MactownChapter 2 Sarah Gets a Different Kind of Lesson
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FidèleChapter 9 free porn video
Pressure expelled him from the comforting warmth of the upper mantle, crashing through hard layers of sedimentary rock until he geysered into the atmosphere, held aloft on a pillar of scalding lava and indescribable pleasure.
But why am I naked?
Reflexively, his hands flew downward to protect his vulnerable genitals, only to be impeded by a riot of softness oscillating up and down at a furious pace. Some sort of demonic terror was fiercely tugging on the end of his cock, trying to consume his life essence, and for lack of any better defense he thrust his mighty spear upward, trying to skewer whatever foul beast was feeding on his energy and endangering his very existence.
The attacker groaned. Gulped. Swallowed. Shuddered. And then released him, softly moaning his name.
It knows my name?
Floating back to the earth through soft clouds of bliss, he came to rest on stable ground and opened his eyes. Kathryn was right where she promised she’d be the night before, hovering over his throbbing shaft and lapping at every dollop of cream oozing from his oversensitive rod. Though he couldn’t quite see her mouth, her glittering eyes assured him that she’d experienced just as much pleasure as he had. Perhaps even more.
“If it makes you that happy, I might never offer you actual food again.”
“Finally, a diet that appeals to me.” With a loud smack, she sucked the last drop from his shrinking organ and rolled from the bed. To his surprise, she was dressed in her usual cellar attire of form-fitting yoga pants and a breast-hugging t-shirt ... an outfit he’d found all too distracting even before he’d fully explored the delicious terrain it obscured.
“You’re dressed. You’re... dressed? Why are you dressed? Did I snore?”
“A little bit, but I assure you that it was adorable snoring.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m actually not, but please don’t take that as an invitation to challenge my tolerance. Anyway, I’m dressed because I have to go. I have way too many things to do, and your magnificent cock has prevented me from doing any of them for days upon end.”
“What time is it?”
“7:04, and I’m terribly sorry.” When his brow furrowed in sleepy confusion, she explained, “I was aiming for seven on the dot, but you were muttering some sort of nonsense about geological formations and I found it too strange and endearing to interrupt.”
“I was ... what ... wait, I was?”
“As I said: adorable. Now, I have several things to tell you. Are you awake enough to pay attention, or do I need to take the time to inject coffee into your arteries?”
He slid backwards and propped himself against a pillow, slightly put out by her unannounced departure but sensing her seriousness. “I’m awake enough. What’s up?”
“I thought I could put it off until later, but before I started blowing you this morning I began tallying everything I have to get done before next week and it made me panicky. Sorry. I really don’t want to leave, and I promise I’ll make it up to you later. But for now, just listen.”
“Listening.”
“So, let’s start with this. The ridiculous amount of sex we’ve had over the last few days ... there’s a reason for it beyond the simple fact that it’s exactly what I wanted and needed. To my immense regret, however, it’s about to be on hold for a while. Next week I have to focus on my charities, as four of them are holding board meetings and three of them are throwing galas. I’m going to be occupied by meetings during the day and fundraising events at night. Moreover ... well, here’s my one allowance per day: Bill’s going to be home most of the week.”
Though his face clouded, he attempted to cover it with a brave solemnity he didn’t quite feel. “I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Luke, but you know how it has to be. Anyway, I’m not going to be able to be with you until that changes. Not alone, at least, and not even in the way we were before ... well, before. I suggest you take the opportunity to work, because despite my heartfelt eagerness for you to extend your engagement as long as you can, it’d be better to get as far ahead as possible now so you can let things slow down later on. That said, I’m not going to be able to help you for at least a week, so if you find that you can’t work all that quickly, I’m happy to be a convenient excuse.”
“Uh ... right. I mean, okay. Yes, I’ll work. I did give an estimated timeline, after all, and it doesn’t look good if I’m nowhere close to it.” Sigh...
“Well, good. Unfortunately, it gets worse ... and I hope you’re ready for this, because I’m sure not. Sunday night, you’re invited to dinner.”
No. “I ... but...”
“No buts. If you’re struggling — and I know you are — just think about how hard it will be for me. But you have to do this. I know it, and so do you. It’s part of the price, or the penance, or whatever else you want to call it.”
