Sandie's First Swing - Part 2 free porn video

One of the problems with a true story is that the Author has to wait for ‘Real Life’ to take place before she knows what the outcome of the tale is going to be. Simply making it up would be a betrayal of trust! 

The author also has to get the main character involved to agree to have intimate details of her life revealed for all the world to see. That’s an even more difficult thing to achieve. 

I would like to thank my good friend ‘Sandie’ for having the courage to live through it all and for allowing me to share more of her life with you in this way. 

I hope you enjoy the continued story. 

*

“I miss you already,” my husband told me softly.

“Have a safe trip. I love you too,” I whispered into the phone before replacing the handset in its cradle.

It was a Friday morning, almost a full year after the events told in Sandie’s First Swing had taken place and I was at home. My husband Tom was at work and as I wished him a safe journey to his weekend conference, I knew I would miss him terribly.

Despite this, I was feeling good; good about us, our family and about our life, in sharp contrast to the terrible condition I had been in only three months ago and from which it had been so difficult and painful to recover.

It had taken many weeks after that fateful night in Wales when my husband and I had both been seduced by our friends Lisa and Paul, but eventually we had re-established enough trust for life to return to something resembling normal. I think we both knew that our marriage could never be quite the same again but after weeks of arguments, accusations, tantrums and tears, the memories and recriminations had gradually lost their sharpness and had stopped interfering in our relationship on a day-to-day basis.

From the outside at least, we were still a normal, happily married couple.

I suspect, had it not been for the unexpected pregnancy that had followed my only infidelity; my one stupid night of unprotected sex with Paul and the terrible termination that had ensued, Tom and I might have managed to get over the incident altogether. In all our arguments since, it was this issue that had caused the most damage. Tom couldn’t forgive my stupidity in having unprotected sex. I not only believed Tom had deliberately put me in that position but it was me who had to endure the considerable physical and emotional consequences of dealing with the consequences.

But that debate was pointless now; the facts were simple and undisputable: Paul had very easily seduced me; I had foolishly not even thought of contraception; I had got pregnant; had an abortion and now we had to live with it. The only question, still unanswered was whether Tom had seduced Lisa or Lisa had seduced Tom. I had accepted that, for the sake of our marriage, it would have to remain unanswered.

The tension was partly my fault; for weeks after the termination, my hormone-driven moods had been highly erratic, lurching from elation to severe guilt-driven depression without warning. My normally deep sleep had been broken every night by nightmares from which even now I was not completely free and which brought a permanent background of guilt into my previously-happy life.

Three months after the abortion, things had started to improve. The nightmares had almost ceased; we argued less and less; even our sex life had to some extent been restored, albeit at a much reduced level. For a while it looked as if life together could be tolerable or even good again and for several months it closely resembled the life we had enjoyed before ‘that night’, as we referred to it on the rare occasions the subject was permitted to arise. For a while we were the idyllic family again; no rows, no tantrums, no tears and a sporadic but improving love life.

As a result, on the Friday this story begins, I was very disappointed that Tom was going to London for a weekend conference. Apart from missing him, his absence left me in sole charge of the kids. I was still not sleeping well despite my current batch of pills and I wasn’t looking forward to the task of taking on all the kids’ complicated weekend logistics on my own.

To be fair to Tom, the conference was very important to his career and had been planned for months. His parents had offered to help out but at the time I had been in a terrible mood and had rather rudely refused. As I stood alone in the kitchen cooking the evening meal for the three of us I knew I really only had myself to blame if I was exhausted by Sunday night.

The evening had started well. Being Friday, the kids had been tired and bad tempered when they came home from school but with two school-free days ahead, it had been easy to cheer them up, though they would have preferred their Daddy to have been there too. Dinner passed uneventfully; they even helped me clear the table which was almost unheard of. Afterwards I sent them into the lounge to watch TV or to their rooms to play, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I poured myself a glass of wine, turned on the TV set then half watched, half listened to a Soap while I washed up the saucepans and loaded the dishwasher, all the time wondering what I could do to keep the kids entertained that weekend.

Their normal Saturday routine of swimming, football and dancing lessons would certainly help fill the time and there was always homework for Sunday morning so that left two afternoons and an evening. I pondered my options, both cursing and appreciating my absent husband who would normally take charge of most of these commitments.

Tom would be in his hotel now, getting ready for the opening dinner with its speeches and those huge professional egos flying round. I had accompanied him on these events before the kids had arrived and knew just how dull they could be. The need to provide childcare gave me a very convenient excuse not to attend and I used it liberally.

I bribed the kids to get into their pyjamas by promising them an extra half hour of TV and was just drying up the last pan and putting it away when I heard a bright chime coming from somewhere in the kitchen. I recognised the sound straight away; my mobile phone receiving a text message.

I looked at the kitchen clock and smiled. It must be Tom, I thought with a grin, bored already and sending me messages to keep himself awake. I pictured him surreptitiously typing, his hands hidden under the dining table as the opening speeches droned on. Eagerly I searched in my handbag for my phone and pulled out the handset.

There was no message. That was strange; I was sure I had heard the beep. Wait! There is was again, a second, reminder beep. But it hadn’t come from the phone in my hand; it seemed to have come from the door behind which a couple of coats were hanging.

I crossed the room, rummaged in the coats and pulled a second phone, almost identical to mine, from one of the outside pockets. It was Tom’s private phone. Like many of us, my husband had two phones; a ‘work’ one which could be left behind when he didn’t want work calls to disturb him, and a ‘private’ phone for family and other personal calls which he always carried.

That was odd; he should have had both phones with him. Then I remembered he had taken the dog for a walk before breakfast and must have slipped it into his pocket. That was odd too; why would he want his personal phone on a half-hour dog walk?

