Fucking My Favorite Cousin Ch. 03

****In this installment, which may be the last in the "Favorite Cousin" story, I am going to write alternate endings. I will leave it up to the reader to chose which ending they want to follow. Or, if you're feeling so inclined, follow both endings to see where they end up.****

*

The bath water was lukewarm by the time I pulled myself away from my daydreaming and into reality. After drying off with a bath sheet, I made my way into the bedroom to start getting dressed.

"I've got to focus," I thought. Dwelling on my evening with Chad, my cousin, had provided me with a thrilling walk down memory lane. I'd only needed to hear his voice on the phone, and my body was aching for him all over again. But it was date night with my husband, and he had it all worked out for us to spend much needed time together. He'd arranged for his mom to watch the kids, and I had to get Chad out of my mind long enough to get dressed and ready to go.

All was quiet in the house, so I assumed Bill had lingered at his mom's house, catching up on things with her. Our lives were often so busy that Sandy took a backseat many weeks. Bill tried to take a few extra minutes here and there to spend time chatting with her.

I found the half used bottle of my favorite lotion, shook it down and squirted a generous portion on my freshly bathed thighs. Rubbing it vigorously over my knees and down toward my calves, I breathed in its delicate fragrance. This scent was also Bill's favorite. He had often told me that whenever I wear it, he thinks of our first date. Knowing that, I decided to try to make this night special for him. Bill was my first love, my first lover, the father of my children and my husband.

"Your loyalty is to Bill," I reminded myself. I wanted him to know I still appreciated him. I still found Bill attractive, and in general, he was a good husband. After twelve years of married life, our passion wasn't at an all time high, but we we still shared a deep bond that time hadn't eroded.

As I surveyed my outfit selection for the evening, I realized it looked more like something I'd wear to a parent-teacher conference than on a date night. Hanging it back up in the closet, I opted instead for a mint green camisole, clingy mid-thigh length skirt and a pair of my favorite open-toe heels. I found the beaded glass necklace that my best friend had brought back from a trip to Italy. The flecks of green and white inside the glass made a perfect accent for the evening's attire.

Before I dressed, I stood in front of the mirror and carefully blow-dried my thick, shoulder length hair. Turning off the dryer, I rolled my hair into a single french twist, securing it in the back with a large hair clip. A few wayward tendrils made their way out of the clip, cascading down on to my shoulders. The look was a natural one, neither too formal or excessively casual. Satisfied, I applied just a hint of lip gloss, highlighted my cheeks and eyelids with a dusting of blush, concluding my hair and makeup preparation.

As I began to dress, I decided to be a little daring, opting to omit both bra and panties. Instead, I slipped on a pair of crotchless pantyhose, a spontaneous purchase at a friends' "spice it up" party earlier in the year. Having never worn them before, the feeling was exhilarating, but I felt a tad self conscious at the same time. I looked in the mirror, fully dressed, and assessed the completed look.

I wasn't sure if I could get away with the bra-less look. My breasts, firm as they were, seemed a touch too conspicuous without the extra support. The camisole appeared almost completely see through; even the darker pigmentation surrounding my nipples was detectable through the sheer material. On an impulse, I grabbed a light weight black blazer out of the closet and slipped in on. My cleavage was still well defined, but I didn't feel quite as naked with the extra garment.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror. I hoped Bill would be pleased with what he saw. In some small way, I felt like if I could make love to Bill...giving him the best of myself, I might be able to feel a little less guilty about the affair I was carrying on with Chad.

******This is alternate ending #1. Chose this ending if you want to see Bill and Missy's reconciliation and their married life take a spicy turn. If you'd rather see Chad and Missy's sexy reunion, skip down to alternate ending #2.******

Affair. The word echoed in my head and heart as I left the bedroom. When I walked into the living room, I was shocked to see Bill sitting on the couch. No lights were on, and with dusk quickly approaching, the whole room was dim.

Immediately, my blood rushed to my head. Something was wrong. Bill had come home and hadn't let me know he was back. He held something in his hand, something small and square.

Frozen, I waited for Bill to speak. When he said nothing, I walked a few steps toward him.

"Bill?"

"Melissa." Bill's tone was flat, without emotion. Still staring at the box in his hand, my husband didn't look up.

