Sprung Ch. 10

After reading from this site for years, this is my first attempt at submitting a story to Literotica. Vandemonium1's invitation finally pushed me from reader to writer. I'd like to thank him for setting the story up.

I finished one ending and decided that I would do another; then another.

In his original Sprung endings, he had BtB ratings, and I attempted to do that as well, but realized that except for this ending, S10 (Sprung10), these really are not BtB stories. If that is what you are looking for, then I wouldn't read S11 & S12.

Many will consider one of those a RaaC, so why read it if you know you are going to hate it.

S12 is quite long, but it introduces a new important character and has a few hat-tips to a couple of the better known characters and/or authors on this site. I hope no one will mind that, as it is my way of saying 'thank you' to some of the great writers who have been writing for us over the years.

I hope you will read these endings and after doing so, provide feedback. I'm still learning.

Since it has been a month since the original Sprung stories appeared, I've included the beginning/setup at the beginning of each story. If you remember it, or enough of it, you can skip to where I say, "Alternate Ending #xx", which is where my ending will begin.

Thank you in advance.

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I looked for the last time at my reflection in the mirror. Could I do it? Could I really get away with this? Could the forty-year old, not beautiful but also not plain, housewife who has never done anything remotely like this, have one extramarital adventure with no repercussions at all?

I took in my reflection. The person looking back at me would have to walk the gauntlet past her totally clueless husband. Must appear exactly as described on the packet: a dutiful niece going to look after her frail aunt for the weekend, so her other aunt could have a break. There could be no sign of the woman who was using the story as a cover to meet another man for two nights of who only knew what in his remote cottage in the mountains.

For the last time, I looked for any holes in my cover story. Auntie June was indeed sickly and was getting looked after by my Auntie Peg. Both were widowed, Peg's husband having died last year. Aunt June's husband, Nicolas, had been killed in Vietnam in the late sixties and she'd never really gotten over it. She'd chosen to have his body cremated, buried the ashes in the backyard, and built a little shrine. Every visitor to the house was expected to go out and give their regards to Uncle Nick. Auntie Peg was indeed having a break from care this weekend, but June was being taken to Peg's son's house while his mum had a respite.

So, discovery methods to scupper my plans?

My husband, Dave, wasn't on friendly terms with Aunt Peg, so wouldn't speak to her to confirm or deny my story. I doubt he even had a number for her son. Aunt June had no fixed-line phone, so Dave couldn't be suspicious when I didn't answer it. So long as I always answered my cell in the next two days, I was fine.

Could Dave drop in to June's house unannounced? Impossible. A couple of hours after I left, he was going to the airport and flying out for a weekend business trip. Our two children my sister had already picked up to look after until we both returned on Sunday. His trip was a last-minute thing. Soothing a client who thought there was a huge problem with their mansion design when it was already half built. That wasn't unknown and no amount of explaining it over the phone allayed their fears. Dave was using the opportunity to stay on site and design the gardens surrounding the house. It would save him a trip later. If I'd known about the trip earlier, I may not have bothered to make such elaborate plans of my own and invited Michael here. No. Too risky. So, with the double surety of my planning and Dave's trip, I could not envision any scenario where my not being where I was supposed to be, with who I was supposed to be with, was discovered.

The doorbell rang, and I went to the bedroom door until I was sure who it was. It was my husband's PA, Julie, obviously dropping off last minute stuff for Dave's trip. She'd been with Dave for two years now and I knew Dave was sponsoring her through architecture school. He often described her as his perfect counterpoint, seeing all the things he didn't. He even dedicated the award he won last year to her.

Any other wife might have been jealous of a younger, trimmer, better looking, bigger boobed woman that spent almost as much time with their husband as they did, but they didn't know my Dave. He would be more likely to put his cock in a lion's mouth and yell, "Dinner time, kitty", than betray my trust. I trusted him exactly the way he trusted me. A roaring noise in my head accompanied that thought. I was using that trust to abuse that trust and the sudden realisation of that almost made my conscience make me abandon my plans. Forcibly thinking of Michael, only the second guy I'd have had in my bed, taking me while I was still wearing my suspender belt and stockings, my black cocktail dress in a discarded heap on the bedroom floor, stiffened my resolve until the moment passed.

