointed that his wife wasn’t home but my presence seemed to please him and after he had showered and changed into jeans and a polo shirt – a combination that made him even more drop-dead-desirable to me - we sat in the kitchen and chatted for a while about his trip, the USA and his exciting job.

After half an hour I surreptitiously slipped my hand into the thigh pocket of my tomboy shorts and pressed the ‘send’ button on the new phone I had hidden there.

‘BEEP’

A satisfyingly loud electronic noise came through from the lounge.

“Was that your phone?” Johnny asked. I shook my head.

“Mine’s here,” I patted the pocket on my other thigh.

“So is mine,” he smiled, patting his breast pocket.

We chatted for a few minutes more.

‘BEEP’

A second, insistent sound came through. We ignored it for a while then I pressed the ‘send’ button on my hidden phone again.

‘BEEP BEEP’

“I’d better go and see what’s going on,” he said, rising to his feet and going through to the lounge.

I shrugged and followed as casually as I could. For a few moments he searched for the phone without success.

‘BEEP’

“Aha! Got it!”

Johnny plunged his hand down the side of the sofa, pulled the phone from its hiding place triumphantly and looked at it, puzzled.

“I don’t recognise this,” he said, turning it over in his hand.

‘BEEP’

I could see a message appear on the black screen then fade. Johnny looked at it, first casually then with an intensity that was a bit frightening.

“What the...?”

“What is it Johnny?” I asked anxiously.

He simply handed me the handset. I touched the button and the screen came to life.

‘Marriott room 237 same as last time. Big bed. Can’t wait to see you again Mrs P xxx’

I stared at the screen as if dumbfounded until the message disappeared again.

“What’s going on, Robbie?” Johnny asked coldly.

“I... I don’t know what you mean,” I replied deliberately unconvincingly.

“You’re her closest friend. Why is my wife going to a hotel bedroom at this time of the afternoon?

I waited a few moments before replying.

“She... she might be going to a meeting there.” It was a very weak idea and deliberately so. “She did say she was seeing a new client didn’t she?”

Johnny grunted.

“Call the hotel and ask,” I insisted. “It’s probably just a misunderstanding. She’s your wife; you can’t go on thinking these things about her! ”

“I suppose you’re right,” he grudgingly admitted. “Maybe it’s the jet-lag. Maybe I’m being over-sensitive.”

“Call them,” I said in as reassuring a voice as I could manage. “I will if you don’t want to.”

A few minutes later Johnny was on the phone to reception at the Bristol Marriott. Having booked the room myself, I could almost predict word for word what he would be hearing but had to make do with one half of the conversation.

“Hello? Hi! My name is Jonathan Preston. I’m calling to check whether my wife has booked a room for tonight. There was a bit of a misunderstanding. Can you help?”

“Yes. Mrs. Jackie Preston…” he said slowly. “Fiddler’s Cottage… yes?”

“She has? What room did she book? Oh, an early check-in too?”

“Has she checked in yet? Okay thank you. No, no message.”

He turned to face me as he hung up.

“Mrs. Jackie Preston has booked a king size room with an extra-large bed and champagne on arrival,” Johnny repeated slowly, staring at me directly. “Oh, and she’s expecting a guest to follow. They’re to send him straight up.”

His expression was pure anger.

“What’s the hell’s going on Robbie?” he demanded. “You’re her closest friend. What is going on?”

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered helplessly.

“I know you’re trying to protect her,” he growled. “But remember you were my friend before you were hers. My best friend, I thought!”

“I… I can’t say,” I protested.

Then Johnny went a little crazy, at first trying to read the messages on the rogue mobile then, when he couldn’t unlock it, stomping from room to room in search of any other evidence of his wife’s infidelity.

I remained in the lounge, listening to the banging and crashing going on upstairs until eventually I heard heavy footsteps and my beloved appeared in the doorway, his arms full of what seemed to be dirty washing.

“Look at this!” he yelled, hurling a pair of Jackie’s sexiest panties at me. I caught them and looked at him puzzled.

“What about them?” I asked.

“They were at the bottom of the washing basket. Look at the crotch!”

