Behind the Green Veil Ch. 03

Apparently, the person wasn't going for it, as I heard her complaining that she should not be charged so much to change her ticket. "Oh well," she said, "I'll just have to take my chances and fly this morning... I hope I don't get everyone on the plane sick as well." I could barely hold my laughter, even in my still exhausted state. There was a long pause. "They have me on hold for a manager," she whispered. I smiled and crawled over to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. I couldn't stand being away from her, not touching her, so I wrapped my arms back around her as she spoke. She re-told her lie to the manager and within a minute she was thanking him for his kind consideration. When she finally hung up she turned around and flew into my arms, kissing me deeply.

"We have twelve more hours!" she exclaimed with a radiant -- if still very sleepy -- smile. "Now you have to call your airline and tell the same lie. Make it believable!" she said, handing me her phone. I called and they bought it, and we were kissing again in celebration. She eventually broke away with a pained look in her eyes.

"Now I need to call Brian," she said somberly, "but I can't do that laying here next to you. I'm going to go into the lavatory for some privacy, ok?" I nodded. She gave me one last kiss. "Be right back."

From the bed I could hear her in the bathroom telling Brian the same food poisoning story, though there was a great deal more she said which I could tell would have been indeed hard to say in front of me. I heard her tell him how much she missed him, how much she wished he was here to take care of her, how sorry she was that her feeling ill would ruin any plans for intimacy they had for that evening, and then finally how much she loved him. It was hard for me to hear. I knew the thoughts were genuine, even if interlaced with a big fat lie to cover up her infidelity. When she came back to bed her face was sad, almost angry.

"I feel like shit for what I just did," she said, crawling into bed with me and pulling the covers back over us. She turned away from me and curled into a fetal position. I pressed my chest into her back and spooned, wrapping my arms around her. I said nothing. There was nothing to say. "Let's just get some more sleep," she said finally. Within five minutes we were out.

---------- Orkideh -----------

We stayed tangled up in each other's arms as we slept. Whenever one of us would stir we'd share a lingering kiss before finding a new position and falling back asleep. I could still smell my sex on his face which made each kiss that much more enticing. My pussy had a dull throb, slightly sore from how deep and hard he had fucked me but the sensation was a welcomed reminder of the beautiful time we'd shared. I had no doubt that I would be even sorer by the time I boarded the plane that evening.

That's when a fresh wave of guilt washed over me. My pussy would be sore, loose and awash with another man's seed by the time I made it home to Brian that night. Even though I loved and missed him terribly, there was no way I would be able to make love to him when I got home. Even if I was somehow able to hide the guilt in my face, my body would give me away. I doubted if just taking a bath or shower would do the trick. Jackson had cum so hard and so deep inside of me that I would need one or two days to let my body cleanse itself and let the walls of my pussy regain their snugness. I was going to have to lie and play sick for a long time. Just the thought of it brought genuine disquiet to my gut.

Sometime just before 1 pm the hotel phone started ringing, waking us up again. I scrambled to answer it. It was the front desk alerting us that we had missed the checkout time by nearly an hour and that if we didn't come down right away we were going to be charged another day. I asked if we could do a late checkout but the woman said that housekeeping staff was only on duty for another hour and after that there would be no one around to clean the rooms. Hearing the conversation unfold, Jackson reached over and took the phone from me, rattled off his credit card number and expiration date and asked them to charge the extra day to him. Then he hung up and collapsed back on the bed.

"What's a $100 for an extra day with you?" he asked rhetorically. I kissed him in response, lingering for a second to enjoy his soft, plush full lips. I was going to miss those.

"You rest," I said, feeling movement in my lower abdomen, "I need to go use the bathroom, as you Americans say." I stretched, yawning as I got up from the bed and walked over toward the lavatory. I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep and my body felt like a truck ran over me. I heard Jackson turn in the sheets as I walked away from him. Looking over my shoulder I saw that he was watching me as I walked, lustful eyes focused on my butt. "Sleep!" I insisted, "You're going to need your energy for later." I blushed and shut the door.

