Twenty Minutes Ch. 03

The first day we stayed pretty close to the script: I offered her a soda, rubbed her shoulders, flattered her, then led her to the bedroom. Without saying anything I gently took her clothes off, then my own. She was trembling, and looked terrified.

I laid her down and caressed her, and when I was very excited I fucked her, not bothering with a condom—that much realism we didn't need! Even though it was the same woman I'd been screwing for years, the strangeness of the situation made it unusually arousing. I lost myself in that first fuck, and hearing her moans and murmurs brought me to a quick and intense orgasm.

As we lay there afterwards, talking and kissing, it continued to be strange. I didn't literally pretend to be Tommy, but our talk steered clear of anything that would identify us as husband and wife. Mostly I talked about how beautiful and exciting she was, how much I loved being with her.

Angie relaxed after our first fuck, losing the deer-in-the-headlights look, and after a half-hour it was she who took the lead towards our second round. She slid down and took me in her mouth, using her whole arsenal of delicate touches.

Blowjobs are wonderfully different after you've already fucked once. Because your cock isn't already hard, both you and your partner get to enjoy the feeling of it beginning soft and limp, then gradually growing big and hard in her mouth.

When she had me very aroused, I pulled her gently up onto her hands and knees, arranging her ass at the end of the bed, and stood behind her. I loved this position (thanks for choosing it, Tommy!), and was looking forward to a long session of it.

Of course one of my motivations was to make the sex better for her than it had been with Tommy. Sliding in, savoring the sensation of Angie's hot wetness, I reminded myself to take my time, pay attention to her responses, and make sure it was as satisfying for her as I knew it would be for me.

We coupled for nearly half an hour this way. I loved holding Angie's breasts, teasing the nipples, and I brought her to orgasm once this way. Then I held her hips, and we just slid and bumped against one another for a while. Later I caressed her clit with my finger and brought her to another gasping climax. This time my own excitement reached a peak as well, and I came fiercely into her just a few moments later.

As we showered in Tommy's bathroom, we didn't speak much, just smiled a lot as we washed one another. Even that night at home was quiet—not silent or uncomfortable, but relaxed, companionable. It felt delightful to hold her tight in my arms as we went chastely to sleep (neither of us with the energy for any more sex that night).

The next time in Tommy's place, a few days later, Angie was as hot as she'd ever been. Perhaps she was more relaxed, because the first time had gone so well; or perhaps appearing for me with no underwear (as she had for Tommy) was a turn-on.

Whatever it was, she went absolutely crazy when I put her on a kitchen chair and ate her out. She came again and again, pulling at my hair, crying out and gasping as she did. I got so excited that I dragged her into the bedroom and fucked the hell out of her, coming inside her with scalding pleasure.

It was our fourth tryst, the first one in our own bedroom, that had me worried. Of all the things Angie had done, fucking Tommy there hurt the most. She must have known how I felt, because for the only time during this whole three-week escapade she "stepped outside the script".

She was leading me by the hand into the room, where she was going to sit me down on the bed, take my clothes off, and give me a blow-job (all as she had done for Tommy). As she did so, no doubt seeing the pain on my face, she stopped for a minute, looked into my eyes, and whispered, "I'm so sorry, honey!"

Somehow, and I don't know how, that made the difference. We continued with our game, but my pain greatly diminished. She blew me with loving tenderness, and when I was very aroused I pulled her on top of me for a 69, not caring that she and Tommy hadn't done that.

We loved each other for a long time—it turned into a game, to see who could tease the other and stop short of bestowing an orgasm for longer. In the end she had to pull her mouth off my cock to gasp as I brought her off, using my lips on her clit and my fingers deep inside her pussy.

Our next tryst was the last one in Tommy's apartment, and I had a couple of parting gifts to share with him. I began by eating Angie as she lay on her belly on his kitchen table, making sure her juices were left all over it.

Then, when we fucked in the bedroom, I pulled out of Angie just before coming and went over to his dresser. Standing on a chair, I jerked myself to an orgasm, shooting my cum all over the dresser-top and making sure to aim a fair amount of it on the framed picture of him and his fiancée. He'd either have to clean it off or explain it to her, I thought!

Finally, I made sure that our last fuck in his bed was anal. Angie and I had done it that way just a few times, and she and Tommy hadn't done it at all. She and I liked it every once in a while, though. We took lots of time, used plenty of lube, and went very gently. And we enjoyed it.

But I had an ulterior motive, of course. When we were done I made sure to wipe my shit-covered cock off very thoroughly on Tommy's sheets, and I had Angie do the same with her nasty bottom. Just one more thing for you to enjoy, you son of a bitch!

The final chapter of our "affair", a few days later, was back home in our bed, re-enacting the day I had come home twenty minutes early. We fucked, rested, and then as Tommy did I insisted on a second round, even though it was getting late.

