It Started with Speeding Ch. 10

As we draw close to the conclusion of Adrienne and Simon's story, I'd like to thank everyone for their encouraging words and kind support.

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I didn't make it back home until early Saturday morning, exhausted and sore. There was one message left on my answering machine from Adrienne:

"Hi honey, sorry I didn't call earlier, but I got in and we went straight to work. Guess you've either gone to bed. Better not be with Kat!" I looked away from the answer machine as though it were accusing me. "Anyway, I'll talk to you in the morning. Love you. Night."

I felt horrible. I crawled into bed, exhausted from an incredible night filled with the most intense sex I've ever experienced. I didn't want to think of the repercussions. I just wanted to sleep it all away.

I stayed away from Kat for the rest of the weekend and spoke to Adrienne several times on the phone. Maybe it was my imagination, but she seemed distant. I wondered if she suspected something about Friday night. I was back to the fragile, anxious state I was in just after the encounter on the highway at night.

I didn't like where I was at then, and I didn't want to be there now. I was determined to tell her. I was going to be honest. That was what our relationship was founded on, and it was times like these that the foundations were tested.

But when Adrienne came home, she glowed with happiness as she ran to me at the security clearance. Her dark eyes seemed more vibrant than ever, her lashes longer, and her smile wider. My resolution crumbled.

In the car ride home, she said, "So... Jamie's gone now?"

I nodded. Did she know? Was she going to call me on it?

"That means we have Kat all to ourselves!" she said excitedly. I couldn't take that away from her. She put her hand on my leg and I swerved a little. "Calm down there, cowboy," she said, taking my nervousness for arousal. Her touch caused my cock to twitch, and when her hand covered my groin, I was hard. "Are you excited to see me? Or for the prospect of sleeping with Kat again." I blushed. If only she knew. "Or, for the prospect of seeing meet eat her pussy again." My cock twitched and she laughed.

"I knew it! Traitor!" she kidded, but her hand kept rubbing my erection. "Well, I suppose at least part of this is for me. So..." I glanced over at her quickly, and she had a very mischievous look in her large eyes.

She unzipped my pants and fished out my erection. I had the windows open, wind was blowing through the cabin of my little TT. My purple prick was exposed and it suddenly felt very strange to feel air on my cock driving down the highway.

Then, Adrienne bent over into my lap and took me into her mouth. I groaned, clenching my jaw to keep my attention on the road ahead of me. Her mouth worked its magic on me as we raced along at 65 mph. As I got closer and closer to cumming, I sped up faster and faster. I stole glances down at Adrienne, her dark hair bobbing furiously up and down in my lap. By the time erupted in her mouth and throat, we were going close to 90 and I felt like I was flying.

I had to pull to the side of the road just to catch my breath. When we got home, we fucked like it had been a month apart, and I realized that I was not going to tell her about my foursome with Kat and the Porters. That was going to be our little secret.

For four weeks, Kat, Adrienne, and I met every Saturday, just as last time. Again, it could have been my imagination, but it seemed like things had changed. Some of the fire was gone. I still enjoyed it, and watching Adrienne, she was still enjoying it. But there was a new tension between the two girls that wasn't there before. They only got together now to have sex, and as the weekends grew on, I was getting more of the attention from both women, and they were giving less to each other. In fact, it seemed as though there was almost a competition developing between them. On the last Saturday before Jamie's return, they didn't even fool around with each other. Nothing more than a quick make out session as I regained my energy: a little French kissing and finger fucking. Nothing beyond that and I got the feeling that Adrienne was doing it for me.

A tension also grew between Adrienne and myself. It was very subtle, and we never fought openly. But there were instances when, in the past, we would have filled the silence with chit-chat, and now, we were both quiet and contemplative.

Two weeks after Jamie returned, I decided that I needed to confess all to Adrienne.

We were in bed when I did it. We had just made love, I felt very close to her, and it all just came out. "I'm sorry, honey. I... I know it was very wrong to do, but I just got all caught up in the moment."

