Clare And James Part One That Time Clare Told James About Her Affair
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Clare And James, Part Two: That Time Clare Told James How Adam Once Fucked Her Up The Arse free porn video
A city break. Five stars.
Back from the restroom. Clare smiles at James as she eases herself onto the restaurant chair. She is distracted, sits side-saddle for a moment looking back at the door through which she has just entered.
"Is everything okay?" James asks.
"You men," she says, turning to him and slipping her bare legs beneath the table."I should never have listened to you."
"Has some bloke come on to you?" His eyes are bright with expectation. "I told you there'd be interest if you took your ring off. Dressed like that you look stunning, babe.
"Shhh! That's him." She leads with her eyes. "Over there. Those three men just entering the room."
"Did one of them say something to you?"
"The tall one. Oh, god he's looking this way."
"The older one?"
"Yeah, him."
"He isn't looking now. Tell me what happened."
"He was waiting for me outside the ladies, asked me my name and if I was a guest."
"Did you lead him on?"
"I promised, didn't I?"
The waitress arrives to take their order. When the girl leaves, Clare asks James, "Is he the kind of bloke you had in mind? The kind you imagine fucking me. An older gentleman. He has a certain air, seems someone that has done well for himself. If it was my say-so, I'd choose a guy just like him, an older guy. In fact, I'd choose Phil. Oh, I didn't say, did I? That extraordinarily handsome older gentleman, the one over at that table, his name is Phil."
She takes a sip from her glass before continuing. "You don't look yourself, James. Didn't you anticipate that this is what it would be like if I were to ever act out your fantasy? This could be the beginning of it, right here, right now. That very handsome, older man could be the one you've been preparing me for, the one you want me to bring back to our room and watch me fuck."
"Not so loud. Please, Clare." He looks around and then fixes her with a commanding stare.
"I'm not loud." She turns this way and that. The room is abuzz with Saturday night diners. There is laughter, the babble of chatter, the chinking of glass, cutlery scraping crockery. "See? No one is paying us the slightest attention."
"Okay, but did he really come on to you?"
"What if he did, or what if he didn't?" She waits for his reply. But he only stares at the group of men settling down at their table. "You're not ready, are you?", she says. "Best stick to stories for now, eh, James?"
"Don't be like that. You've taken me by surprise, that's all. I was thinking more about the club later. A club is more appropriate to flaunt yourself."
"Look at me, James." She holds his gaze. "Do I look like the kind of woman who has to flaunt herself? Just one look from me is all it takes."
"So you did give him the come-on."
"We exchanged glances, that's all."
"When did you exchange these glances?"
"In the bar, while I was waiting for you to come down. It what was you wanted to happen, the reason you sent me down there without my ring."
"This is all happening so fast."
"You should be pleased. I am. He was watching me, and when I held his gaze, he smiled back at me. Then he called the barman over, had him pour me another drink, raised his glass to let me know. I smiled back at him, mouthed, 'Thank you.' He was with his friends. They were laughing. But not at me. You know, enjoying themselves. You do remember, don't you, James?"
"Remember what?"
"How to enjoy yourself with friends? Why don't we have any friends, James?"
"I have friends. You have Emma — and your sister."
"I mean proper friends, fun friends."
"I'm more interested in what that randy old git said to you outside the ladies?"
"He said there was going to be a party later, in his room, and would I like to join him and his friends, and a few other friends too."
"Did you tell him you're married?"
"Of course. I even asked if you could come to his party."
"And what did he say?"
"He said you might not be too happy with what he had in mind."
"Fucking-bastard!"
"Then I told him he'd be surprised what makes my husband happy, that you're not like most men."
"Do you really fancy him?" He watches her closely as she looks over to the table of men again.
"I wouldn't say no to any of them?" she says, still looking.
"I think we should slow down," James says.
"Suit yourself." She takes another sip from her glass. "But don't you dare say I wasn't willing to give your sad little fantasy a go."
