A Work in Progress Ep. 01

Episode I: I Didn't Intend To

Rhonda sat on the edge of her bed trying to contain a growing panic but failing by the minute.

She knew she'd fucked up and it was such a classic fuck up too. A real cliche. Bored wife at an out of town conference, has a one-nighter with a guy she meets at the hotel bar. Happens everyday. Hell, probably happens every hour somewhere.

The problem was the guilt. The guilt was killing her. It was like the pressure in a boiler with no release valve... building and building. At first, she thought she was going to be okay with it. Even the morning after, when she could still smell the guy's cum on her, she'd felt only a tingle in her loins, not a cramp in her conscience.

In fact, the aroma of, what was his name? Oh God, she'd forgotten his name. No wait, Sam. That was it, the aroma of Sam's seed had been enough to make her diddle herself as soon as she woke up. In a matter of but a minute or two, she'd climaxed, all the while reliving the night before.

It helped that hotels turned her on anyway. She didn't know why, they just did. She normally spent her alone time when out of town, playing with herself. On some trips, she could hardly wait for the official business to conclude so she could get to her room.

Her coworkers thought she was a total bore because she rarely wanted to party with them. But why drink with a bunch of people she saw everyday when she could get naked in her room and fuck her life-like dildo in every position she could think of and typically, on every piece of furniture.

Sometimes, depending on what floor she was on, she would open the curtains and screw herself silly with her breasts mashed against the window or her ass bouncing off the glass with her toy suction cupped to it. She never did this when in a ground floor room, of course. But also, if the room was so high that it would be impossible for anyone to catch a glimpse, it wasn't any fun either.

Rhonda noticed that tingle down low again and felt like slapping herself. Here she was contemplating how her libido had put her marriage at risk, and she was getting horny again. She wasn't normally like this. She'd only had sex with a handful of people before getting married. Well, maybe a couple of handfuls, and now, at thirty-five, what sort of a slut was she turning into?

The guilt had started on the ride home. They'd no sooner gotten on the road when the remorse sank into her belly along with her free continental breakfast, but the regret was proving far harder to digest than the bagel she'd had. It only grew on the four hour ride back in the van. One of the other teachers asked Rhonda if she was alright because she was so quiet. She made up something about indigestion.

Now at home, she was still sitting on her side of the bed when her husband, Greg walked into their bedroom. He gave her a peck on the forehead and told her it was good to have her home before he walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

She was already prepared to go to sleep, though she wasn't tired. Normally she didn't wear much to bed but she'd absentmindedly chosen her most modest nightie. It was long sleeved and covered her from the neck down to just above the knees. It was probably meant to stop mid thigh but Rhonda was short at only five feet even. In spite of the garment's coverage, Greg always told her it was hot because it was white and almost shear. Innocent and dirty at the same time, he would say.

She could hear him brushing his teeth and her stomach did a little flip when she realized that she was going to fess up to what she'd done.

After Rhonda had been dropped off around lunch time, she'd been home alone all day wrestling with her shame, waiting for Greg to come home from a late-ish night at work. She had told herself a million times that she should just live with her indiscretion and take her secret to the grave, but now that he was here she knew she couldn't. She couldn't live with this. She was going to throw herself on her husband's mercy.

Shortly, Greg came back into the room and sat on his side of the bed, but Rhonda didn't turn to face him.

"Hey, I've got to tell you something." she heard herself say.

Oh my God! I'm actually doing this, she thought to herself. Her panic was near absolute now.

She felt the bed move and knew that he was turning towards her.

"No." she said. "Stay over there. I think this will be easier if we aren't facing each other."

Rhonda felt the bed move again as Greg shifted back.

"Okay." he said, after a second or two. "But you're freaking me out a little."

A silence began to drag on between them and finally, just when he started to ask what was going on, she started talking, the words all just falling out in a flurry.

"I had sex with someone. At the conference. I didn't intend to when I went. I don't know what came over me. I've never done anything like this before and I'm so, so sorry. I'll never do it again. I'd do anything to take it back. And I'll do anything to make it better. We can go to counseling or I can just see a shrink. Whatever you want. I'll never go out of town again. Please, please, don't leave me. I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

Rhonda didn't think she had any more breath in her after that speech, but she held what remained in her aching chest as another silence grew. Finally, after a brief eternity, Greg spoke.

