Behind the Screaming Headlines

My mind went blank and I followed Patrick's footsteps in a leaden manner.

The walk to the door was the longest walk of our lives. Patrick came to an abrupt stop just before we reached the foyer. I'd automatically stopped alongside him. I looked at him with worry and concern.

"We can stop this now, "I ventured tentatively.

Patrick looked at me with resignation in every line of his frame and face. He looked at me with a flash of hope as my words hung between us before resignation imposed itself on him. We didn't have many alternatives

And he knew it. If the creditors called in their debts, we would be in danger of serious embarrassment and there would, after all debts were settled, be little left for the children and me after Patrick left this earth. Patrick was the smarter of us and he'd obviously thought this through.

"We have to do this to secure a future for you and the children," he said looking off into the distance, avoiding my eyes.

Then he turned his eyes on me and stared at me with such intensity that I was sure he looked into my mind and soul.

"I love you Nichola, you'll always be my wife. No matter what happens. Today or in the future."

He choked and tried to clear his throat. A large teardrop rolled down his cheek and that more than the pallor and emaciated features revealed the fragility of the man I'd loved for so long and love even more at that point in time because he was now vulnerable.

The man I'd grown to depend on and who made me who I was, was now showing me the underbelly of his weakness.

He looked searchingly at me, "I just hope that after today and after I'm gone, in some corner of your heart, I'll have a small little place in your heart."

I protested, Of course, Patrick..." But there weren't words that could paper over the awkward cracks in our relationship that now loomed large.

I was conflicted. Why was he making me do this when it was obviously so difficult for both of us. I sensed a discomforting flash of resentment and the urge to blame this all on Patrick. The perverse frisson of excitement I ignored in my conscious attempt to stay blame free.

When I opened that door to see an impassive Martin standing there, I hated both these men with a choking sense of virulent resentment, but that gave way to a sense of resignation as Martin stepped through the doorway and into our house. The barbarian was in the house.

Saying it was awkward would have been the understatement of the century. Patrick tried to make small talk as he directed Martin and me towards the guest bedroom. I looked at Patrick, hoping at some point that he'd put a stop to this ridiculous situation, yet dreading the consequences if he did. We had no other solution it seemed and I was unaware of Martin's role in all of this. That he had encouraged Patrick's gambling and had willingly provided the means for him to gamble all the while seeming to support him as a friend. And Martin had turned on the charm offensive too when he moved into the orbit of our friends. He was a manipulative bastard, an aspect of his character that I never saw till I married him.

Patrick dropped himself down on an armchair by the fireside and turned slightly away from Martin and me as we stood by the bed that was increasingly looking like a sacrificial platform.

Martin cleared his throat. It sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the room. "Well," he said in a quiet tone, "I'm clean but I'll use a condom if you prefer that." He took some papers from his jacket and put them on the small table next to Patrick's chair. It was some doctor's report declaring he was free of STDs and other illnesses.

Patrick merely nodded as he continued to look away. It didn't strike me then but if Patrick had agreed to that proposition only on a Sunday evening and Martin had only known it then, how could he have had time to get that medical report. The bastard had clearly plotted and anticipated it all.

I went to the kitchen to get some wine thinking the alcohol would help my nerves. When I returned, Patrick was still in his chair and determinedly looking away from the bed. Martin, on the other hand, had divested himself of his jacket and had unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. His chest hair was visible through the shirt opening and there was a distinct predatory gleam in his eyes.

I felt nauseated and my distaste for the man returned. Looking straight into my eyes as I tossed a glass of wine back, he waited with a half-smile. I was the prey that was not getting away.

Trying to be as clinical and detached as possible, I lay down on the bed and said," Let's get this over with shall we?"

I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of humiliating Patrick or me any further. And I sure wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting more out of me than a log would give a humping dog.

Martin walked over and slowly and calmly divested himself of all his clothes except for his boxer briefs which were already tented slightly. He looked me over with slow insolent frankness. And his growing arousal was obvious as his bulge grew. I was unsure if I wanted to take that as a compliment.