She was quiet, staring away into space. I was quiet as well, giving her space to think. "I... I understand if you're angry with me. Or if you... want a divorce." The word sounded like the closing of a casket. "I screwed up."

At last, Adrienne looked back at me, searching my eyes for something. "Honey..." she said, her voice quiet yet steady. "I love you, honey. I don't want a divorce. We can work this one out..."

My spirit lifted. "Seriously? Are you sure about this?"

Again, she was quiet. "I think that the important thing is that you told me. That you were honest with me." Although I could have been quicker about it. It was the unspoken thought at the end of her statement.

"Don't be mad at Kat. It wasn't her fault." I'm not sure why I said it, and I immediately regretted it. Her face grew sour at the mention of the blonde's name, but she covered it up.

"Well, I don't think you have any right to tell me who to be mad at or not, but yes, I know. Not entirely her fault." She sounded sarcastic, a tone I rarely heard in my wife's voice.

"Well, let's talk about this more in the morning," she said. "I'm tired and need to get some rest." She turned over, her back to me, and closed her eyes. I spooned up behind her, but didn't fall asleep until late in the night.

The next morning, we didn't talk about it. Nor did we talk about it the next day. Or week. Or two weeks. I was beginning to wonder if the whole conversation was a dream. And I was also wondering if I was off the hook.

On the Friday, several weeks later, I got up as usual and got ready for work. But something felt strange. I felt anxious to my stomach. A weird premonition. I thought nothing much of it, trying to ignore it. At lunch, I had almost forgotten the feeling when I called Adrienne's work. I got her secretary.

"She's not in today. Called in sick."

That was odd. She didn't seem sick when I left this morning. I called home. No answer. Her cell phone. No answer. The feeling of foreboding grew and I ran to the bathroom, afraid that I might throw up.

When I came home that evening, it was probably the first time that I drove right at the 55 mph speed limit. I was too preoccupied with the maelstrom of thoughts that were raging through my head. What was going on? Where was Adrienne? What was she doing? Had she left me? Was I going to return to an empty house and a Dear John note?

When I did pull into the drive way, the house was empty and her car was not there, but there was no letter. No signs of packing. Everything was left just the way it had been. "Maybe she's at the gym," I said aloud, dismissing the possibility immediately.

I went upstairs, took off my suit and tie. I didn't know what else to do, so I decided to go for a swim. Maybe I could work off some of this nervous energy.

When I dried off and went back into the house, I heard the shower running upstairs. She was home.

I walked up the stairs as the shower turned off, and I sat on the bed, listening to her putter around in the bathroom. The blow-dryer switched on, then off. She brushed her teeth. She emerged, a short white towel wrapped around her body, barely covering her charms, and her shiny dark hair dry and knotted back with an elastic.

She saw me and smiled, but it was a sad smile. My heart cringed. I felt like we were near the end.

"We need to talk," she said quietly, sitting softly next to me. Our knees did not touch.

I said nothing. I couldn't find a voice.

"I love you, Simon, but there are a few things that you and I are going to need to work out."

I nodded. That was very true. "I have two confessions for you and... I'm not sure if you're going to like them or not. But you need to hear them. And then we need to talk."

Again, I nodded. But confessions? What was she talking about.

"Why don't we get in bed. I want to feel close to you, Simon. I think every bit counts."

With that, she pulled open her towel and tossed it over the chair. I couldn't help but steal a quick look of her petite body. She was tight and fit, flat stomach, small but well shaped breasts. She'd kept her minimalist pubic hair groomed to nothing but that ultra thin mohawk of trimmed, dark hair. I pulled off my swimming trunks, slightly surprised that I was semi-erect, and crawled under the covers.

My naked wife crawled in next to me, cuddling up against my chest.

"Your heart is going crazy, honey," Adrienne said, not looking at me. I said nothing and she took a deep breath. "Okay, now... I want you to listen to my whole story before making comments. I want you to hear it all first. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She took another breath. "Okay," she said again. "Remember when I went on that business trip? The one when you and Kat and the Porters..." I nodded. How could I ever forget that weekend. "Well, I guess I wasn't so innocent as you might have thought." Huh? "I was going there on business, as you know. To our branch office there. It was a sort of consulting job, I suppose. I was the most knowledgeable person in the company when it came to this certain sector and... anyway, I knew the entire team I was working with there. Or, all of them except Marco."