I looked and pretended to be amazed to find an off-white crispy stain on the pale satin.

“That’s semen, Robbie! Semen on my wife’s underwear!”

I didn’t reply. He was right; it was semen; semen I had put there from the pot hidden in my backpack; semen from my two lovers.

“And what about this?” he demanded, holding up a rumpled bedsheet with an equally crispy stain in its middle. “It’s the guest room undersheet where she wouldn’t expect anyone to look. That’s a semen stain too, Robbie. And there was a used condom stuck half way round the U-bend in the bathroom toilet.”

“Johnny... I don’t know what to say,” I stammered again, pleased with the effect I had been able to achieve on the sheet with a mixture of the remaining semen and my own freshly-produces juices.

“How long has this been going on? Who is he? Or should I ask who are they?”

But there was no opportunity for me to reply because at that moment his leg banged into the desk, the whole table rocked, the computer’s mouse moved and the screen spring into life.

Johnny span round in surprise then snarled at me.

“Now we’ll see what’s really going on!”

He sat down on the desk’s hard chair and set to work frantically on the computer.

“Johnny please don’t…” I began. “She… We…”

“Just fuck off, Robbie,” he half yelled. “If you won’t tell me then I’ll have to find out by myself.”

“Johnny please…”

”LEAVE ME ALONE!” he yelled then added, “Jesus! She hasn’t even deleted her history!”

“I’ll... I’ll leave you then…” I said softly as I backed to the door, the room full of rapid clicking sounds.

“Come back when she comes back. I want witnesses!” he shouted as I finally left him to his own anger.

*

It was nearly eight o’clock when I saw Jackie’s car drive past my window on its way to Fiddler’s Cottage. I ran as fast as I could through the empty streets, arriving just as the car doors were banging shut. Jackie looked angry herself but also excited as she opened the cottage’s front door opened and rushed inside, leaving the door partly open.

I crossed the road, pushed the door silently open and sneaked inside just as my friend bustled into the lounge, her beaming, delighted but exhausted face turning to greet her much-missed husband. She took two quick steps towards him and threw her arms around him… to find cold, stiff, unwelcoming iceberg of a man.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Did you have a bad flight? I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’d better leave you to it,” I said, making for the open front door.

“Wait, Robbie,” Johnny snapped in a cold, emotionless voice. “I think I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

Sensing his hostility, Jackie released him and backed anxiously away.

“What is it Johnathan? What’s wrong?”

I backed into a corner of the room, my ears flapping, my eyes open wide.

“Where have you been today, Jackie?” he asked slowly and purposefully.

“I’ve been in Bristol, I told you,” she replied.

“What were you there for?”

“I was seeing a new client,” she said impatiently. “What is all this?”

“Did it go well?” he asked dangerously.

“Well no, as you ask, it didn’t. No-one showed up. I went to the hotel and waited in the lobby but he didn’t come to get me or even phone me. I emailed him but there was no reply. Then I asked at reception and found no-one had even booked a room.”

However true I knew it to be, it sounded very weak. This story was cutting no ice with her husband.

“What would you be doing with a client in a Marriott hotel bedroom anyway?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

“I wasn’t in a hotel bedroom with anyone. Why do you think…”

“Ha!” he laughed loudly and hollowly then picked up the newly-discovered mobile with its incriminating message on the screen. “So this message wasn’t sent to you? You’re not this Mrs Preston; you’re just a Mrs Preston who happens to live in the same house?”

“What are you talking about Johnathan? I’ve never seen that mobile before. You’re scaring me!”

“Are you having an affair Jackie? Are you sleeping with other men?”

“How can you ask me that?” Her fear suddenly turned to anger. “How dare you ask that? Who in God’s name has told you I’m having an affair?”

“So you deny it,” he stated, his voice dangerously cold.

“Of course I deny it! Stop talking this way.”

“You’re not having an affair?”

“No!”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I’M NOT HAVING AN AFFAIR!” she was shouting now.

“So it was just a one night stand was it? How many of those have you had Jackie?”

“None! How can you say these hateful things? I’m your wife! I love you!”

