Alibi

I can't actually see her face, only a haloed silhouette with the light flaring around her head. Her hair was pinned up last night, I remember, now it is loose around her shoulders.

"What?"

"I am staying right here, until you come, and even then ... Well, we've only got until Friday and I want to keep you here and mean to make the most of you."

"So you won't even pull the blinds for me?"

"It's all about you isn't, it, Bill?" she snaps back, suddenly angry, "What are you going to do for me? You're just lying there and I am doing all the work."

"You know this is rape, don't you, Alison?" I say quietly, trying to calm us both down with reason.

"We are still man and wife, Bill." She sniffs.

My eyes are now getting more used to the bright light and I can see the tears have been streaming down her face, over dried tracks. She's been crying for some time. Her eyes are red and swollen. I don't think she has had as much sleep as I have.

"Not for much longer," I whisper.

Now the waterworks are really flowing, so much so that she stops all her below the belt activity.

Oh fuck! What do we do now?

Chapter 6: All Over

Alison:

I stare down at my husband Bill as he blinks, desperately trying to accustom his eyes to the bright light of early dawn. My tears roll down my face as I realise there is absolutely no salvation for my ruined marriage.

It's all over now. And just three months short of celebrating thirty happy years since our wedding day on that hot July afternoon in 1984.

I sniff and wipe the back of my hand across my treacherous cheeks. What a fucking mess! Caught cheating with a French cuisine teacher, who Bill hospitalised last night in his fury. He put everything into one punched and floored him, blood everywhere. Later, luckily, I found Bill unconscious in his luxury suite after he'd overdosed on aspirin and alcohol. I think I saved his life. And now I've ended up riding Bill cowgirl style after I had tied him up to his bed posts while he was still completely out of it, asleep.

Incredibly, despite him now being awake and fully up to speed on my perfidious behaviour, Bill's cock is still granite rock hard, and buried in my dribbling snatch, right up to the hilt, my trimmed bush entangled in his unchecked short and curlies. It occurs to me that even while we are both aware that I have completely screwed our marriage up, I am still slowly screwing him in his king size bed. I cannot help continuing, it feels so fucking good.

So, I think, if this is the end for us, why not simply enjoy my final farewell fuck? He doesn't feel like he's going to lose that naturally vigorous erection anytime soon, so I might as well fuck his eyeballs out while I still can. It might be the last chance I get to fuck the man I still love.

I set my mouth into a determined grimace, thinking 'fuck him, I'm just gonna fuck him!' and I start to do just that: fuck him with long deep hip movements, crushing my clit into his groin at the end of every downstroke. I'm gonna make every single glorious stroke count, I'll milk him dry. I'll show him what he's gonna miss after he ... sob! ... divorces my cheating arsehole.

"Oh, fuck, Ali," Bill gasps.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" I yell defiantly, triumphantly. I place my palms on his chest and fuck him as hard as I can, feeling the mounting heat fermenting deep in my cunt. I can feel my developing orgasm bubbling up inside me, all the colours of the rainbow flashing, popping in front of my eyes, the adrenalin coursing through my veins, my breath panting in shorter breaths.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" I scream as I come like an express train. I press my pelvis down hard on his, as my legs and arms abruptly turn to jelly but not wanting to end this delicious flood of euphoria yet.

I look down on him, my husband, while I rest on my elbows. My husband he is, for now at least. I know he started the divorce process yesterday, cancelling my credit cards, emptying our joint bank account, knowing even before catching me in the act that I had become a footnote to his past and no longer figuring significantly in his future. His cock is still hard, however, his hips still rising to meet my spent hips. For now, for this brief moment of time we're as if we are one entity, caught up in the natural passion of copulation that has overridden whatever hate he holds for me and the guilt I suffer from, as well as the shame I feel for him.

Well, I can keep this passion up, as long as he can keep his erection up! God! I felt so naughty fucking him like this! How the fuck did we get into this situation?