My body had a consistent schedule no matter what the circumstances. First thing every morning my bowels were ready to empty the previous day's food. That day was no different. Though it wasn't morning any longer my body didn't know the difference with all the time changes I'd been through. When you find a new lover the last thing you ever want them to do is smell your shit. There's an old saying, 'the lover who follows a woman into her private spaces risks being disillusioned.' Even though shitting is one of the most basic parts of being human we always try to hide the fact that we do it when it comes to new relationships. So I was feeling very self conscious about releasing my bowels with Jackson lying in the other room.

I turned the fan on and it was very loud so I turned it right back off. I debated, wondering what was more embarrassing, the loud sound of the fan alerting him to the fact that I was in here releasing my bowels or the risk of him smelling it afterward. I decided to go without the fan since I was going to jump right in the shower afterward, anyway. The smell would be long gone once I was done bathing.

As I sat there I became lost in thought, reflecting on the last 24 hours. My emotions were torturously conflicted. On the one hand, I was so happy to have met Jackson and I would cherish the short time we spent together for the rest of my life. I also felt amazingly liberated -- meeting a man with whom I shared a very close connection and making love to him as if there was no tomorrow without all the anxiety and stress of being morally policed and threatened with violence if I failed to be a good Muslim woman.

On the other hand, that liberation came at a terrible price. I believe in love, loyalty and fidelity so I felt extremely disappointed in myself for betraying my fiancé. I feared that living with this betrayal and the lies to cover it up would tear me apart inside for the rest of my life. But I also kept thinking back to what Jackson said earlier, that going back to Brian and being the perfect wife to him from this day forward was the best way to truly honor him. What would Brian prefer, to know I cheated or to live in ignorant bliss? There was no way to find out.

Brian was a wonderful man and I loved him dearly, so I struggled over what it meant that I had achieved a sexual chemistry with Jackson more intense than what I had achieved with my fiancé. Was the taboo nature of our affair responsible for the higher intensity or was it that Jackson and I were just perfectly matched sexually? But that could not be the whole story because the way I worked, I could have never opened up to him sexually if we had not made a strong connection intellectually and socially.

It left me doubting whether a lifetime with Brian would be truly fulfilling for me or whether there would always be something missing. I finally reasoned that because Brian and I had continually made our relationship stronger over the past four years that if there was something missing we could build on it to improve. I resolved that I would go back to Brian and work on achieving that perfect sexual chemistry and anything else missing from our relationship. He deserved that.

A knock on the door brought me out of my deep contemplation. "You're taking all day in there, my love, and I have to use it too. I've been holding it for 30 minutes and I can't hold it any longer."

'Shit,' I thought to myself. I wanted to shower and cleanse the air in there but I knew I couldn't make him wait that long. "Give me one sec, babe," I said, flushing and turning on the fan. I took an extra long time washing my hands. Looking in the mirror I saw that I was a hot mess. My hair was all over the place, like I had been fucked senseless throughout the entire evening. The thought brought a satisfied smile to my face. I turned off the water and took an equally long time drying my hands, trying my best to delay and let the fan take all the stinky air out.

"O-R-K-I-D-E-H," I heard him say, drawn out. I could here him running in place trying to hold back his pee. I chuckled to myself and nervously opened the door, trying to close it behind me.

"You might want to wait two minutes," I said softly, blushing. He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a quick kiss.

"Don't worry about it. I have some of my own kids to drop off at the pool," and with that he rushed me out of the way and raced into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"I want to take a shower," I yelled behind him, not yet getting his joke. With English as my third language, so many things often went over my head.

"We'll shower together," he shouted back through the closed door. I said OK and went to lie on the bed. I finally got the joke and I started laughing. He didn't take as long as I did, only about 10 minutes. When I heard the water from the shower I knew it was OK to go back.

