Best Served Cold Chapter 7 Party Confessions
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Best Served Cold - Chapter 3, The Past - Dark Confessions free porn video
Sex had never been a problem for us in our past. At first it was usually vanilla, sometimes with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Linda had never been shy about what she needed, but was more comfortable showing me than telling me. I wasn't much different - until that night years ago when we had returned from our anniversary dinner at a new upscale restaurant. We went to bed early after just a little too much wine, and for the very first time, I had asked for her fantasies.
"Um, I really don't have any. Well not many," she had answered, with little apparent interest.
"That's OK. Just tell me one of yours, and I'll tell you one of mine," I had offered.
She turned toward me and rose up on one elbow, peering over at me with suspicion.
"What brought this on? Is there something you need to tell me?"
I had hoped it would go a different way.
"It's nothing like that - like a confession or anything. We've never done this, and I'm in the mood to hear something sexy about you. C'mon, just one of your deep, dark, dirty secrets? Something I'd never guess."
She frowned a little. I wondered if she was thinking of something too dark and dirty to tell me, or whether she was merely annoyed by the idea.
"Um - why don't you go first? Then maybe I'll know what this is all about," she said.
She was still there, still looking at me with raised eyebrows, somewhat amused, as though she thought I might back down if she batted the request back at me.
"Well, you know how curious I've always been about you and your past boyfriends. You never give me much of an answer."
She rolled her eyes and sighed.
"And I keep insisting there's nothing to tell. Nothing 'dark and dirty' at least. Yes, I had sex with four or five old boyfriends. Some of it was just okay, and some was great. Is my history with old boyfriends part of your fantasy? Because it isn't that dark or dirty, no matter what you might think."
"It's not that. Not exactly. My fantasy is watching you have sex with someone else, now, when we're married. I hinted at this before. I guess you didn't take me seriously."
Her expression had grown more sober. She squinted at me before she spoke.
"So, who would this be, exactly? I mean, would you really want me to do this?"
I shook my head and smiled.
"Absolutely not. It's a fantasy. I love your body - I'm absolutely addicted to it. I can't see you naked without getting at least a little hard, like when you get dressed in the morning, or undressed at night, or when you're in the tub, all wet and soapy, and call me in to tell me something. Don't you notice how I stare? Or when I try to steal a peek when you may not suspect it?"
"Oh, I notice all right. It's nice that you never stop wanting me. I guess I should tell you that more often, especially when you're perving around the house hoping to catch me naked!"
She grinned at me and softened a bit. I could see her nipples stiffen through her nightshirt and tried not to stare.
"But it's not just that. I think about watching your body while you have sex. I think about seeing what I can't see when I'm in the same bed fucking you. And I'm fascinated about how you might respond, what you might do with another man. I doubt I could bear really watching you and him together, but it's still a fantasy. That's it. That's all. I just imagine it."
Linda thought for a long time. She looked down over the sheet to see if I was hard, then back at me again after I knew she saw I was. "So, if you never want to actually go through with any of it, what will you do about it? Will you always just think about it and never tell me?" she asked.
"I think what we should do is hear your fantasy now. It's your turn, remember?" I reminded her.
She had flopped down on her back beside me and let out an exasperated sigh. The bedside light was still on, and I studied her profile as she stared at the ceiling. There was always something about her face in profile that stopped my breath for a second, especially when she lifted her chin just a little with lips slightly parted. It was both elegant in its fine features and high cheekbones, and childlike in her expression of wonder and innocence. It hadn't changed at all from her college years, up to that very night.
"It was my very first job after college. Yes, I know. We were engaged. But there was this slightly older man who hit on me relentlessly. I told you a little about him before. Remember? He was slim and athletic, very good looking, and so charismatic. He never asked if I had a boyfriend, and I don't think he cared. From the instant Jordan and I met, I was mesmerized by him, in a way that made me warm between my legs. I tried to ignore all of it, both his advances and the feelings I had for him.
"Eventually we went to lunch together, and then it was almost every day. He invited me to go with him to a party one Friday night. You were away, traveling on the road with your band. I was lonely, so I went with him. The more time I spent with him away from work, the harder it was to resist him. By the end of the night I was in love - or thought I was. He took me home, and we fucked. But not just that once. We did it every Friday night you were away, although there was never another party as an excuse.
"He broke my heart in a way. It was never anything other than sex for him. But I was so drawn to him, so obsessed. I was terrified you'd call off our engagement if you find out, but you never knew."
Linda had gone silent, still staring at the ceiling. Minutes passed as I tried to think back for any clue that she had been with him. It had been too many years, and all my Friday nights from that time were hazy or forgotten. There was nothing I could remember that would have given her affair away, even in light of the obsession she claimed had overwhelmed her.
"So, is that the kind of fantasy you wanted?" she asked, hesitantly.
Her voice was fragile and weak. Did she regret confessing to me, or had the obsession returned to haunt her?