"Hon? Are you okay?" I ventured.

"I don't know what to say, Melissa." Bill sighed.

"What's going on?" I whispered, beginning to fear the worst.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on? I think I'm the one who needs to know." Bill's voice, though he spoke in low tones, was strained and angry as he replied.

"Bill, what are you talking about?" I felt panicky; I could feel anxiety welling up in my body, causing me feel suddenly faint.

"I'm talking about this, Melissa." Bill answered, his voice still monotone. He set the box down on the coffee table. "I'm talking about this message."

Blinking, trying to get my eyes to adjust in the ever increasing darkness, I finally made out the buttons on the answering machine.

"Message?" I was still baffled, unsure where my husband was going with the conversation. Fidgeting with my necklace, I shifted my weight nervously from foot to foot.

"Not even good old standby Bill makes you feel like he does, huh? The passion isn't the same, isn't that right?"

Feeling nauseated, I realized: When I picked Chad's call in the bedroom, my conversation was still being recorded on the answering machine. But how much of it did he hear? Did I say Chad's name? Did Bill have details? A thousand questions bombarded my brain. As each second ticked by, I felt dizzier and more panic stricken.

My mouth dry, my body immobilized in fear, I said nothing. Bill began to tap his fingers on the coffee table. I could see that he was trying to decide what to do next. Finally, I sat down on the chair closest to me and awaited my husband's next move. Would he take the kids and leave? Would he ask me to leave? Where would I go? What would the kids think? Would he tell them what I did?

"So you have nothing to say, Melissa?" Bill said, looking at me across the darkened room. Part of me was relieved that I couldn't see his face completely.

"I'm sorry, Bill." I managed.

"Sorry? That's it? You're sorry?" Bill's voice raised an octave higher. "Sorry..... Just sorry. That's rich. You fuck someone else, and he has the nerve to call you here at home to reminisce about it and you're sorry."

By now the tension in my body pushed my emotions beyond my ability to restrain them, and I could feel hot tears begin to trickle down my cheeks.

"Who is he, Melissa? Someone I know?"

Tears coursing down my face, I felt a small amount of relief, realizing that Bill was not aware that Chad was the man calling me. I had to ensure that no matter what, he never figured it out.

When I didn't answer his inquiry, Bill's interrogation grew louder.

"Who is he Melissa?!!" Bill shouted.

"Bill, you don't know him." I lied. "I met him online."

"Oh, okay, Melissa. Someone you met on-line. That's just great. How long have you been seeing him? Do you even know anything about him?"

"This was the first time we....." I began, until Bill cut me off.

"The first time you fucked? Is that what you're trying to say, Melissa? It's the first time you fucked him?"

I nodded, knowing at least that part of what I was saying was true.

"Did you make him use protection, Melissa?" Bill demanded.

Lying again, I nodded an affirmation. Feeling my energy drain, I put my head in my hands. Should I stay and answer Bill's questions, or should I leave before Bill's anger grew out of control? I felt like a trapped animal, not knowing how to escape the circumstances I found myself in.

"Is he...was he....." Bill sputtered. Then he shook his head. "No. No, I don't want to know. I just don't want to know." He said, as much to himself as to me.

Bill grew suddenly silent. I waited, afraid to move and afraid not to. I didn't trust my legs to hold me, so I remained still.

"Melissa, have things gotten this bad between us that you have to look to someone else? Haven't I always tried to make you happy? Didn't you know you could come to me if you weren't happy?"

I could tell by Bill's tone that he was fighting tears. In all of our married life, I'd seen Bill cry maybe twice. Knowing that I had hurt him, brought him to this point, my tears began to flow anew. I sat, sobbing, covering my face with my hands, unable to give him the answers he needed.

The floor squeaked, and suddenly, Bill was standing over me. Putting his hands on my shoulders, Bill pulled me to my feet.

"Melissa, look at me." Bill implored. "Look at me."

"I never thought I'd ever have to go here with you, Melissa." Bill said, looking into my eyes. "I never had one doubt about you."

I lowered my head, and Bill lifted it back with a firm hand on my chin.

"Melissa, you've always been my beautiful angel. Sweet, innocent, sexy. I know other men have wanted you over the years. But I always thought you were mine. You belonged to me. Since the night you gave me your virginity, I thought I possessed you. I never had to worry about you. That's what I thought."