I found him inside brushing his teeth. I grabbed my toothbrush and started doing the same. He made room for me at the sink, stepping back to let me stand in front of him. He wrapped his free arm around me as we stood there, watching each other in the mirror. It was a pregnant moment as I thought about how my life might have been different if I had met him four years ago. I wondered what it would be like if we were standing in front of the mirror brushing our teeth together every morning, instead of just this one time. By the look in his eyes I guessed he was thinking the same.

He moved to spit and rinse out his mouth and while he dried his mouth with a towel I did the same. When finished he spun me around and kissed me so deeply I felt it in my toes. I kissed him back just as passionately, our tongues sliding together in a sensual dance. It was the one time in our lives that we would be able to kiss each other good morning and we both wanted to make it last. We stayed lipped locked for nearly 3 minutes enjoying the minty freshness of our mouths, breathing in each other's breath and drinking each other's saliva. We broke only long enough to step into the shower which had grown very hot and was now steaming up the room. As soon as we were under the water our lips found each other again.

Every minute or so he would break from kissing me and just hold me tightly to him, my face pressed into his chest. Squeezing me almost too tightly, his thick, muscular arms held onto me as if he never wanted to let me go. Each time this happened I took the opportunity to rub my face in the hairs on his chest while pushing my pelvis into him. Then suddenly, as if his mouth missed mine, we would be back kissing again.

We kept that up for nearly 10 minutes. Every kiss we shared still had the fire and intensity of our first. I could literally get lost in his plush lips. I loved sucking each one of them into my mouth, trying to keep it as my own. It was a precursor for everything we did that morning, drawn out to make it last, to make it special.

We were finally able to stop kissing and start washing after we had somehow managed to satiate our appetites for tasting each other's mouths. Perhaps we were just hungry for other things. He certainly was, with a strong erection now pressed against my stomach. He had not touched me down below to see how wet I was but I'm sure he could tell from how hungrily I was kissing him. He washed me first this time. I pointed out my different products and he grabbed my shampoo and started washing my hair. It was very sensual and yet we were playful at the same time, joking like small children and laughing hysterically. I turned around to rinse my hair while I playfully rubbed my ass against his shaft which was hot to the touch, practically searing my ass in every spot it touched my tender skin. He then put conditioner in my hair and left it in to soak while he began to wash my body.

I gave him one of my exfoliating gloves and watched as he forced one of his large hands into it. It would never sink back to fit my hand again and I knew I would need to buy a new pair when I got home. It was a small price to pay for such a wonderful day. He started with my arms, lifting up each one to scrub my armpits. It tickled and I squirmed. He then washed my neck and my breasts. He took his time, a look of concentration on his face as he made sure to be gentle with my nipples. He attended to each one until they were hard and protruding, swollen dark purple with the blood surging within. It was the first real attention he had given to my breasts which surprised me.

My fiancé was a breast man; my boobs turned him on more than anything. They were only B cups, sometimes C if I was bloated. I never thought they were much to get excited about. Brian loved licking, sucking and cuming on my breasts and he particularly relished rubbing his cum into my skin afterward.

I liked how excited he got by it and I loved making him happy but it was never something I would desire if I didn't know that he liked it so much. I'm the kind of girl who prefers her man to cum inside of her -- either my pussy or my mouth -- I just love the idea of keeping his love in me long after our lovemaking is over. But because of Brian's tit fetish I had grown used to my breasts getting constant attention.

Jackson, on the other hand, seemed much more into smelling and tasting me which was more in line with my own personal deepest desires. I always thought that it was just the poet in me who loved to have my sense of smell and taste stimulated during sex, hungry for all my senses to be aroused. I got some of that with Brian but I never got to fully indulge my desires and gorge myself on those sensations, mostly out of fear that he would think that I was strange or worse, kinky and promiscuous. This was a first for me. I felt safe in my indulgence because Jackson seemed to relish doing the same to me.

I gently ran my fingers through his woolly hair to complete my sensory stimulation while I watched him pay careful attention to my breasts. When he was satisfied that they were clean he pushed me back further into the shower spray so that the water was just cascading over my shoulders, rinsing the soap off of my nipples. Jackson brought his face just under the tip of each of my breasts and let the water run into his open mouth.

