tagLoving WivesFifty Seven Fifty

Fifty Seven Fifty

bySpencerfiction©

Jessie looked down at him sleeping by her side. In the cool, dark pre-dawn she couldn't actually see him, though she felt the warmth of his relaxed supine body seep into her. The curtains rustled as a sudden breeze, cooled by the still gently air-kissed lake outside the cabin, squeezed through the partly open window. She looked up at the source of the sound. The sky through the window was lighter, there was a clear rosy glow banishing the stars from the night sky that hadn't been apparent a few minutes earlier when she awoke, roused probably by a slight change in the otherwise slow regular deep breathing of her husband.

'My husband', she thought, 'my new husband!' her mind playfully exploring the unfamiliar syllables, sending thrills through her body. In these early days and nights of their marital coexistence they were getting to know more about each other and yesterday and last night, they had discovered much. The cooling breeze chilled those parts of her nakedness that weren't in contact with this furnace that was her groom and dislodged a loose wavy curl of her long blond hair until it quivered in front of her right eye, threatening to tickle her strong aquiline nose, betraying both her Scandinavian and French-Canadian roots. She resisted the urge to sweep the wayward tress back in line, her hands were otherwise engaged. Her right fingers were entwined in hubby's thick tight dark hair with her thumb gently caressing the nape of his warm neck; the fingertips of her left hand lightly stroking his taut torso, sensing the relaxed ripples of muscle below.

Jessie couldn't sleep. Although she was not very far from that relaxed dreamy state, she knew she would never be completely at ease until she told Tim the one thing for which she burned with shame. She gave herself no choice in the matter, it was merely a case of opportunity. She wasn't looking forward to telling Tim but they couldn't go through married life with either one of the partners living a lie. Jessica, she said to herself, Tim has to know, even if it is a deal breaker; better now than have it come out without being in control and unable to explain. Why? Hell, why? OK, she was aware of her own insecurities but why she took it as far as she did, was another matter. She wasn't sure she could explain the reasons to herself, let alone to another, to her sworn partner of a couple of days' duration.

Neither of them were virgins before yesterday, obviously. They were both in their mid-twenties, she two years the elder, and both had a number of previous steady partners, Jess had even been married very briefly once before, the scars still livid on her psyche. That both of them had experimented in the past and honed their lovemaking skills was evident from last night's exploration and pleasuring of one another. Each in turn, during the long day and night, had single-mindedly set about the objective of getting the other partner off. Without thought for their own satisfaction, the joy of achievement in the primary aim sufficed. It had been give and give first and grateful receipt their second consideration throughout, a battle of wills with each trying to outdo the other in generosity.

A couple of times boundaries were crossed that night and their shared stop word of "dandelion" came into play. Jessie smiled, recalling Tim's yelling of "dandie-fucking-lion" following Jessica's sinking of two long slim fingers deep into Tim's water-tight anus up to the second knuckle. This event led to a temporary time-out to discuss if "dandie-fucking-lion" was a legitimate substitute for the agreed stop word. Tim's falsetto "fucking-A" was eventually agreed by both parties as an affirmative and Jessie's fingers regrettably withdrawn following the 30-second discussion. The extra finger wiggling during the brief rule interpretation she assured him was purely to ensure an adequate flow of blood to her restricted fingertips rather than for any sexual titillatory consideration on her part. Therefore, very shortly after, Tim's retaliatory above-the-neckline hickey along the jugular was half expected and Jessie's delayed invocation of the "dandelion" rule was more a pointer to the post-honeymoon phase of their shared lives, than any present worries about appearances. Their planned trip to Montreal was after the weekend and her next formal occasion exactly a week away. The odd obvious but temporary honeymoon battle scar was only to be expected, she accepted, and could be cosmetically disguised if necessary but was not to be tolerated as a normal part of their shared lives. Hopefully shared lives, she thought, hopefully.

Thirst and a desperate need for the en-suite facilities of the luxury lakeside cabin drove her from the queen-sized bed at last. She softly laid Tim's head on the pillow after she had removed her numb arm from under his neck, the sudden pins and needles in her fingers forcing her to bite her tongue to keep from cursing.

