Guilty Pleasures Ch. 12

Becca grudgingly nodded, but wow did I clearly have a lot longer discussion in my future. Then Rebecca was going to kill me for what I had just sent her way.

Of course, she shouldn't have fucked those other guys, so I could live with some heat heading in her direction...

In fact, had I tipped the issue to Becca intentionally?

I bit my lip as I realized that I probably had. Wow, I was a shit.

Our marriage had been dead long before Rebecca sucked her first extracurricular cock. Rebecca and I had gently suffocated it ourselves, in tandem, as a team. There was therefore a limit to the depth of Rebecca's sinfulness. That didn't mean I was relaxed or happy about it. If she was going to fuck around, it would have been courteous to let me have the same option. For that... yeah, she deserved for Becca to know. Let our daughter bring the heat, I thought cowardly. If I were to get around to really letting the ex have it myself, the subject of my relationships with certain friends of Becca would return to the fore...

But Becca could bring the heat and expect no retaliation.

I just needed to make sure it wasn't heat that was permanently damaging to her relationship with her mother. That was the first commandment of our marriage. And the first commandment of our divorce. Thou Shalt Not Fuck Up Becca's Relationship With The Other Parent. So I was going to have to be light on my feet in telling her enough to understand the truth and be mad about it, but with enough context for her to understand the reasons.

I sat back, sweating a bit at what I'd just done.

Somehow, no one wanted to talk about anything difficult all of a sudden. It turned into a mostly pleasant lunch. If anyone, Becca was the one on the hot seat. After a brief discussion of the relatively mediocre reputation that Mary's current beau had earned with everyone else, followed by Mary's own, very desultory defense of the boy, things turned to Becca's swain... Kent.

I was not a fan of Kent. Kent seemed... overly familiar with my daughter. I sensed that he was taking... liberties. Or perhaps worse, I sensed he was being granted liberties. But several things became apparent to me over the course of the lunch. First, Kent had been around for a while. He had been around longer, in fact, than I had noticed. Considering that one of my main concerns about my daughter had been that she was treating men as disposable, this was really something that I should not be complaining about. Second, all three of the other girls seemed to not just be good with Kent, but actually enthusiastic.

Was I going to have to give this little shit a second look?

Fatherhood is hard. Even when you don't make it astronomically harder like I just had.

*

The conversation with Becca about her mother later that week was excruciating. Never has any man worked harder to defend his cheating tramp of a wife. By the time I was finished, I even half believed my own shit about how she wasn't that bad.

I let myself be satisfied with knowing how unbelievably awkward things were about to get for Rebecca.

All I got from her was a single text about six hours later.

REBECCA: For the love of God, WHY?

I laughed a full-on Bond villain laugh for five fucking minutes after I got that text. I never responded. To be blunt, she knew what she did.

*

I finally got the details of Monica's last date out of her on Sunday. The extraction process was glorious.

Things were calm after that for the rest of the week. Yet another rainy weekend put a further nail in the coffin of pool hangs for the year, and late Saturday morning, Monica and I were trading foot rubs and reading our phones companionably on the couch when she reminded me she had a date that evening.

I examined my feelings. Nope. Not upset. I was curious though. "New guy?"

She giggled. "Nope. This one is... well, I'm giving Nathan Weber another go."

"The college boy who pops in seconds?" I asked, a little surprised.

No. I was a lot surprised.

"Yes. Nathan."

"Really?"

"Yes really, you big arrogant jerk! To begin with, I kind of want to see if I can help him out. Now that I know what I'm dealing with going in, maybe I can help him learn some endurance."

"You selfless woman. I'm impressed."

"Don't be," she muttered sheepishly. "There is also the matter of how big that thing is."

"Ah ha!" I chortled.

"Jealous?" she teased.

I paused. We were dancing about the edges of one of the myriad things the should make whatever the fuck we were trying to do turn into a train wreck. "Should I be?" I asked.

"Should I be jealous that in the last three months, you've had full access to both Wanda's and Mary's magnificent racks?" Monica shot back.

We looked at each other.

And then we smiled.

"I wish you luck in your endeavors," I said with a little leer.

"If I succeed, I will be happy. But even if I don't, I'll get mine when I tell you about the attempt," Monica smirked.