Luke sighed in surrender, though he was having a hard time looking her in the eye. “You’re right, I do know it. To be honest, maybe a few hours apart will give me an opportunity to figure out just how the hell I’m going to manage it.”
“Again, try to remember that I’m in an even more difficult position. I...”
He held up his hand. “You don’t need to explain. I get it. I do. I’ll make it work, somehow.”
“I hope I don’t need to remind you that...”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Even as he spoke, he recognized the casual cruelty in saying “your” rather than “our,” but he didn’t feel awake enough to find a more polite way to express his turbulent emotions.
To her credit, she took his hand. “I heard what you said, and I accept it. But it’s still our secret, and you know it as well as I do. Please believe me: I don’t want to stop. I want to be with you as much as possible. As soon as I can, I will.”
Don’t be an ass. Be mature. For once since you took this benighted job, be an adult. “I know. I feel the same way. It’s just ... it’s hard, you know? But I do recognize that it’s worse for you. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Good.” She seemed doubtful, but pressed on. “Anyway, we have tonight. Let’s make the most of it.”
“Tonight? Just tonight? But I thought ... I mean, I thought he wasn’t...”
“Sadly, yes. I have to make sure I get enough done that I don’t descend into panic tomorrow, as that’ll not only endanger my work, but also increase the likelihood that I won’t be able to navigate my emotions when the two of you are in the same room. And I really do mean tonight, not tomorrow morning. Bill comes back tomorrow evening, and as I said yesterday...”
“I know. I ... I get it. No reason to make it harder or more confusing for everyone. Tonight, then. I’ll try to make sure it’s memorable.” He was still trying to put on a brave face, but in truth he felt the return of an intense wave of guilt that their frenzied coupling had almost completely forced aside.
Smiling through their tension, she countered, “It might be more memorable than you realize. Come over at five. We’ll work up a sweat, I’ll make dinner, and at some point I have a few things I want to do with you. Special things. Things I hope ... well, no. Let them be a surprise. But come over at five. Bring a bold, medium-bodied red. Oh, and no touching yourself before dinner. You’re my appetizer, after all.”
“I feel so used.”
She just winked. “Finally, take this and put it on a shelf, or in a drawer, or wherever. Somewhere you’ll know where it is when it’s needed.”
Curious, he examined what she’d handed him. It was a plain white envelope, sealed, with a hastily scrawled message on the front: When she tells you she knows.
“What’s this?” he asked in utter bewilderment. “Who’s ‘she,’ and what’s she supposed to know?”
“All your questions will be answered in time. See you later, sex god.” And then, after a long, soulful kiss, she was gone.
Luke took longer in the shower than was his norm, for his heart and mind were a riot of conflicted thoughts and emotions. I’ve grown so very used to her being here. After he emerged and dressed, he checked his phone to find a series of increasingly impatient texts from Wendy. Answering them one by one seemed likely to result in confusion, so he took a chance and gave her a call. To his surprise, she picked up immediately.
For a few minutes their banter proceeded as it usually did: her teasing and abusing, him laughing and deflecting. But as her references to, and questions about, Kathryn grew more explicit and more persistent, Luke’s answers diminished to dubiously responsive monosyllables. Her tone turned suspicious by stages until, at last, they fell into a wary silence. When she finally resumed speaking, her voice was full of weariness and defeat.
“So, I was right the last time I saw you. It was already too late.”
“Are you ever going to explain what you mean by that?”
“At this point, Luke, I really shouldn’t have to.”
“So that’s a no?”
She sighed heavily. And then, with an edge: “Luke, I want you to promise on the continuing existence of our friendship that you’ll answer my next question honestly.”
“Jesus, Wendy, why so intense?”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“I ... what do you mean? Doing what?”
“Rat bastard. Motherfucker. Lying sack of shit. You promised on our friendship that you wouldn’t lie to me, and then it’s the very first thing you do?”
“I’m not lying! I’m just not sure what you’re talking about.”
Another sigh. “Yes you are. Though I suppose that, in your tiny little brain, you’re only trying to be honorable and respectful. Which would actually be admirable if you weren’t being the exact opposite.”