It wasn't long before Tim stretched in his turn and reached out for his new life partner, only to find his bride in absentia. His eyes were still clamped firmly shut against the advancing dawn light but could feel the chill all down one side of his torso as if something warm had only recently departed, the adjacent bed surface also revealed some residual heat to his enquiring palm. Then he heard the flush of the toilet, as reassurance that the heavenly past couple of days had not been a dream.

Damn, this honeymoon was so bloody awesome, he thought. Rarely had he had a day and night like that before and it could only get better. And this would be just the first of many wonderful days to come, he hoped, he really, really hoped. Jessie was a dream girl, almost too good to be true, fearsomely intelligent, successful, beautiful, sexy, with hot looks and absolute dynamite in the bedroom. I will never find a passion to equal this, he thought, no woman that he thought would be both wildly passionate and constantly true only to him. I know, his thoughts continued, we have contracted to have and to hold from this day forward, well, from two days ago, so he should be the happiest man in the world. But ... and it was a big word that 'but', each letter outweighing a dozen ordinary consonants in mass and there was a huge problem that had to be overcome before Jessie found out what he had done from another, less reliable source. Knowing his friends and hers it would get back to her eventually, it couldn't be avoided. If he didn't tell her first he knew he would be dead meat instantly and he would never get a chance to explain, to justify, to make atonement, to beg forgiveness.

Tim had been a high hurdler for as long as he could remember and the glory days of Beijing and the pride he felt standing alongside his fellow athletes, with heavy bronze around his neck and the red,white and blue of the union flag around his shoulders in front of thousands in the stadium and millions at home was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the last hurdle he needed to clear with a critical audience of just one, the one.

He would have preferred to have confessed his guilt to Jessie the first night of the honeymoon, but they had been so tired after her long day and evening that Jess had virtually slept throughout the journey to the beautiful lake-side resort in The Rockies. Both had dived straight into bed and dropped off after a few kisses and they spooned, exhausted but blissfully happy, all night. Besides, how could he even think of ruining her beautiful big day with an ugly outpouring of his eternal shame?

They had agreed to abstain from lovemaking for a full month prior to the wedding to heighten their pleasures of the event. So it was no surprise early the next morning, their first dawn as man-and-wife, when Jess had woken early and Tim was gently coaxed into joining her in the land of the living to the joy of his bride's mouth enveloping his swollen cock.

The itinerary for the remainder of that special day had pretty well followed that lead. After Tim had climaxed and Jess had hoovered him clean, it was only gentlemanly to return the compliment and eat her pussy for breakfast until Tim's tongue was completely numb. She then jumped his bones in an enthusiastic reverse cowgirl while he cradled her small firm breasts and teased her engorged nipples until their cool light brown hue had turned to hot pillar box red. Tim feasted on his own cream pie for elevenses before using the excessive natural lubricants to facilitate a pleasurable rimming of her unbleached arsehole. Meanwhile Jessie cleaned his pole of their combined love juices and, with the help of a firm oscillating handgrip, encouraged Tim to ramrod hardness once again.

Now Tim lubed up her already pulsating sphincter and gradually, inexorably inserted his blood-filled purple glans into her excruciatingly tight anus for the very first time in their relationship.

Tim hesitated, acutely listening for the stop word. She had told him, perfectly seriously when they were first engaged, that her married arse would be his but he didn't quite believe it. He then continued taking her anal cherry by slowly rocking back and forth a quarter of an inch each way, sufficient to ensure staying within the confines of her straining cavity but without actually making much inward progress. After adding a dribble more aromatic lube oil and a dozen or so gentle but insistent strokes, Jessica was able to relax her anal muscles and Tim penetrated an inch or so by the next drive, enabling him to lengthen his recovery and add impetus to the next thrust. A couple of drives later he made a further inch of ground and still no cry of mercy from his compliant spouse. OK, there were lots of sobs, sighs and the occasional breathless expletive but, in the absence of "dandelion", he pressed on impaling his bride's chocolate corridor. Before long his cushioning pubes were grinding gratefully against Jess's delectably smooth firm round butt cheeks and Tim increased the stroke rate as well as the dynamics of each enthralling thrust.

Soon he was pumping iron, breathing deeply and hard, his cavernous lungs labouring as industrially as his supple hips; Jessie was in tune with the increasing rhythm and trying her hardest to alternately relax and tense her sphincter in line with Tim's heroic efforts as well as using her strong arms pushing against the bedroom wall to meet each welcoming, painful but pleasurable thrust. Jessie shuddered as her unexpectedly imminent orgasm threatened and Tim relaxed his own concentration sufficiently to release his pent up expectorant, heralding Jessie's own ecstatic release. The couple screamed at the same time, loud enough to make all the fish in the lake leap out of the water as Tim's cum was propelled deep into Jessie's accommodating bowels.