"It's not exactly a fantasy though, is it?" I asked quietly. "Is there more?"
"He tied me to the bed, David. He played with me until I thought I might pass out from exhaustion and the need to come. He made me beg him to fuck me, and when I did he told me it wasn't enough. Other nights he'd make me crawl across the room with my wrists and ankles tied, then suck him. He'd masturbate while he watched me squirm and inch my way across the carpet, then complain how I'd disappointed him when I struggled to get his cock in my mouth with my hands tied behind my back. We always used a condom when we fucked - I was terrified I've have his child instead of yours and you'd never know. Oh God...sometimes when I sucked him, there was so much semen I couldn't take all of it. I'd choke on it and he'd punish me for letting a little of it run out of my mouth, and then I wouldn't get to come at all that night. I don't know how much of it I swallowed by the time we stopped. It sounds so disgusting, doesn't it? But David, I wanted it. I craved it - all of it. At times I would have given up our life together just to know it would never stop. But it did.
She paused, trembling, and when she began again I could hear the pain creep into her voice. It became a slow, halting whisper with sudden inturruptions when the words that shamed her refused to come.
"The obsession never left me, David. But I found the obsession wasn't for him at all. It was - to be played with, controlled and used by a powerful, charismatic man, to have - those same, crushing orgasms as when I struggled against the ropes - and knew I pleased him. All this time - I've chased it away, found solace in the wonderful life we have together. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you.
"So that's it, David. That's my fantasy. Is it deep and dark enough for you?"
She turned away from me and turned off the light. I could hear her sobbing. I spooned against her and wiped the tears from her cheek, but there were so many. They were my words back then, the very same words she'd use with me much later.
"It doesn't matter - none of it matters - you're mine, all mine."
~~~~
Linda was fine the next day. But I wanted to make sure she knew I didn't think less of her because of one fantasy, or any part of her past that had brought it to the surface.
I came home early and made a huge pan of paella with fresh seafood. Linda was home before it was ready, and she went to the bedroom to change. Back then she still wore blouses and suits that warned other men she was all business. If she had had a hard day at work, she would slip into her usual nightshirt before dinner and be ready for bed by nine o'clock. I watched her close her lips around the extra-large shrimp and take bites from their firm, white bodies, savoring the buttery flavor of the rice and spices. I had been preoccupied with her story from the night before, and watching her there across the table, obviously naked under her shirt, had filled me with images of her helplessly but eagerly submitting to her former lover.
"I've been thinking about your fantasy last night. We should share things like that more often. I wish I had known sooner, I thought about it all day."
She looked surprised for a second, then tried her best to hide her regret.
"I shouldn't have been so upset. I just didn't know how you'd react. It's the only fantasy I've had that's lasted for years, I guess, and I've always thought about telling you. The time was just never right. I'm glad you don't think I'm a freak."
"You know me better than that - at least you should. Maybe I should remind you how beautiful and sexy you are more often. Anyway, why would you ever think that?"
She stopped eating for a few seconds and looked down into her lap. She had never been embarrassed by sex. This was so unusual for her. I couldn't imagine what else she could be hiding.
"Sometimes I think about what I must have looked like, David - crawling around on the floor, begging to be fucked to the point of exhaustion, and God, there was just so much of my desperate pleading with him to fuck me and let me come on so many nights. If someone would have seen me... And then, just when I cringe and want to curl up in a ball and hide from all of it, I want it again. It's like something in my blood. It builds and builds until I masturbate to thoughts of those times with him, and then it all goes away for a while. Do you think that's horrible?"
"I don't think it's good that you've hidden it from me for so long. And I think you should let go of the idea that it's something to be ashamed of. You may not understand why, but I think all of the stories about your past are very, very exciting. Seeing you like that would have had me hard in an instant - not only because I always love seeing you naked, but because seeing you let go, abandoning all the things that might keep you from being completely open and satisfied when you have sex, well, I can't think of anything I'd love more."
"You're not just saying that? Even though my fantasy is so slutty? Ugghh, I can't believe I still want all that, even now and then."
"I'd like to help, if I can. Instead of living with so much frustration, maybe you'd feel better if we could play with it a little. I think I know enough to get started, but you'll have to tell me what you want. Can you do that?"
She could.
I had tied her wrists to the headboard that night and teased her for an hour. I remember her eyes when I brought out a large dildo we had bought months before but had rarely used. I told her to close her eyes and imagine it was Jordan, and that she'd have to beg for every inch if she ever wanted to come. I gave her less than that, a half an inch at a time, until she thrashed and pleaded for more. When the dildo filled her, he told her to raise her hips off the bed to take even more of it. She eagerly complied, and I worked her clit gently between my fingers until she came. I watched her tremble and gasp, praised her all the while, and assured her she had pleased him.
