Second Chance?

I dragged my weary but consummately happy ass out of bed; the water was warm enough for her by the time that I got to the shower, and she had wrapped a towel around her head to keep her hair dry. We laughed as we washed each other off, and she slapped my hand numerous times when it lingered too long on her pussy or nipples. Eventually we got clean and turned off the water. As soon as she hopped out of the shower she was ready with her next request.

"Keith, I've never had intercourse before when pinned to a wall with my feet off the floor. Do you think that you could do that?"

I was highly amused by her total refusal or inability to use swear words, so I tickled her and told her "Maybe if you ask me the right way I just might, even though I'm sure that I'll get no pleasure out of it."

I continued to tickle, she continued to protest, playfully slap me, and refuse to submit. Finally she relented. "OK – stop; what do I have to say?"

"Say 'Fuck my brains out against the wall with your big cock you bastard'" I replied.

"No, I can't say that," she giggled.

I started tickling her again.

"OK, OK," she finally relented. "Please fuck my brains out against the wall with your big penis, Keith."

"Cock, not penis, and bastard, not Keith," I cajoled, making a motion threatening tickling again.

"OK, OK," she giggled. "Fuck my brains out with your big cock you bastard."

The word "bastard" had barely left her lips when I was on my knees slurping and poking her cunt. Once she was wet and moaning I lifted her up by her thighs and ass cheeks, pinned her against the wall of my bedroom, and used one hand to guide again – for an unprecedented fourth time – my rock hard cock into her anxious vagina. In this position I must have been abusing her G-spot because it wasn't more than thirty strokes before she was screaming in orgasm, and it wasn't more than another ten before I was injecting another large load into her, debilitating her once again.

My knees got weak, and I barely made it back to the bed before collapsing, my cock still in her pussy.

Carol and I slept, woke up periodically to play with each other's parts, and even fucked one more time in the morning with her sitting on my lap facing away from me as I stimulated her tits while laying the wood to her. Eventually we looked at the clock and saw that it was time for her to leave to meet up with Frye's Hometown Honey for the trip back to Ohio.

I was essentially a zombie as I got dressed. My mind was so full of endorphins that there wasn't much room for anything more than minimal thought. I had never felt more exhausted yet serene in my entire life, not by a long shot. Carol was perkier than I was, but she was having her difficulties too. "Rendered unconscious three times by your big c-o-c-k," she mumbled half a dozen times, each followed by a giggle. She was with it enough to put on some makeup, including some lipstick. "I'm trying to hide my just f-u-c-k-e-d look as best I can," she offered.

As we were getting ready to leave my room we again thanked each other for the most intense pleasure sessions of our lives. Then with another of her trademarked grins she said "I have to say goodbye to my friend." With that she got on her knees, opened my fly, pulled out my raw but still one-quarter hard cock, and kissed it, and then popped it back in and zipped me up.

As we gave each other a final hug goodbye I had the sensation of falling, and someone catching me. I woke up sometime later in the capsule at Second Chance. Justine was in the room, smiled at me through the transparent top of capsule and then opened it up. "Dr. Bronson, Keith is awake," she said, again not into a phone or microphone. [I was going to have to ask how they did that.]

Peter and two of his helpers were in the room within seconds. "Well how did it go?" Peter asked with a big grin as his helpers steadied me while I exited the capsule.

"More real and more fantastic than I could possibly have imagined," I sighed.

After we chit-chatted a while Peter gave me a liquid to drink, then asked me to go into his office to fill out the evaluation form. "It's important that you do it right now even though you might feel like you're slightly dazed," he said. "I know that it was a draining experience and we don't want any accidents your way home so I'll have someone drive you home in your car and take a taxi back."

I filled out the four page evaluation form giving top marks for realistic feeling and satisfaction, and then Justine drove me home.

On the way home I was still in sexual bliss, and though not much of a conversationalist I was apparently having no trouble ogling Justine's thighs as her skirt rode up on them as she drove. Then she said the strangest thing.

"I see that the potions haven't worn off yet, Keith, from how you're ogling my thighs."

What "potions," what "worn off" I thought. However I realized that I had been ogling her thighs and that took precedence in my mind. "Oh, I'm really sorry – I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable – flattered. I just wanted to point it out to you, however, so that you can concentrate on snapping out of your sexual bliss," she replied with a smile.

"Uh – sure," I mumbled in response.

Angela wasn't home when I got there. I didn't expect her to be since she did volunteer work Friday until about three p. m. when she picked our kids up from play group and school, respectively. I collapsed on our bed and slept from noon until about two p. m. Then I decided that it was time to get back with the living. I was reminiscing about how real – and awesome – the experience had been when as I was removing my shirt I noticed that a button was missing.

"That's strange," I thought, "I know that this shirt had all of its buttons when I put it on."

Then I remembered popping one off in my fantasy. "But that was fantasy, not reality," I mused. Suddenly a disquieting thought flashed through my brain.

