Dont Judge A Book By The Cover
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Don't Judge A Book Part 3 Chapter 10 free porn video
Thursday 27th December 2018, early morning
What a depressing vista? A shoddy motel room. Is this what my life had really come to? So much for high-powered corporate Exec, nationally head-hunted and offered a sixty-percent raise. The little kitchenette and the rest of the décor reminded me of every witness protection scene I’d ever seen in every TV cop show or Crime movie Jill and I had ever watched together. The feeling was so strong I almost looked outside the room door to see if there was a guy in an FBI jacket.
I couldn’t face unpacking the three large suitcases I’d brought – not that the single chipboard wardrobe and its chest of draws cousin had the capacity to empty the suitcases. I couldn’t face cooking in this depressing environment – not that I had anything to cook anyway!
Fortunately, there was a Denny’s diner across the way, and after two cups of coffee and a large steak and egg breakfast, I was just about feeling that I could face life. The motel room was too depressing and lonely and so I ordered another cup of coffee and settled in to spend a couple of hours trying to read my latest book and watch the world go by.
The book and being amongst people helped some, but for every ten minutes, I spent reading I probably spent another ten minutes staring into space, bemoaning my stupidity all those years ago and wondering what the future held for Jill and me.
The hardest part of all was the waiting – the not doing anything. I’d said my piece last night, and seeing Jill’s reaction I knew I’d been a hundred percent right in doing what I’d done – in saying what I’d said. But now that I’d done that, I knew there was nothing more I could do. I had to give Jill the time and space she needed – which just left me there like a man dangling on a thread over some cliff edge or other. The picture in mind that of faded black and white photos of old school daredevils perched precariously on high wires high above Niagara Falls.
The night before, after finding Jill and Malcolm making love and after my heartfelt apology, I’d struggled to sleep. The worst time being around two or three in the morning when all I could think of was where Jill would be sleeping that night. Wednesday nights were normally one of Jill’s ‘Malcolm nights’, but despite this, I couldn’t extinguish the hope that in the present circumstances, Jill would deny her own desires and would head home to the house I’d left free for her.
The not knowing of where she’d lay her head that night, alone or with Malcolm, drove me absolutely crazy. I dreamt up all kinds of ways of checking – driving by the different locations, using the tracker on her phone, lurking outside the club at closing time – I considered all these and more. But in the end, the fear of discovery and what that would do to Jill’s thoughts about the future scared me so much I just lay there in that lonely motel room. Staring up at the ceiling, racked by fear of the future, tormented by not knowing what the future held.
Just before lunch, my phone rang, my heart leaping into my mouth with the hope that it was Jill. My leap of hope was followed by an immediate low, seeing the word ‘Veronica’ flashing on the screen, my negative reaction making me feel guilty.
“Hi,” was all I could say as I picked up and answered.
“Hey, baby,” her voice much more airy and upbeat than mine must have sounded, the sound of her voice kindling the tiniest of happy flames somewhere amongst my inner demons.
She paused before she continued. “Dave, honey, I don’t want to step where I’m not wanted, but the girls at the club told me that you and Jill had some kind of fight, said you looked a bit down. If it would help to come over here and talk, then you know that I’m here for you. That I love you and I’ll do as little or as much as might be helpful for you, honey.”
I loved this woman. My heart might be breaking and I might be totally unsure about whether or not my marriage had a future, but I was also blessed to have this wonderful, understanding, and patient woman in my life. She’d said just the right things – totally pitch-perfect. ‘I’m here for you … I love you … as much or as little as you want … not me but you.’ Whatever her exact words, this was the message that she’d delivered.
And so, I started off to drive over to see Veronica, knowing that talking and seeing her would at least move me off rock bottom. But driving over there, I started thinking about the appropriateness of me being with Veronica at a time like this. My mind split between thinking about what was right and also the less moral thoughts about what Jill might think if she found out.
In the end, I parked up and rang Veronica, explaining why I didn’t think it was such a great idea for me to come over. To her great credit, Veronica listened quietly to my explanation and didn’t try and change my mind or pressure me. So instead of me going over there, we just talked on the phone for the best part of two hours.