She was limp and sweaty when I untied her. She smiled at me, and wanted me to fuck her. "After all that?" I asked. "Especially after all that," she told me. "I want you inside me. Now I want to watch you come."
She simply relaxed under me and watched as I buried myself in her, over and over. I closed my eyes as she urged me on.
"He felt so good inside me, David. Did you like watching us? Did you like watching me come for him? Did you? Did you? I wanted you to watch him fuck me, David. I wanted you to watch me - to watch me come for him..."
Her stark submissiveness shocked me a little. I had never heard those words from her, or the same tone of her voice. She had made herself intentionally meek and docile, a willing receptacle to service me, just as she had serviced him.
I felt her fingers circle the base of my cock as I came in her. It was electric - and I pounded her furiously until it passed. Time always stops when I come, but it held me that time, body rigid, unable to breathe, longer than I could ever remember. It could have been hours. If only it had been.
We both collapsed and slept, but talked the next day. Had I given her what she needed? Was it enough? At least until her fantasy beckoned again?
"It was wonderful, David. I don't know why I was afraid to tell you. I won't hide my fantasies from you again - I promise."
"So, it was everything you wanted - everything you need?"
I remember the slight pause, as if she were trying to find the right words.
"David, I loved what you did. I love that you're my husband, and that you keep surprising me each time I worry what you might think of me."
She paused again, eyeing me cautiously.
"But in spite of what we'd like to believe, no one person can be everything to anyone. A husband can be loving and caring; he can protect his wife and provide for her, and be such a wonderful, reliable lover. But there are very attractive men who aren't at all like that, especially to someone with fantasies like mine. The very things that make you a perfect, loving husband set you apart from them. You're safe and kind, and they're aloof and dangerous. Jordan was that kind of man, after I got to know him. I knew he'd never love me, but I went back again and again for the unknown, the suspense, and the freedom to be with a dangerous stranger who wouldn't judge me for my obsessions. Men like Jordan aren't afraid to take what they want, even if it's someone's girlfriend, fiance, or wife."
"So it's the 'bad boy' thing then. The dangerous stranger who's good for your pussy, but bad for your life? I guess I get that. It's not the first time I've heard it, but it's a surprise coming from you. But I'm fine with it. I know I'm not that guy. In fact, I wouldn't want to be."
"So it doesn't scare you? That it amps up my fantasy? I'm not looking - I promise. But I said I'd be honest from now on."
"It doesn't scare me at all. It's kind of a hot fantasy, actually - my innocent little wife putting herself in the hands of some big, strong, scary guy with a huge cock."
"I'm serious, David. It doesn't have to be a scary guy with a huge cock, just not someone I know, or my husband - I mean, in my fantasy. You must recognize that when I come, I have all kinds of orgasms, right? Some are shorter, some are longer, some are deeply moving, and some are insanely intense and wild. All of those are good. Most are probably a little of each, all mixed together. What I'm saying is that sometimes it's the presence of an aggressive, forbidden stranger that makes the difference between 'insanely intense' and 'off the scale'."
"You mean the man and the fantasy together, right?"
"Exactly. I love what you did for me last night. It was insanely intense."
"But not off the scale," I conceded. "I'm not your bad boy fantasy. That's fine. I can live with that."
"I wish you wouldn't put it like that, David. You're the fantasy husband I never thought I'd have. You don't have to be anything more for me. I hope you believe that."
She had pulled the nightshirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor. It was a conversation stopper she had used time and time again. I stared as she walked slowly to my chair, wriggled her firm little ass into my lap, and nuzzled my ear.
"Come on, 'fantasy boy' - are you going to fuck me or not?"
~~~~
We fucked a lot in the weeks and months that followed our harrowing night with Stephan. Some nights were cautious, but still loving. Others were frantic, hours-long orgies of every act and position we could think of. We were competing to repair the painful wreckage of our marriage, the result of my infidelity, but also of her planned revenge. It was a new awakening for us, but one still tainted with betrayal.
At times I wondered if I could be tempted again, whether a woman with her sights set on dragging me into that pit of deceit could eventually take me there again and pull me under. But Linda had become my life. Every second of every day I was reminded of the pain I had caused her, and how fortunate I was to still be with her.
Linda's effort was just as concerted, if not more, even though she had much more to forgive. She wasn't only more passionately wanton in the bedroom; she became a mouthwatering siren for me everywhere we went. She orphaned her old jeans for stylish slacks made of the most supple materials that molded her legs and ass into a delicious, living sculpture. Her closet became a high-priced boutique of fitted tops and silky blouses, always with an option to show a little cleavage when she knew it would make me crazy. Even her work clothes were a bit less modest. When I teased her about who might notice at her office, she grinned and told me, "In your dreams, fantasy boy." If her plan was to keep me lusting after her twenty four hours a day, she had succeeded. It wasn't lost on me that other men began to look as well. She never flirted, but there was something in her stride that told me she was always aware, and always a little giddy from the extra attention.
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