We were on our sides, our legs tangled together, thrusting our hips at one another, getting more and more worked-up.

"Shall I hurry up?" I asked breathlessly. "You worried about your husband coming home and hearing us?"

Angie looked at me and smiled. Still humping against me she said, "you are the only lover I ever want—I don't give a damn who hears us!"

Smiling back, I pulled her tightly against me, and a minute later I was spurting into her.

That night, after a shower and dinner, I was sitting in my study paying the bills when Angie came in. Wrapped in her robe, her hair clean, her face without makeup, she looked relaxed and beautiful.

She pulled a chair up next to mine, sat down, and took my hand in hers.

"You can probably guess what I want to ask you, Alex. Where are we now? We've written over my affair—and thank God it wasn't what I feared it would be. It was exciting, and loving, and intense, and it made some wonderful memories to push out those other ones.

"It still just kills me what I did—what I did to you. And I love you more than I can say, for not just divorcing me. For finding a way for us still to be together. For making me feel that you thought I was worth it.

"But I'm still a little frightened, and I don't know what's in your mind."

I gently pulled her into my lap and she nestled in against me, her head on my shoulder.

"What's in my mind is that I love you. And that if you ever cheat on me again I will fucking kill you." I said it without heat, and then I kissed her hair.

"I can't say I'm 'over' what you did—certainly not all the way.

"But I made the decision that I wanted us to try to stay together—that you were 'worth it', as you said. And it still seems like the right decision.

"I guess you should still be frightened, but only a little. And you should know that it's still very hard for me to trust you, and it probably will be that way for a long time.

"But I know that you love me, Angie. I know that you want to be with me, and that you're trying as hard as you can to show me that. And I know that you make me happy."

She didn't say anything else, and we sat silently, holding one another, for a long time.

********

About a week later I had the conversation with Connie I'd been looking forward to having. Angie called and invited her over for coffee—but when she arrived, Angie was out and I was waiting for her.

"Come in, Connie—I asked Angie to call you. I'd like to talk for a few minutes."

She looked surprised and a little nervous as I poured us two cups.

I sat and gazed at her. Then I said, "how's your friend Henry these days?"

She gasped, putting her cup down so hard that the coffee slopped onto the table. Her face got pale, and she said, "who's Henry?" in a quavering voice.

I just laughed. "Not too convincing, Connie. Henry would be the name of the fellow you were fucking regularly for several months last year—remember him? The one Brad never found out about. The one who was so much fun, just a fling, and Brad would never get hurt. You remember now?

"And before you ask, no—Angie didn't tell me anything about it. I found out another way, not that it matters."

She looked at me, biting her lip. She was obviously pretty scared.

"OK, Alex—I'm listening. What do you want to say?"

I smiled genially, and said, "well, in brief, Connie: I own you."

She gasped again, and I went on.

"You remember, I'm sure, all the high-minded opinions of yours on the subject of adultery that you shared with me and Angie a few weeks ago?

"Let me see. I believe you said that my cheating belittled my spouse, that I would always feel a bit of scorn for her, knowing that I'd fooled her. Is that how it is for you with Brad? Do you feel that your cheating belittled him? Does it feel good having a nasty, dirty little secret?"

She wouldn't look at me.

"Here's what you said to me, Connie, about my pretend affair with Christina Blodgett. You said it was wrong—it was despicable. Even if I hadn't told Angie it would have been a horrible breach of her trust.

"So, Connie, now we have to decide about how to handle YOUR horrible, despicable breach of trust, don't we?"

Her hands were trembling. She said, "are you going to tell Brad, Alex? He'll divorce me, you know he will. Is that what you want?

I waited silently for a long time, letting her search my impassive face. Finally I said, "no, Connie. I like Brad—and I have no desire to see him suffer the way I have suffered the past few weeks. He loves you, and apparently he trusts you. I don't see anything good coming out of destroying his feelings and his happiness.

"But I do feel that some payback is in order, don't you? Since we agree that what you did was despicable, a breach of trust, don't you owe Brad something?"

She was beginning to look a little less terrified.

"If you ... if you won't tell Brad, Alex, I will do just about anything you ask."

"What I have in mind is simple, Connie. You're going to make it up to him. You're going to embark on a campaign to make Brad Williamson the most loved, most pampered, most appreciated and most sexually satisfied man in the Midwest.

"Of course, you're going to have to be a bit subtle about it. If you come on too strong too suddenly, he'll surely wonder whether you have something you're feeling guilty about. That would defeat the whole purpose.

"But you'll be cooking his favorite dinners more often. Telling him you love him more often. Going golfing with him or watching a football game with him more often. And above all, fulfilling all his sexual desires more often."

She began to smile slightly. Clearly what I had in mind was far less onerous than what she feared.

"Tell me, Connie—do you and Brad talk about your sex life much? Do you share fantasies, do you know what sorts of games or positions turn him on the most?"