It wasn’t the same as being there with Veronica, as smelling her perfume or feeling the touch of her arms around my neck or her lips against mine. But it was a whole lot better than a lonely motel room by myself, and by the end of our talk I’d perked up just enough, thinking I’d head back to my Denny’s diner, to eat and just be around people.
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The next few days followed a similar pattern. I was officially on annual leave, but I tried to do a little work as a good way of distracting myself. Each day I hoped that Jill would ring. Each time the phone rang, I’d pick it up and hope that it was Jill. Each night I’d torment myself wondering where Jill was. Was she with her boyfriend, making love and jointly discussing and deciding our marriage, or was she at our family home doing the thinking and pondering she’d told me she needed space for?
If she’d kept to her normal schedule, she’d have been home or at Charlotte’s on Thursday evening, the day of my long phone call with Veronica, at Malcolm’s on Friday and Saturday nights and back at home on Sunday.
Each day was just the most awful drag, wanting the phone to ring, wanting to hear Jill tell me that she wanted me home and wanted to talk. But at the same time, each time the phone rang I knew it could be Jill calling to tell me it was all over between us.
The rational part of my brain told me that, however angry and disappointed she was with me, she’d not just throw away twenty plus years of marriage and our family life over something that happened so long ago. But since when has fear been rational – my mind kept coming back to what Charlotte had told me about how hurt she’d been by having to terminate the baby and by carrying the pain and the secret all alone all these years. Every time my mind played back Charlotte’s words, I felt a shiver of dread racing down my spine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t until Sunday just after lunchtime that Jill finally got in touch. Not a call, but a text, a text that left me feeling none the wiser about the fate of our marriage.
‘I’m home, we should talk, J’
It was only a five-minute drive from my motel to our home, but even during that short drive, I must have analyzed Jill’s message ten or twenty times.
‘I’m home’ – did that mean she’d not been home before, that she’d spent the last two nights at Malcolm’s, as was her usual schedule.
‘We should talk’ – did that mean I should go home to talk, or was it an invitation to call her phone, but if that was so why did she bother to tell me she was home, that was irrelevant information if she just wanted me to call her.
‘J’ – not ‘J x’ or ‘J xxx’ – surely a sign that she was still mad at me.
Round and round and round these and so many other questions went in my brain as I drove the two miles from the motel to our home in Coral Gables.
Finally back home and seeing Jill’s car parked in our drive, I was suddenly afraid, and it took nearly a full minute and a huge effort before I could get my frightened legs to work as I hauled myself out of the car and down the last few yards of our drive.
Jill was in the lounge, a tired look on her face, her expression absolutely neutral, not giving me any hint of my fate and what Jill was thinking.
“Honey,” I said, my voice quivering with nerves, more than one word totally beyond me.
“Dave,” came her hard-edged reply. But at least I wasn’t back to being ‘David’.
And then whatever control I’d ever thought I might manage just dissolved in a split second as I walked over to Jill as fast as I could, telling her how much I loved her as I walked, finally arriving at the sofa and taking her hands between mine and carrying on in a non-stop litany of ‘I love yous’.
Fortunately, from the moment I broke down and started telling her how much I loved her, I could see tears in Jill’s eyes and I heard her own words mirroring my own.
We were both absolute wrecks as we clung to each, confessing our undying love and sobbing our eyes out.
When the storm had finally subsided and we’d both dried our tears, Jill pulled back a little from our embrace and touched my cheek with her fingertips with a gentleness that almost had me in tears again. Her eyes still soft and watery.
“What ARE we going to do? You and me. How have we got ourselves here?” All good questions she was asking, I just pulled a blank face and shrugged my shoulders, having no answer.
“I love you, Dave. But this latest thing,” she asked, her words trailing off. “You’ve really hurt me, Dave. Made me question a lot of things. Who we are, who you are. Are you the man I thought you were all these years? And our marriage was pretty complicated before all of this – the four-way marriage we somehow managed to build, somehow sneaking upon us.”
Jill paused, letting her words sink in, not just for me, but for her as well as she was thinking anew about what she’d just said.