“Well you’ve got a very strange way of showing it!”

With that, Johnny turned the large computer screen round and showed her a video clip that was playing and had been playing throughout their conversation.

It showed the now infamous blonde on all fours, her face hidden by falling locks of long hair, her vagina being pounded from behind by a large black cock, expertly wielded by an even larger young, fit black man.

The sound was on. It was very poor quality but over the wet slap-slapping sounds of his thrusts into what could only be an open, very well lubricated vagina a woman’s high, incoherent squeal could be clearly heard. The light in the room was low but there was no mistaking the rug on which the blonde slut was kneeling or the long sofa behind her. There was no mistaking the pictures on the wall or the photos in frames on the low table.

There was no denying that the room where the action was taking place was the room in which we now stood. By implication, the blonde in the video must therefore be the blonde who stood before her enraged husband now.

“Welcome home, Fiddler’s Fancy!” he said in a hard, cruel voice.

“Oh my God!”

All indignation left Jackie’s demeanour instantly. She stared at the screen open mouthed, her face deadly pale, her eyes open wide in an unmistakable expression of guilt that Johnny couldn’t fail to see and understand.

“Well? Are you really going to tell me this isn’t you getting the life fucked out of you in this room?”

There was no reply. Jackie seemed incapable of taking her eyes off the screen. Her anger crumbled instantly.

“I… I… didn’t…”

“You didn’t what, Jackie? You didn’t do it? It isn’t you? Or have you fucked so many men that this little encounter slipped your mind?”

“It was a mistake! I didn’t mean to…” she began but was cut short.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Johnny’s voice was sneering now and full of contempt. “You didn’t mean to! You didn’t mean to invite two black men to our house and fuck them both while I was away?”

She looked at him, stunned.

“Oh yes! I’ve seen the other clips too. Quite the little performer aren’t you? A very eager and willing little Slut!”

“Johnny I’m so sorry,” she pleaded, sobbing wildly. “It was a mistake; a terrible mistake.”

“You never said a truer word,” her cuckolded husband snarled back.

“I was drunk! It was just the one time. I can’t even remember most of it!”

Her words came across as desperate rather than the simple truth I knew them to be.

“And you think that makes it any better?” Johnny snarled.

“Please forgive me! Please!”

Only I knew that there was nothing to forgive; that Jackie had spent the entire night in bed alone, sleeping off the huge amount of alcohol I had sneaked into her drinks throughout the evening. Even Jackie herself genuinely believed that she had been unfaithful with both young, strong men and that one or both of them had probably come inside her highly fertile, entirely unprotected body. She had believed it enough to take the morning after pill and sabotage the weekend they had planned to spend ‘trying for a baby’.

“How can I forgive you?” he demanded. “How can I ever trust you again? You’ve made me a laughing stock. Everyone has seen you, Jackie. The whole world knows what you look like naked; how you suck men’s cocks; how you love to be fucked by two men at a time.”

“NO!” she screamed. “That’s not true! It can’t be true!”

“It is true; look at the video! Didn’t you know you were being filmed? Were you so sex crazed you didn’t even see the cameras?”

“But...” she stammered, her eyes wide.

“You can’t say that’s not you Jackie. It sure as hell looks like you!”

“Johnny I... I...”

Her head was clearly spinning with confusion and guilt.

“And you did it here too; in our house!”

“I... I’m so, so sorry...”

“Oh my God! I’ve just noticed the date!”

There was real horror in Johnny’s voice as he realised something even more terrible.

“What? What? Tell me!” Jackie was almost hysterical now.

His voice when he spoke was ice cold. He tapped the bottom right hand corner of the screen where a series of numbers ticked away.

“The date on the screen, Jackie; the date you fucked these men. It’s the day before you... before we... when we were trying for a baby!”

On screen the blonde was squealing again in as close approximation to Jackie’s orgasmic wail as I could manage. To my ear the dubbing was crude and obvious but neither of them seemed to notice because at that moment as if on cue, one of the men reached a noisy climax too and began to cum inside the woman’s vagina.