Walking to the middle of the room, Bill turned on a light. My eyes burned with the sudden transition.

"Melissa, come here. Sit down with me." Bill urged, motioning to the seat beside him on the couch.

Hesitating, I rose, moving to the place on the couch that Bill indicated.

Bill looked at me intensely. I could tell he had something important to say, and in his own way, he felt pity for me. Knowing that, I relaxed just a bit, prepared to hear Bill's words.

"I believe you when you say this is the first time this has happened, Melissa. I can read you like a book. You haven't been yourself lately. And you aren't a very good liar, Lissa."

With each word Bill spoke, my breathing slowed, returning to an almost normal rhythm.

"I know you. I know you better than you think. If you're down, I can sense it. I know the difference between your happy smile and that smile you give when you're having a terrible day and want me to think you're okay. We've been married too long for you to fool me, Lissa."

Wondering where the conversation was headed, I listened carefully to Bill, trying to read his expression.

"In a way, though, Lissa, I've looked at you more like a....I don't know...like something I owned rather than a wife. I always thought you'd be here. No matter what happened."

I nodded, assuring Bill I understood what he was saying, but inwardly, I was puzzled. Where was his anger now? Where was the hostility that was mounting just moments before?....Anger and hostility that I knew I deserved.

"Melissa, I am hurt. I am angry. But if I sat here and made you feel alone in this, I'd be a hypocrite. I can't do that to you, not after all these years."

Now I was totally confused, and unsure of both the direction of our relationship, and the nature of the talk at hand.

Sighing, Bill ran his fingers through his salt and pepper grey hair. As if uncertain how to continue, he paused.

"Lissa, do you remember how sick you were when you were pregnant with John?"

John, our oldest, now eleven, was healthy, vibrant and full of life. But at the time, the pregnancy had taken a toll on my health and vitality. Though I was young, I had developed a myriad of problems that caused my doctor to put me on bed rest for the last three months of my pregnancy.

Depressed, I turned inward, spending a lot of time sleeping or watching t.v. to cope. Bill's mother, Sandy, was a saint during the whole ordeal, taking care of the house and cooking while I was off my feet. Bill worked long hours to recoup the income I lost while on leave. My maternity benefits covered only six weeks of paid time off, so Bill took a second job to supplement our income.

By the time John was born, Bill and I were practically strangers. Bill had moved into a downstairs bedroom, and I had all but shut him out emotionally.

I knew Bill loved John, but at that time, I wasn't sure about how he felt about me. Deciding it was post partum depression, I dismissed my doubts and threw myself into parenting our newborn son. Gradually, I began to get back to my old routines. I started walking with a friend, who also had a new baby.

Pushing the strollers around the local park day after day, I felt my self confidence return. I shed my pregnancy weight, and within a few months, I was back to feeling energized.

Once I returned to work, I was able to connect with people again. I reached out to Bill, to let him know I missed his companionship.

It didn't happen overnight, but by the time John was six months old, Bill had moved back in to our bedroom. I felt sexy again, and Bill seemed to respond accordingly. Happy to have my husband in my arms once more, we could barely keep our hands off of each other. It was like we were newlyweds again.

I remembered it all, even the hazy days that ran together because of my depression. I remembered the loneliness, the feeling of uselessness, the isolation. I remembered the joy at finding myself...and Bill...again.

Smiling slightly, I assured Bill that I remembered.

"Do you remember how distant we were....how I moved out of our room...and how we didn't even talk at all?"

I nodded.

"Lissa, I've been holding this all of these years, and I think this whole situation forces me to tell you what happened. It's only fair. I would have told you then, but I was so afraid of losing you and John. As down as you were I didn't want to add to your pain. And then when you got better, I didn't want to tell you then, either. I felt like you might lose the ground you worked so hard to gain."

Suddenly, I understood. Bill was trying to tell me that he, too, had strayed from our vows. It made sense. The whole thing made perfect sense.

"Bill, you...you had.... someone else in your life?"

Bill shook his head "yes."

"Was it a one time...thing... A one night stand?" I ventured.