“Dave, honey, you have to understand just how much what you did hurt me. I still love you, baby, nothing will ever take that away, but the lack of respect, the taking away from me decisions that were only ever mine to make, never yours …” I felt so small and guilty as I looked into her eyes, still loving and kind, but also intent on letting me know the pain and hurt I’d caused her.
“Honey, you weren’t to know it, but can you even begin to imagine how I feel about the baby I never knew? We have three wonderful children, the center of our lives, but every day, I have had the heartache of wondering about the child that was inside me but who I never knew, who I had terminated. What would they have been like? What would my life have been like? And it’s not their fault, but now there’s a small part of me that looks at our own children and links them to what you did. That makes me think that, however much I love them, maybe they should never have been. If you’d not taken that letter, then my lost baby would have been my first baby, not John. And Abigail and Sarah might never have been born ….”
Again, Jill’s words fell away as she withdrew back into herself, thinking about what she was telling me, thinking about the different track her life might have followed. The children she’d never known that she might have loved, the children she loved but might have never had.
Although she held me and kissed me and told me how much she loved me, I was truly fearful of where this conversation was headed, so when Jill moved her head next to mine and kissed me softly I felt a wave of relief the like of which I’d never known before.
But she wasn’t done with her soul-searching, those beautiful hazel eyes of hers locking onto me as part of her telling me just how hurt and confused she really was.
“And what about Callan?” she asked. ‘WHAT about Callan’ a little voice in my head echoed with anger and pique, this was about Jill and me, and that was plenty enough to deal with.
“By what you did, honey, you denied Callan the chance to have a family. To experience all those wonderful experiences we’ve so loved. To have a truly fulfilling life. He was the guy I first loved, he’s your friend, and now we find out that you stole away from him his chance of a truly happy and fulfilling life.”
I could have defended myself. I could have pointed out how he had hurt Jill. How he had torn her heart out and stomped up and down on it, dumping her for the girl he’d been infatuated with. How he had been so desperate to win Jill back that he had never once mentioned the letter to make sure she had gotten it; to make sure it had not fallen down the side of the bed. Inside I was yearning to tear Callan down in Jill’s eyes. But I knew now wasn’t a time for argument, it was a time for listening and contrition. So instead of defending myself the only words escaping my lips were a simple and small ‘I know’.
This seemed to be just the right thing to say, Jill’s eyes softening as she held herself close to me, my brain suddenly focusing on the smell of her hair, a smell from a different shampoo, something more masculine than her normal brand. My gut suddenly squeezing tight and cramping at the thought of the other threat to my marriage. The other army waiting quietly in reserve for when this battle was over – assuming they’d still be something to fight over.
It wasn’t the smell of her hair, I don’t really know what it was, but suddenly I wanted to kiss my wife. To stop all the talk and introspection – there’d be plenty of time for that later – and instead to do something simpler and more concrete to remind each other of our love.
Gently pulling Jill away from her positioning with her head nestled on my shoulder, I looked into her still wet eyes. “Jill, honey, I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I’d do anything to take it back, to undo all the hurt I caused you, but I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t. And so all I can do is my best to make it up to you, every day, in each and every way I can. And that starts with loving you and loving the family we DO have. I can’t do anything about the family you might have had. The family you and Callan might have had. But I can show you my regret and my love by the way I love you and our family, our kids, and grandkids.”
By the way, Jill looked back at me I knew I’d said just the right thing. That the way I felt and the words I’d said had told her exactly what she wanted and needed to hear. So I moved my head slowly, as nervous as I’d been the very first time I’d tried to kiss Jill, closing the distance as I waited for a stopping hand or gesture until finally, our lips met. The soft, moist feel of her lips on mine the single sweetest thing I’d ever felt. A love lost and a love regained – or so I desperately hoped.
Relieved that Jill was allowing me to kiss her and was softly kissing me back, I continued, my hands savoring the silky softness of her long brown hair, as single kisses just merged into two sad and frightened people happy to lose themselves in the moment. Two people who’d been confident and as close as two can be, suddenly scared and thrust back to starting out all over again. Their physical closeness helping them forget their fear of what hard work and risks lay ahead.