The condom I knew to be on his cock was obscured by the camera angle and some careful editing but the man was clearly ejaculating copiously if the expression on his face was anything to judge by and was apparently doing so right inside the blonde woman’s unprotected vagina.

My friend just stood frozen, her hand on her belly, a ghastly expression on her face. The sight had clearly been a terrible revelation to her too.

“Johnathan...” she began, her voice wobbly and weak.

“It’s a good job you didn’t get knocked up. How would I ever know if it was mine?”

“But I never...”

“Oh yes you did Jackie! Look! It’s all there online in glorious technicolour! Christ knows how many people have seen it. ”

“Johnny please,” I intervened from the corner in an apparent attempt to defend my friend.

“Shut the fuck up Robbie!”

He snapped at me angrily then turned again to his cowering wife.

“You’re a slut, Jackie; a disgusting, cheating slut!”

“Please! Please!” she wept helplessly.

“And everyone except me seems to know it. How can I ever hold my head up in this village again?”

“I...”

“Goodbye Jackie. I’m going back to London. You go wherever you want to. Just don’t be here when I get back.”

And with that he pushed his way past me and stormed out through the front door which I had ‘accidentally’ left open. The shouting had drawn a small group of neighbours outside who had clearly heard most of what had taken place. I followed him out into the street.

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?”

Johnny growled angrily at the crowd as he pushed them aside and stomped to his car. He opened the door and stared accusingly at me.

“You’re a loyal friend Robbie,” he hissed. “But this time you have to decide who you’re going to be loyal to!”

He drove off into the darkness, the car’s tyres squealing on the tarmac.

I returned tentatively to the cottage where Jackie was on her knees on the carpet in almost exactly the same spot where the blonde in the video had been so comprehensively fucked.

I put my arm around her shoulders and held her close as her body shook.

“He’s right! He’s right!” she sobbed, her hands still on her belly. “I cheated on him. I am a disgusting slut!”

“Shhh! Come with me,” I whispered, helping her to her feet and leading her upstairs.

As I undressed her and put her into bed, my belly was alive with excitement.

The next phase in my plan had worked; only one more to go!

Tread very carefully girl, you’re nearly there!

*

From the moment I stepped out of the house the following morning, the whole village was buzzing with the news: Johnny had finally seen the videos that every schoolboy in the village had watched; he had found out that his supposedly sophisticated London wife had cheated on him and had thrown her out of the house.

Very soon other gossip began to circulate openly too; how she had flaunted herself in the window of Fiddler’s Cottage in the evenings; how she had flirted outrageously with the men who came to mend the wall; how she had been seen drunk in a nearby pub with two black men when her husband was away.

As I had expected, once the rumours had kicked off with a few true stories, other completely untrue tales began to come out of the woodwork without any help from me: how she wasn’t a designer at all; how she had been working as a prostitute in Bristol; how she had invited many men back to the cottage and satisfied them all; how she had aborted at least two babies before she came to the village.

In my position of popular barmaid I heard them all. In my role as ‘best local friend of the accused’ I tried to defend Jackie against the worst of the accusations but of course didn’t put up much opposition to those stories I had planted myself.

*

It was Friday night, a whole week later before my phone beeped. When I looked at the screen my heart leaped.

‘Have you chosen, Robbie?’

It was Johnny; my Johnny. I grabbed the phone and tapped eagerly at the screen.

‘Chosen what?’ I replied.

‘Who to be loyal to’

‘You’re both my friends’ I lied then immediately added ‘But there’s only one Batman for this Robin’.

‘Thank God. I need someone I can trust right now.’

‘Then come home’

‘Is she still there?’

‘No she’s gone to her parents’

‘To stay?’

‘I think so’

*

Johnny came home to Fiddler’s Cottage the following night. His car pulled into the driveway and remained there for three days. No-one set eyes on him; he didn’t answer the phone, the door or communicate in any other way with anybody, although most of the village would have had no idea what on earth to say anyway.

After those three days his Dad came to see me in the pub and asked whether I would try and get through to him as he wouldn’t speak even to them. I promised to try.

That night I called Johnny on the phone. He didn’t answer so I left a message. He didn’t reply to the message.