I had been in a panic, six or seven hours ago, just after midnight, when I first let myself into Bill's beautiful suite in our Riviera hotel. I found him on this very bed, absolutely dead to the world, half on, and half off the bed in his master bedroom. Passing through the suite's lounge I had already noticed on the table an empty bottle of whisky lying on its side and all the pills missing from a sachet of aspirins. I called for help from the hotel night staff as soon as I saw Bill's condition. I thought he had attempted to commit suicide in answer to my cavalier breaking of our wedding vows. The doctor, a nurse, a paramedic team and the hotel night manager kept me out of the bedroom while they pumped his stomach and inserted an IV of some kind of fluid into him.

The manager ushered me away into the suite's lounge and explained that they didn't want to involve the authorities and that the doctor was confident that Bill's attempt on his life could be contained without further risk to his health.

After half an hour of anxious waiting, the paramedics departed. Then the doctor emerged to explain that he had pumped out the contents of Bill's stomach and given him something to relax him. He showed me the sachet of pills, explained how most of the foil was missing from many of the pill cavities, with traces of pocket lint, demonstrating that these pills had been popped and consumed historically and not necessarily very many of them tonight. He surmised that Bill had only recently taken between two and six tablets, although the large amount of alcohol he had consumed had been of concern. He thought that Bill had not eaten in the last four or five hours and therefore would be ravenous shortly after waking. He explained that Bill would certainly be disorientated and confused on waking and may not remember exactly where he is or what has happened to him. His head, throat and stomach would be sore but he shouldn't have any long-term effects. The drip he had been on briefly should help alleviate any dehydration, enabling him to recover quickly from the alcohol absorbed by his system before I and they had emptied his stomach. The nurse had bound his hand, too, the doctor thinking that nothing appeared broken, just jarred and bruised. Then they left me alone with my thoughts.

That's when I came up with the stupid idea of waking him up with a fuck. Well, I seem to have a recent history of stupid ideas when it comes to sex.

Crazy, I know, but then I am crazy, out of my mind crazy about being caught cheating on the only man I ever loved. I will never find another man who I care as much about, never. OK, he had been ignoring me these last few months, but that is not the only reason why I strayed. I was just stupid and immature and I realised that it was all my fault that I've fucked up everything, for both of us.

The bedroom had been left in darkness, for Bill to sleep. I had earlier seen how the night manager drew the bedroom blinds using a remote control device. I found it on the table and played around with it. It operated everything, the lights, air con, background music and opened a hidden panel with a huge TV screen behind it, as well is the curtains and blinds.

I looked out of the window at all the sparking lights of the Nice seafront. Bill had a superb double-fronted view of the sea and beach. My old room, that I had shared for three nights with that easily-forgettable cheapskate seducer Marcel, was around the back of the hotel with only brick walls and part of the car park in view. I explored the suite. There were two bedrooms, each with beautiful en suite bathrooms, a lounge with bar and galley kitchen.

How had Bill afforded to rent something like this? Even if he had only just arrived and it was only for three nights, it must've cost a fortune. Marcel had paid for our room in the hotel, I had paid the flight, and he had insisted we go Dutch for meals. I used all the money from an old account in my maiden name, that I used to save for Christmas and birthday presents, for the first part of the week. That account had been exhausted now.

Bill should have been in Birmingham all this week, clearly he wasn't. Had he been here since Sunday or Monday, following me, watching me and Marcel acting like we were honeymooners, lovers without a care in the world beyond our selfish marriage-breaking union? It must've broken Bill's heart to see us together like that. And I never even noticed him around. I thought I had gotten away with my affair. What a stupid cow! And then, seeing him bursting in on us like that, finding irrefutable evidence of my adultery and the depth of all my recent lies to him. Of course, he was the one who had ordered that delivery of champagne, in order to have the door opened for him to barge in on us.

I must've lowered the temperature in the bedroom with the remote, as I felt a sudden chill, or maybe it was simply the thought of me standing in a tomb incarcerating the death of my loving relationship. Bill was left by the medical team lying on his side with just a thin sheet over him.

I didn't know what the time was, my phone was switched off since going to the hospital with Marcel. I rebooted it. I found I had dozens of increasingly panicking voice mails from both girls, Kelly and Juliette, wanting to know what the fuck was going on. I sent them messages saying we were away in the South of France working on it. Lies to my loved ones, but then I was an accomplished fucking liar, wasn't I?