I shrugged and was just planning sending a cheeky message to let him know where he had left it when my finger clipped a button on the front and the screen sprang to life.

A message flashed up which, though short, was to change our lives forever.

‘I’m upstairs ready. Room 218. Want you. L xx’

An icy cold feeling grew in my stomach. Before the message could fade I saw the sender’s name clearly above the text.

‘Lisa Private’

I felt dizzy, reached out a trembling hand for one of the kitchen chairs, dragged it across the tiles and flopped down, stunned. My husband Tom was about to meet someone called Lisa, right now, in her hotel bedroom.

My head span and my stomach heaved. There could of course only be one ‘Lisa’ and only one reason for the two of them being in a hotel room together. I felt sick; almost unable to believe my eyes.

Lisa! My former Best Friend!

Lisa! The woman my husband had seduced, or who had seduced him, on the last night of our holiday in Wales; the night when, stunned at having seen them having sex in the cottage’s lounge, I had allowed myself to be seduced and comprehensively fucked by her husband Paul in their bedroom, with all the kids asleep upstairs.

Lisa! The woman who had started it all; her night of passion with my husband, my one and only act of infidelity; the single long night that had led to my unwanted pregnancy, the even more unwanted termination; the months of guilt and anguish that had nearly wrecked my marriage.

And Tom! How could he do this after all we had said and done to repair the damage? Ok, our sex life hadn’t been great since the abortion but he knew the reasons and had at least pretended to understand and said he felt guilty about it himself.

Had that all just been a lie? Were there other lies too?

Tears of hurt mixed with anger began to run down my cheeks as if burning my flesh. I felt paralysed, then wanted to hit something – no, somebody. I wanted to scream; to smash things, to hurt myself; to hurt my husband; to hurt Lisa; to hurt Paul...

Paul... I had to let him know what was going on under his eyes.

Paul… the only man to have fucked me since my marriage.

Paul… the father of my aborted baby.

I had to let him know what kind of wife he had and I had to do it now!

*

The journey across town with a car full of complaining children was unpleasant but I closed my ears to their moaning, my mind focussed on the task ahead. Still in their pyjamas, I had almost dragged them from in front of the TV and marched them to the car, the same idea running over and over in my mind.

‘Tell Paul... let him know what a slut his wife is... hurt Lisa... hurt Tom... hurt Paul...’

My hands were shaking as I turned the car into his driveway, shuddered to a halt then violently pulled on the handbrake.

“Wait here!” I yelled at the kids who had immediately recognised the house and were getting excited at the prospect of seeing their friends for the first time in months.

“Are we staying? Please can we stay? Why can’t we stay?”

“Just wait here quietly,” I snapped angrily.

Before they could assail my ears with more pleading I slammed the car door and strode up to the house where I leaned on the bell, letting it ring for a long time, my feet stamping impatiently on the mat as I waited.

“Sandie! What a surprise!”

The door was suddenly opened and there was Paul on the threshold. It was the first time in months I had been this close to him and for a moment I was taken aback. Clearly just out of the shower, his hair was still wet and, although he had hastily pulled on a pair of close-fitting jeans and a tight white T-shirt, he had not dried himself properly first and there were damp patches all over him. Even in my anger I was rendered half speechless by how amazingly good he looked.

“It’s great to see you,” he continued. I have to say he did look genuinely pleased which annoyed me a little. “Come in! What’s brought you here?”

“I can’t come in; the children are in the car.”

“Then bring them in too. Please! Our kids will be over the moon to see them. It’s been so long!”

His calm tone of voice was disarming me rapidly and I didn’t want to be disarmed; I wanted to be angry.

“Please Paul!” I stopped him cold, “I don’t want to come in. I need to tell you something and I need to tell you now.”

His face became immediately serious.

“Ok, if it’s that important, you have my full attention.”

Now that the time had come, my nerves began to fail and for the life of me I couldn’t recall the words I had carefully chosen to break this terrible news. Paul’s extraordinarily good looks and his warm greeting had fuddled my mind, making me angry with myself for my weakness.

“Is Lisa home?” I asked, desperate for some way of beginning.

Paul looked at me strangely as if I had asked a foolish question.

“No. She’s away for the weekend.”

“Where has she gone?” I asked. Again he gave me that strange look.

“She’s meeting a friend in London… why are you asking me this, Sandie?”

“Do you know who the friend is?” I continued and received an even more puzzled look.

“Yes of course.”

I laughed mirthlessly. “Well I have news for you, Paul. At this moment, your wife Lisa is in room 218 of the Marriott hotel waiting for my husband Tom to join her. In fact, he’s probably with her already. I think we can guess what they’re doing.”

The killer blow my words should have struck must have missed Paul because he just looked at me with sadness in his eyes.

“Did you hear what I said?” I half yelled, thrown off my stride by his lack of reaction.

“Yes I heard you.”

“Aren’t you shocked? Aren’t you angry? My husband is fucking your wife!”

“No, Sandie. I’m not shocked. I know all about it. It’s been planned for weeks.”

My stomach dropped into my boots.

“What?” I stammered, “You know about it?”

“Yes of course I know. Didn’t you? Lisa and Tom have been seeing each other ever since that night when we alI…”

“Stop it!” This time I was properly yelling, “Stop it! Stop it!”

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, Sandie,” Paul’s voice sounded so sincere and his face so anxious that I couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his words, “I thought you knew all about it!”

I shook my head.

“I… I thought it was only a one-off, like... like you and me,” I replied, lowering my eyes.

“Oh my God... No... Sandie I… I’m afraid not… They’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

I stood with my mouth hanging open, my eyes wide, unable to take it all in as Paul continued, placing his hand on my forearm.