The same happened the following morning, afternoon, evening and for two full days without success.

Eventually I went round in person and, when my insistent knocking was ignored, I let myself into the cottage using the spare key I still had.

I won’t detail what I found but my oldest friend was in a pitiful state. It took all my self-control to overcome the powerful surge of guilt I felt at inflicting all this distress on the only man I could ever love. For the first time I realised how much he must have loved Jackie and what a baby would have meant to him but I kept telling myself over and over again that it would all be for the best for us both if only I kept my nerve and pressed on with the plan.

After all, what had been done could not now be undone.

I sat next to him on the sofa; to my relief, he didn’t push me away. I held his hand; after a while I felt his fingers gripping mine in return. I hugged him; he held me close, then closer.

Then he cried, then I cried, then we both cried, holding on to each other tightly.

I slept over in the guest room.

The next day I made breakfast for us both and persuaded him to come for a walk on the beach as we used to. It was early so we met only a couple of dog-walkers and, when I left him to go to the pub for my lunchtime shift, he was looking and feeling a lot better.

I took the evening off and we watched the movies we used to love when we were young on DVD all evening.

I slept in the guest room again that night.

We went for a longer walk after breakfast the following day and to the city in the afternoon. I took the evening off again and we went to the cinema in the city where we knew we would meet no-one Johnny knew or who knew him.

We held hands in the darkness in a friendly way. My tummy rumbled with excitement but I kept my nerve.

When we arrived back at Fiddler’s Cottage I made a little supper and we went for a walk along the beach in the moonlight. He took my hand as we reached the sand and held it tightly as we walked in companionable silence.

A shiver went through me as we neared the end of the cliff, within sight of the place where Johnny had taken my virginity. But all we did was look out to sea before returning.

“You’re very quiet, even for you,” I teased as he let us back into the cottage.

“I was just thinking,” he said softly as we walked through the hallway.

“Want to tell?” I asked in as close to my old Tomboy Robbie voice as I could manage.

We had entered the lounge and I had just taken off my jacket. Johnny sighed deeply as he dropped his onto a high-backed chair.

“Well, I was just wondering what if...” he began then stopped.

I looked at the man I loved so much; his eyes were looking at me in a way I had only seen once before, on that incredible afternoon on the beach so long ago.

“What if what, Batman?” I asked cheekily.

It was so hard to sound casual when I was hoping against hope that my moment was about to arrive.

“I wondered what would happen if…”

And then to my astonishment, my moment did arrive! It happened!

Without another word, my adored Johnny swept me into his arms and kissed me full on the mouth. Despite being the thing I wanted most in the whole world, at first it was a shock and my body went stiff. To my horror, he misread my reaction badly.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised immediately, almost dropping me on the lounge floor. “Robbie I’m so sorry; I should never...”

But I didn’t let him get a word further. In an instant my mouth was on his and the most passionate embrace of my entire life began. The sheer lustful energy with which our lips met, our mouths moved over each other and our tongues intertwined took us both by surprise, but once it had started there was no stopping us.

Within seconds I felt his hands all over me again, on my bottom, on my boobs, then under my shirt, cupping my breasts through my bra. A moment later its cups had been flipped up and his fingers were on my bare flesh, kneading my tiny boobs and pinching my nipples painfully.

It took a few moments before my baffled brain could understand what was happening and think how to respond but eventually, almost instinctively my own hands began to explore his body in return, pulling open his shirt to stroke his muscular chest.

Then Johnny’s hands were on my bottom again, then inside my jeans, then inside my panties. The button at my waist was popped, the zipper gave way, my jeans and panties were around my ankles and his hand was on my groin where the sparse pubic hair had re-grown.

It was happening; it was really happening!

I gasped as a long finger plunged between my thighs and along my slit.

Yes Johnny, yes!

The finger found my clitoris and my knees went weak. Johnny lowered me to the carpet as he had lowered me to the sand that first time but now with a passionate lust from both of us that was almost frightening.

My jeans were roughly pulled away, his trousers followed them; he was between my thighs, he was over me; I felt his cock against my slit, forcing my lips apart.

YesYesYesYESSSSS!