It was gone two in the morning by then and I suddenly felt bone weary. I stripped off to my underwear and climbed into that big bed with him, cuddled up to Bill, wrapped my arm around him and kissed him between the shoulder blades. He was warm, but he didn't move a muscle. My body and legs tucked up close to him, following the foetal position contours of his body. Soon I fell asleep, although fitfully rather than contentedly. I think I cried myself to sleep realising all that I was about to lose.

I woke up as soon as the dawn light came through those beautiful picture windows. I had my back to Bill then, having turned in my sleep during the short night. Bill, too, had turned, as was lying on his back, snoring gently, his morning wood tenting the sheet, rather comically, I sniggered. I think, for just a moment, I forgot what deep trouble I was in, but then visions flooded through me of Marcel's wood the previous morning and Bill's discovery of us last night, the hospital visit and then calling the doctor after finding Bill so distressed. Oh what a mess I had got us into!

The thought crossed my mind about waking Bill up with a surprise blow job, like I had with Marcel, and dismissed it immediately as being totally inappropriate. I had never done that for Bill in all the years we were married. However, I remember on our honeymoon, I did mount him once and wake him up with a daring fuck, which he had responded to with gusto. That was nice. I recalled that morning with a grin. Now that was a really nice way of waking Bill up! Why had I never done that wonderful thing again in all the years since? I had been a selfish idiot all my married life. We could have had so much fun. In my desperation, I wondered. Could I do it now? It might be, I thought miserably, the last chance I ever got to do something amazing with my ... current husband.

It was light enough to see without turning the lights on by then, so I got up gently, without disturbing him and quietly slid open his wardrobe. It was a little chilly in the room, so I put on Bill's dressing gown first. I knew I'd find what I was looking for immediately: his silk ties, hanging up on a hanger. He had five, one for every day of his week away at the exhibition. He was always smartly turned out on the job.

Bill was sleeping soundly, flat on his back, almost in the centre of the bed. The bed had brass posts, so, starting with his wrists, I gently tied him up to them with his soft silk ties, being careful not to cut off his circulation. He didn't move or even react to my touching him, he was so soundly asleep. The doctor said he'd given him something to relax him. Then I tied his last tie, a slightly wider kipper type, around his head and covering up his eyes. I covered him in the bed sheet again, to keep him warm, although the sun through the windows already had a summer warmth about it.

I ordered a breakfast brought to our suite over the phone, checking first what the price would be. The girl at the other end knew precisely what suite we were in and said the breakfast was included in the booking for the suite. When I asked how much breakfast was included, she cheerily said everything on the menu, so that is precisely what I ordered.

While I waited, I pulled the sheet off him, examining Bill closely, for the first time in a long while. He was no longer quite the attractive man I married, I had to concede. While I had kept fit and trim, Bill had let himself go, succumbing to middle age spread, with rounded stomach, heavy man boobs and love handles. His hair was thin on top and going grey. How could Sheila have persuaded me that he would be chatting up women and bedding them on his trips? However, he was still my husband and, I thought with a sadness that almost made me collapse, not only had I loved him most of my adult life, I still loved him deeply. Only the potential loss of my relationship had brought me up sharply to realise the depth of feeling I had for this man, the father of my children. I started to give Bill a blow job just to moisten his shaft. That cock was iron bar hard.

A discreet knock announced the arrival of breakfast at the outer door. It was rolled in on a heated hostess trolley into the kitchen area of the main room, enabling the hot breakfast to be kept warm, while the cooler fruits, juices, cream, milk etc were moved from a lower unheated shelf into the refrigerator. A jacketed carafe of rich French roast coffee was included. I tipped the waiter, using some notes taken from Bill's wallet, grabbed a handful of grapes and went back to blowing Bill's still erect penis, to make him nice and wet.

I discarded the robe and climbed on the bed and mounted him, slowly easing down on his knob. Ooh, that felt so good. I hovered there, savouring the moment, my warm wet pussy completely filled with Bill's hot cock. I suddenly felt hungry, reaching for the grapes, devouring them hungrily. Then he coughed and groaned and I started moving slowly and kissing him, while Bill was trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind, gradually coming to terms with being raped by his unfaithful wife.