"You are building up quite the little stable of college men," I observed in honest satisfaction that my woman had what it took for that.

"Stable? Hardly," Monica snorted. "I'm strictly catch and release. That's my MO." She looked at my skeptical expression. "Well, catch, play and release. You, Mister, are the one with the college harem."

"Hey! I do not have a harem," I objected vociferously. "I... I mean... No. I don't."

Monica just laughed at me, but then we shared a stare as I stood my ground, appearances notwithstanding. I somehow knew that I did not have a harem...

Please, Lord, I did not have a harem, right? I could not live with myself if I had a harem.

Monica just smiled at me, in part at my naiveté and in part at my distress. But she pursed her lips. "I'll allow that they maybe aren't technically a harem. Your noble ass is too eager for them to move on with their lives beyond you, and harem keepers are all about possession." She wiggled her toes against me... against my groin. "But as long as I am the queen, I'm good either way with your harem or not harem."

I rolled my eyes. Since I had been scrolling my Instagram for a couple of minutes without one decent meme, I put down my phone and resumed massaging Monica's feet in earnest.

Her phone dinged, and she read her message. She smirked.

"Nathan asking if he should take some saltpeter?" I asked insincerely, while working at her toes between my fingers.

"Ass," Monica murmured, typing. "Of course not. Just a friend."

She typed busily. Then she snorted, and typed some more.

"What's so funny?" I asked, enjoying her grin.

"Hmm? Oh, just some work drama. I do have a professional life, you know. It's the kind of stuff I won't burden you with until you inevitably fuck up, as all men do, and you are in need of some light punishment. Then you will hear all about my office politics. I similarly expect you to leave me out of all your basketball discussions, Clark."

Fuck. Monica wasn't into basketball?

I sighed. I supposed that made her even better, since I now knew that she wasn't totally perfect.

"I am however, heading back home now," she announced, as I finished up with her pinky toes. "If I let you keep at my feet any longer, you will have me getting naked. And if I do that, I will not be all fresh for my mission of mercy during my date this evening. Also... I kind of need a shower badly, regardless."

I pouted, and pretended that my footrub had not been intended to incite some afternoon delight.

We still spent five minutes in the foyer, making out, before she finally left for Wanda's and Yancey's to shower and primp. Just because.

The plus side was, I now had the entire afternoon and evening to get some work done. Tomorrow, I could then spend the whole day, minus a couple of hours having dinner with Yancey and Wanda, driving Monica wild while I heard about her success or failure with getting the wonder dick in working order.

Damn, but even my engineering mental processes were being improved by being with Monica... when she wasn't totally distracting me, of course. I had a brilliant insight and was excitedly drawing up a totally new alternate diagram for the secondary controller when my doorbell rang.

Now who?

I slapped my computer shut, and went to answer the door, wondering who it could be. Becca, cranky after a trip to confront her mother that I hadn't known about? Or Wanda or Yancey, here to dig for dirt? Maybe it would be Mormon missionaries and I could screw with their heads.

Carol.

Carol?

Hoo boy. Carol.

"Hey Mister H!" the girl chirped as she slid easily past me when I opened the door.

I let the door close behind me as I cautiously turned to follow her progress into my house. At least she was dressed about as conservatively as I remembered seeing her in a year, with a knee-length skirt and a loose-fitting, cotton sweater.

Wait, Carol owns a skirt?

"What can I do for you, Carol?" I asked cautiously.

"Monica invited me over," Carol said, wandering into the living room uninvited.

"Today? She's not here," I said, confused.

"Exactly," Carol replied, turning to me with a smile as I followed her into the room.

Light bulb.

"Were you texting with her just a little while ago?" I accused.

"Yes?"

I looked disapprovingly at her. I wanted to look disapprovingly at Monica, but she wasn't around to look disapprovingly at, so I looked disapprovingly at Carol some more. I waited.

"I asked her if she really meant what she said about you and her, and... things. And about us... me in particular," Carol said, suddenly sheepish.

I could not help but smile, just a little.

It was fucking flattering, okay? Fuck you.

"She was quite emphatic that she was serious" Carol added defiantly. "She then told me that you would be here, and she wouldn't, all afternoon and evening."

"You do realize that I'm going to tell her, in exquisite detail, every single thing you and I do here, if we in fact do anything, right?" I said, firmly.

