I Should Have Known

John came home, at last, and I made love to him senselessly, trying my best to keep imagining him, and not Charlie. But I knew everyone had fantacies. John finally complained about soreness ad I realized that I was sore also. I noticed I was walking funny. I was so confused.

Charlie kept calling. So persistent. Always a laugh. John left again. More signings. Eventually I went to lunch with Charlie, just to see if I’d remembered him correctly. If he was as cute as I remembered. Maybe my fantasy was just a false illusion. Uh huh!

When he’d hinted, during coffee and dessert, that a free room was available to him, to us, I’d laughed good naturedly.

I’d kept laughing till lunch was over but then his hand touched my knee. Instead of moving it, which I should have done, I knew what I should have done, I looked around to see if anyone could see. They couldn’t. His hand moved up, pushing my skirt higher, and higher. I kept laughing, it was titillating, what he was doing in public and no one knew. I thought I’d stop him any minute. Then his fingers touched my panties and I knew he was touching my wetness. Now he knew he was turning me on! Then, then I’d gone up to that “free”room and fucked him for two hours.

I’d been crying that night when John had called me. So guilty. Sorry for myself, that things had turned out this way. Or, maybe, sorry for John. After we’d hung up I’d sat there, trying to figure it out. What was it, why this attraction to Charlie? I’ve heard all the stories, bigger, longer, all that. But Charlie isn’t any bigger, no longer, actually shorter, and it doesn’t curve, or twist, or whatever. He has no special technique. He was complimentary, that’s true, but I could see through that. He’d wanted me. I realized that night that it was because of the excitement. The newness. Maybe even the fear of being caught. And definitely the fact that I controlled him. He’d do anything I wanted. Anything I suggested. What would John do if he caught me? Throwme out? Could I live with that? I resolved that John wouldn’t find out. We’d be careful.

After that night, I didn’t cry for either of us anymore

Charlie and I met as much as possible. He always seemed to have a room available when we needed it. He was always horney and so was I. I began to think I was in love with him. But I was in love with John. Could I be in love with two men?

One day I noticed that Charlie’s watch was old. It delighted me to shop for a new one for him. It was expensive but I could afford it. John never paid any attention to the bills so I wasn’t worried about being “caught.”

After awhile I noticed that John was never in the mood for sex. What did I care? I was getting mine. Actually I just put it down to his working too hard. Maybe he was bored with me. Well, I wasn’t bored at all. I was bubbling.

It was after lunch and sex one day that things started going to hell. I couldn’t figure out what happened at first. It was becoming obvious to me now that John had caught on. That could, I thought, be what happened. But if so, why didn’t he say something to me? Why not confront me? And if he did, what would I say? What would I do? Would I even care?

The morning after I’d found John on the couch, crying, I’d left the house before he’d awakened. I was so nervous. So scared.

But when Charlie called that morning, to ask what had happened, I told him that everything was fine and that I’d be over for lunch. I was going to break this thing off. Resume respectability. Comfort John. Resume boredom. Less risk. Oh, yeah. By the time I got there I was thinking about his cock in me and that took care of that. I gushed when I came and he was sweating in the air conditioned room.

One day, I’d not really seen John except for dinner. He seemed to be working at night. We spoke very little. I was getting heartburn, eating while I waited for him to say something. But he never did. He was always polite to me. I began to read the cuckold stories on Literotica, and began wondering if John was one. Did he look forward to a nasty night eating Charlie’s juices out of me? He didn’t act like it. I couldn’t make myself believe it.

Then came the day of the awakening, the beginning of the end. The end of the affair? The end of my marriage? The end of my life? I didn’t know. But I knew it was some kind of ending.

It began at lunch. I went to the hotel for lunch, as arranged. I didn’t at that time know anything was ending. Charlie and I had lunch in the room he’d gotten for us that day. It was a special suite. After lunch he pulled me to the bed. I was ready.