Could there have been anything in my suitcase to give me away? I'd left it open on the bed all morning specifically to show Dave there was nothing inappropriate in it. All the clothes were consistent with my cover story. Sure, there was another bag locked in the trunk of my car, with my cocktail dress and other clothes in it, but as I had the only two keys for my car, all was good. The silky negligee, fancy stockings, and push-up bra with matching panties and suspender belt, had been purchased on the other side of town, with cash. The packaging and receipts were disposed of before reaching my car, and the offending items put straight in the trunk. As soon as Michael saw me wearing them, there was no chance of him chickening out on me. Besides, they made me look sexy, and my confidence needed all the help it could get if I was going to go all the way with this.

That reminded me. Appearance. Was it consistent with a wife going to look after her aging aunt? Let's see, skirt down to my knees, showing off my calves, conservative blouse. Modest make-up that could be touched up in the car before I got to the cottage. I had considered stopping somewhere to change into something sexier before getting there, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. No, meet Michael at the cabin, an hour in the opposite direction to my aunt's house. Shower and change into sexier clothes, out to the quiet restaurant Mick had told me about, then back to the cottage for dessert. I'd packed a second dress for Saturday night, but doubted it would be necessary.

I'd once done an adult education course in cooking. The first day we'd learnt that the first bite was with the eye. I hadn't planned to wear any jewellery apart from my wedding rings, but looking at myself critically, I needed something else. Opening my jewellery box, I chose my current favourite necklace. Was it consistent with the trip? A little over the top maybe, but it helped my confidence so stayed in place. I undid the top two buttons on my blouse and leaned towards the mirror. The necklace complimented my cleavage, far and away my major asset, perfectly. Yes, it was worth the risk.

So, cover story good, nothing suspicious packed, nothing about my appearance to give me away. Was it worth reviewing the precautions Michael was taking with his wife. No. That was much simpler. He was going to their cabin as he did regularly to de-stress. His wife was flying out with their kids Saturday to visit her mum in the next state. All good.

Only one difficult thing remained to do. Getting past Dave to the front door. Somehow me and my conscience had to make the trip without giving anything away.

No, Dave was always going to be the problem. How would the woman in the mirror feel when he looked at her? When he told her he loved her? Maybe, when he again told her what a lovely person she was for doing what she was doing. Some of it I could cover by avoiding eye contact. I practiced once again in the mirror, arranging my features in a neutral expression. I'd already begun saying goodbye. A passing hug, kiss, and squeeze of Dave, and I was out of there and on the way to my once-in-a-lifetime adventure. A two-day sabbatical from being a good mother and wife. Did I need to run through my justifications to myself again? No. I'd done all that when the decision was made. I'd convinced myself of that absolutely. Otherwise, there was no chance of looking Dave in the eye in five minute's time.

For strength, I let my mind wander down memory lane a little. I was a standard stay-at-home mum until our youngest, Jenny, started full-time school. Then I started work for a temp agency and did secretarial work where needed. Sometimes, I insisted I could only work between nine and three, so I could drop the kids off and pick them up. Others, I worked later, and Dave altered his hours to leave earlier in the morning, so he could pick them up. After Jenny went off to high school at twelve, I went back to work full-time as we'd decided. I was an intelligent, twenty-first century woman that needed to keep her brain active. I'd picked up my previous career, as a legal secretary, in short order and started with one of the biggest firms in town. That was nine months ago. Dave was home not much later than the kids most days.