That pretty well brings us up to date, with me completely spent, my body racked with muscle sapping orgasms and Bill still carrying on fucking me within the confines of his gentle but restricting constraints. My eyelids are shut. I push myself up from his chest before wiggling my butt, working my sensitive g-spot against Bill's pistoning cock, when I suddenly feel his released hand behind my head pulling me down towards him.

I open my eyes in shock, Bill is pulling me down to his lips with his left hand, which has somehow worked loose. His eyes are open too, hungry eyes drilling right through me. My lips mesh with his moist mouth, our tongues afire, his hips still urgently pumping his diamond drill dagger into my ever grateful yielding sheath. Our bodies shudder as he grunts to his conclusion, pumping a fortnight's worth of pent-up ejaculate into my traitorous cunt.

"Fuuuuck!" he exclaims, as he carries on with his determined pumping and grunting. I have my arms wrapped around his neck, my face buried into his shoulder. I am coming buckets just as much as he was. With a final sustained juddering thrust, he squirts the last of his man-goo into me before collapsing corpse-like onto the bed.

"You fucking kill me, Alison!"

"I think you have fucking killed me, Bill," I gasp, resting my head on his chest, the movement allowing his softening cock to plop out of my fanny, covering our thighs in a hot flood of our combined love juices, "You're the fucking man, Bill!"

"But not fucking man enough for you, huh?" he gasps.

"Sweetheart, you've always been plenty man enough for me, but somewhere along the line we got used to each other and we both forgot how much each one needed the other."

"So why-"

"Hold on, hon, we're both to blame here. Why weren't you fucking me like you just have since, well anytime in the last twenty years, and on the other hand why wasn't I insisting on receiving such service? It would have been mind blowing doing this every weekend."

"Yes, it would have been ... but now we're done. I can't forget what you did..."

"I know, Bill. It was all my fault, I should have spoken to you about what I wanted, what I needed from you, the man I love, instead of looking for it outside our marriage. I don't sup-"

"No, I never did, never would."

"I know honey, I always knew, even when Sheila-"

"That fucking slut! She talked you into this?-"

"No, honey, she didn't. Really she didn't. She may just have sowed seeds of doubt-"

"How could you ever have doubted me, Ali?"

"I know."

I can't help it, the tears well up in my eyes and I cry into his chest, my shoulders heaving. I can't talk. What can I possibly say to the one man I love?

Chapter 7: Again

Alison and Bill:

"I know that we are all over and finished Bill." Alison sobs, "I hate it but I have to accept it. I can never undo the disgraceful things I have done to hurt you, and on your birthday, too."

Bill can feel the depth of pain she is feeling. He was feeling the same agonies, has the same tears welling up in his eyes. Unconsciously, he strokes her back.

"What am I expected to do now, eh, Ali?"

"Look, Bill, it's Wednesday morning, we have all today and tomorrow before we fly back to ... to whatever awaits us in the future. Can we not just stay in bed and have a second honeymoon? Can't we put off all thoughts of finding a solution to our troubles until we leave here Friday and return to reality?"

"So you think you can just fuck me silly until I forget all about this ... situation, until I welcome you back into my open arms and ever open flies?" Bill's voice ascending and sounding more pissed off the longer the sentence continues.

"No, no, honey, nothing like that... OK, you know me, sweetheart, so yes, maybe, exactly like that. I do want to fuck you silly and want you to do vice versa. Look, I accept that we're a lost cause as a couple. We've become ex's through my ... cheating. I accept that absolutely."

"It doesn't sound like you do."

"Of course, I would love it if you ever asked me back, absolutely love it, hon. I know I've fucked up and our marriage is all over bar the shouting. I just bear that you hate me so much now."

Bill felt the need to spell it out, "I will always love you, Ali, always find a place for you in my heart; but I will never be able to trust you again. That is gone, so I promise that I will divorce you. Do not be in any doubt of that. You can even bet on it!"

"All bets are off, hon, I've gambled and lost."

"Yeah..."

"But, sweetheart, look at it this way ... you've paid for this beautiful suite, so ... instead of you going out and searching Nice high and low, looking for some revenge pussy, you've already got a willing fuck buddy right here ... yours, free and on tap, any time you want."