Platonic and emotional soon started giving way to hungry and passionate, with lust not far behind, hands soon tearing at each other's clothes. If a soft kiss was a great way to forget and distract, how much more a lust-fueled sex romp in the lounge.
Only I decided I didn’t want this to be in the lounge, I wanted this to go on and on and to be as physically free-flowing as we both deserved and needed, so with great effort, I picked up and carried Jill up the stairs. Pushing back the sick little thought of how easy Jill’s boyfriend made it look every time he picked up and carried Jill.
We were soon naked in bed, still our matrimonial bed, no matter how many times it had been soiled and besmirched by the games Jill and I had played there with others over the last year. Jill and I were happy to take our time. To lose ourselves in the reassuring comfort and familiarity of each other's bodies, touching and kissing and stroking as we’d done so many thousands of times before. A reassuring familiarity that postponed all the painful rebuilding and questions we knew were yet to come.
I looked upon Jill’s beautiful ripe breasts, breasts that had nursed our children so many times as if I was looking at them for the first time. At once both exciting and new and simultaneously old friends, like some kind of sexual comfort blanket for a man still not sure where his marriage was headed. I reached out and stroked them, marveling at their softness, beautiful elliptical shape and the way Jill moaned and her nipples lengthened in response to touches both soft and hard.
As I continued to toy, suck and play with her beautiful womanly boobs Jill was content to slightly move her shoulders back and subtly offer herself to me, quietly looking at me as she knew how much I needed this. Only when I had temporarily had my fill, did I lift my head and look into those beautiful hazel eyes, like mine never more than a moment away from a tear. The mutual locking together of our eyes giving way to kisses both soft and hungry, as we explored each other's bodies as if this were our first not our thousandth time together.
I moaned as I felt Jill’s soft hand find me and stroke me up and down. Again, a sick thought pushed to the back of my mind, that however tenderly and firmly she was stroking me her hand was now used to a much longer traverse most of the time. However much she loved me and I loved her, a five-inch hand movement not being the same as the nine or ten-inch movements she’d been more familiar with recently.
This slightly sad, self-effacing thought was interrupted by the soft touch of Jill’s finger between my ass cheeks, as one or other finger slightly probed and teased, winning a series of short moans and a hardening of the already very stiff rod she was stroking.
We looked into each other's eyes, each knowing the others' thoughts – that we’d screwed up, but that we still loved each other and wanted to work through this thing, however hard that was going to be.
That moment, that blissful and inspiring moment seemed to last forever, only finally broken by Jill’s quiet voice. “Inside, I want you inside me.”
Hearing these words, it was like a fragrant and warm soothing oil had slowly spread from the top of my head through every sinew and pore until I was purring with pleasure and a sense of calm. We’d weathered the storm, we were back together and the woman who was my life wanted me inside her, wanted us to be reunited, two as one as we’d been all these years.
“I love you,” I told her, her half-smile a better answer than words, the way her thighs widened as I moved into position sending a surge of electric proportions through my body. I nearly cried as I felt her soft hand take hold of me and rub the top of my penis up and down her love lips. I didn’t want to take her, I wanted that she signal what she wanted and the way she held me was exactly what I needed to know and feel.
“Honey, I want you inside me,” she repeated and I looked deep into her very soul, neither of us daring to even blink, as I sank all the way into her wet and welcoming body. We’d made love thousands and thousands of times before today, but this was just like it was the first time all over again. Both a physical and symbolic joining together of two people who loved each other.
The all-surrounding feeling of Jill’s pussy warm and snug was wonderful. The closeness of our two bodies, pelvis to pelvis, felt amazing as I heard myself groan as Jill’s legs locked around the small of my back and pulled me in just that tiny bit deeper.
“Make love to me,” her soft and warm voice cooed. “And then later, after we’ve made love, I want you to fuck me. Fuck me like our lives depended on it.”