“Seriously Sandie, I really thought you knew or else I’d never have… I’m so, so sorry. Please come in; I think you need to sit down. ”

“But the kids…” I began.

“Bring them in too. Our two are watching a DVD in the family room.”

I stared into his face, feeling desperate.

“I think we need a quiet talk, don’t you?” he said calmly.

I nodded silently and wiped away the tears that were forming in my eyes before returning with Paul to the car.

The kids were so excited at the prospect of spending an hour or so with their pals that they didn’t even notice I was upset. Seeing how stunned and useless I had become, Paul immediately took charge and a few minutes later all four of them were ensconced in the family playroom in their pyjamas with orange squash, biscuits and a terrible animated movie on the large screen.

They were deliriously happy and paid Paul and me no attention as he joined me in the kitchen. I was standing at the sink, my hands trembling with emotion, my cheeks wet with tears of both hurt and anger.

“Has it... I mean have they... seen each other... a lot?” I asked directly as soon as he entered the room.

“Sit down, Sandie. Please. You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m fucking upset!”

I yelled then covered my mouth in horror. I didn’t swear; where had that outburst come from? But Paul was unfazed and, taking me by the shoulders, guided me to one of the chairs where I sat obediently.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“It’s ok, really it is,” he replied, drawing up another chair. He sat facing me, his hands on mine.

“Well,” I asked, more calmly this time, “have they seen each other often?”

He paused as if working out how to reply then clearly decided that truth was the best policy.

“Quite often, yes,” he replied

“How often is that, Paul? What does ‘quite often’ mean?”

Another deep breath.

“Every couple of weeks, maybe,” his voice was low and somewhat ashamed and his words made me feel even sicker, “once or twice a month anyway and the odd weekend.”

I looked at him amazed. Had I really been so stupid or so naive that I hadn’t noticed my husband spending this much time with another woman? I felt even more stupid asking myself the question.

My mind began to recall all those nights, working late at the office, or, going straight to the gym. And what about the conferences, business trips and training days? Which had been real? Had any been real? Had he simply been fucking Lisa all those times?

And had they lain together in bed afterwards laughing at me? Me! Silly, naïve Sandie? The girl so stupid she got knocked up on the one and only time she let another man fuck her?

“And you’re… ok with this?” I asked Paul, astounded that such an attractive man would allow his wife to do something as terrible as this.

Paul stared at his feet as he replied, as if ashamed of the truth.

“Lisa’s always been, well, a bit of a free spirit. She and I... we’ve always had something of an open marriage.”

Paul’s words brought me back to the present and I looked up as he handed me a large glass of white wine. I hadn’t even noticed him stand up. He poured a glass of red for himself then sat opposite me again.

“I thought you knew that,” he said quietly.

I nodded, slightly calmer now and took a large mouthful of wine.

“Lisa did tell me a bit about it after… afterwards. But she didn’t say much. I was too upset to listen, I suppose.”

Although neither he nor Lisa knew it, I had actually been pregnant with Paul’s child when that conversation had taken place so of course had other things on my mind. He sighed; his voice had a tone of confession as he continued.

“Lisa and I… well, we have a sort of, unofficial agreement. It doesn’t happen often but if either of us feels there’s someone... really special... well, we sometimes agree to the other... straying a bit.”

I looked at him blinking back tears.

“And Lisa thinks Paul is special?” He nodded.

“Yes, she does. She’s had a bit of a thing about him ever since we first met you both. That’s why we finally agreed she could try and start the whole thing in Wales; to see if you were both… receptive.”

I was amazed. How blind could I have been not to have seen all this? Or how stupidly naïve? At least now I knew who had tried to seduce who.

“To be honest,” he continued reaching across the table to take my hand in his, “I’ve always found you very special too, ever since we first met. I’ll remember that night with you for the rest of my life.”

I looked up angrily from the table into his eyes, suspecting duplicity but he looked sincere. Nevertheless, I gently but firmly pulled my hand away and folded it in my lap.

“Afterwards,” he continued, “I really hoped you and I might get together again but you never gave me any reason to think you wanted to; quite the opposite in fact so I kept my distance. I thought you were avoiding me so I assumed you’d had regrets and wanted to forget about it all.”

He was quite right. I had regretted the sordid incident as soon as I had woken up in his bed the following morning, sore and sticky after he had taken me three or four times in the night. The times I could remember had been great – the best sex I had ever had if I was honest - but it had all been too great a threat to my family and my marriage for me to feel anything but shame and regret.

I had stupidly thought my husband had felt the same about Lisa. After the abortion I been so upset I had gone to great lengths to avoid being alone with Paul but clearly my husband hadn’t shared my feelings. How could he be so deceitful? Surely I knew my husband and the father of my children better than that! But there was no denying it; Paul’s words had a terrible ring of truth that was missing from Tom’s deceptions.

“If I’m really honest,” he continued, rather shame-faced and still staring at the floor, “it’s Lisa who’s driven our sex life from the start. Although we agreed we could both see other people, really she’s the only one who has actually done it. On her own I mean.”

“You won’t make me feel sorry for you! You didn’t have any qualms about seducing me that night!” I said accusingly.

He shrugged. “That was different. You and I were already good friends and when Tom responded so well to Lisa I thought, why not? I couldn’t believe it when you succumbed so easily.”

I frowned. Had I really been such a pushover? Did I really give up my fidelity that easily? Right then I couldn’t remember the detail of what happened before he took me to bed but to my consternation no memories of resistance came to mind.

But Paul was still talking.

“As I said, that night was some of the most wonderful sex of my life. I think I’ve always been at least a bit in love with you but after that night I fell for you head over heels. “

I couldn’t believe my ears and glared at him in angry disbelief. Did all men lie to me?