Now he was nervous, for this struck far too close to home. “Wendy, what ... I don’t ... what do you...?”
“Ah. Got you there, didn’t I?”
“I don’t...”
“Luke ... fine. Fuck it. I suppose I can respect your reluctance to blab. Most dudes would be announcing it with skywriting.”
Luke was silent, for it was all too clear that she saw right through him. How did she know? Moreover, how did she know from the very beginning, even before I did?
“I’ll give you one more chance, but only one. I really mean it this time. Tell me the truth, or our friendship is over.” Acknowledging the inevitability of his defeat, he assented. “Obviously, you two are having sex.” His extended silence was eventually interrupted by, “Usually, I’d take that as a yes. But after the bullshit you just pulled, I need to hear you say it out loud.”
With a giant exhalation of bottled-up tension, he admitted the truth. “Yes. We are.”
“Since when?”
“Well, that’s a difficult question to answer.”
Her response dripped with contempt. “I see. So you don’t remember the first time you had sex with Kathryn Lloyd Maddox ... unquestionably the most beautiful woman either of us have ever known, the woman you’ve been desperate to fuck since the moment you met and the reason you took the job in the first place, hoping for this very outcome. I totally believe you. Luke, I ... I’m afraid you and I...” Worried that she was about to hang up on him, he resorted to desperate pleading.
“No, wait! Wendy, please just wait. I am being honest. It’s a complicated answer because it depends on what you mean by...”
“You can fuck right off with that Clintonian bullshit, Lucas Bronson.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right, but it’s still complicated.” He took a deep breath. “The first time either of us touched each other with sexual intent was a week ago Wednesday, though it took another week before I knew for sure it was intentional. The first time we had, uh, intercourse was Tuesday night.”
She seemed only slightly mollified. “Thank you for finally being honest with me, at least.”
“I’m really, really sorry, Wendy. I don’t want to lie to anyone, and I really don’t want to lie to you, but if this gets out, it could be catastrophic for everyone.”
“Well, naturally. That’s what happens when you fuck a married woman.”
Now he was on the defensive. “It’s not like you haven’t done the exact same thing. More than once, too.”
To his surprise, she laughed. It sounded neither sarcastic nor bitter. “Are you seriously using me as a moral compass? Christ, Luke, I thought you were better than that. My brilliant life choices have led me to ... well, what exactly? Running a barely profitable bar in a ‘transitional’ part of town, working all by myself for the majority of every single day, and trolling apps for anonymous hookups because I’ve already banged too many of the people I’ll run into should I dare set foot in a dyke bar. Listen, pal: I’ll accept the rebuke if you can tell me that the next thing I’m going to say is wrong. I haven’t gone into a single one of those relationships thinking about anything other than getting laid. But you ... what you’re doing with Kathryn is a lot more than just fucking. A lot more. Am I right?”
Once again his silence spoke volumes, but this time she didn’t bail him out. Finally, he sighed. “Wendy, I just ... I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Yes you do. You’ve known all along. You knew when they asked you to take the job, you knew when you signed the contract, you knew when you showed up on their doorstep, you knew when she paraded around in her bikini, you knew when she snuggled against you on the boat, you knew when I yelled at you in your wine-soaked erotic hideaway, and you knew when you ... well, tell me: what was the first thing that happened? Last week, I mean. Be specific. If I can’t approve of your decisions, at least you can give me some good Hitachi material.”
Unto the end of my days, I’ll never understand how her mind works. “Long story short, I gave her a foot massage that turned dangerously intimate. She fled. I thought it was because I’d gone too far and made her uncomfortable. Later that night she came back, snuck up behind me, and ... took matters into her own hands.”
“Hot. Was she drunk?”
“Yeah. Quite drunk, actually.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
He could hear Wendy’s tongue tapping random sequences against her teeth. It sounded like she was calculating something. “I see. Well, that doesn’t quite count, then. The booze granted permission to do what you both wanted, but it probably wouldn’t have happened if you were sober.” As when she’d yelled at him in his apartment, Luke wondered how serious she was about including Kathryn in her accusations of intent. “And then?”