They held each other hardly moving as the sun's shadows in the room stabilised then slowly lengthened to show the start of the afternoon was already upon them. Following the natural need to relieve their tortured bodies of internal waste, and a hot shower to externally cleanse themselves, drove them from the marital bed.

Thirst and hunger later led them to the kitchen to slake those other hungers which had crept upon them while they had succumbed to satisfied weariness. They didn't bother or care to dress. Jessie brewed the coffee and, while waiting for the brew, poured them a glass each of iced tea from the fridge to quench their thirst. Tim cut bread and made them each a thick, rather lop-sided salad sandwich. They retired to the bedroom to enthusiastically consume their quick meal, each wreathed in the warming glow of righteousness. Not now, definitely not now, was the time for either of them to pay the piper of retribution. Silently both judged, "tomorrow". They had thoughts only of the night of passion before them and imagination became reality while the moon rose and fell as their ardour waxed and waned until mellowed by physical and mental exhaustion.

So it was that following their first full day of married lovemaking, the second day became nominated by both the loving couple as the day of reckoning. A day for each to descend from their dreamy honeymoon fantasy and face the harsh reality of modern day male-female relationships and "fess up" their all-too-recent transgressions.

Tim rose from his warm repose. His conscience wouldn't allow him to relax any longer. He had to tell his bride his guilty secret before he could allow himself to touch her again. Until she forgave his breach of trust, if she forgave him, if it was at all within her...

Meanwhile Jess finished her toilet, taking her first long hot shower of her married life alone, driven to unseen tears by the spectre of this simple once-habitual act as a singleton becoming once more her norm, should Tim decide she had gone too far this time.

Coffee was the first order of the day, and Tim busied himself getting the brew underway. He checked the fridge and extracted orange juice, bacon and eggs, tomatoes and bread for toast. These holiday cabins came with a basic complement of food and drink, which saved occupants the hassle or inconvenience of interrupting their pleasurable isolation by having to shop for essential sustenance.

He popped into the shower after his naked, slightly steaming beautiful wife exited and moved towards the bedroom closet. By the time he got out of the shower Jess was dressed in comfortable jeans and voluminous sweatshirt and already sipping fresh-poured coffee, waiting for him. They smiled and kissed deeply, exchanging morning greetings. Tim tore himself away to get himself dressed and Jess started cracking eggs and grilling bacon, filling the compact space with appetising aromas.

Like Tim, Jess also felt that now the time was right or at least it would be immediately after breakfast. There was a calmness between the couple this morning, their aching need of each other satisfied yesterday. Now comes the reckoning, each understood, it could be delayed no longer.

With the bacon sizzling away, Jessie carried a glass of orange juice and steaming coffee to her lover's bedside table as he finished towelling himself dry and pulled on his underpants. Jessica couldn't help but feel a thrill seeing him balance momentarily on one leg, then the other and pull those flimsy white shorts up to snugly envelope his well-developed gluteus maximus, his beautiful buttocks. God, she thought, although he was no longer an international athlete, he was still an Adonis, despite his angry defacing injuries. She looked down the back and side of his right leg, the livid red scars on his facia lata and outer thigh down to the back of his mangled knee were still fresh, the surface discolouration betraying how the skin had been flayed from his flesh by the horrific coach crash on a lonely mountain road in Switzerland, Europe, just three years ago. A sob escaped her lips involuntarily at the pain she felt, knowing what he had suffered, still endured, the permanent imbalance to his leading leg and the relatively reduced mobility which ended his career as Timothy Granger-Thompson, the Golden Boy, not only of 110m high hurdles, but of British Athletics at the tender age of twenty-three. The injury forced him to miss his own home Olympiad where he had hoped to confront and fulfil his destiny. Now he had to be content with his second career, working as a junior athletics coach in a nondescript Southern Californian college, while studying for his masters in sports psychology. It was a comedown from his previous high, but it led to the couple meeting and falling in love.