“No really! I mean it! The next day when things started to go wrong between us I was devastated. I couldn’t bear to think I’d fallen in love with you and lost you all in the same night; that I’d lost you as a friend as well as a lover. ”

I was truly shaken now. This younger, drop-dead-gorgeous man who had seduced me and made me pregnant was even now professing his love for me less than an hour after I had discovered my husband’s infidelity with his wife.

“You’re… You’re in love with me?” I asked, astounded, still suspicious.

My mind was reeling! How could I take in so many things all at once? The safe little world that I had tried to build around my family; the world that had been shaken to its roots but still not broken by the unwanted pregnancy and even less wanted abortion that had followed was right now crumbling around me.

“Yes, I’m in love with you!” he repeated as if gathering confidence from hearing the words out loud. I stared into his eyes looking for either deceit or malice but found neither.

“Paul I... I don’t know what to say I...” I bumbled, not even knowing how I felt, let alone how to reply.

I looked into his handsome face and again saw sincerity but mixed with apprehension, anxiety and perhaps even a little fear. My chest went tight, my tummy churned and my head thumped. I felt his hands on mine and instinctively pulled them away then immediately regretted it.

“I’m sorry Sandie,” he said as if alarmed at my reaction, “I didn’t mean to upset you it’s just how I feel and...”

“Mummyyyyy! The boys won’t let me sit with them on the sofa!”

A shrill voice from a few inches behind me filled the room and I leapt to my feet, feeling my face burning with the rush of adrenalin that surged through me.

“Emily! You made me jump!” I exclaimed, thanking God for the interruption, giving me precious moments in which to think.

“They’re being mean to me,” she whined, walking slowly towards me with her hands behind her back, “you’ve got to come and tell them!

“Emily, you have to stop bursting in on me all the time. You really gave me a shock.”

“Sorry Mummy but they are being mean. I hate them!”

I looked at Paul who grinned and shrugged ironically.

“Where did you want to sit?” I asked, knowing that I would get no peace until the issue was addressed.

“I wanted to sit in the middle next to Daniel but they wouldn’t let me.”

I heard Paul trying to suppress a giggle. My daughter had had a crush on his son for the last two years and it was starting to annoy both the soon-to-be-teenager and his friend, her older brother. The parallel to my own situation with Paul was too obvious to be overlooked. I blushed wildly and tried not to look at him.

“I’m happy to help if you want,” he offered, amused.

“I can handle it,” I replied and took my daughter’s offered hand. “I think you need to let the boys play on their own for a while,” I said diplomatically as we walked through to the playroom, “you girls got to choose the DVD so you must let them do what they want in peace.”

This wasn’t the response she had been hoping for and she scowled before reluctantly settling on a bean-bag next to Paul’s daughter.

When I returned to the kitchen, Paul had refilled our wine glasses and was standing waiting. As I entered I was struck once again by his extraordinary good looks; his long, strong legs and tight buttocks displayed so well in his tailored jeans and the way his simple white T-shirt highlighted the muscles of his chest and arms.

Suddenly I felt outclassed and awkward. I had left the house in a rush of anger and hadn’t given a thought to my own appearance. My own jeans were tight but old and faded, my vest top out of shape. I had done nothing to my hair and wore next to no make-up. And what little I had worn must now be tear-stained and running down my cheeks. I felt old and ugly, how could such a gorgeous man possibly be in love with me?

I lowered my eyes to the floor and felt him move close in front of me.

“Have I just ruined our relationship again?” he asked quietly. I paused for a long time, my mind in turmoil then shook my head slowly.

“No… No, of course not,” I replied.

“Then you feel something for me too?”

How could I reply to that? How could I tell him that I found him stunningly attractive, that he had given me the best night of sex in my life and for a few weeks I had been pregnant with his child? It wasn’t possible for any woman not to feel something for such a man.

“There’s something I should tell you,” I began, my hands unconsciously falling to my belly but my words choked in my throat; what possible good could come of telling him the truth?

“I mean I...” I stammered, trying to rescue myself from the predicament.

But he wasn’t listening. Instead, I felt his finger under my chin and the gentlest of upward pressures. I raised my head to see his eyes, soft and dark, his pupils huge and black merely inches away as he lowered his face towards mine. I felt his warm breath on my ear, on my cheek, on my mouth. I felt his lips brushing against mine and I froze.

“Paul...” I murmured.

My whole body was tense as if about to flee, remained frozen as if it knew that escape was the last thing I really wanted. For a moment we looked deep into each other’s eyes, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

And then his lips were on mine, kissing me gently. My body was stiff; stunned and unresponsive but the warmth of his tummy and chest against mine was so reassuring.

No! I mustn’t give way! Tom was the cheating bastard, not me...

But his lips felt so good...

Paul’s strong hands rose to my shoulders and began to caress my bare skin; I felt the heat of his breath on my cheek and the tip of his tongue as it began to trace the sensitive inside of my lips. His touch was delicate and yet I could sense the power within his trained body.

“Paul, I… I...” I whispered again, though I had no idea what words would come next; certainly I didn’t want him to stop but couldn’t in all conscience encourage him. The tears began to roll down my cheeks in earnest.

“Sandie…” he replied, stroking my arms from elbow to shoulder before drawing my body closer to his and enveloping me in his warm embrace. “Shhh... It’s OK... you’re safe...” he whispered and began to rock me gently from side to side.

He held me for a long time, his comforting arms securely around me, my head resting against his muscular chest and shoulder. My tears quickly slowed then stopped and I felt the manly aroma of his body engulf me; clean and fresh from the shower but with a powerful, virile undertone that brought back vivid images of our one night in bed together.

I shivered at the memory but for the first time felt no surge of revulsion or shame.