One of the senior corporate lawyers was Michael. There had been an instant connection between us. You know the thing, when you feel like you knew each other in a past life. In fact, I'd joked along those lines to him at our first meeting. He'd said that he had once believed in reincarnation, but that was in his last life. His humour was just one of the things that attracted me. He was big and handsome, slightly younger than I, intelligent and quick. I learned about him slowly at first, when we just happened to be in the lunch room together. That pace quickened a little after I regularly chose to eat when I saw him heading there. It got to the point where I felt a little thrill every time I saw him. That thrill had been missing from my interactions with Dave for some time.

I began to suspect that Michael felt the same way when I caught him checking I was at my desk before walking past me with his lunch. From then on, we shared lunch every day and I discovered that in many respects we were a perfect match. Apart from the fact that we were both happily married with young families, that is.

One day, we were alone in the break room when his hand accidentally brushed mine. It was electric. I knew it and he knew it. We put our heads together and made plans to slip out separately the next day for an extended lunch, way on the other side of town. Before we went, I ascertained where Dave was, and Mick did the same for his wife. We did that at least once a week from two months ago until now. Starting four weeks ago, we'd retired to his car, with its tinted windows and kissed. Starting two weeks ago, we'd planned to get away together this weekend. Now.

Don't get me wrong, we aren't in love or anything like that. You see, part of our discussions were how sexually inexperienced we were when we married and how, after many years of marriage, we were just a little bored. The sexual tension we felt whenever we were together just threw us both back to when we were young and free. Neither of us discussed what would happen after this weekend. I, for one, was intending for it to be a one-time thing, but was wise enough to know I had a problem on my hands if it turned out to be so fantastic I wanted a repeat.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was time to go. Deep breath, Sarah. This is the hard part and should be over in minutes. Sure, you'll probably feel guilty when you see Dave on Sunday, but that's all right. By then you'll know it's all in the past and you will devote the rest of your life to making this fine man happy. Grabbing my small suitcase, I walked into the lounge. Dave was sitting on the couch, staring at a large framed photo that hung above the fireplace. Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

******

ALTERNATE ENDING #10:

Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

He was a little distracted, judging by the expression on his face. Probably thinking about a work problem. That helped. He rose as I walked towards him, that allowed me to make eye contact with him as little as possible. The rest was prevented by my hugging him. He returned my hug, then pushed me to arms-length and looked me square in the face, his expression still neutral.

"I'll cancel my trip, if you cancel yours, Sarah. We won't tell your sister, and we'll have a whole weekend in bed, just like the old days, huh? I haven't given you one of those 2-hour massages in years. You know we have a twentieth anniversary in the not-too-distant future. We could begin to make plans for that."

It sounded like he was pleading. It gave me a moment's pause. I almost considered staying home. Almost. I pulled him in for another hug.

"It's way too late for that, darling. Aunt June is relying on me, you know that. Have a good trip, I'll see you Sunday night."

Averted eye, peck on cheek, about face, walk to door, pick up suitcase, straight out door, shaking slightly from the released tension. I made it.

I got lost a couple of times on the way to the cabin. The cabin road, nicely graveled but unpaved, was very twisty, at times hilly, undulating and often quite narrow with a few stream/river crossings along the way. Finally, I arrived at about 5:30pm. His was the only cabin on that road. It was near a lake and very secluded, which was one of the reasons I had difficulty finding it.

Unfortunately, the weather was already turning sour. The rain had already started, and it was supposed to rain all day tomorrow, hard. Maybe the weather on Sunday would be better. Oh well, I guess Michael and I would have to spend more time indoors. Whatever will we do? I snickered to myself.

Michael was already here. His gleaming BMW 650i convertible, with which I was intimately familiar, was out front. He said if the weather Sunday turned nice, we'd get out and drive around the park with the top down. Tonight, wasn't the nicest weather for it, though. However, its low slung ride height meant when he helped me out of the car, he would get a nice peek down my dress and if I turned just right, and nice shot of whatever was, or wasn't, under my barely there dress.