I stripped his shirt as he kissed me, undid his belt as he opened my blouse. Pulled down his zipper as he unsnapped my bra, and pulled down his jockeys as he kissed a nipple. I took him into my mouth as he sucked in his breath. Then I drew my teeth over the skin of his prick as he almost came. I rose so that he could undress me and he removed my shirt and bra from my shoulders and my skirt and panties from my body, leaving me in my medium red heels, my white stockings, and my red garters.

I pushed him on the bed, kissed his cock, then began to shimmy up his body until my pussy came into contact with his extended tongue, and I rode him for a long time before I climaxed. A blistering, shocking rhythmic sensation that began in my breasts and coursed through my clitoris into my vagina. Rhythm after rhythm. Then I pulled away. Too sensitive.

Charlie slid under me and got behind me. He entered me doggie fashion and soon he was ramming my head into pillows, my arm extended under me, my fingers manipulating my clit.

It was then, in the height of passion, that Charlie made the mistake of the day, maybe the mistake of his life.

He said, in distorted, breathless terms, “I want you to divorce your husband and marry me. I want you off the pill. I want you to have my baby.”

I laughed crazily. My mind went off like a rocket. A baby! Then I bucked. Then I bucked again. I didn’t want to have his baby! But I did want a baby! I was copletely confused. My head was spinning. But I knew I wanted him off of me, out of me.

I bucked him off. I was now screaming at him. “Get off me. Get out of me. Get off of me.”

I turned, brought my feet up, planted them on his chest, and pushed. He landed on his back on the rug at the foot of the bed.

“Get dressed and get out,” I screamed. I was a madwoman.

He did just as I directed, throwing glances at me from the corner of his eye every few minutes. I went into the bathroom and washed up. I threw water up into my finger opened vagina to clean him away. His sputum or his sweat, or his precum. I wanted none of it.

When I came out of the bath, he was gone. I dressed, quickly, and left the room myself. Then the hotel.

As I drove home, I wondered if it was too late. Had I lost my husband? Could I possibly put it back together? I was sweating in the air conditioned car. I kept wiping the sweat from my eyes. At last I pulled into the drive of our home. I turned off the motor and slammed the door to the car as I ran for the front door.

When I entered the living room I had an odd, lonely feeling. I cried out John’s name. His face appeared, looking quizzically at me from the kitchen. I ran to him but he turned away. What do you expect, I asked myself.

“John,” I said, “we have to talk.”

John turned to me but wouldn’t look at me.

“I’ve been having an affair,” I told him. “I’m so ashamed. I was so stupid”..

He showed no shock at all now. “I know,” he said. A small smile touched the corners of his mouth. It didn’t reach the saddened eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” I said.

He looked away, out the window. I looked there, too. Birds were talking to each other. Flying around.

“I want a baby,” I said to him.

“A baby,” he repeated, obviously shocked by my admission, but at least he looked up at me, and I’d only just begun.

“John, please sit down at the table.”

I followed him into the dining room and sat across from him when he sat down. I looked him right in the eye.

“I know this probably isn’t going to make much sense to you, but I had the affair for the wrong reason.”

He shook his head, whether to negate what I’d said or to clear his head I couldn’t tell. I just kept plowing ahead.

“I regret it, and will regret it for a long time. No matter what happens to us. I thought it was because I was alone too many nights. I thought it was because you didn’t compliment me like you did when we were first married. I thought I needed a change. I thought I wanted excitement. I wanted none of those things, I just wanted a baby. My biological clock is ticking and soon it’ll be too late. I know we said we didn’t want children, but I do. I do now” I paused. I couldn’t tell anything from his eyes. I went on, what was I to do? “I didn’t know I did at first, I thought all those other, those stupid things, but this has been working on me in my subconscious. I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I don’t even want you to if we can’t have a child.

I paused for reaction, hoping against any reason. I got the surprise of my life. John said only one little word.

“Two!?”

Then he said, “one might get spoiled like I’ve been by you.” And then he rose, came around the table and lifted me up into his arms.

FINIS