“Are you ok?” he asked softly, feeling my tremors and holding me closer as if to keep me safe and warm, “you’ve had a bit of a shock. Perhaps I shouldn’t have…”

And then his words were brought to an abrupt halt as I raised my face and kissed him full on the lips. Without hesitation, without shame or fear, I pressed my lips to his and our mouths immediately moulded to each other, our lips parting instantly. I felt his body respond, his strong arms moved over my back and sides and then his tongue entered my mouth, first tentatively across my teeth, then delving deep into me, seeking my own and finding it.

I instinctively raised my arms around his strong neck and felt his wrap tightly around me, his hands first on my waist, then on my bottom where his fingers kneaded my cheeks as our active tongues twisted and tangled together like snakes.

His hands, large and confident, squeezed my buttocks, pulling my body firmly against his until I could feel the hardness of his erection pressed against my belly. A thrill passed through me as I remembered how it had felt to have that wonderful shaft inside me all those months ago, and wanted so badly to feel again.

Sensing my shudder, Paul’s arms enveloped me even more closely, his mouth smothering mine until I could hardly breathe but I didn’t care. Somehow it didn’t feel wrong this time; it didn’t feel like cheating on my husband. This time it felt as if something that always should have happened was finally taking place.

His hands kept moving, on my buttocks, on my hips, on my sides, on my arms, under my vest, caressing my boobs. I wanted to feel them everywhere; I wanted to touch him in return, to feel his body as I wanted him to feel mine. I wanted him to take me upstairs, to undress me, to spread my thighs, to…

“Mummy I’m tired...”

We sprang apart almost violently at the sudden interruption.

“Emily!” I exclaimed breathlessly, “What did I say about sneaking up on me and making me jump?”

“Mummy I’m so sleepy,” she whined, ignoring my reprimand. I felt in no position to tell her off further and instead I looked at the kitchen clock.

“Goodness! I’m not surprised. It’s nearly midnight!”

It had been quite late when I had dragged to kids into the car but where had the rest of the evening gone?

“I’d better check on the others and get us home,” I said, turning to Paul whose face was a picture of frustration. “Come on Em...!”

I took her by the hand but before leading her through to the playroom I gave Paul what I hoped was a caring look and silently mouthed, “Saved by the bell!”

“Did you want to be saved?” he whispered in return.

Before I could respond, my little daughter turned to me.

“Were you and Uncle Paul kissing, Mummy?” she asked with the innocent directness of a child.

I felt my tummy churn in horror and heard Paul cough behind me.

“Goodness! What makes you think that, Em?” I asked, taking care not to answer properly.

“Well you looked like they look on TV. You had your mouth on his and his hands were on your bum and..”

“Emily!” I interrupted, as sternly as I could, “You mustn’t tell stories like that!”

“But Mummy I saw you and…”

“Emily, that’s enough! Now come on, let’s get your brother and leave these guys in peace.”

She led me sulkily back into the playroom. The boys were half asleep with an action movie on the screen, the sound turned down. Paul’s daughter was curled up on her bean bag, fast asleep but opened her eyes when we entered.

“Come on you two,” I said softly, “it’s time to go home. Just get your...”

“How would you like to spend the night here with your friends?”

Paul’s unexpected voice made me jump once again. Despite their sleepiness, the kids cheered and I span round to stare at him, not realising he had followed me into the playroom.

“What?” I stammered, surprised and cross at not being consulted. “We couldn’t, really. We have to…”.

“What do you say, kids?” he asked and got another, less sleepy cheer.

“Paul, I don’t know…” but I wasn’t allowed to finish.

“You mean a sleepover?” Emily yelled excitedly, suddenly wide awake. Her little face beamed, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Of course,” he replied, “tomorrow too if you like! We’d be pleased to have you!”

“Yayyyyy!”

“If... if your Mummy says it’s ok, of course,” he added looking at me with a mischievous shrug as he stood close alongside me.

“Oh pleeaaseeese Mummmyyyyy!”

Still stunned from our unplanned embrace in the kitchen, I felt ambushed. I knew I should put my foot down there and then; that the decision I made would have implications well beyond the next twenty-four hours but I felt powerless to stop the momentum that was building.

On the one hand there were four happy kids in a warm friendly house and a man who had just declared his love for me and kissed me so wonderfully.

On the other hand there was the house I shared with my unfaithful husband, a bed I would sleep in alone, knowing that the man who should be alongside me was at that moment sharing a room and a bed with a woman I used to think of as a friend.

But if I stayed, there could only be one result; after all that had happened I couldn’t remain under Paul’s roof all night without making love with him again.

If I stayed, it was inconceivable that I would leave the house still faithful to my husband.

My husband... the father of our two wonderful children...

My husband... the man I had been married to for so many years...

My husband... who was probably even now in London fucking Paul’s wife…

My husband... the man who had lied and lied to me for the last nine months…

My husband...

I took a deep breath.

“Well, if Uncle Paul says it’s ok...”

Innocent sounding words that meant so much more! I could feel my skin prickle and the hair on my arms stand on end as the words emerged from my mouth. The message to Paul was clear; I wanted to share his bed; to sleep with him again. I could feel the tension and excitement in the room surge.

“Yayyyyy!”

Another cheer rose from all four kids. My gaze flashed across at Paul, my face flushed with embarrassment and for a split-second our eyes met full on. He had understood and was smiling at me. For a moment his fingers touched mine in a gesture of affection that almost reduced me to tears on the spot.

“Where will you sleep Mummy?” Emily suddenly asked. Paul coughed and suppressed a giggle.

“I’ll sleep over too, darling.” I replied, trying not to notice him.

“Will you share with Uncle Paul like you did on holiday?” she pressed on.

“I... I don’t know...” I began, flashing Paul an anxious look.

My stomach churned. They couldn’t have avoided noticing that night but had they told anyone else about it? Surely not, please God!