"Really?" she asked in sudden surprise.

I guess we hadn't explained the kink part. Becca had been there, after all.

"It's... what we each get out of each other's, um, activities," I said sheepishly. Maybe my suddenly revealed kinky side would scare her off. "So yeah, I will tell her every single noise you make. Every single thing you do."

Please don't let it scare her off.

Carol considered for a moment. "Well, I guess I better do a good job. I'd hate to look bad in Monica's eyes!"

I sighed.

"So this is really going to be your thing?" she asked, stepping to me, sliding a hand behind my head and kissing me. "Telling each other about how I kissed you?" Another kiss. "About how I snaked my hand down your pants?" Word. Deed. That was Carol.

I was quite happy once again for my habit of wearing elastic waist trousers.

Who was I fucking kidding? I was in no way going to resist this situation. I was having a hard time even woking up any guilt any more. I knew damn good and well I was not leading this girl down any paths she had not already happily trod without me. And while I had a girlfriend, I was sort of expected by her to provide this kind of entertainment.

And if that was to be the case, who better than Carol? Lean, athletic Carol? Adventurous Carol? With the awesome, generous tits?

Tits that clearly were not encumbered by a bra that afternoon, as I discovered instantly upon filling my hands with them. Only the light cotton knit kept me from dropping my lips to them instantly.

So I grabbed the sweater and pulled it off without further ado, and immediately clamped my lips around that glorious right nipple. Don't worry, I paid full attention to the left one in good time.

Her hand had never left the inside of my pants. Those fingers had just rested happily around my cock as I ministered to her chest, but suddenly, they came to life, squeezing with new urgency. Her other hand was tugging at my waistband, and in seconds, I was as bottomless as she was topless.

She pushed me toward my couch, but before I could sit for her, she slid past me and sat on it herself, pulling me in front of her.

I was not about to stand around with my dong sticking out from under my shirt, and tugged the polo off over my head. By the time I had it off, I didn't give a crap about it. Carol had gently tugged my cock forward and had it delving in between her lips.

I reflected that it was not Wanda's utter artistry. It was definitely neither the frenzied effort, not the loving bonding of Monica's various gifts to me. But it was Carol's gift. And it was soft, and languid, and the look in her eyes told me that she had internalized everything I had tried to teach her... and holy shit was she getting an A from teacher.

I definitely did not have a harem, because the only person being possessed around here was me.

I could have held off for a good while. I really could. But the only way I was going to get my face between those incredible thighs of hers was to let her have what she was working for first.

And letting her have it was not hard. Her gaze on me was relentless as she sucked me in and out of her mouth, its utterly dominant servility had me in thrall, exactly as I had asked her to attempt, back on board the ship.

I arrogantly felt a surge of accomplishment, a surge which morphed into lightning racing up my inner thighs and down my chest, meeting at my core and splashing a veritable torrent of jizz into Carol's eager lips.

Later, as I looked up from between her thighs in turn, while she called out her own approval, I fixed my gaze at the deep valley between her breasts, and considered running to grab the fresh can of Redi-Whip in my fridge.

But no. I merely lowered myself against her, pressing her back into the couch as I kissed her deeply.

I was finally going to face this girl while I fucked her.

Oh shit, was that worth the wait.

*

Carol left that evening, eventually. And I was unsurprised that I did not hear from, and certainly didn't see Monica later. I did not yet know if she had spent the night with her project, or if she'd gone home to Wanda and Yancey's. I did not need to.

I slept, if not as well as I had begun to with Monica beside me, then still quite well, considering my exhausted state.

Again, Carol is a finely tuned athlete. Finely tuned, Division I college athletes can really take it out of a middle-aged man.

Yeah, guilt was largely a thing in my rear-view mirror. Guilt had brought me so much good...

I sat up in bed, sunlight streaming into my bedroom. Wasn't it supposed to be raining today?

I shrugged. I picked up my phone and thought for a moment before texting Monica.

ME: Morning, sunshine! How ya doin'?

It was a full ten minutes before I got a response.

MONICA: Relaxed. Just waking up and feeling accomplished.

ME: Ho ho! Still accomplishing?

MONICA: Hardly! Catch and release, remember?

ME: To be clear, I would not mind you taking a sleepover.