“The next day, while we were working, she seemed uncomfortable even beyond her obvious hangover, but she very clearly denied any knowledge of how the previous night ended. At one point, she escaped upstairs as if she was about to be sick. When she didn’t come back, I followed her upstairs to see if she was okay, or if there was anything I could do. I found her in the bathroom, but she wasn’t sick. She was masturbating. And then I ... well, it was my turn to give her a hand, so to speak.”
“Super hot. Was she drunk then, too?”
“Completely sober. Both of us.”
“Okay. So that was the moment you both decided you didn’t care about the consequences.”
“I don’t know if that’s right, actually. Me, maybe. But I’m not sure about her. I was ready to keep going, but she ordered me out of the guesthouse, and while I was gone she disappeared. Left the property entirely, in fact. Eventually, I got so concerned that I had to call Bill and ask where she was.”
“And how did that make you feel? Asking the husband where his wife — the woman you’d just finger-banged — was, I mean?”
Ouch. “Wendy, stop it.”
“Fine. Finish the story the way you want to tell it. But I’m not letting you off the phone until we’ve had a conversation.” The way she said the word was so ominous that he almost couldn’t proceed.
“Well, uh ... anyway, I was still worried that I’d been too aggressive or presumptuous, and that I’d ruined everything. I even wondered if I’d be let go.”
“A natural conclusion. Unless you’re on a porn set, banging the boss’ wife is rarely a solid employment strategy.”
“Wendy, please...”
“C’mon, Luke. If you weren’t the current target of my sarcasm you’d be saying the same. You’ve dished out plenty of snark with me over a little too much wine, on scores of occasions. Now it’s your turn to take it — you’ve certainly earned it — and suddenly you can’t handle it?” She’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. “So where’d she go? No, hold on, let me guess: girls’ trip to wine country?”
Wow. “How could you possibly know that? Have you already talked to her?”
“No, and there’s no need. You know how most women find men pathetically predictable? I don’t know if it’s lesbian intuition or what, but, to me, straight women — or straight-ish, because I know she’s eaten some pussy in her day — are just as predictable. Your girl Kathryn ... she’s different in a lot of really interesting ways, and I can certainly understand why you weren’t able to resist her, but in other ways she’s just a woman after all.”
“But how did you know that...?”
“Did she tell you all about it?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Then let me flesh out the tale, and afterwards you can tell me what I got wrong. They stayed in a nice little private resort ... or wait, no: a rented luxury home, so they could cook and drink and relax without being interrupted by housekeeping or the need to remember their room numbers. Food, wine, spa treatments, chauffeured trips to and from wineries ... the whole package. Day one, everyone’s relaxed and having giggly fun, because they left all their troubles back home, and it’s such a relief to not have to look them right in the eye every single day. That night, when everyone’s more than a bit tipsy, racy little anecdotes start to sneak out. One by one they push the boundaries a little harder, because girls get competitive in groups, and every one of them wants to ‘reluctantly’ admit the juiciest, most shocking indiscretion, but not so shocking that the others turn on them. ‘Teehee, aren’t we misbehaving, isn’t this just like the old days when we were all single ... or at least able to fake it if presented with a sufficiently hot hookup?’”
“The next day, sober and a little tired — because at their age they don’t usually stay up so late or drink so much, though I’d wager your Kathryn’s an exception to that rule — the more serious bitching starts in earnest. John’s gaining weight and won’t go to the gym. Bob’s not the attentive lover he used to be, which makes me wonder if he’s having an affair. Bill’s never around, because he’s working way too much. He is working too much, isn’t he? He’s away from home all the time? She’s lonely, frustrated, and unfulfilled, emotionally and sexually?”
Amazed at her perceptiveness, he answered, “Uh, yeah. He’s...”
“I don’t need you to fill in the details. He’s not my concern in any of this; you are. Anyway: later that night, back in the confessional embrace of Bacchus — and they’re drinking harder than the night before, because now it’s not just escapist fun, it’s about numbing the pain and the anxieties and the affronts — the real truths start to come out. Betty’s talked to a divorce lawyer. Not seriously, just assessing the terrain. Kelly and John fight all the time, even about insignificant little things, because arguing is all they have left. Susie’s wearing low-cut tops with no bra around the hot landscapers, hoping they’ll notice ... which they have. Kathryn’s thinking about banging her wine consultant.”