***
Up from the restaurant and back in their room, James wants to talk some more about Adam.
"I wish I could have seen you with him— been there when he fucked you."
"It wouldn't have turned you on, James. You would have wanted to murder him. Both of us."
"Only if I'd walked in on you, found you together; only if I'd never suspected — then I might have felt that way. But I've had time to take it on board, imagine the moment and appreciate its erotic beauty. So now I'm thinking, when we get home perhaps you should text this Adam bloke, have him visit. Only this time I'd be there to watch."
"You can forget about that!"
"Come on, Clare. It would be so hot."
"For you, maybe." She is silent for a moment, is remembering her last time with Adam, how she had hurt him. "I had to be brutal when I broke it off. I'm not going back there. No way! Besides: it wouldn't be the same. Your imagination makes it something it never was. Something safe." She takes a sip from her glass before continuing. "Our affair was never safe. We were on the edge of a precipice."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." She pauses, searching for the right words. "When it began, I had to keep my feelings for him in check. If he'd not turned out to be so needy, God only knows where it might have led."
"You mean you might have left me?"
"You were so not there for me back then. Remember? You were wrapped up in your work, and I felt so alone. And then Adam came along and rescued me from my nothingness. He validated me."
"You really are the slut who never stops giving."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"At first it was all, 'Oh James, I had this quicky with a guy from work, but you've no need to be upset, it was just a sex thing.' Now, you're telling me you had feelings for this guy, that if he hadn't gone all creepy on you, you might have left me."
"I would never have left you for Adam. I loved you then, and I love you now."
"Don't play the martyr, Clare."
She stands, goes to the minibar to find a drink. "Want one?" she asks. He does not answer.
"Have their been other men. Lovers before Adam?" he asks.
"You know there was Dave before you."
"I mean since we've been together."
"None since we married," she says.
"Shame!"
But there are things she could still tell him, tales she will not let slip-the-leash until the time is right. In the first months of her relationship with James, still reeling from her break up with Dave, she had slept with so many men. An interminable string of torrid one night stands.
She had intended James to be just another quick fuck. But then she had gone and fallen for his suave veneer, his gentle ways and generous wallet. His assured rise in the corporate world he inhabited. But that was later. It had taken months before she had realised James was the one.
During those early weeks with him, she had lived a life kept secret from him. A life of sexual self abandon. Months of covert Tinder dates, nights of mindless sex with equally mindless men. She remembers the texts James would send her while out with other blokes, those sweet words expressing his devotion. Often she would text back while sat across from her date — sometimes from a bed as her lover slept.
What a slut she had made herself in her broken-hearted despair over Dave's unfaithfulness, their five years negated by her treacherous best friend Gillian's cunt. Sleeping around was to be her revenge, to be served up piping hot, though she never did get to lay the table and dish it up a la carte. Turns out that after all that fucking Dave no longer mattered.
She tells herself how there will be time for those tales soon enough. But before then, she will milk her memory dry with stories of Adam.
And so she begins to lay the foundation for a brand new fantasy, hoping her confession will not be beyond the pale. Her resolve is shakey, her mind enflamed by visceral sexual remorse. But the thrill will come in the telling. The sweet sadism of it is incomparable. The thought of it eggs her on.
"You know that thing you like — but I never did?" she asks him.
"Black pudding?"
She laughs but her payload is not disarmed. "I don't mean food. I'm talking about that other thing." She waits. "The thing we tried once. Your birthday, remember?"
"You mean... anal?"
She hates that word.
"Oh, Jeez, Clare!"
"Don't look so hurt. There's a good side to this."
"How can there be a good side — to this!"
"Look at it this way: I quite like taking it up the bum now."
Top of the board: triple twenty! She holds his gaze and nods an affirmation, smiles a smug knowing smile while her eyes beam with bright delight. The thrill of tormenting him with this, her most shameful truth is the rarest of drugs, an exotic blend, so hard to source just lately, her stash diminished by all the telling.