"Was it someone you work with?" he asked.

She couldn't figure out his tone of voice. It was very even. Controlled.

"No. It was a guy at the hotel. He was there for some other business." she answered.

More silence.

"Are you planning on seeing him again?" Greg asked.

"No. No. I'm never doing anything like this again." she promised.

Truthfully, she'd barely remembered his first name, had never gotten his last, and they hadn't exchanged numbers so she couldn't have seen him again even if she wanted to.

"Are you unhappy with me?" her husband asked, still in that even tone.

"Oh my God, not at all, honey. I love you." she answered, but she knew her response had taken a fraction of a second too long in coming.

It was quiet again and Rhonda was sure that her life was on the cusp of coming apart at the seams. A twelve year marriage hanging in the balance, all because she suddenly developed impulse control issues. She hated herself.

"I know we haven't been having sex as much since I started the business. We haven't had much time and I'm tired almost every night." Greg said.

Something in the way he'd spoken made her think that there was another question to follow, so she waited.

"So I assume," he began, "you were just horny. I mean, do you want to be with someone else? Are you wanting to fall in love with someone else?"

At this point, she almost turned to face him but her own reply spilled out before she could decide.

"No, no, no! Not at all." she pleaded. "I guess I'm turning into some kind of whore or something. You know, I usually just get myself off in my room but I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry. What do you want from me? I'll do anything."

"For now, just keep answering my questions." he said, in a voice that was closer to stern this time.

"Okay. Okay, anything."

"Are you unhappy with me, sexually?" he asked, sounding in control again.

"No. Just with our frequency, and I know it's not your fault. You're working so hard, and I'm even too tired sometimes. And it's no excuse for what I did. I'm not saying it is, I'm not. I'm really, really sorry."

There was silence again and this time, Rhonda couldn't help but fill it.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love our life together, you and me and Genie." she said, close to tears now.

Genie was their ten year old daughter who was off spending two weeks at Rhonda's parent's house now that summer break had started. The girl was a hundred miles away, blissfully ignorant of the fact that her life could change course in the next few minutes.

Rhonda audibly sniffled when she seriously considered that they might ultimately split up over her transgression.

"Don't fall apart on me. I have more questions. Don't cry." Greg said, stern again.

"Okay. Anything you want." Rhonda promised.

"Some of my questions may be tough to answer, but I'm not going to ask if I don't want to know, so just be honest."

"Okay. Anything you want. Anything." she repeated.

Another period of quiet followed, causing her to hold her breath again.

"Was it last night or one of the other nights, or more than one?" he finally asked.

"Just last night. Just last night. The other two nights, I was in my room, alone."

"Okay." Greg said, evenly. "How did you meet him?"

"It was in the hotel bar." Rhonda answered and then began elaborating, even though she wasn't sure she was supposed to.

"Sherry made me, well, she talked me into going to the bar with her. She said they had really good Mojitos and you know how I like those. Anyway, we'd just had dinner and we walked off the food around the outside of the hotel and it was hot and I was thirsty. She said that I'd promised to drink with her in the bar on our last night and I don't really remember that, but she insisted."

She had rambled and she knew it, but her nerves were in a tangle.

"Did Sherry see you with this guy?" Greg asked.

"No, she got a call when I was on my second Mojito, they were good, and it was serious I guess, the call I mean. So she stepped out but never came back. No one else from the English department was there by then and I was just going to finish my drink and..." Rhonda trailed off.

"Who approached who?" her husband inquired.

He sounded like he was working at keeping an even tone this time.

"He approached me."

"Just out of the blue?" Greg asked, when she failed to elaborate on her own.

"No," she began, "he'd been, I don't know, making eyes at me, I guess."

Rhonda felt the bed move again and was suddenly terrified that her husband was going to force her to face him for the rest of the interrogation. She wasn't sure if she could handle that.