The name struck a nerve in me. A strange man with my wife? I felt cheated. I wanted to push her away, turn my back on her. But I didn't, and she didn't move.

"Marco had been transferred from our European office in Rome. He was just as you're probably picturing him: dark, European good looks with a strong, masculine personality that Italian men are famous for. He was very well spoken, considering English was his second language, and he immediately started to flirt with me. I was a little flattered. I accepted his flirting. Even... flirted a little back." Her voice was reminiscing. She grew quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry, honey, I'm not sure why I did that. When I finally called you that night, and you weren't home, I felt... funny. Jealous, I think. And suspicious. I'd been feeling an uneasiness all through our strange 'arrangement,' I think. And now it manifested itself in jealousy. I had no reason to suspect you were with Kat, but... a woman's intuition, I suppose."

Again, she was quiet. "Anyway, Marco called me shortly after I left that message. He wanted to know if I would join him for a drink. Any other time, I would have declined, but that night, I was feeling hurt. I accepted his offer."

"We met at a very upscale bar. We drank vodka martinis and talked about each other's lives. He turned on his charm, and with the drink in my hand, I succumbed. He told me I was beautiful. I told him he was, too. He told me that 'my husband was a lucky man.' I told him that sometimes, it didn't feel that way. The whole night, he was touching me gently, here and there, never leaving his hand on me long enough to feel creepy. I was getting horny. If he'd asked me back to his room, I would have accepted. But he didn't. He was a gentleman. He invited me to dinner the next night, at his place. His wife was a wonderful cook, he said proudly. It disarmed me as much as it disappointed me. Married. And apparently faithful. Unlike me.

"I was still buzzing from the attention the next day. I went to the salon, had my hair down. Got a facial. I knew that nothing would happen that evening. It would have come out the night before. But I couldn't help but feel a nervous excitement. I couldn't help feeling like I was getting ready for a first date."

As Adrienne told me this, I began to grow aroused. Maybe it was her hot breath on my chest. Maybe it was her hardening nipples that began to dig into my side. I don't know, but the whole situation was making me simultaneously jealous, upset, and excited.

"When I arrived at Marco's house, I was very impressed. He had recreated an Italian villa on the outskirts of San Francisco. As beautiful as his house was, though, it paled in comparison to the beauty of his wife, Isabella. Like her husband, she looked the way you're probably imagining: olive skin, dark hair, statuesque build. She was Italian as well, I discovered, and was as friendly as she was beautiful. She should have been dressed in a long and flowing linen dress. Instead, she wore an expensive looking tope skirt with matching, knee length heeled boots of soft leather. She also wore a loose and very thin cream blouse under a tight bodice. The bodice was also cream colored, trimmed with a tope that matched the skirt and boots, and laced up the front, calling attention to her slender waist, wide curves of her hips, and her generous bosom. A few buttons of the loose blouse were undone, and when she leaned forward, you could see the tops of her breasts. It was very sexy, yet very sophisticated at the same time. I was very impressed.

"Anyway, she invited me in. Marco was busy making a large, Italian dinner. Anti-pasta and red wine and all. They had a very loving relationship and would often say cute little things Italian to each other. I only caught snippets of what they were saying, but I felt the love in their speech.

"After dinner, the three of us were a little buzzed. Or at least I was, anyway, and we adjourned to the patio out back. The whole evening had been filled with sexual innuendo and electricity. We never talked directly about sex, but it was always a subtle second in our thoughts.

"I kept thinking how beautiful this couple was, and how gorgeous their children would be. I must have been staring. They must have noticed. The wine, the evening, the night air. Everything had such a strong effect on me.