And when the fund of Adam is bankrupt, God forbid what other truths will be dredged up and told. Or, just as he wants, will she be impelled to seek out new lovers so she can supply his next fix, deliver the despicable rush they've both come to crave?
But, for now, there is still Adam.
"With him!" James says. "Really? You let him fuck you in the arse after knowing him for — how long was it, Clare? Mere days!" His incredulity, his dumbfounded horror is uncontainable.
She nods. Her eyes do not waver.
His hurt and accusations in his eys, darkness streaking his tone. "You've always said you hated it, said you never would again. So why with him. Why-the-fuck with him!"
"I couldn't help myself. The thought of him inside me — you know, back there, deeper than deep can be... I know it's perverse, but I couldn't help myself. Before I ended it, I wanted him to have had me every possible way."
"You keep telling me how big he was. Wasn't he too big for you?"
"That's what I thought when he asked if he could."
"Oh, he just came out with it, did he? Said, 'Please, Clare: I'd like to fuck you up the arse?'"
"Adam would never have said it like that! No, we were in bed."
"In our bed?"
"That's right, James, where else but in our bed? And I hadn't changed the sheets, either, and when I went face down I could smell you on them. It was as if you were with us."
She studies him, relishes the impact her words have made. He's in pain now, the fierce heat of his mind synthesising this base metal of raw facts, her vile confession transmuted into sexual gold.
"He was kneeling between my legs holding his cock, rubbing the end of it over my pussy. But instead of pushing it in, he began sliding it up and down. Slowly at first, up to my pubes and back down between my legs to the crack of my bum. I was so wet. You should have seen — touched me down there. His cock got covered in my cum, and I was all greasy for him as it went up and down, his raw end deep in my slit. It was a gorgeous sensation, it really was.
"But he didn't put it inside me, kept on rubbing me with it. There was something different in his manner. A hesitancy. He was like a little boy who wanted to ask me something but couldn't pluck up the courage. When he became still, rested his cock at the crack of my bum, I asked if everything was okay.
"He said he wanted to try something with me, something an old girlfriend of his had loved, but his present one didn't. I had no idea what he meant until he pushed his cock between my buttocks."
"Don't you realise what a slut he thought you were, to ask you to do something like that when he hardly knew you?"
"You just don't get it, do you, James? Adam loved me — loved me way too much. That was the problem, and why I ended it. That day, I'd already made up my mind it was over, and I intended to tell him when we were dressed. He would take it badly, I already knew that. I wanted to soften the blow, make our last time together unique."
She takes a breath. Her mind is back there on the bed with Adam, remembering how she mentally prepared herself to endure what was coming.
"I was so scared it would hurt too much. But he saw my apprehension and asked if I'd ever done it that way with you. I said yes and that I had hated it. He said it would be different with him because he'd be gentle, that he knew the correct way."
"So what did Mr Loverboy do that was so different?"
"He took his time, prepared me. First, he went down on me, began to lick my pussy, my clit. He really went to town on me down there, lavished me with his tongue and was so patient. He kept at it until I was neither here nor there with arousal. And then, when I was in this other space, this other mind-set, he moved his mouth down so that his tongue began lapping my perineum." She looks James intently in the eyes and asks, "Why have you never kissed me down there, James?"
"You mean he licked your arse?" He stares at her, his sweet wife made a stranger. She has shed all the illusions that had once beguiled him.
"He desired me, James, desired me so much that no part of me was off-limits. And for me, to know such a perfect physical specimen of masculinity was so utterly enamoured by me... Well, it was exquisite, intoxicating. When his hands, and then mouth... How to describe it?" She is searching for words. "The pleasure of his touch and kisses mingled with the knowledge that, without even trying to, I'd caused him to fall in love with me. And now he loved me so much that he wanted to taste me even there. Even that horrid place." She picks up her glass and takes another sip. "It was such a fucking heady trip, James. My God, you should have seen him, how crazy he got for me."