I quickly removed my pants and pulled down my boxers. There was a kiss imprint on my cock in the same color as the lipstick that Carol put on. I rushed to look at myself in the bathroom mirror to be sure. I got a sinking feeling and collapsed onto the toilet.

"No wonder it was so fucking real," I grumbled aloud. "It was! I cheated on Angela. Oh shit! But how did I get it up five times in less than twenty four hours and spew out what seemed like liters of sperm?" I had no answer for the last question until I remembered Justine's "potion" comment.

"I paid $10,000 to cheat on my wife," I moaned as I assumed a fetal position on the bathroom floor. Only the front door opening and the sounds of the kids' voices woke me up. I threw all my clothes on the floor of my closet – different from Angela's – and immediately got in the shower. When I handled my cock to wash off the lipstick it was red and sore – like I imagine it would be if I had fucked five times and in addition had been sucked periodically for hours.

I put on the happiest face that I could for my family, and somehow got through the weekend, although I had to beg off sex with Angela Friday and Saturday feigning a mild, but not debilitating, illness. Despite my guilt I was surprised that I serviced Angela very, very well Sunday night; I fucked her doggy, then missionary with her heels on my shoulders, and she was one contented cow when she fell asleep on my shoulder.

_______________

Monday I told my office that I would be late. I drove to Second Chance to confront Bronson. Justine did not seem surprised to see me. "Hi Keith; is there an issue?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

"I need to see Bronson now!" I replied in a no-nonsense voice.

Justine did that thing of talking into the air again, with Bronson answering from the ether "Send Keith right in."

As I approached the door, Justine stood in front of me and stared at me with her beautiful chocolate eyes, and put her hand on my chest. "Your reaction is normal, Keith. Please don't do anything rash or violent. I'll have to come to Peter's aid and I know that you'd never, ever want to harm a woman."

Her touch, look, words, and the way that she said them, somehow instantly calmed me down. "I promise, no violence," I replied.

Justine smiled and opened the door for me.

"It appears that you figured it out, Keith," Peter said in a conciliatory tone, but seemingly making sure that his large desk was between us.

"Is this some kind of joke or con?" I snarled.

"It is a con in a way – but please look at your contract. It clearly says that nothing verbal can modify what's in the contract, and the contract does not say that what you will experience is not real. Only in my oral revelations to you did you get that feeling. I'm sorry that you were tricked, but I must tell you that your experience is extremely worthwhile for the work that the Private Foundation is doing, and it definitely will help mankind," he replied, holding out his arms in a "calm down" gesture.

"But I cheated on my wife – something that I told you I was loathe to do," I snarled again.

"It wasn't your fault. It was totally unintentional. No one will ever know – you need to just keep quiet about it and give Angela all your love and attention."

"I'll know," I barked, then sat down and put my head in my hands.

When I looked up Bronson was wide-eyed, but had figured out that I probably was not going to kill him. "How did you do it?"

"We located Carol – she's married but without children – and proposed the fantasy experience to her, for no charge. If she hadn't picked her weekend with you as one of her three – we always give them three choices – episodes that she wanted to relive, we would have turned you down. However, that weekend was the number one thing in her life that she wanted a second chance with. I'm sure that you can tell by how passionate she was that she hungered for you – you never left her mind for more than a week at a time, according to her."

"Did she think that it was a fantasy too?" I inquired.

"Yes – until it was over. When she awoke she told us that she knew that it had to be real, displaying a few bite marks and hickeys on her torso, but unlike you she wasn't upset about it. She thanked us, although getting us to promise that you would not contact her. She's reasonably happy in her marriage except for the absence of children."

"Where was the room that we were in?" I asked.

"In this building. Your old fraternity house still has basically the same set up and with photos of that, plus old yearbooks, we were able to construct a reasonable facsimile."

"How were we able to have so much sex in so short a period of time?"

Bronson sighed, like he was contemplating telling me a lie; then it looked like he was going to come clean. "The Private Foundation is sponsored in part by a large pharmaceutical company. They have developed what are actually nutritional supplements rather than prescription medications that are like Viagra – and female Viagra – on steroids. They can only been used for short periods of time, however – no more than eighteen days according to our research – but for most people in that time frame they are unbelievably effective. You were given building-up doses in the two weeks before the experience, and a maximum dose the day of. And no, you cannot have any," Bronson replied, the last statement with a chuckle.

"How do I know that I won't get an STD and transmit it to Angela?" I moaned.

"We had both of you thoroughly tested beforehand. Would you like to see the results?"

"Absolutely" I said and then buried my head in my hands again.

This time, instead of doing that "talking into the ether" trick, Pete went out the door to talk to Justine and closed it behind him. I rushed to the door and was able to hear what he told her. "Justine, please get out Peter Dolan's and Carol Phillips' STD tests, and redact her last name and address in Rocky River and then bring them in to me."

I rushed back to my chair and put my head in my hands again.