Martin gently raised the dress I was in, baring me inch by inch to his eyes. I remained impassive and unmoving as the hem of the dress reached my navel. I had a brief moment of satisfaction when he looked slightly taken aback at the sight of the granny panties I had worn.

Nonetheless, he returned to his work of undressing me as he pulled the dress off me and I lay there in my simple cotton bra and granny panties. The spring chill in the air made goosebumps pop up all over my exposed skin. Martin grinned and lay down next to me. The slight creak of the bedsprings made Patrick stir a little but he spared only a glance at the bed before looking away.

I closed my eyes when I saw Martin's thick hairy forearm move across my torso and felt his hand cup my breast through the bra. His hot hands were a distinct contrast to the chill in the air as one cupped the flesh of my breast and the other crept down, stroking my inner thighs.

I could feel his warm breath on my skin before he took a bra-covered nipple into his hot mouth. I tried to distance myself from the sensations that were getting to my sex-starved body. My nipples were beginning to harden under his ministrations and as his hand rubbed on my mound through the panty, I was starting to feel a growing warmth between my thighs.

When he removed his hand from my mound, I was torn between relief and disappointment. Relief that I wasn't showing too much excitement in front of Patrick in this sordid affair and disappointment from the fact that my body craved release.

He clumsily pulled his underwear off him, rustling the bed sheets all the while and when I peeked through half closed eyelids, he noticed and grinned in a leering manner. Silently, he grabbed one of my hands and brought it down to his half hard tool. Curling my hand around his hardening tool, he started stroking his cock with my hand.

I almost gasped at the rapid growth of his penis as it twitched and jerked. It grew hotter and harder as my hand was forced into tracing it from stem to tip. When he seemed certain I was not going to stop stroking his penis, he moved his hand away and returned it to my mound. This time, he had ventured beyond the confines of the panty and was rubbing my clit while tracing my lower lips with his fingers.

My bra had been pushed above my breasts and he was lightly biting and sucking the white flesh and the reddened nipples he had brought to stiff nubs.

When he thrust his fingers into my vulva, I was beginning to moisten and my hips were involuntarily moving with his fingers. I was staring helplessly at the man who was ravaging me and breaking down the barriers I'd placed to ensure I didn't betray my husband.

When he impatiently pulled my legs up on his chest as he reared up, I knew the fight was mostly over. His tool was swollen red, hard and sticking out in front of him, pushing between my thighs as he worked my panty off me. I was wet and aroused. I looked away from the vaguely smug look he had on his face and looked straight up to the ceiling, knowing that if I turned my head, I might see Patrick looking at me.

Martin tapped his hard tool on my mound and wet lips, spreading his precum and my arousal fluids across his tool and my mound.

"Please use a condom."

I scarcely recognised the thin high voice that said this though I was the one speaking.

Martin looked slightly annoyed but reached for a box of condoms he had tossed on the bedside table when he had taken his jacket off. He quickly rolled one on and got straight into me when he returned to the bed.

I could feel him hot and hard inside me as he stroked into me hesitantly at first. We'd both instinctively looked at Patrick when the fucking started in earnest but he was not looking at us. After ascertaining that Patrick wasn't going to do anything to stop this, Martin began to thrust more forcefully into me and I fought the urge to come even as I knew it was a battle I could not win. I bit my fist to stop the moans from becoming too obvious and saw the look of anguish on Patricks face as he looked across, almost unwillingly at the tableau of his friend fucking his wife.

Martin came with a shout as he shot his load into the condom. I felt it balloon inside me while my traitorous body climaxed and I contracted around him in almost painful spasms. Martin collapsed on me, his sweaty body crushing me into the mattress.

When he finally raised himself off me, his smile was one of smug satisfaction. He pulled himself and the full condom out carefully and noted the sticky fluid that coated the outside of the condom. It was visible proof that I had succumbed.

I looked away in shame as he dressed and got ready to leave. Before he left the room, he said distinctly in a voice that brook no objection.

"Do start using the pill because I've no intention of using a condom in the future."