“Mummy can have the guest room,” Paul cut in, saving me from further awkwardness then quietly added, “if she wants it!”

For a moment I wondered whether I had misread the situation; perhaps he didn’t want to sleep with me after all, but then I felt his hand on mine, squeezing my fingers between his as he continued.

“Now who needs a toothbrush? And you two; go and get your pillows!”

I watched his tall, strong figure as he turned to follow the kids out of the room and up the stairs. I had seen him do this many times but tonight was different. This wasn’t just the father of our kids’ best friends any more, this was the man I wanted to make love to me; to take me as he had done that night in Wales. I looked at his powerful arms and chest, his firm, flat stomach and strong muscular legs as he crossed the hallway. He was every bit as gorgeous as he had seemed all those months ago – perhaps even more so now I understood him so much better - and I remembered vividly how it had felt to have that wonderful body between my open thighs.

I felt a tingle of excitement surge through me.

It’s impossible to convey the exquisite, almost unbearable anticipation the next half hour brought. Trying to settle four over-excited kids onto mattresses and under duvets after multiple brushings of teeth is hard enough. Trying to do it alongside a drop-dead gorgeous man who has just told you he loves you and with whom you expect to have wonderful sex very soon was almost more than my mind and body could cope with.

Time after time as we manoeuvred mattresses and children into place, our bodies would brush against each other, each ‘accidental’ collision accompanied by an exchange of looks so meaningful that by the time we were ready to put out the light and let them sleep, there was a small but distinct damp patch in the crotch of my rather tight scruffy jeans.

What made it worse was that I knew Paul had noticed it too but was being too much of a gentleman to let it show. It was a relief to see the swelling in his own jeans that showed he was just as aroused by me as I was by him. It took all my self control not to stare at the growing bulge and imagine what it might soon be doing to me.

The atmosphere between the two of us was electric as we wished the kids goodnight. Paul pulled the playroom door closed and reached for my hand and I realised the moment of truth had come. My nerves began to fail me; my stomach heaved with a mix of anxiety, guilt and fear topped with a huge helping of lust.

“I... I’d like to take a shower,” I said quickly in a desperate attempt to buy time to think, pulling my fingers from his grasp almost violently.

Paul smiled and stepped a little away from me.

“Take whatever time you need. The guest room is yours - all night, if that’s what you want. I’ll find you some night clothes while you’re in the bathroom.”

Moments later with the hot water cleansing my body I tried to wrestle with the emotions teeming round my head. The desire I felt for Paul was undeniable and powerful; why he felt so strongly about me, a mother of two ten years his senior was more of a mystery but he seemed sincere.

I looked at my body as the water cascaded down my front, comparing myself unfavourably with Lisa at every stage; my hips rounder than hers, my legs shorter and curvier, my boobs smaller and beginning to sag, my tummy with its small but distinctive stretch-marks bulging forward ever-so-slightly. I almost understood why my husband would want to fuck her rather than me.

But even if Paul really did want me, could I go through with it? Wouldn’t it make me just as bad as my deceitful, cheating husband?

My fingers were beginning to prune as I stepped out of the cubicle and began to dry myself with the fluffy white towel Paul had slipped inside the door. My reflection in the large mirror over the sink did little to reassure me of my own attractiveness but to my relief, a certain confidence began to form.

Last time Paul had quickly and efficiently seduced me after the shock of seeing my husband in the arms of another woman. This time it was different; he was merely offering himself and leaving the decision to me.

Did I want him? Oh God, yes! But would I dare go to him? The decision was mine alone. If I gave myself to him, I could never blame anyone but myself for anything that happened afterwards.

Was I brave enough or foolish enough to take that step?

Wrapping the towel around my naked body I stepped barefoot into the hallway and looked towards the bedroom where I knew Paul was waiting. The low orange glow of candles spilled through the doorway onto the carpet, soft and romantic, both threatening and enticing at the same time. I took another step, then another until I was standing on the threshold hidden by the open door.

One more step and there would be no turning back.

Despite all that had happened, I could still escape; I could still leave the house with my fidelity intact and return unsullied to my husband, the man I had loved; the father of my two children; the man I had promised to remain faithful to ‘as long as we both shall live’.

The man who, as I stood wavering on the physical and metaphorical threshold, was almost certainly in the arms of Paul’s wife.

I took a deep breath and, small tears forming in my eyes, stepped nervously forward.

The bedroom carpet was soft beneath my feet and yellow in the candlelight. For a moment, I stood just inside the doorway, anxious as a teenager on her first date. I could feel my knees trembling and the butterflies in my tummy made me feel sick. It was all I could do to raise my head towards the bed where I could sense Paul’s presence.

Our eyes met and I looked at him in silence, embarrassed by my forwardness, my heart thumping in my chest as he rose silently smiling to greet me. He was naked, the muscles of his sculpted chest and arms clearly defined in the candlelight. His strong thighs were toned, his buttocks tight and firm, his cock already long, thick and rising.

How could a man this gorgeous, this perfect want a woman like me? My nerves began to fail; surely only humiliation could follow... and yet there he was, smiling as he crossed the room towards me. Silently I turned and locked the door.

And then he was in front of me, the heat of his body close to mine. His hands were on my shoulders, on my arms, on my cheeks, stroking my face. His finger was under my chin, raising my lips to his. Then his lips were on mine, easing my mouth open, delving deep inside. My tongue found his and entwined with it as his fingers began to unwrap the towel from my body.

My hands instinctively grabbed at the material to save my modesty but his grip was strong and my will was weak. A moment later the towel was around my ankles. Again instinct made me try and cover my exposed breasts and vulva but Paul took my hands firmly and lowered them to my sides leaving my womanly body naked in front of the Adonis who had so recently confessed his love for me.