"Go on." Greg coaxed.

Thankfully, he hadn't moved from his spot, just repositioned himself apparently. She took a deep breath before pushing on.

"He locked eyes with me a few minutes before Sherry got the call. After she left, he raised his beer bottle at me once and gave a little wave another time."

"I told you men still notice you. Didn't I?" her husband declared.

This put her a bit more off balance than she already was.

They did have this conversation frequently. She would complain about her appearance and long for her younger physique and Greg would tell her that her body turned him on even more now, than before having a baby. Rhonda always chalked this up to him being the sweetest person she'd ever met. He was just trying to make her feel better. She had a mirror after all. She'd never been able to get back to where she'd been before Genie was born. She'd gotten close when she was around thirty but in the years since, the pouch of her belly had only grown.

The only thing that Rhonda thought might have been legitimately improved by pregnancy was her breasts. They'd been solid C cups before, they had been some ridiculous melons while carrying and then breastfeeding, and had never gone back down below E cups since. They weren't what you'd call, perky, but they were firm enough and with only a pleasant downhill angle to them. As for everything else, she wasn't even all that comfortable with her husband seeing her gut and ass, much less other people.

Once in a blue moon, she thought Greg might be right when she'd catch a lingering glance from a man. But that could be anything. She could be having a weird hair day and people were staring because of how strange she looked or something.

"Yeah, you did." she finally responded, and lamely she thought.

"So it was obvious this time, well, obviously it was obvious?" he said.

Was that some kind of a little joke, Rhonda asked herself.

"Go on. What happened next?" Greg prodded, before she had time to analyze his lighter tone.

"Well, when I finished my drink, he came over and asked if he could buy me another."

Silence again.

Oh boy. This is tough, she thought to herself.

"I wasn't going to accept it, at first," she went on, "but they were good and I thought one more wouldn't hurt."

"What did he look like?"

"Ah, a bit taller than you. Darker. Darker hair and skin, like Italian maybe. He's in construction too, like you."

"Oh, were his hands rough like mine? I know how you like that." her husband asked, his tone unreadable again.

Oh boy. Getting really, really tough now, Rhonda thought.

"Yes." she answered with a crack in her own voice.

The bed rustled again. Greg was apparently repositioning himself again but she could tell that he was still facing away from her when he spoke.

"Go on. So did you talk for a while? Have more drinks?"

"Yeah," she began, but didn't continue because when she reviewed the conversation in her head, she realized that she really hadn't offered old Sam much resistance.

"Yeah? What did you talk about?" Greg coaxed.

Rhonda took another deep breath.

"Work, a little. He talked a lot about how hot he thought I was, mostly."

"And you believed him, but not me?"

'Danger. Danger.' a voice inside her head wailed.

"I believe you, honey. I do. But I also know how much you love me and how sweet you are to me, so I don't know how much that clouds your vision." she said.

This was all true but she knew that a big part of what happened was her responding to an attractive man flattering her. She'd been easy. God help her, she'd been real easy.

"I do love you, but my vision isn't cloudy. Now tell me, did you get wet when you were talking to him?" Greg asked with a bit of strain in his voice.

"Um," she uttered.

She chided herself for thinking the questions had been difficult before now.

"Well? You said you'd answer. You said "anything," so answer me. Did he get you wet?"

"Yes." Rhonda said, abruptly.

"What did he say or do that convinced you to fuck him?"

"He said that he'd never been lucky enough to touch a body like mine, and I guess, it was also the way he looked at me when he said it." she responded carefully.

"And how did he look at you?" Greg demanded.

"He looked at me like, I don't know... he looked at me like a starving man would look at a buffet. He looked like he was going to die if he couldn't have me."

"What were you wearing?"

"The tight, brown sweater and one of my denim skirts over black leggings." she answered.

"That sweater." Greg said. "I told you, the way it hugs those jugs of yours..."

Rhonda stopped herself from giving her usual response to this, "And it hugs this chubby belly too," but she could swear that she could 'hear' him smiling.

"Did you let him touch you in the bar?"

"He shook my hand when he first came over and later, he put his hand on my thigh."