Michael showed me the master bedroom and shower. Of course, he wanted some hanky-panky straight away, but I managed to shoo him off and have a solo shower. I'd brought the dress and choice of lingerie into the bathroom. After I was dry, I decided on which of the undergarments to wear, finally choosing the shelf bra with matching suspender belt. I started putting the panties on, then thought, 'what the hell', and left them off. I heard the locked door rattle but held my ground. I wanted him to see this imperfect, forty-year-old, mother-of-two body for the first time in its best light. Preferably, when we got back from the restaurant, tipsy, and with the lights down low. I put the black cocktail dress on, adjusted my cleavage, finished off my hair, and ventured out.

Michael wanted to ravish my lips, but I turned so his lips landed on my cheek to preserve my make-up. When I felt the cool, wet night air, I returned to put on the light coat I'd brought. He helped me into the BWM, with a little pat on my ass, and we were off.

The restaurant was out of the way and quite classy. Most of the tables were for two and discreetly placed for maximum privacy. We were seated, ordered cocktails, wine, and meals, then Michael reached across and grabbed my hands to hold in his.

We had a very romantic dinner, which led to a very amorous and sex filled evening. Having a man besides my husband want me, was doing my middle-aged ego a world of good.

The ride back to the cabin was memorable because of the road conditions. The pouring rain made for several puddles that had to be maneuvered around along the way. His expert driving, and life long experience coming to this cabin showed that he knew just where to go.

It was close to 1:00am, and we had just finished another satisfying round of sex and were probably done until morning. We both used the restroom and snuggled next to each other. Listening to the pouring rain and lying next to his warm body would put me right to sleep. Just as I was getting comfortable, there was a pounding on the door followed by an air horn. What the hell?

Perspective change to Michael

I put on a robe, grabbed the fire poker from the fireplace and went to answer the door. When I opened it, several incriminating pictures of Sarah and me were hanging from the door frame, along with an envelope with "READ ME NOW!", written in bold red letters.

Most unnerving was that Sarah's car was being driven away into the pouring rain. I couldn't chase after it in a robe, so I grabbed the pictures and the envelope and ran back into the bedroom.

"Sarah, someone stole your car, and left this here?"

"Stole my car! Shit! Read the note."

I opened the note and it read:

Dear Cheaters,

I doubt that your spouses or Michael's father in law, our firm's managing director, would appreciate what you've been up to this evening. I'm taking the slut's car to our office. Meet me there in exactly fifty minutes, not a minute later, or else the pictures, video and other evidence goes viral. It should normally take you about an hour. We can discuss terms of the blackmail upon your arrival.

I would get moving if I were you.

Now!

We were sprung! We were flying to get clothes on and out the door. It took us two minutes. There was a brief panic when we hopped into my car and the seatbelts wouldn't latch. No matter. I fired up the engine and took off after the blackmailer. Even with the all-wheel drive assist on the vehicle, handling on this wet cabin road would be challenging. I probably wouldn't catch them on the cabin road, but I might on the highway back to Sydney.

Sarah was still fiddling with her seatbelt, which was distracting the hell out of me. I had built up good speed towards the first bridge. I was certainly going much faster than I normally would. I was about to tap the brakes to approach the bridge, when in my rearview mirror, I saw bright headlights in the distance on the road behind me.

That brief pause was enough for me not to see that part of the road in front of the bridge had washed out. My car was pulled right, towards the edge of the road, and away from the bridge. Slamming on the brakes did no good, and only the left two wheels managed to enter the bridge.

The vehicle flipped, in a move worthy of a Hollywood flick, and was airborne until it slammed into the rock filled bank on the other side before falling down into the edge of the rain swollen stream. Without secured seatbelts, we became pinballs inside the vehicle before we came to rest.

I don't know how long I was unconscious. It could have been seconds or minutes. When I awoke, all I felt was pain and cold water. I managed to exit the vehicle through the missing windshield by using my one good arm to pull myself out. For some reason my other arm and legs were not working correctly. My right arm and head hurt like hell.

Amazingly, the headlights were still working providing some illumination around the scene. I could see Sarah's body laid out on the bank, near the car, just above the water. It looked like a figure was kneeling next to her. They were looking through her purse.