Jessica's eyes brimmed with tears. She adored his single-minded determination to overcome his disability, his refusal to feel sorry for himself and his drive to build a new career. She loved too, his willingness to put himself out there to help young athletes learn their craft. And to bring her out of her long romanceless mistrust of the opposite sex.

As she passed by Tim on the way back to the kitchen, he grabbed her and spun her round to sit on the bed. Tim sat next to her, still in his shorts and turned his body three-quarters towards her.

"Honey, I need to tell you about what happened on my Stag four nights ago. I can't go on any longer without telling you, telling you everything."

The joy on his face in the simple act of touching his bride for only the second time today had been immediately overshadowed by the enormity of his imminent confession, replacing a moment of sublime pleasure with monumental gravity in his thoughts and face at an instant.

"Let me turn off the grill," Jess said and she moved swiftly and gracefully to the galley kitchen.

While she ensured that everything was safe, she returned to find Tim had had time to pull on his jeans but hadn't donned his sweatshirt yet. Jessica sat next to him on the bed, their first marital bed, to hear his confession, leaning up against her husband. Then, she thought, once he had got what he wanted to say off his chest it will be time for me to unburden mine.

"I hope you didn't have strippers and lap dancers drooling all over your hunky body all night," she pouted, quietly.

"I told the chaps categorically from the outset that there were to be no strippers or any funny business, just a few drinks out with some College friends, after all, I've not really known them that long. And they promised, Howard told me that I wouldn't be forced to do shots unless I wanted to, that no-one would strip tease in front of me and that I didn't need money for food, drinks or cabs, the evening was all on them."

"So, what evil deed or deeds have you done, that you have to confess to me while you are blushing so delightfully madly?"

Jess couldn't disguise her pleasure as she snuggled up to his firm, warm sweet-smelling nakedness, making Tim squirm with embarrassment, his face was actually turning quite crimson. She loved how British he was, so reserved and so easily abashed whenever he was caught out, even over something quite innocent. He was like an open book she thought, not like that other cheating bastard... She tried her best to flush her thoughts of those past hurts by another man, an unreliable lying, conniving son of a... She expunged her anger at her old husband and former lover by mushing against her new man, her new and improved man, and burying her tongue in her husband's hot but dry mouth. His arm automatically enveloped his bride around the shoulder as he was similarly pinioned about his waist but Tim fought hard to maintain control of himself. He would not be diverted, however sweet the diversion was. He had to finish this path of unbosoming that he had begun so tentatively to tread, or he would be finished, submerged, drowned in a sea of self-hate on the one hand and loathing on the other. His hands moved to her upper arms and he pushed his precious wife gently but inexorably apart from his aching lips.

"Honey, I've got to finish what I started," he pleaded, knowing if he relented now he was lost.

Tim was starting to feel sick to his stomach and was, for the first time in his life, unsure if he could even get his body to respond to her ardent passion until he had finally bared his soul and paid the due consequences, however severe they turned out to be.

"Well, I like to finish what I start too, sweetheart."

Jess fluttered her lovely long eyelashes at her bewildered beau. In her own well of uncertainty of how her lover would react to her soon-to-be-confessed foibles, she couldn't resist milking his own discomfiture for as long as she could, hoping that if he felt he had a mountain to climb from the abyss of his own despair, that her own descent from grace would register as just a tiny dip in the ocean of relief in her hoped-for reconciliation with the man who owned her heart, body and soul.

She thought back to when they first met. Well, it was a little one-sided at first. Jessica noticed him on the running track at the college where they both had posts. He was a junior athletics coach, with potential to go far. He was tall and dark-haired but with quite fair skin. He was warming up when she first espied him, sprinting in short bursts. Jess noticed his height, 6ft 3in or 4inches and slim but very muscular in build. His hair was dark and curly, cut short to keep any wayward curls in check. Oddly, on such an extremely warm sunny September, late afternoon after school, he kept his tracksuit bottoms on, hiding his long muscular legs from view. Everyone else was sweltering in the hot sunshine, including Jess. She thought he was handsome and quite fit but must be steaming underneath his clothes. What she really noticed though, was that he never even glanced her way. Although she never encouraged it, she knew she was being stared at by every hot -bloodied male in the stadium. She was used to attention and ignored it but she noticed, with interest, that the new kid on the block paid her no attention at all.

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bySpencerfiction© 27 comments/ 43956 views/ 8 favorites

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