I found it so erotic, his mouth teasing me with the prospect of closing around my nipple at any moment. Finally I couldn't take it any more and showed one of my tits deep into his mouth. He sucked at my nipple hungrily, bathing it in long slow licks with his tongue. He lightly scraped my swollen nub with his teeth which drove me crazy. Then, holding my nipple with his teeth he began to whip it with his tongue at lightening speed.

He continued to do the same to my other breast, then switched again, breaking into a rhythm. While he put my nipples through this sweet torment, his fingers from the hand that was not sheathed in my exfoliating glove found my sex. They rubbed the slick wetness that was by that point covering my entire vulva and he knew it wasn't water from the shower. Two of his fingers found their way inside of me and I moaned. They swished around inside me for a second then he pulled them out once they were nicely coated with my juices.

He stood fully upright and brought the fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. I inched forward, the look on my face letting him know I was eager for my turn. I grabbed his shoulders and stood on my tip-toes as he leaned down to give me access. When his face was close to mine we both just smelled his sticky fingers together. I could smell all the cum he had shot deep inside me in addition to my own musky odor. He put one finger in his mouth and began to suck on it but held the other out for me. Because the angle wasn't right I couldn't get it into my mouth so I began to lick it. I could still taste his cum from our sex the night before. It was by then stale and a little sour but it was still the result of our lovemaking and I relished it all the same. The look in his eyes told me he did as well.

"Dirty girl," he said after we had finished cleaning my juices off his fingers. "You still taste like our sex from last night. I guess I will have to wash you thoroughly."

"Why, so you can get me dirty all over again?" I asked coyly.

"Precisely!" he said, giving me a deep but brief kiss. Then he went back to washing me. This time he started on my abdomen, making sure to clean out my belly button, then moved down to my legs skipping over my pussy. While washing my legs he felt my stubble and asked if he could shave me. The hair on my body is very faint and I don't need to shave that often. But it had been four days which is about how long it takes to begin to really feel that there is hair growing there.

No man had ever asked to shave my legs before, it had always been something I handled on my own. My razor wasn't even in the shower with me but in my bag on the sink. I was a little hesitant because I didn't want him to cut me. It wasn't that I was scared of being cut -- I was scared of having to come up with a story to tell Brian if he found a cut on my leg. I never cut myself shaving, so he would think something was very strange if I showed up home with a shaving cut. But as I thought about the careful attention he was paying to my body while he washed me, I finally acquiesced.

I stepped out of the shower dripping water everywhere and retrieved my razor before rejoining him. I thought about asking him if he had done this before but thought better of it. I didn't want to know. I just told him what direction to shave in and at what angle to hold the razor and then let him have at it.

He got down on his knees, sitting on his heels in the shower and asked me to bring one of my legs up, placing my foot on his thigh. He then lathered up my leg and began shaving me, taking his time, starting at my calf and working his way up. He went slow, feeling my calves, squeezing them with his large hangs, and concentrated deeply as he moved the razor along my skin. I couldn't help but smile watching him. I would have been done with both legs in the time it took him to shave the bottom half of just my right but it was sweet watching him savor the experience. It was like he was worshiping the very skin I'm in -- not because of its smoothness, its color or its hue, but just because it held me.

Every minute or so he would pause to kiss the inside of my thigh. Each kiss lingered, his tongue snaking out to lap at the skin around where his lips landed. Then he would go back to shaving me. Each time he broke to kiss me, his lips would come closer to my sex. I boldly spread my thighs to give him all the access he desired. Once he had switched legs, his kisses were so close to my sex that I could feel his cheeks rubbing against my outer lips, his chin stubbly and also in need of a shave. The sensation sent shivers up my spine.

By the time he was done shaving me he had done away with the pretense of kissing my thighs and was simply rubbing his entire face in my sex without ever using his lips or his tongue in my pussy or on my clit. It drove me crazy with need. I needed to cum. I wanted to flood his mouth with my juices but the bastard wasn't ready to stop teasing me yet so he took his face out of my sex and went to washing my feet.