"I was sitting next to Isabella. She smelled like lilacs and a spring breeze. Her lips were so full, so moist. When she smiled, I saw the tip of her pink tongue playfully between her pearly white teeth. When she leaned in to kiss me, it all seemed so natural. This was exactly where I wanted to be, and this was exactly what I wanted to be doing. She broke the kiss and I almost cried out. She laughed at me, took my near empty glass from my hand, and handed it to her husband. 'There,' she said. 'Now our hands are free to explore.'

"And explore they did. The Italian beauty slowly undressed me, and I undressed her. I should have felt exposed as my breasts were bared out on the patio, amidst the twinkling lights of the valley below. Instead, it made me even more hungry for the Mediterranean woman's touch.

"Even when I was with Kat, I never really questioned my own sexuality. It was fun and enjoyable--and it was great to watch your reaction--but that was all. With Isabella... with Isabella, I wanted her. I needed her. I couldn't help myself. We were soon nude, lounging on an chaise lounge, legs intertwined, tongues playfully darting in and out of each other's mouths. She looked even better naked than clothed in expensive fashion. Her breasts were large but very well shaped. Her complexion was flawless, and her olive skin felt like soft satin under my fingers. She was so different than Kat, the only other woman I'd explored in this way. Kat was fit, athletic, toned. Isabella was... soft. Curvy. She was a classic. She was Venus, the model of womanly beauty. I was so overcome with emotion. I wanted her so much. I felt like I was about to cry.

"And I was wet. I needed her touch, and she knew it. Her fingers ran trails of electricity over my body. Everywhere she touched, she burned. The trails lead around my breasts, down my body. Down to my wet pussy. When she touched me there, at last, I came. With just a brush of her fingers, I came!

"We explored each others bodies after that. Marco was there, somewhere, but right then and there, we were alone. I was not doing this for anyone but myself. My mouth was eager to taste her small, brown nipples, and to explore the folds of her vagina. She'd styled it similar to mine, a dark, black landing strip, only a little thicker. And her pussy lips were as soft as the rest of her skin.

"When I heard her moan, my ears burned. It was a beautiful sound. I wanted to hear more of it. I actually came as I ate her sweetness. I didn't think it was possible, but it was. It happened.

"We took our love making indoors, eating each other next to the fireplace. We didn't use toys. It felt pure. It felt so right. Simon, I'm getting wet thinking about her now..."

I was rock hard myself, and when her fingers trailed down my stomach and found my erection, she gasped. Adrienne kissed me, before straddling my legs. She was wet. Very wet. She slipped down onto me with very little resistance. "Ohhhhh... you don't mind, do you?" she asked as she gently grinded her hips.

"No," I whispered. I had to be careful. I was very close to the edge.

"After what seemed like an eternity, we separated from each other, kissing one more time. Once again, I was aware of the beautiful Marco, sitting patiently in the chair, sipping his wine quietly and watching us. Isabella crawled to him. She made the subservient action seem regal. She was a queen. She released his erection from her pants and sucked him. I just sat there, fingering myself. Watching these gorgeous creatures in an act of carnal pleasure. It was like I was under a spell.

"He didn't summon me over to him, but his eyes never left mine. If he'd asked, I would have gone. I would have done whatever he wanted me to do. But he didn't. Isabella returned to me, kissing me again. I tasted her husband's cum on her lips and tongue. I loved it. I wanted to drink from the source..."

She was quiet, grinding me, her pussy clenching and unclenching on my shaft. "Did you?" My voice cracked.

Her thoughts were distant. I held my breath. At last, she shook her head. "No. I didn't. I thought of you, and that little though gave me strength. He never asked, and I never offered. I think he understood my conflict and respected that. But like I said, if he asked, I would not have hesitated..."

We fucked quietly, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I'm not sure what she was trying to tell me. Obviously she felt guilty for what she had done. I didn't mind her with Isabella. I couldn't feel jealous when my wife indulges her feminine side. I recognized that this was a contradictory thought, but I didn't care.

Still, there was something nagging me. Her story was very hot, but it couldn't stop me thinking about something she'd said before she started it. "Two confessions..." Two.

Two.

End of chapter 10.

If you've made it this far and still enjoy it, I'd love to hear what you liked...