Neither Patrick nor I moved till we heard the main door close.

I roused myself from the bed and carelessly pulled on the dress I had been wearing. The cooling fluids on my thighs was not something I wanted on display for my husband.

Patrick and I silently walked to our bedroom where he sat down in his recliner. He watched as I disappeared into the bathroom and washed myself thoroughly, scrubbing where I could the signs of my sordid session with a man who was not my husband. When I emerged from the bathroom, I looked at Patrick who had obviously cried silently. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were wet. I could only numbly hold him to me as we both contemplated what had happened and the state of our marriage.

Later that afternoon, Patrick talked me into smoking marijuana with him. It was helping him with his pain as he refused further treatment and insisted on being home. They gave him a load of pain medication and instructions to not overdo things.

The house descended into deadly silence for the next two days, so silent that David and Isabella, our kids, started noticing something was not quite right with mummy and daddy. Isa, being the elder, guessed it was Daddy's health and tried to keep David quiet. No one wanted to break the uneasy silence.

When Martin turned up for the next session on Wednesday, it went pretty much like the first session and he continued to use a condom as I'd explained that the pills needed a few days to start working.

Patrick was still in the guest room keeping watch but in reality, he withdrew into himself and was oblivious to everything around him. He had done some marijuana before Martin arrived and was barely half conscious when Martin pulled out of me.

Martin had waited for me to dress myself before asking me to walk him out. I looked in consternation but could find no reasonable excuse to refuse.

He grabbed me and whispered in my ear," Do you really find me so distasteful?"

I stared at him for a minute before replying.

"N-n-no_ but..but," I stumbled.

"But?"

"But I'm not supposed to take pleasure in this. This is just a business deal."

Martin sighed and gave me a sad look that made me feel bad.

"So, you're doing this to please Patrick and ensure he's not hurt. But what about me?"

"Well, you've got what you want, right?" I said with some defiance before looking away.

"Your body?"

I nodded mutely.

"Yes but I want more, I'm in love with you Nichola! That's why I agreed to this whole farce of a deal in the first place."

I looked at Martin in shock, I'd never thought he was capable of love, much less love for me.

"I thought you also had feelings for me, that's why I agreed. Remember what you told me about how lonely and desperate you were feeling? I wanted to help you and give you the love you wanted, but it seems I was wrong," he whined as he continued giving me that pained look.

Guilt washed over me as I recalled how I'd treated him since Sunday.

"You hate my touch, don't you?" He asked looking devastated.

Fearful of the potential consequences of breaking the deal and guilt at making this caring friend feel so bad, I stayed silent. Feeling my anger and distaste melt slightly, I placed my hand on his cheek and said earnestly, "No..it's just that I..I can't hurt Patrick by betraying him."

Looking away as I felt a blush rise on my cheeks, "I've felt something in these_these sessions even though I've tried hard not to ..a-and I know you've taken pleasure too."

My voice had dropped to a whisper. Martin chuckled and gently turned my face up to his. "I'm glad you don't find me repulsive because I've been so aroused and wanted you so much that that would just kill me."

"I was dying inside when I thought you felt nothing but disgust for me. I want you so much to get that pleasure that you haven't been getting from Patrick because of this damn illness."

Knowing that his words were having an impact on me as my flushed face deepened its shade of red, he captured my mouth in a hot deep kiss that took my breath away and made me forget myself and Patrick for a moment. I responded and kissed him back before remembering that my loving husband was barely metres away in the guest room.

"I won't apologise for that because I've wanted you too much to be polite."

Giving me a heated glance as he kissed my palm and wrist, he whispered in my ear," I'll live the next days just for our next session. I'll find a way to give us both pleasure without hurting Patrick too much." The feel of his hot breath against my ear made me shiver with guilty anticipation. Then he was gone and I was left with guilt and anger that couldn't be directed at anyone.

****

On Thursday night, Martin sent me a text for the first time. Although he had had my mobile number for ages, he had never sent me a text. I'd almost thought he was a neo-Luddite.