Then Johnny’s wonderful erection entered my body for the second time in my life, filling me with his manhood once again. I was tense, anxious, almost unable to believe it was really happening but thanks to the experience my illicit lovers had given, the fight against my natural desire to freeze was easily won.

It was really, really happening; Jonathan was inside Robyn, Johnny had claimed his Robbie; Batman was fucking Robin once again.

Three powerful, painful thrusts later and he had bottomed out in my body, his pubic hair grinding hard against mine, his cock reaching deep into my body.

“Oh God, Robbie! I need you!”

Hearing his coarse, angry voice saying these bizarrely sweet words made my heart ache.

“You can have me Johnny. You can have me any way you want,” I replied and really meant it.

And then he began to fuck me; hard and immediately. It wasn’t making love, it wasn’t sweet or caring; Johnny began to fuck me. And the longer he fucked me, the harder he fucked me, the force of his thrusts growing stronger with each passing moment.

“Yes! Yes!” I croaked amid the pain. “Do it! Do it to me! Let it all out Johnny! Let your anger out!”

“Fuck Robbie I...”

“Just fucking do it! Do anything you need to me! I don’t care if it hurts! Just fuck me, Johnnyyyy!”

And he did. Though I didn’t know the word then, my beloved Johnny almost hate-fucked me, taking out on my willing body all the pain he had suffered since that terrible night of discovery; all the humiliation he felt, all the anger he had bottled up inside, all the torment he wanted to inflict on his unfaithful wife.

And I let him hate-fuck me; I didn’t resist in any way.

I didn’t protest when he crushed my boobs in his fists, when he pulled my clothes so hard they tore, leaving red lines on my skin that lasted a week. I didn’t even feel the friction burns as his violent thrusts drove my bottom and lower back hard into the rasping carpet over and over again.

I didn’t care when he pulled out, flipped me over and took me from behind like a dog with my face pressed into the carpet.

I loved it when he slapped my buttocks with his palms then dug his fingers deep into the flesh of my cheeks as he plunged agonisingly deep into my vagina, hammering into my cervix with every thrust, grazing my knees on the rug.

“Yes! Yes! Give it all to me! Let it all out!” I croaked through the wet slapping sounds and feral grunts.

This was what I wanted; I deserved this pain for what I had done. It was I who had inflicted the hurt on my lifelong friend so it was my body that deserved to feel the consequences. I wanted it to hurt; I wanted to feel at least some of his pain. I didn’t deserve to look my Johnny in the eye as he fucked me, I deserved to be treated like an animal, a fuck-toy; the focus of his justified anger.

I wanted him to fuck me harder than he had ever fucked anyone before!

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck you Jackie!”

His voice was hard and coarse, the anger wild and almost tangible.

“Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!” I growled back. “Cum in me Johnny! Let your anger go!”

Then for what was probably only a minute but felt like an hour, my Johnny seemed to lose control completely, his body slamming into mine with a violence I never suspected he possessed.

“Fuck you Jackie! FUCK your CHEATING CUNT!”

His cock hammered into my cervix over and over again, so hard it felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. His fingers gripped my buttocks painfully and his hips slammed into mine from behind so hard I fell forwards onto the carpet. He followed, his cock still buried deep inside me, spreading my legs wide and thrusting like a madman, his rhythm completely broken.

“CHEATING CUNT! CHEATING CUNT!”

“Oh Jesus! Jesus!” I wailed, partly in pain, partly with the realisation of how badly I had hurt him.

But this amount of lust; this amount of anger could not last long and eventually Johnny’s passion broke, his climax finally arrived and I felt the throbbing of his cock deep inside me. His strong body slapped hard against my buttocks as the force of his orgasm exploded in a loud ejaculation. Rope after rope of semen spurted into my body as the monstrous pressure of his climax was released and along with it thank God, the anger and violence within him was released too.

“AAAAGGGHHH!”

The room was filled with the cry of anguish that escaped his lips as his body went into spasm and emptied itself wildly into my eager, willing vagina. His cock within me throbbed and pulsed wildly before, eventually the thrusting began to wane and finally slowed to a halt.