James has his head in his hands.
"You okay?" she asks. Now her tone is tender, solicitous.
He raises his head, looks directly at her. "Go on. I need to know everything."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely."
"You recently said we had to be one-hundred per cent honest with each other. Is this honesty enough?"
"Is there something wrong with me, do you think, Clare? Why do I enjoy hearing this stuff so much."
"Lots of men like their wives to talk dirty." She goes to him, sits on his knee. Her voice is husky with excitement. "I can stop if you like. Do you want me to stop, James."
"That's the last thing I want?"
"You can't imagine what it feels like to have someone's tongue in such an intimate place. The strangeness of it, the taboo thrill of it. If you could have measured my arousal, it would have broken all the dials, the needles off the scale!"
She kisses James on the lips, sends her tongue searching for his. The passion of his response threatens to overwhelm her. She breaks off, says. "I must tell it all now. If I don't, I never will."
He says, "I don't know if I can listen to any more. I want to lick you the same way he did. Right now! And then I want to fuck you in the arse, in that tight, dirty hole of yours — just like he did."
"Soon. I promise. But first, you must pay attention to what I say." Before she continues, she waits for him to calm, to attend. Only then does she proceed.
"He flipped me over onto my belly and spread my legs and used his fingers to part the pudge of my buttocks. Then his face was up close, his mouth dribbling saliva onto my exposed bum-hole. When his tongue started on me, I clenched up. He licked my bum cheeks from the small of my back down to my pussy, always following the crack of my bum, going deeper with each pass. Eventually, his tongue was pushing deep in the crevice. It went back and forth, coming and going from top to bottom, sometimes darting into my bum-hole in passing. Then he kinda settled down, got all comfy. He rested his chin so that his stubble rasped my perineum before his tongue began its serious probing.
"His saliva, copiously applied, massaging it into me and dribbling more until I was drenched. And then it began. One finger at first. I have no idea which. Tentatively circling, giving me pleasure like I could never have imagined; wild surges, thrills of nerve-electrifying bliss. Oh God. Kiss me, James. Please."
They kiss long and deep, her passion now a match for his. But she breaks off again, must continue her story. "And then he placed two pillows beneath my belly. Him telling me not to resist, 'Let your muscles unknot, Clare. Unwind. Let go.' And all the time his finger probing so gently, massaging out the tension in my sphincter, sometimes breaking off to harvest cum from my pussy, applying it to where it was needed. His fingertip began loosening me. Then another finger; then two fingers; three fingers. Finally, him saying, 'I think you're ready.'
"I had my face, my cheek, flat on the under-sheet, and I could smell your aftershave. It was if you were present — just for one moment before he fucked me. It was sort of calming to be aware of you. See, James, I was thinking of you even then. I was no longer anxious, but my need was extreme. I was desperate for his cock to be inside me. I closed my eyes, sensed him behind me, his weight making the mattress dip in the middle. He brushed his cock up and down the crack of my butt, over and over. Lubricated by his spital, my sweat and my cum, he now poured out something, cold and viscous to chill the mix. The leg cream from my dresser.
"When about to begin, he asked, 'Ready?' I had no time to answer. He pushed, and something gave. Then a previously backwater of my body rose up in rebellion, and his cock conducted a brutal suppression."
"So it still hurt, after all his bullshit?"
"For just one moment, there was real pain. But only at first. Then there was just the thrill of it, little old me allowing him this unbelievably erotic transgression." She chooses her words, draws on her yoga practise to help articulate how she felt. "I have never been so embodied, so focused, so utterly in the moment. When he inched into me, it was the most sublime of violations. His cock sent wave after wave of pleasure coursing through my body."
"Did he get his cock all the way in?" James asks.
To Clare, her husband's voice has become a stranger's voice, and it thrills her to know she has reduced her worldly, ambitious man to a pathetic bundle of simpering need. "He took his time," she says. "Inch by inch. It was only when the flat of his abdomen was against my buttocks that I realised how deeply, how completely he was inside me. And do you know what thrilled me the most, James?"