He grimaced, but she pressed on.
“The next day, it’s all about hangovers and regrets. They keep doing the wine tours, or the spa, or whatever, but it’s not as much fun as it was the first day because everyone’s in their own head, trying to decide what to do. When they finally reconvene they’re floating audacious trial balloons, daring their friends to grant permission ... or, alternatively, to talk them out of it. And they do both, depending on the story and how closely it mirrors their own problems. Betty’s backing away from the idea of divorce because of the kids, but now Kelly’s considering it for the first time. Susie still wants to fuck the landscapers, but she’s afraid. Unfortunately, it’s not because she’s concerned about cheating on her husband; she’s sure she could get away with it. No, she’s worried about her friends finding out and thinking she’s a slut. After all, Susie’s been very careful to avoid being known as a slut since that night back in college when she got drunk and took on six dudes at a party, even though she’d already started dating the guy she eventually married.”
“Meanwhile, Kathryn’s looking at the calendar and realizing her husband won’t be home very much over the next few months, but that the virile young stud who obviously wants her so very badly is available all day, every day. Suddenly, she’s resolved: she’s going to do it. Everyone bonds over the unhappiness of their lives — whether or not they’re actually all that unhappy — after which come the hugs, fake girl-power bullshit, and a lot of theatrical crying about how they never see each other anymore but they’ll always have each others’ backs, blah, blah, blah. Everyone goes home feeling supported and empowered to do something they weren’t necessarily going to do until the trip somehow gave them permission, even though that permission was only granted inside their own heads. So tell me: was that exactly how it happened?”
Jesus fucking ... how the hell did she intuit all that? “I can’t believe you can just...”
“Shut up and answer the question. Was it?”
“Yes. I mean, some of the details were wrong, but yes.”
“And so ... wait, let me guess this part, too. When she came back, it was her that took things to the next level. Right?”
How can she know any of this? “It was, yes. I came upstairs and she was waiting in my bed, naked.”
“Of course. At that point, there’s no possible way you could say no.”
“Are you suggesting that I could have?”
“No, no, no. Kathryn Lloyd Maddox in your bed, naked and horny ... there might not be more than a few dozen people on this earth who could resist her. Hell, I know some gay men who’d wouldn’t be on that very short list. In that situation, she holds a royal flush and everyone else has a five.”
“Well, you’re right. I couldn’t have resisted even if I’d wanted to.”
“Especially as it was your entire purpose in taking the job to begin with.”
“You keep saying that, but no it wasn’t,” he objected. “I mean ... yeah, I was obviously thinking about her that way, and I certainly fantasized about her often enough, but it was something I only thought about, not something that I actually believed might...”
“Bullshit. Such self-serving bullshit.”
“Wendy, why are you so angry at me? Didn’t you tell me that you’d have sex with her if you could? Wouldn’t you still? What’s the difference? Are you jealous or something?”
“Yes, I did say that. Yes, I still would. No, I certainly wouldn’t have made a different choice if I found her waiting in my bed. Yes, I’m jealous. And by the way, jackass, I’m not actually mad at you for the reason you think. I thought I was, but now I see that I’m really not. I am more than a little upset about you trying to lie to me, but I’m not mad about you and Kathryn fucking, because I knew all along that it was going to happen. I’m mad because I thought I could talk you out of it, which was stupid of me. I was painfully wrong, maybe because I didn’t have the strength of my own convictions and my arguments couldn’t bear the strain of my hypocrisy. But still, despite all your bullshit, you’re supposed to be my friend and I had to at least try. Which, by the way, I’m going to do one more time before I give up. Luke, you know that this is a terrible, awful, no good idea, right? Please, please, please at least tell me that you know that much.”
All his turmoil and internal conflict came bubbling to the surface. Damn her. Everything is so good. Why is she trying to ruin it? “I know. Objectively, I do. But ... fuck, Wendy, you told me not to lie. The truth is that I’m not even sure about that. I know I should feel guilty, and I often do, especially when I’m alone, but deep down? I should feel a lot worse than I actually do. Guilt kept me on the straight and narrow for a while, but now? I ... I guess I don’t feel bad enough, if that makes sense. Does that make me a shitty person?”