Bill took my hand. "No, Lissa. It was a few months. I met her at work...my job at the club. I don't know why I let it happen. She didn't even compare to you. She wasn't pretty or especially smart or even as funny as you. But she was there, and she paid attention to me."

"She was married, too. A couple years older than me. I don't know, I guess I just felt ...alone. I knew I was being a jerk, but I wasn't happy at home...I couldn't talk to you...you were dealing with enough. It just happened. I've never been able to forgive myself all these years. I tried to forget, but I always felt like I was carrying around a huge burden."

Bill looked at me, a look of relief on his face. "I was so angry when I got home and heard this message," he said, gesturing to the answering machine. "I couldn't believe that you...my wife...my woman could do this to me. I could never imagine you in another man's arms."

Bill looked down at his feet and then fidgeted. "I thought I could just walk out and leave you... leave you and the kids and make you figure out how to deal with everything alone." With a sigh, Bill continued. "But then I remembered you there...lying in bed, your feet swollen, my child in your belly...and there you were ..while I carried on with another woman. You stayed in that bed, fighting for the life of our son, and I couldn't even fight for you when you needed me the most."

Suddenly, tears sprung forth from Bill's eyes, and he reached out for me. "Lissa, I don't know who this guy is and I don't want to know. I know he made you feel something that I haven't made you feel in a long time. I know that you're a good woman, Lissa. I know your heart. I know something about him made you turn to him instead of me; that he offered you something I wasn't giving you here at home. I just want us to be honest with each other again. I want us to be close again...like we were before the kids and the stress and the bills. I know it's going to be hard, but I think it's time I started showing you what kind of man I am."

Hearing Bill's words, I leaned in to him, pressing my face against his cheek. I felt his tears on my already tear-dampened skin. Urgently, Bill reached out for me, pulling me closer, enveloping me in his arms.

"I am so sorry, Bill." I murmured into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too, Lissa."

We sat there for a while, not in a hurry to say anything more or break our connection. As we held one another, we healed. Forgiveness flowed. A once forgotten flame began to re-ignite, unseen; though both of us were unaware of its subtle presence.

Bill was the first to move, as he began to pepper my forehead with light, almost wispy kisses. At first, my body did not respond, only my heart, as he demonstrated his affection in this yet small way. My mind struggled to keep up with all the new information we had shared. I was amazed at what had transpired, so much making sense that once had me baffled.

I appreciated Bill even more for revealing his past indiscretion, at a time when he could have focused on making me pay for mine. His wounds were fresh, yet he chose to sacrifice his right to lash out at me for reconciliation instead. The truth renewed us, and soon I lifted my head to look at Bill.

"Kiss me, Bill." I urged him.

Bill complied, and in this kiss there was more life than had ever existed in our marriage. Bill's rough, work calloused hands cupped my face, his thumbs circling my cheekbones, tracing a pattern where my tears had so recently fallen. Then he leaned in to me, putting his entire self into the kiss, reclaiming my lips for himself. Opening his mouth ever so slightly, he tilted his head to the side, allowing the heat of his being to breathe life into me again.

As the kiss continued, our momentum expanded, cultivating something that neither of us could have imagined.

Maddened by the barriers between us, Bill unexpectedly removed my blazer, then followed it with my camisole, as if the garments were intrusive to our immediate connection.

Astonished, Bill considered my bra-less form momentarily.

"I guess this means you still wanted me. Trying to seduce me on date night, were you?" Bill grinned.

I blushed, and Bill had my answer.

"God, you're hot, Lissa." Bill sighed. "I've taken you for granted."

"Shhh" I murmured, as I pressed a finger against my husband's lips. "Let's forget the regrets right now. Make me forget."

With a low groan, Bill slid me off the couch and on to the living room rug. Kicking backward, Bill shoved the coffee table away from us with one leg. The answering machine fell to the floor, forgotten. With force uncharacteristic of him, Bill straddled me, pinning my arms to the floor. Bill leaned forward, his mouth finding my breasts. At his mercy, I felt a sudden rush of fear and pleasure.

Bill held my arms with his left hand, and with his right hand he seized one of my naked breasts. He began to nip and tug on my nipple, causing my senses to erupt with both pain and delight.

"Oh God, Bill." I mouthed, not quite able to get the words to emerge.