"What was it?" he asks, his voice hushed. It is as if he is about to have the secrets of the universe dropped into his lap.
"I loved the way he was so deep inside of me, so deep that his balls brushed against my pussy as he fucked me. That's how deep inside me he was. And then he was fucking me like my arse was my pussy. And it was glorious, and I was giving push-back, humping my butt against him, sometimes crying out from the frantic sweet hurt of it all. I must have been really loud, James, because the next day Mrs Henderson from next door gave me such a funny look.
"I slipped my hand under me and frigged myself as he sodomised me. And then he was cumming, gave a monumental groan as he tried to push himself into me further than he would ever be able to. Oh, James! The sensation of his cock pulsating inside me, sending his cum to the deepest part of me. Just imagine it! My fingers frantically working, and then I was cumming too. Everything was out of my control."
James has eased Clare from off his knee, gone to get her leg cream from the dresser. She s rarely without it, is proud of her sleek, silky legs. "Is this the same tube?" He asks, picking it up and looking at the label. "I want you to take off your clothes and tuck a pillow under your tummy," he says.
Clare does as she is told and is glad his cock is not like Adam's
*****
Afterwards.
"It doesn't have to be Adam," James says. He's lying on his back beside Clare looking at the ceiling.
"Doesn't have to be Adam, what?"
"It can be some other bloke I get to watch fucking you. We could find someone else. Someone tonight."
"So you said earlier. Look how that turned out."
"But I want it to happen tonight. While your arse is full of my cum."
"You're not still on about a club, are you?" He's obsessed, she tells herself. After everything that's been said — and now done — he's still going on about her and other men. "Do you have someone in mind?" she says.
He ignores her snark, says. "In the club, you could dance on your own. See who takes an interest in you. I'd watch from a discreet distance."
"Okay. If that's what you want. One problem. So this imaginary guy, how do you think it'll go down when I tell him I have a husband who wants to watch?"
"I thought I could just observe you dancing with someone — to start with, maybe see him kissing you while you dance. You know, see how I handle something like that."
She remembers her clubbing days, all those men. The thrill of a stranger's touch is so appealing right now.
"Wasn't fucking me in the arse enough for you?"
"Okay, if you're not in the mood for a club. What about slipping down to the bar on your own for half an hour, see if that guy who spoke to you earlier is still about?"
"Why don't I go straight up to his room. He gave me its number."
"And you would, too, wouldn't you."
"I thought me copping off was what this weekend is all about... Or have I got that wrong? If I have, it's because you're sending me mixed messages."
"I don't know what I want anymore."
"Okay. I'll play it safe. Another drink at the bar, hopefully, another harmless flirtation. How's that sound?"
Anything to get away from James' talk of other men. Even it means finding another man.
She stands up and goes to the dresser mirror, sits down and attends to her hair and retouches her makeup. When she's done, she picks up her underarm bag and stands up, turns to James and says, "WIll I do?"
"You look sensational. Men will be queuing up to spend time with you."
And she does feel sexy in her new short cocktail dress. With her legs freshly oiled, they are ready to part for any half-way decent looking bloke that comes her way. But her arse is like a black hole, it's ache now a memento mori of her flourishing depravity.
"And you don't mind if a man tries to pick me up?"
"As long as it's just talking."
"What will you do if I end up back in some guy's room?" she says, though doubts she will see a stranger's room tonight. But it is what he wants to hear, and so she plays the part he has assigned her, one she is more than willing to assume. One day the dress rehearsals will be done and it will be opening night.
"You can always ring for an escort," she says before turning and walking toward the door. She unfastens the latch. At the last minute, she turns and says, "Aren't you going to kiss me — wish me luck?"
He does not come to her, just sits and stares.
"Please yourself. Best not wait up."
To be continued>
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