"Put on a sheer lace bra and a thong. And give P a hit of the pain med or 'm' before our session. He needn't be hurt. We need that release."

I hesitated. I mean, after our talk on Wednesday, I'd been oddly aroused by the thought that this other man was infatuated with me. And how, despite all my efforts to be detached, the last 2 sessions provided some relief after months of frustration. In the end, I gave in to his instructions. I didn't realise till much later that this was the point at which Martin started taking over Patrick's role of directing my life.

I'd quickly done some marijuana with Patrick that morning so he was barely conscious when he was in the customary chair in the guest room.

Martin boldly started kissing me in the hallway and had shoved his hand up my dress, playing with my clit before we reached the guest room. Martin didn't spare Patrick a glance, instead he ripped up the light white dress and threw me on the bed before he divested himself of his clothes. His forceful manner and his playing with my clit iwi the hallway meant I was already aroused and wet. When he gestured at his penis and grabbed my hair, I knew he was well on his way to taking control in our relationship. Thankfully, Patrick was oblivious to much of what was happening because of the marijuana and pain medication he was now constantly on.

Martin was very vocal as I took him in my mouth. While he and Patrick were around the same size, he was a little rougher when he thrust his penis into my mouth. I gagged several times when he pulled me forward till my nose was buried in his pubic hair.

"Ungg, that's right...take it all in.."

When he swelled and shook in my mouth, I knew he was about to come and wanted to pull off. But Martin had other ideas.

"I want you to swallow," he stated implacably. Seeing the reluctance and protest in my eyes, he immediately switched to a plaintive tone, "Can't you love me back just a little?"

I capitulated, besides, he was already in my mouth. So Martin became the second man whose cum I swallowed.

He hissed his triumph as his cum splashed into the back of my throat and a gleam of smug triumph flashed in his eyes.

The only thought that crossed my mind was an ironic one, "Well, I guess the favourite question that men across the UK have for Nichola has been answered. Yes, I do swallow cum but only two lucky men have had that honour."

The inadvertent thought of Patrick brought a wave of guilt crashing over me as I attempted to pull away from Martin and cover up.

The wave of guilt quickly crashed and washed out on the sand as Martin sensed my hesitation and attempt to establish barriers. He pushed me flat on my back and started to devour my breasts.

Martin, like 99% of my male audience, was obsessed with my breasts. So well established was that fact that the TV and cable networks along with publicists insisted on my production and photography wardrobes consisting mainly of outfits that had me constantly in danger of spilling or falling out of my bodice or necklines. Somehow, the danger of a wardrobe malfunction always increased the viewership numbers. That and the blatantly sexual undertones of the scripts they wrote for my shows.

I could think of little when Martins talented mouth was suckling and nipping at my sensitive nipples and tender flesh. His hands were wreaking mayhem with my vulva. Playing furiously with my clit, he increased the intensity of his assault on my senses by thrusting his fingers into my increasingly wet lips. When he added his talented tongue to the equation, I knew I was lost.

"Ung_uh_uh"

I barely recognised my own voice as I rode his fingers. Neither did I recognise the high wailing sounds that accompanied the flood of juices I unleashed upon his mouth.

Barely giving me time to recover from the orgasm his mouth had sent me into, he reared back and thrust himself into me. The receding spasms from my orgasm made every ridge on that hot length immediately imprint itself upon the sensitive walls of my vulva. Martin cleverly increased the sensations by thrusting hard and fast, making the friction add to the irresistible drive to climax. I was overwhelmed and crumbled to my second climax. Screaming, I felt myself tighten around Martin's hot throbbing tool that began to blast my insides with scalding cum.

He shouted his climax and seemed to cum relentlessly, filling me with his cum before collapsing on top of me.

When I had roused myself from the daze of sexual release, I immediately glanced in the direction of Patrick's chair. I comforted myself that he had heard nothing of my betrayal of our marriage since he had hardly moved. All the same, I began to think it was a good idea to get Martin to leave soon since a glance at the clock on the mantel told me that the nanny and kids would be back soon.

Without thought, I had caressed Martin's back as I tried to make him move.