We paused in silence, my bottom raised high, my face pressed hard into the carpet, his cock buried deep in my vagina, both of us panting for breath.

After a long pause, I felt him begin to move and his cock began to soften.

“Robbie I’m...” he began, breathlessly.

“Don’t say it!” I snapped. “Don’t say you’re sorry!”

“But I’m...”

“Just stay there. Let me feel you inside me a bit longer,” I interrupted.

He did as I asked and I felt the fullness inside me slowly slipping away as his erection faded further then flopped messily from my body.

“I’ve hurt you again,” he stated as he rolled alongside me on the carpet. It wasn’t a question. “I’ve really ruined our friendship this time.”

“It’s okay,” I said once again. “I can take it. I’m tough.”

I collapsed on the floor next to him, my body instinctively curling up defensively. I tried to keep my voice light but in truth the raw, animal force of his lust had shocked me; frightened me. In response the sad, resigned tone in his voice changed to affection and concern.

“Did I hurt you badly?” he asked, groping for my hand and finding it.

“It did hurt but I think we both needed it, don’t you?” I said, hoping he would squeeze my fingers in his, or at least show some deeper affection than just a hand-hold.

“How do you feel?”

The question was stupid and we both knew it.

“Bruised and sore,” I smiled wanly.

The hand squeeze came! Yes!

“Then you’re not angry?” he asked, almost puzzled.

“I’m not angry,” I repeated. “Just don’t leave me this time, okay? Hug me! Hold me!”

Johnny took me into his arms and we cuddled on the carpet, a sticky wetness oozing from my very battered vagina onto the carpet. I began to shake, a mixture of fear, relief and pain taking over from the lust that had filled us both.

To my relief I felt Johnny’s hand squeezing mine again.

“You really don’t hate me?” he asked, as if still unable to believe my words. “I haven’t just destroyed our…”

“I could never hate you, Johnny,” I cut in truthfully, though I had come close to being afraid of him.

“I’m so pleased. I thought… I thought I’d…”

“Well you haven’t. I’m still here; I’m still here for you.”

And I was; I wanted to tell him I loved him; that he was all I wanted out of life; to let him know the terrible things I had done to win him. But I knew I couldn’t. Anything he said had to come freely, unprompted or else it would be meaningless for me.

“Christ! That’s a relief,” he sighed, exhaling slowly and deeply, my hand still tightly in his.

There was a long pause before I finally heard the words I had spent all my life waiting to hear.

“I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, Robbie...”

He’s going to say it! He’s going to say it! My heart was thumping so hard!

“I… I…”

Please say it! Oh please say it!

“I… I love you, Robbie.”

HE SAID IT! HE SAID IT! HE SAID IT!

My chest went tight. My tummy churned, my mind spinning in disbelief. Had I really heard it? I didn’t have long to wait before the reassurance came.

“I think… I know… that I’ve always loved you.”

The tears began to roll down my cheeks as he encircled my shaking body tightly in his arms and hugged me.

*

I didn’t sleep in the guest room that night; I never slept in the guest room again. Johnny and I spent the night together in the big bed in the cottage’s main bedroom like a proper couple.

He didn’t fuck me that hard again either; there was no more hate left in him. Instead, we made love softly and sweetly. After the violence of our first copulation I was very sore. Making love hurt like hell but I didn’t care; the boy I had loved all my life had finally told me he loved me and was making sweet love to me.

I cried as he came inside my unprotected body.

The next night was the same, and the next.

Within a week I had moved into Fiddler’s Cottage; my dream house with my dream man and the wonderful life I had dreamed of had turned into reality.

Batman and Robin were together at last.

*

It was Friday evening a year later and I was sitting in a smart London hotel cafe waiting for my beloved Johnny to join me from work. I watched my friend Jackie as she made her way out of the hotel and into the busy street then looked at the collection of coffee cups on the table and pondered all that had happened over the last twelve months.

There was no denying that our lives have changed and very much for the better. Johnny had been promoted again at work and had been given two more substantial bonuses. He and I live part of each week in the London flat, the rest of the week and the weekend we stay in the cottage.

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