“Sandie you are so... beautiful...”

His voice in my ear was low and smooth; his words, however improbable, were intoxicating and I let them wash over me as his lips found mine again. We kissed long and deeply, his fingertips dancing over my back, hips, buttocks and upper thighs then rising to my boobs and gently kneading them before toying with my hard, pointed nipples.

“Paul I...”

“Shhhh!” he hissed in my ear as he steered my naked body towards the bed, “it will all be all right, thrust me!”

I didn’t need to trust him; I wanted him every bit as much as he wanted me and for a long time we stood together, melting into each other’s mouths. I was still under-confident; too shy to do anything but comply helplessly with his desires but thankfully Paul had no such problem. As our tongues writhed together like snakes in a pit, I surrendered complete control as I had in Wales.

His hands moved all over my body from my boobs, down my arms to my fingertips then crossed to my hips, thighs and buttocks before finally cupping my vulva. I froze as a long, thin finger began to work its way between my outer lips, clamping my thighs involuntarily as if to prevent its progress.

“It’s ok, Sandie,” the voice in my ear said softly and reassuringly, “just let it all happen.”

It was enough. As his mouth dropped to my neck, nibbling me gently my legs relaxed, my thighs parted the merest fraction and his finger slipped smoothly and confidently the length of my slit.

“Mmmmm!” I moaned.

I closed my eyes and felt Paul’s expert fingertips exploring my most private places, parting my lips confidently, exposing every part of me to his wonderful touch. My head span as his hand moved from the base of my slit to my clitoris and back, and then dipped into my wet vagina before moving upwards again to draw tiny circles round my sensitive nub.

My legs trembled and my knees went weak as my helpless body responded, my legs parting still further until I had to lean against him for balance. Again his finger dived into me, this time deep within my dark passage, exploring every millimetre of soft, soaking wet flesh until my whole body shook with arousal.

Sensing my readiness, he gently backed me towards the bed. My trembling, unsteady knees bent readily and as his hand left my vulva, my legs folded beneath me until I lay full length on the soft white sheets.

“Oh Sandie...”

Paul smiled down on me, his pupils huge and black as he climbed onto the bed. Seconds later his knees were between my thighs and he was sitting back on his heels gazing at me.

“Please... please don’t stare…” I mumbled, still ludicrously self conscious about my body.

I felt another instinctive desire to cover my boobs and close my legs but his body was firmly between my thighs and his strong hands simply brushed mine away before taking my wrists in his fingers and holding them down either side of my face.

I should have felt threatened, pinned down on the bed but all I saw in his face was a mix of lust and what I hoped might be love.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this?” he asked then, without waiting for a reply, gripped both my wrists above my head in his strong right hand as his left fell out of sight.

There was fumbling between my thighs, his knees forcing them further apart then a moment later I felt the tip of his cock against my vulva. It moved up and down and I gasped with anticipation before it rubbed against my hard, wildly aroused clit. I winced in excitement. A moment later the smooth head had found the entrance to my vagina, I felt my inner lips being confidently parted and something smooth and firm began to work its way into my body.

Paul paused looming over me, my small frame dwarfed by his powerful body; his erection poised waiting to penetrate my unresisting flesh. He looked deep into my eyes as making sure I wanted to take this last big step. I met his gaze, his pupils black and huge in the candlelight.

“Yes!” I whispered so softly I could barely hear myself, “Please! I want you so, so much... Oh God!”

I gasped as the tip of his cock moved into me the tiniest bit, parting my lips further. I spread my legs wider to ease his way. He pressed a little harder and I moaned aloud as the tip of his strong, firm erection finally began to enter my body.

Something inside me screamed that there was still time to stop him; that it wasn’t too late to keep what remained of my battered virtue but there was no moral strength left in me. I surrendered completely as Paul pressed harder; the whole head of his cock burst through what little resistance remained and entered my body.

I gasped again with the sheer pleasure of the penetration, my entrance stretched wonderfully tightly around the smooth bulb within me.

“Are you ok?” he asked softly as my body fought to accommodate the large, unfamiliar intruder.

All I could do was nod. Paul immediately thrust a little deeper, then pulled back until just his head was still within me. I felt the presence of his body inside mine and let out a soft moan of pleasure. A moment later his powerful body tensed, the muscles of his strong, fit thighs contracted, his hips moved forwards and in one mighty, totally irresistible thrust, his strong thick shaft was forced deep into me.

“Oh my God!” I gasped as if feeling a man’s cock inside me for the first time. It felt huge, unfamiliar and wonderful all at once.

“Sandie... Oh, Sandie...“he mumbled, his eyes soft and dreamy.

He pulled back slowly then his buttocks tensed again and his hips were thrust forward, forcing him even deeper into my vagina which was now lubricating for all it was worth.

“Oh! Oh yes!” I heard my breathless voice cry out.

There was another slow, smooth withdrawal then in a single irresistible thrust, Paul’s wonderful cock slid its full length into my body, halting only when his pubic hair ground hard against my mound. My vagina tensed around the huge, invading monster as it reached deep within me, my whole body filled with his wonderful presence.

He paused again, his face over mine, our bodies now united. My heart thumping in my chest, I looked up into his clear, honest, open eyes and in a moment of total submission felt myself yield completely; my thighs fell wide open, the tension in my spine relaxed.

There was no going back; he had seduced me once again. I was his!

Memories of the first time he had penetrated my body flooded in, but this time it felt different. This time I didn’t feel self-conscious, wicked or frightened. Instead I was filled almost to overflowing with love and lust. The weight of his body pressed me hard into the bed and I loved the feeling, trapped between his warm skin and the cool sheet, the hot, strong pole of muscle within me reaching almost to my chest.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Paul smiled down at me, wriggling his hips slightly and grinding himself against my already-inflamed clitoris.