So that’s exactly what I did. At first giving myself over to slowly and gently working my cock in and out of Jill’s body, loving the contented ‘cat with the cream’ look on her face and her constant backing vocals of moans and sighs. Maybe not the earth-shattering shrieks and screams of other men she’d been with – but that’s not what she’d asked for. She wanted someone to make love to her – and that’s what I was doing. Better than Malcolm or Chris or any other guy she’d been with because I loved her more than they did. Jill seemed to get this because the way she looked at me told me this. The way her hands stroked my hair, caressed my neck, or traced every feature of my face – this all told me how much she loved me and how this moment was as special for her as it was for me.
We made love like that for some time, two people united spiritually, with our physical closeness and pleasure just an extension of the spirit. And then Jill’s expression changed, her smile was just a little wider and a little more mischievous, and I knew what was coming next.
“Fuck me, fuck me, baby. Take your wife back. Think of all those other guys you’ve let me fuck, think of their big cocks, and fuck me. Fuck me hard. Take me back. Do your best, baby.”
Part of me didn’t want to do it. Part of me wanted to continue with our slow and tender lovemaking. But the look in Jill’s eyes told me that even if I demurred and carried on as now, Jill would just tease and taunt me until I fell in with what she wanted. Fucked her like she wanted. So I cut the difference, kissing her, telling her how I loved her and then hoisting her long legs over my shoulders and started ramming into her as hard and fast and deep as I could.
Instantly, the sounds she was making changed. The soft groans and moans of contentment in the past as Jill’s breathing became fast and shallow, her voice higher pitched. ‘Yes … yes … harder, baby … do me, baby … deeper, baby …” she was lost in her own little world, intoning and begging me to be rough and animalistic with her. To give her the kind of loving that was so different but complimented what she’d needed at first.
With my self-imposed exile from Veronica, I’d not been with a woman in several days and so it wasn’t long before I felt that familiar tingling in my balls.
Jill knew my body movements well enough that she knew I wasn’t long for this world.
“Let it all out … give me what you’ve got … give me your baby juice, honey …” Her voice was almost cackling as she egged me on, her legs even tighter around me than before, the sound of her voice now breathy and desperate, she was close just like I was.
“Give it to me, baby … make me yours again, baby … own me, baby.” The last words I heard before the endorphins and other hormones surged through my brain with the power and urgency of a sexual tsunami, as I shouted at the top of my lungs, both of our bodies rigid as we shrieked and shouted.
I don’t remember cumming like that in many a year, and from the look on Jill’s face, her climax had been equally as intense. Her eyes taking some time to finally open and look at me, a soft shared smile passing between us as we extricated our sweaty limbs and snuggled next to each other. Our faces just inches apart, each looking at the other with a look that mixed new freshness and age-old familiarity. Each lost in our own thoughts and happy with this for now. The only words spoken being Jill’s words, delivered with a semi-teasing smile.
“Wow, if that’s what it’s like afterward, maybe we should break up more often.”
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It was maybe an hour or so later that Jill was the first to rouse herself from the bed, heading into the shower to freshen up. When she came back out and started dressing it took me a while but I noticed she wasn’t putting on clothes from her normal ‘classy but trashy’ collection that were now her normal workday clothes. The clothes she was putting on were much more the kind of things she’d have worn to the office or if we were going out on a date.
Before I had a chance to mention anything, Jill herself answered the mystery, as she looked across at me with a nervous but flushed face.
“Wish me luck. Now for part two. I’ve got to go and talk to Callan.”
With the softest of kisses, before I’d had a chance to give her the farewell hug my intense insecurity demanded, she was down the stairs and out the front door. As her car’s engine started up, I nervously squeezed my hands together at the thought of all that had happened and the realization that we were not yet out of the woods.
Squeezing hard, a nervous habit picked up in childhood, I suddenly realized that my ring finger was still empty. There was no metallic feel as I grasped that finger and realized how empty it was. Telling myself Jill had been too distracted by the heat, passion and significance of our love-making. Too distracted to remember to slip the symbolic piece of gold back where it belonged. Telling myself surely this was the only possible explanation.
(Thanks to cbears52 and Kite for their generous help in improving the story.)
Safiya
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