MONICA: Thank you. The same goes on my end, if your situation calls for it.

MONICA: Are YOU having a sleepover?

ME: Nah. I think the situation calls for you coming over here in a bit.

MONICA: [Sad Emoji] I do too, but I have a long-standing to do with some women from work today. And then an early meeting tomorrow morning. How about I run don't walk your way after work Monday?

ME: [Praying Hands Emoji][Party Hat Emoji]

*

Of course, a meeting from hell broke out at work late Monday afternoon. Worse, it was my fucking meeting.

I had a nice little half-page agenda, neat and, I thought, air-tight. It was just my group and Freddy's department. We started at four, and should have been done by half-past.

But nooooooo.

There were two fucking minor points of coordination for our groups to work out. Two. We handled the first one like poop through a goose, and I relaxed my iron grip on things--like an idiot.

Before I knew it, I looked at my watch and it was 5:45, and my second agenda item had not even come up yet. It was a perfect storm of meeting drift. One of my people went full Teacher's Pet for a while, and another decided she wanted to be a showoff and 'sought input' on a few of her accomplishments.

Teacher's Pet would have been easy to squash, except the Teacher he was Petting was Freddy, who, damn him, was actually interested in the kid's questions. I had a harder time feeling good about squelching my showoff, because she actually had pulled off something pretty cool. Even I had not previously realized how cool it was until then. And I guessed that she deserved to get a little limelight for it.

I had offered her a momentary spotlight, and she took a Jumbotron.

Meanwhile, Freddy, who is a laser-focused machine when he is working, becomes this free-association, brainstorming monster whenever he's in a group and someone asks an open-ended question. My Teacher's Pet had him totally off and running ten minutes in.

So now, almost two goddamned hours later, here I was, wanting nothing but to go home and jam my face between Monica's legs. But I still hadn't gotten my second agenda item checked off, because one of Freddy's people named Carrie Anne Whorly crafted a brand new idea right in the middle of all this yammering, and now we were somehow doing a pre-design workup on it, in the middle of my meeting.

I could have stomped on her, maybe scheduling something for later. But I didn't actually want to. To begin with, she was Freddie's minion, not mine, and he was goading her on. Second, it was a really, really good idea, one from which I could meaningfully benefit. Finally... Carrie Anne is the living embodiment of Nerd Hot, and is not in my management chain of command.

Those heavy black-framed glasses of hers just served to magnify incredibly blue eyes. Her jet black hair with its dorky bangs framed a porcelain face with just a sprinkling of fairly mild zits that looked more like freckles. And her skinny body just accentuated the size of those tits that really filled out the front of her My Pretty Pony teeshirt.

Yes, that's right. The girl routinely wore Rainbow Sparkles shirts to the office.

My dick was halfway hard from thinking about how, had I not scheduled this meeting in the first place, I could well be home and naked with Monica by now. It was the other halfway from speculating about Carrie Anne, and what kind of story she and I might weave for me to tell Monica about...

So there I was, in a Hell of my own devising, with a hard-on that needed hiding beneath the conference table.

And then rescue arrived. The meeting room has a glass wall separating it from the hallway, and Thalia came walking along outside, her briefcase already over her shoulder as she headed for the parking lot. She registered our meeting out of the corner of her eye and paused to look at the reserved sign by the door.

The reserved sign with my name on it, and a specified time of 4:00-4:30. Uh oh.

She paused, then gently opened the door to our meeting room. All voices died out. The Boss was here.

"I see you have a marathon going on Clark," she said mildly. Unfortunately, I could see in her eyes that she expected better of me than this obvious mess.

I really wanted to throw everybody under the bus and go into my usual routine about meetings being the creation of the Anti-Christ. But it was my meeting. I had created it, so that was not really an option.

Meanwhile, my iron hard cock, in one of its few good ideas, suggested that this was a golden opportunity to score some points with a certain hot nerd, should I ever wish to actually pursue said hot nerd.

"Yeah, we are running late," I said. "Thalia, this is Carrie Anne Whorly. She's on Freddie's team, and she's derailed my boring little meeting with a truly stellar idea. We've been chewing on it for a while now." Suddenly, I was babbling. "We, uh, when we get it worked up here, Freddie or I will shoot you a memo about it. It really looks worth pursuing."