“I… I…” I began but no words would come.

Then without another word he began to fuck me! There is no other word for it and I didn’t care. Making love was for other people; at that moment, in that room and with that man, I wanted to be fucked!

There can be no doubt that Paul delivered the goods, starting slowly and lovingly but quickly building in both pace and energy, forcing my readily-yielding thighs even wider apart and filling the room with soft slapping sounds.

“Mmmm. Mmmm”

I heard myself moaning in time with his thrusts as the small but wonderful ridges along his shaft were dragged across the sensitive entrance to my most private place over and over again.

He smiled at my obviously rising passion and I raised my fingers to his cheeks, stroking his handsome face. I thought of the first time he had fucked me, of how he had made me climax whether I wanted to or not; of what I had done to him so inexpertly and self consciously; of the orgasms he given me so many times that night.

“Oh yes! Yes! Oh fuck me Paul!”

His thrusts were growing harder and faster now, and the ripples of pleasure were rolling over and through me. For a moment the memory or our last copulation flashed through my mind; of the morning after; of the frightening pregnancy; of the terrible termination. I blinked them away as hard as I could but as my body rocked with the power of his thrusts, my mind filled with new images; my cheating husband in bed with Paul’s wife, fucking her as I had heard them fuck on holiday in Wales. The sound of Lisa’s orgasmic cries filled my head and tears began to run from the corners of my eyes. I tried to blink them away.

“Am I hurting you?”

I shook my head emphatically and ran my fingers over his powerful shoulders, his strong chest and sides, looking deep into his eyes as his pace quickened yet further. A warm glow began to grow deep within my hips, spreading gradually outwards into my lower belly and upper thighs, the faint beginnings of a much-desired and long-awaited orgasm.

But surely this was too soon? He had barely entered me; how could I be climaxing so quickly, and yet...

“Oh my Goooood!”

The thought had barely passed through my mind when the first wave of orgasm rolled over me, taking me entirely by surprise. I felt my tummy muscles tense, lifting my back violently from the bed then suddenly releasing me.

“Sandie you are so beautiful when you cum!”

Paul’s soft low voice melted me almost as much as the feel of his cock in my tightening vagina as he maintained his rock steady pace.

“Ooohhhh! Jesus...”

Within seconds, another wave of climax rocked me, this time much stronger, tightening my chest, my nipples hard and painful, and still he thrust steadily.

“MnnnnnnnNNNNNNGGHHH!”

The incoherent sounds escaping my mouth were hardly recognisable as a third then a fourth wave broke over me. My head left the bed sheet then thrashed left and right as I lost any remaining control. My hips bucked wildly against his shaft as his thrusts finally became faster and, if it were possible, deeper, depriving me of breath completely as a final monstrous wave of orgasm broke over me.

“Oh God! Oh Jesus! Oh my fucking God!”

My chest hurt so badly I thought I would die, my legs flailed around his thrusting hips and waist, my fingernails dug hard into his shoulders and arms. I thought my hips would melt beneath him, that I had peed myself on the bed, I was so far gone in ecstasy.

“Sandie! Sandie!”

Paul’s voice only inches above my face was hard and crude as his pace became fast and uncontrolled. His body slammed hard into mine in a crude cacophony of wet, slapping sounds mixed with animal grunts. A moment later he thrust hard into me once, twice, three times, driving me bodily up the bed with each powerful surge of his legs until with a coarse grunt his tension broke and I felt the unmistakeable and wonderfully life-affirming feeling of a man ejaculating inside me.

I don’t know how long Paul took to empty his body into mine but it felt like half my life. Eventually the core of his passion was spent and his body went still. I could hear him panting and feel the dying pulsing and throbbing within my tender vagina. With each pulse I pictured the hot, sticky semen cascading from its tip and into my body and felt desired and attractive for the first time in many months.

There was a long silence during which we stared into each other’s eyes as we recovered our breath. Paul’s erection softened rapidly within me then slipped out, leaving me feeling a little sad and empty. As if understanding this he kissed me gently on the lips for a long time then rolled alongside me.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, his hand feeling for mine and squeezing it.

I stared at the candle-lit ceiling. There was no simple answer to give. How could I be alright when I had just been willingly, deliberately unfaithful to my husband? I should have felt dirty, vulnerable and ashamed.

But I didn’t. I had given myself completely to this beautiful man and in return he had given me the most intense orgasm of my life. He had made me feel whole, attractive, desired, a real woman again.

“I’m ok,” I replied, wholly inadequately and felt him squeeze my hand again.

There was another pause before Paul spoke in a quiet, controlled voice.

“I do love you, Sandie,” he said.

I rolled towards him and kissed his muscular shoulder, gripping his hand tightly in mine. He kissed the top of my head.

I fell asleep, exhausted.

We made love again during the night. I awoke in total darkness from a strange dream to find Paul’s cock pressed against my perineum as if searching for my vagina from behind as I lay on my side. I raised my leg a little and he slipped easily into my wet, stretched passage until the hot skin of his upper thighs pressed against my buttocks and his wonderful erection reached deep into me.

I could quite happily have slept the remainder of the night with his body deep inside mine, filling me fully, joined together as if one person. But no man would have been content with this and for a few long, wonderful minutes he fucked me from behind, slowly and lovingly until I felt his body tense, his breathing stop and he climaxed within me once again.

I don’t know whether we tried to make love for a third time; my memory is too hazy and my mind too full of dreams but my soreness the next day suggested we did. What I do know is that I spent the night in the arms of the best lover I had known in my rather inexperienced life.

I hardly gave my unfaithful bastard of a husband and his slut of a mistress another thought.