Redemption
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Dark Redemption Ch. 03 free porn video
The next morning I resigned.
When my boss questioned my decision, I told him I had been offered a job at Peter’s firm. They were opening up an accounting section. It was the truth. I guess my boss was disappointed because he had lost an accountant as well as a client, but I didn’t care. Some weird magic was at work inside me. I had given myself over to Peter. What I did not tell my boss was that I was going to marry Peter.
That first night was without any doubt, the greatest night of my life.
After I was dressed we ordered the Chinese food. Peter asked me to relax on the couch and he poured me a glass of wine. Then, sitting by me on the couch, and with the occasional stroking of my hair, he told me the story of how I’d come to be there.
About six months earlier he had seen me in the office of another client. The way Peter always told it, he recognised me right away. He had a talent for intuition. All his life he believed that one day he would see ‘his’ woman and instantly ‘recognise’ her. He trusted his intuition and lived by it. But man does not live by intuition alone. To solidify the intuition and ground it, he had an old fashioned investigation taken out on me.
I suppose many women would be offended by this approach, but I found it strangely beautiful and comforting, in a weird way. Somehow, Peter was right. There was darkness in both of us. It took us on this strange path and I could only feel grateful that Peter seemed to know so much about all of this. I didn’t understand at that time what the cost of this intuition was. Women are allowed to be intuitive as long as we don’t compromise the world by imposing it. Men are allowed to be intuitive as long as they call it reason or logic. Peter was as sophisticated a man as you will find, and he was an adept at justifying his intuition. There was no question that he was disciplined. It was much later that I found out how disciplined he really was.
As he was starting to tell me what was revealed by the research, the doorbell rang and our food arrived. Peter handed me a file then moved to the door to attend the food. Two waiters from a local restaurant came in as I looked through the file. One waiter set up table for us with a tablecloth, cutlery and crockery while the other one prepared our food in the kitchenette.
As Peter was busy giving instructions I went through the file that was basically a day by day analysis of my last six months. There were pictures of me running in the mornings and on my way to yoga classes. There were photos of the weekend I spent with my parents as well as coming and going from work. There were the four dates I had gone on in that time, (all unsuccessful) as well as pictures of my light on late at night at home as I learnt about and studied up on clients files. There were lists of books I’d borrowed from libraries, DVD’s borrowed, films I had attended, plays, restaurants I’d eaten in. There were even shots of my family, best friends and my pet dog ‘Paris’. It was nothing more than a catalogue of my previous six months.
I felt as though I were in another world. But as I said previously, for some reason it worked. I felt comforted. Peter already knew so many things about me. And he chose me still. He wanted me so much. I did feel as though I belonged to him, and I guess that is not a desirable situation. However it was not like possession. At least not a possession that rendered me without my independent self. It was more like we were an inseparable team. For some reason, Peter even seemed to know that I would not be offended when I read this file.
Peter dismissed the two waiters with a smile and a substantial tip, and called me to join him. I ate the food with relish only then realising how hungry I was. We talked over food and wine and wondered about his oddities and what I was to make of it all.
‘You must think me so strange.’
‘No, I only think I am strange for being flattered and feeling safe. Do you tap into strength in me or a weakness?’
After our meal, he reached over and took my hand. I felt so good. I felt as though I had known him for years and I felt deeply known by him. There was a dire potency to our connection and everything we did operated on a difference plane.
He looked me deep in the eye and said:
‘Anna, I know this is strange, but I want you to promise to marry me tonight. I have done everything in my power to be sure of you, and I feel ready. I know I called you in only at the last possible moment, but I needed to know I could trust you with my darkness. It is a beautiful kind of darkness really, but not everyone can appreciate it.
I know that not only can you meet it, but also you can match it. I felt it when I first saw you and there were corresponding vibrations in our souls. I know I can tell you I love you. I loved you before I knew what you looked like. I just knew that this is how it would be. So now, we are here. I want you to quit your job and set up practise with me – and I want you to marry me.’
‘Yes Peter, of course I will marry you.’ Was all I could say.
I can’t explain that moment. I know it seems foolish. I have gone over it a hundred times wondering what it was that made me agree to be this man’s wife under those circumstances. Even after years of a happy marriage, when we tell new friends of how we met, it sounds incredulous. It was just all there was to do. Peter and I were made for each other. It was that simple.
After I told him I would marry him, he stood and walked over to me. He lifted my hand and gently kissed the back of it, and rubbed it against his cheek, where I felt two stray tears had fallen. He pulled gently on my hand so that I was raised to my feet, and kissed me. He kissed away all my loneliness, all my fears. He drew me into him with his lips and his tongue, and from that moment on I lived inside of him.
Kissing me like that, he ran his hands down my sides and around my back to clasp my buttocks. Our kisses became more heated and fervent. I felt the urgency drive me again. Sitting with Peter through dinner had been arousing enough, but now that he had his hands intimately on my body, the warm heat was turning into a burning intensity.
‘Let’s go into my bedroom my love. It is time for our real love affair to begin. As husband and wife.’
Holding my hand, he led me through the door far across the room from his study into a little outdoor courtyard. I hobbled across the uneven path till we came to the door of a small cottage that could not be seen from the road, nor from the office. Peter unlocked the door, and let me walk into a tastefully decorated studio apartment. In the middle was a large bed, draped with deep red velvet.
I did not get long to look around. Peter was kissing me again, and gently pushing me toward the large bed in the middle of the room. Once there, he sat me down on the end and started to unbutton my shirt again. I was fumbling with his belt. There was a fever in us, but it did not have the recklessness of our earlier lovemaking.