“Well, you tell me: how do you feel when you’re talking to your dear old family friend Bill Harris? Do you feel like a shitty person then?”
“Ouch. That hurts. I know I probably deserve it, but ouch, Wendy.”
“Well, you know what they say about the truth. Does he know? Wait ... do they have an open marriage? That would change everything. I might even have to apologize to you.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? “No, he doesn’t know, or at least I don’t think he does. Kathryn was kinda weird about it, saying that if he figured it out he’d probably ignore it. To my knowledge, though, they don’t have an open marriage. If they did, I think she would’ve told me by now, considering what we’re doing. Though she also told me, once, that she wouldn’t care if he had an affair either, as long as he was honest with her if she asked. So maybe he feels the same way? I dunno, I feel like I’m grasping for justifications and excuses.”
“At least you realize it. Are you her first? Extramarital affair, I mean?”
“She says I am. In fact, she says this is the first time she’s ever cheated on anyone. For what it’s worth, she also claims that what we’re having isn’t an affair.”
“Really? Well, this should be good. What does she call it, then?”
“Her exact words were ‘it’s not an affair, it’s separate.’”
“Ah, the glories of sexual apartheid. You should change your name to Jim Crow. There’s no way it’s a two-way street, then. She’s determined to do you no matter what, and whether or not he has his own side piece, she doesn’t want him to find out.”
“Well, I obviously can’t ask him about it. Especially not now.”
“No. No you can’t. That bridge is already on fire. But even if he never figures it out, you’ll always know. You’re not a psychopath, after all. Once you stop fucking her, you’re going to feel guilty about it for the rest of your life. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“Once we stop?”
“Christ, now you’re being a dumbass again. What do you think the endgame is?”
“I guess I haven’t thought about it.”
“No, of course you haven’t. That’s what I was trying to explain when I was yelling at you, but you wouldn’t listen. And unless your brain stops vacationing in your dick and moves back between your ears, you never will.”
“Do you think it’s going to end badly?’
“For one of you, a one hundred percent chance. For two of you, something uncomfortably close to that. For all three of you, still higher than fifty percent. Maybe the best you can hope for is that it doesn’t end badly for absolutely everyone involved, immolating your families, your friends, your professional reputations...”
Jesus, she’s being dramatic. “So what are you really saying? That you think I should stop?”
“Is there a word or phrase in any language that would make you walk away the next time Kathryn begs you to fuck her?” When no answer seemed imminent, Wendy snorted and continued, “That’s what I thought. No, Luke. I’m not telling you to stop, because what would be the point? I’d just be wasting my breath.”
“But ... okay, what if I tried to talk her into being the one to end it? Or maybe you could talk to her, and...”
“You can fuck right off with that shit. I’ll do no such thing, and never, ever ask me to do something like that again. Anyway, there’s nothing I could say that would change her mind, either.”
“Why do you say that?”
“How can you be such a moron? Really, how can you possibly be this dumb?”
“Wendy, what...?”
“She’s been planning this since the night she met you. This is the reason she hired you.”
What? “No, but that’s ... no, wait, she said that...”
“You’re about to say something incredibly stupid that suggests women are above devious machinations in the pursuit of a little strange. I suggest that you keep that sexist trash to yourself.”
“So you actually think she intended to cheat on Bill all along?”
“No, dear, because she’s not cheating. It’s not an affair, it’s separate.” Her derision was like a container of acid splashed across his face, and he hated it.
“Do you mean that she maneuvered me into this position? Like she sprung some sort of trap I was too besotted to see until it was too late?”
“No, no, nothing like that. You’re taking what I’m saying the wrong way. I think both of you went into this legitimately believing that you could restrain yourselves, as deranged as that belief was. But deep down, you also both went into this intending to finish what you started at my bar. You took the job so you could fuck her, she invited you to stay on the property so she could fuck you, and now — quelle surprise — you’re fucking. Mission accomplished! Honestly, the most shocking thing is that it took this long.”
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