"No, Alex—we have a good enough time, but we've never been all that ... experimental, I guess."

"Well, you'll be taking the lead now, Connie. Buy some sexy lingerie and see what kinds interest him the most—then buy more of that kind. Ask him to have sex with you in different parts of the house, or in different positions, and see which ones he really likes—then repeat those.

"Make sure he gets oral sex from you—frequently, and without his having to be the one to ask for it. And let him go down on you a lot too, if he doesn't already.

"Surprise him with a weekend away at a hotel somewhere, and fuck his brains out for two days. Are you getting my drift here?"

Connie's face, pale a few minutes ago, was now flushed with embarrassment. She wasn't used to this sort of conversation with me!

"Yes, Alex. I can ... do that."

"And if he does get suspicious, Connie, there's an easy answer you can give him. 'Honey, I've watched what Alex and Angie are going through—how close she came to losing him—and it just frightened me. I love you so much, and I want to keep making sure you never forget it!'

"He'll buy every word of that, Connie—trust me. Especially if you're also keeping him tired and happy in bed.

"Just one more thing. I'm not going to be taking all this on faith. Brad and I will be having regular chats. I'm sure he won't be able to resist asking how Angie and I are doing, and I'm going to respond by casually asking how things are between him and you. I don't want to hear that things are just OK, or about the same as always.

"I expect to see big smiles and hear happy stories, is that clear?"

Connie just gazed at me for a minute. She was relaxed now, no longer abashed and frightened, but she had an odd look on her face.

"Alex, I've known you and Angie for years, but I've never seen this side of you before. I wouldn't have guessed it was in there.

"And yes, I understand. I'm going to do just what you've said. Trust me, Brad will be giving you glowing reports about our marriage in no time."

"Good," I said. I stood and helped Connie to her feet. Kissing her cheek, I guided her to the door. "Glad we could have this little talk, Connie," I said with a smile. "See you again soon!"

********

I had sent Tommy's keys back to him in the mail once Angie and I were finished with his apartment. I didn't take any further action for a couple of months. Then I called Caleb and asked him to take care of something for me.

"Caleb, you still have those photos of Tommy and that girl in his apartment, right? Would you do me one more favor? Please make a copy of the set, and send them to..." I gave him Emily's name and address.

"They don't need any return address, and no cover note or anything—they're quite self-explanatory! But please do one more thing. Look through the photos and find one that shows clearly the framed photo on the dresser—it's of Tommy and his fiancée. Then just take a grease pencil and circle that, so she'll be sure not to miss it. I want her to know that these photos are recent ones, taken since she and Tommy got engaged."

I smiled to myself as I hung up the phone.

********

Angie was trembling in my arms. I was behind her, both of us lying on our sides, and we were fucking vigorously. My left arm was underneath her, reaching around to hold her left breast and pinch her nipple. My right leg was pushed forward between her legs, holding her spread open, and my right hand was stroking her clitoris in time with our thrusts.

This had begun as a lazy, almost drowsy bit of loving, with sweet kisses and gentle caresses in the late-afternoon light of our bedroom. We'd moved on to coupling spoon-fashion, but gently, easily.

Gradually, though we'd picked up the pace. My cock and my hands had already roused Angie to two orgasms, and now she was twisting and arching back hard against me, grunting and gasping as a third orgasm approached. I was myself far beyond being able to hold back, hoping only to keep going long enough to help her reach her climax.

Suddenly her joyful gasps reminded me of what I had heard from downstairs that day three months earlier, when I'd come home and she'd been fucking Tommy in our bed. The memory hit me like a blow to the chest—but almost immediately it gave way to another, happier memory, of Angie and me 'writing over' that episode with our own tryst in this bed. I thought of us together in Florida, her sucking me with such loving determination. I thought of us together in Tommy's apartment, me licking her and driving her crazy in his kitchen.

So I kept my momentum, kept plunging into her, kept stroking her with my fingers. In another moment all the memories faded from my mind, replaced by the pure sensory joy of Angie's climactic cry and the intense spasms as I emptied myself into her.

We lay together quietly, neither of us changing position, both of us sweaty and happy and spent.

Neither of us felt the need to speak, but after a few minutes I gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She gently kissed my arm, then turned and kissed my mouth.

I smiled at her. "I talked to Brad this morning."

"And?"

"It sounds like he and Connie are having something of a second honeymoon. He was bursting to tell me about their weekend away. Seems like she put on quite the show for him: sexy underwear, fucking in the hot tub, going out to dinner in a short dress with no panties. He asked how we were doing, of course, but he could barely wait through my answer before launching into his story. I guess we can conclude that Connie's living up to her part of the bargain."

Angie smiled back at me. "And how ARE we doing, Alex?"

"I think we're doing pretty damn well, Angie. Pretty damn well."