‘Take off your clothes and get into bed darling,’ he said to me.
I stood and moved to one side of the bed. I removed my clothes fairly quickly and climbed in. Peter was undressing as he watched me. He moved over to the other side of the bed. He smiled at me as he slipped off his suit pants and his underpants with them. I could not help myself. My eyes dropped so that I could get a look at his long, thick penis.
‘Is it to your liking Anna?’ He smiled at me without a hint of shyness. I blurted and stammered that it would do very well indeed.
He slid into bed and we were both naked under the cool cotton sheets. We lay chest to chest, his erect penis pressing against my belly, my breasts mashed to his upper body. I lifted my leg and hooked it over his hip. He kissed me, and kissed me, and pressed up against me. We lay like this for some time. Kissing each other, getting familiar with each others smells a
nd tastes. This was my new husband. Our souls knew each other, our auras were comfortable mingling, and it was just our bodies that needed to get to know the other.
Soon the heat overtook us and Peter placed his hand between my legs. He slid his middle finger up and it effortlessly moved inside of me as if my vagina was sucking it in. He massaged the walls inside me till he found my g-spot then groaning into our kisses, he massaged and applied pressure.
The feeling was incredible. An overpowering lust consumed me and I wantonly spread my legs farther apart. I slid my hand down till it covered his, and pressed his finger into me further. We stopped kissing and just lay in the intimacy, panting into each other’s face.
I started to buck my hips against our two hands. I could feel an orgasm approaching. My vagina felt like it was going to swallow him whole, starting with his hand.
He suddenly pulled his hand away and moved his entire body on top of me. He raised himself up over me, supporting himself on either side of me on his elbows, with my legs still lewdly spread, he slid his penis up into me in one stroke.
The feeling was indescribable. Here we were, woman and man, striving for a kind of completeness. A unity. Our bodies yearning, our minds reaching. Peter had it first but that night in his bed I saw what went on between us also. I saw it and I dived right in. No second thoughts.
**************************************************
With a deep breath, I noticed out my bedroom window, that the rain had started again. I was enjoying my moment but reality came like a mighty blow. I had seen Peter with another woman today. And he was behaving with his characteristic intimacy that always belonged to me.
Life was so different these days. We had two children now and I no longer worked full time. But in this moment, I could not think of what had been lost or what had been gained over the last nine years. I could not think about his flirting with this woman in a pub betraying those reckless promises of forever that we’d always been so proud of.
All I could think was that Peter was due home in thirty minutes, and I was filled with such a consuming hatred for him at this moment that I doubted my ability to survive it.
But I had to do something other than wallow. Over the depths of our time together, Peter had taught me his kind of strength, and at this moment in my deepest suffering, I could feel it there, cold, steely and reliable. More than ever before, I had to be strong, because I had to find out what it was that I wanted from this situation. I did not want Peter to know he’d been seen, and Peter was a difficult man to fool. He probably already sensed that things were not quite right at home tonight. Somehow I had to invent a reason for my being out of sorts if I were to protect my own interests. I needed time to lick my wounds and defend my pride.
I longed for escape, but I could not suddenly pack up and run to a friend’s house, or anywhere else. Peter would find that odd. I would have to deal with him face to face tonight, and somehow hide my distress and give the performance of my life.
The help came in the form of Thomas. He walked into the bedroom and saw me lying on the bed.
‘Mummy? Do you have a work headache?’
Thomas called my infrequent migraines ‘work headaches’ because I often got them at the end of a workday. But it was the perfect idea. I would feign a desperate headache. Peter would get the kids sorted and bring me in the occasional tea, but he would probably even sleep on the fold out bed to give me the space I needed to heal.
This was the answer.
‘Yes my baby. Mummy has a rather bad work headache.’
Thomas was looking at me with a puzzled sadness in his eyes, when he heard a key in the lock and in walked his father.
‘Daddy!’ Thomas yelled and threw himself at Peter.
‘Oh… hey there big guy. How was school today?’ Said Peter swinging little Thomas into the air.
I looked at my husband with different eyes. I kept seeing the woman that he had been nuzzling in to. He wore the clothes that he was wearing at lunch today, so I found it all too easy to remember. He was so good-looking. That was always Peter’s problem. Although I had never known him to give in to advances from women before (and there were always many). I’d always seen him as sort of immune. At least I thought he was.
Peter carried Thomas into the lounge room and put him down next to his Sister. He kissed her, then said ‘where’s your mum?’
‘She has a work headache!’ said Thomas thrilled to be the barer of the bad tidings.
Peter turned in the direction of our bedroom, the open door showing me lying on the bed. I wanted to cry then. To see him, so beautiful, so reliable, so connected to me, and to know that now he wanted another woman at night when I was in the bed next to him.
‘Hey honey. What’s up? Headache?’
‘Yes.’ Was the best I could come out with.
He looked a little startled at the quiver in my voice.
‘Is it quite bad? Do you want something? Have you taken anything for it? Can I get you something?’
And that was when I hated him so much I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to feel hurt. Badly hurt. I wanted him to suffer as I was suffering and as I knew I would suffer over the next few weeks.
‘No. I think I just need some time. I need to sleep.’
‘Don’t worry about a thing.’ Did I detect that he was relieved, or was I making it up? ‘I will get the kids sorted. How about I take them out for burgers and then when we come back I will get their homework up to date, and then they can have baths and hop into bed. Will you be ok alone for an hour or so while I take them out?’
‘Yes.’ I said. ‘I will be fine.’
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