After some more discussion and pacifying by both Pete and Justine, and after confirming both Carol and I were completely free of STDs (and that our healths in general were excellent) I left, feeling slightly better but still as guilty as sin.

______________

I was smart enough not to tell Angela about the experience. Clearing my conscious could only be disastrous for our marriage even if she believed the real scenario – I sure wouldn't if I were her.

After a couple of months I had primarily put the guilt out of my mind – although I occasionally would very fondly remember the over-the-top sex with Carol – and was leading a productive life. However, I then started approaching the near-malaise that I experienced before I went to Second Chance. Then an event occurred roughly five months after my Second Chance experience that precipitated a change in my life.

Angela and I had had a first animalistic rut on a date night, and we had been cuddling, massaging, stroking, and laughing in preparation for another one. With a diabolical grin reminiscent of Carol's she pulled a thin butt plug, with a knob on one end, from our nightstand. "How about trying this thing out in my ass while you fuck me doggy," she snickered.

I enthusiastically complied, but as I was fucking her with all that I had while moving the butt plug in and out of her puckerhole I had a flashback to my night with Carol. Suddenly, with all the realism that accompanied my fuck fest with Carol, in my mind I was fucking her again. Angela screamed as I unloaded in her, and almost passed out when I pulled the butt plug out at the same time. We both fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning Angela was as happy as a clam – a sexually satisfied one. Conversely, I had the most inner turmoil of my life.

It took no effort at all to find Carol Phillips of Rocky River, Ohio. (There were two of them, but the first one was eighty years old and easily eliminated.) I called her up on a burner phone at a time that I thought she might be home but not her husband. She answered on the third ring.

"Carol Phillips."

"Hi Carol; this is Keith Dolan."

There was a long pause. "They told me that they'd never give you my contact information and that you'd never try to contact me."

"They messed up with the first representation, and once I figured out that what we had was real and not a fantasy I wasn't going to honor the second one."

There was another long pause. "Why are you calling, Keith?"

"I want to see you."

"No, that's not possible," she quickly responded.

"Look – I'm not going to harass you, browbeat you, or do anything to destroy your marriage or even your tranquility, but I need to see you. I am coming to Rocky River whether you want me to or not. If we can arrange a mutually acceptable date and time I'll meet with you for a couple of hours at most and then be out of your hair. There are just some things that I need to finalize to move past my experience with Second Chance," I said in a tone both no-nonsense and pleading at the same time.

Another long pause. "How about 10 a. m. on the 23rd – a Wednesday. I have that day off. Can you get here by ten?"

"The 23rd about 10 a.m. it is. Where should I meet you?"

"I'll pick you up at Arrivals at the airport in Cleveland. Text your flight number and time of arrival to me; my cellphone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."

"See you then," I concluded in an upbeat tone, suppressing my desire to say "I can't wait!"

My flight from Dulles airport got in on time at 9:44 a. m. on the 23rd. I had a real surprise when I saw Carol in a print maternity dress waiting for me at Arrivals.

We gave each other chaste hugs.

"How long have you been pregnant?" I sheepishly inquired.

"Likely since our rendezvous at Second Chance," was her diabolical reply.

I gulped. "Weren't you on birth control?"

"No; my husband and I have been trying for a year with no luck, and since it was only fantasy and not reality, I saw no reason for birth control. Even though I figured it out shortly after I woke up I saw no reason for Plan B. I wasn't averse to having your child," she said, again with an evil grin.

"How do you know that it's mine?"

"Because after our experience I had my husband's sperm count tested. Its low – plus you deposited more sperm in me in one night than he had the previous two months. However since you forced yourself here, you're going to give me a DNA sample before you leave." Then, to make sure that nothing that she had said should be taken in a nasty way she kissed me and then held my hand as we walked to her car.

My plan was not to start a relationship with Carol – it was honestly an attempt to get her out of my system completely and make sure that she was of a like mind. Instead I gave her a DNA sample, and then we went to a motel and fucked each other's brains out – taking precautions to not get in a position that would harm the baby – for two hours. As we kissed goodbye in the airport parking lot before my flight home I was afraid that I was hooked.

Two weeks later I got a text from Carol. "It's your daughter!" followed by a smiley face.

Since then I've flown to Cleveland one Wednesday or Thursday every month. Except for two months after the baby was born every trip we fuck two or three hours in a motel, I treat her to lunch, and post-baby we go on a short excursion with the kid, then I return home the same day. That's been going on for three years now. Carol's pregnant with our second, fortunately another girl since I don't look much like and am nine inches taller than her husband and that likely would come out more clearly in a boy than a girl.

I am still very guilty; but it's like I'm on heroin; while I've never been on drugs from what I've been told for me fucking Carol is like the ultimate drug fix for a junkie. I can't stop. For the next month – until I get my next fix – I'm truly happy regardless of what else is going on in my life.

I do treat Angela as well as I possibly can, however, in a vain attempt to make up to her what she doesn't even know is happening. I'd sue Second Chance but then everything would come out.