"Oh." was her husband's only response to this.

The bed jiggled again and for just a moment, she thought she felt a rhythmic movement being transferred through the mattress. She became concerned that Greg might be sobbing and almost turned to look at him but he asked another question before she could.

"Did you touch him in the bar?"

'Oh boy.'

"Yes."

"What did you do?" Greg inquired.

"Well," she began, tentatively, "eventually I turned my bar stool to face him and I ended up with my legs on each side of his knee."

She held her breath for a second while she worked up the nerve to go on, and thought she could detect that rhythmic movement again.

"And?" he prodded.

"And I put my hands on his thighs and..."

"And?"

"And felt his crotch and kissed him." she said in a small voice.

"I'm so sorry, Greg." she pleaded.

"Don't stop. Where were his hands?" he husband asked.

"On my sweater. On my breasts."

"Then what? Quit stopping, just tell the whole story. You said you'd do anything, so tell me." Greg ordered.

"Okay, I will." she promised. "So we were kissing and he was squeezing my tits and the bartender comes over and says something like, "If you two have a room, you should go there. If not, you two should get a room." so Sam, um that was his name, Sam. Sam says "Your place or mine?

"I said that his would be fine because I remembered that I left my dildo suction cupped to the desk chair in my room.

"It turned out that his room was on the second floor, same as mine, and only a few doors down. We got up there and as soon as we got inside, he pushed me back against the closed door and we started kissing again and his hands were everywhere. He started breathing in my ear and biting my neck while he had one hand on my ass and the other on a boob.

"Then he pulled back and started working on the zipper of my skirt. I helped him and the skirt fell to the floor. Then he got a hold of the waistband of my tights and pulled them down around my knees and before I knew it, he did the same to my panties.

"For just a second, I was scared. No one but you and a couple of doctors have seen that part of me for the last twelve years and I really thought that he might get turned off or something."

"I bet he didn't." Greg stated.

There was that rhythmic movement from his side of the bed again but he didn't sound like he was crying, not even a little bit.

"No," Rhonda continued, "I guess he didn't because he squatted down and jammed his face right in my crotch. I couldn't get my legs apart much because my leggings and panties were tangled together around my knees but he managed to get his chin between my chubby thighs and his tongue was licking my clit."

"Did you like that?" her husband asked, and this time, Rhonda thought he sounded excited. Turned on maybe? She couldn't be sure and she didn't want to rock their fragile boat by investigating so she pressed on without turning.

"Um, yeah. I just about came on the spot. After a couple minutes of that, I could feel my pussy juice running down the insides of my thighs.

"He stood up and looked at me with that ravenous expression again and his face was all shiny. We kissed and I could taste myself on him. He told me to take my sweater off and I did. After I threw it on the floor, he reached his arms around me and unhooked my bra. He pulled it off me slowly and when he finally saw my breasts, he gasped and said they were the most beautiful pair he'd ever seen. He grabbed them with his calloused hands and started sucking and chewing on my nipples. I felt like I was getting close to cumming just from what he was doing to my tits.

"After a while of that I started pulling at his shirt so he stopped and took it off himself. Then in no time, he was out of his pants and underwear. He was so hard."

"Was he bigger than me?" her husband asked.

"Honestly, pretty close to the same. His was maybe a little fatter, and it was definitely more veiny."

"Go on." Greg coaxed.

"I got my leggings and panties the rest of the way off and then I got on my knees and started sucking him. He stopped me after a minute and moved me over in front of the full length mirror by the bathroom so he could watch me giving him head.

"He went on talking about how I have the body of a goddess while I slid his cock in and out of my mouth. Pretty soon he had all he could take of that and we moved to the bed."

"Did he use a rubber when he fucked you?" Greg asked.

"Yes." Rhonda answered honestly.

"He must have gotten it out of his pocket before he took his pants off or something, but he put it on while I was laying on my back on the bed."

"What would you have done if he hadn't had one?"

She had been very truthful up till now. So truthful and detailed in fact, that she was getting wet again. But she felt strongly that at that moment, she should immediately give the obviously prudent answer.