Lies

They were in a perpetual state of exploring and sexual enlightenment. It irked her that the opposite could be said about her sex-life with Steven. The more she unlocked her inner slut, the more evident it was that she'd married a stale and inadequate lover. It was hard to stay awake through the nightly missionary routine. In high school, she always ignored it when girls gossiped about how big a boy's penis was. After being with Mark though, she had to concede that some cocks were just better than others. His longer and thicker member, which created more sensations and activated stupefying orgasms when matched against Steven, seemed better evolved for handling women. Especially when fucking doggy style, or when she was riding cowgirl.

Another change Camille progressively embraced was Mark's obsessive wish of making out all the time. She remembered how gross it had seemed at first. The taste and feeling of Mark's wiggling tongue probing her mouth like some foreign alien... But alas, Mark's persistence had worn her down until she craved his kisses. She was so familiar with his mouth that if he went to a dentist and replaced a filling she would notice the difference. Each time their lips sealed together in a steamy kiss, a fervor of energy would course through her veins and release a sharp torrent of tingles to her cunt.

Camille knew how sexy her mouth looked. Men seemed to gravitate toward it. Everyone she dated commented on how awesome it felt kissing her delicate and pouty lips. She'd also receive positive remarks about her hourglass figure, nice boobs and smooth legs, but that was typical flattery, which didn't mean as much. Ironically, Steven never showed much interest kissing. He wasn't adverse to it, but the enthusiasm was sparse. Mark never got enough of kissing. Their mouths were glued together most the time they were fucking. When Mark ejaculated, he would continue to kiss and fuck till she came. If she orgasmed before him, he rarely missed the opportunity to unload in her mouth. With her pillowy, gleaming lips gliding down the trunk of his shaft, she'd often feel his vein expand and imagine his sperm curdling in his ballsack. He would take the back of her head, dig his fingers into her thick mane, and hold it firmly in place as he fucked her face. She trusted him not to hurt her as he jammed his full length into her esophagus and unleashed a powerful salvo of baby batter splattering into her taut belly. Sometimes she swallowed and lapped up all of his spunk, while other times she kept it in her mouth, savoring it. She enjoyed coating her lips with a thick layer of his sperm as if it was a shiny lip-gloss. Camille would cuddle up to him and wait for Mark to stop huffing like a steam engine before they began their post-coidal make out. He never hesitated to kiss her luscious lips, even when traces of cum lingered in her mouth.

Camille was careful to keep secret just how much she had come to love making out with him. She still kissed with her husband, but Mark's mouth made her heart flutter and had taken an important role in their tryst. She felt like she was developing a fetish for sensual kissing, and had started buying high end lipstick just to make her lips impossible to resist.

Camille's pussy lips also incurred a lot of attention with Mark around. He gloated that her sap was too delicious to pass up, and proved uncannily good at getting her off with his tongue. She loved clamping his head between her legs and indulging in thigh-trembling, pussy-clenching orgasms that left her completely weak and panting. In a moment of complete surrender, as the hazy pink post-orgasmic cloud from an unusually strong double orgasm overtook her, she blurted out that her husband would never, in a lifetime, be able to make her feel as good as his boss. The admission was one of many confessions Camille had disclosed to Mark throughout their affair. It bothered her that Steven refused to do oral and didn't have the same sex drive as Mark and her. Instead of dirty talk, Mark encouraged Camille to scorn her husband and taunt him for his failings as they fucked. The unfaithful housewife was too far gone to argue.

It was a shock to Mark when Camille confided that she had only ever slept with Steven. It was like music to his ears. Her prior boyfriends had never made it past third base. He was technically fifty percent of her sex life and this elated him. As a dominant male, it felt good to his ego to know his cock was the biggest in her past. For weeks, he did everything to be balls deep inside her all the time. She eventually told him that it was not his length, but thickness, that made her feel much more filled and took her over the edge.

Camille never questioned Mark about protection. Since the very first day he had taken her bareback, it was an unspoken rule that he would come inside her. He never asked permission. He had extorted her and forced her to have sex with him, did he sound like he cared about consequences? Though it originally scared her, understanding that he didn't worry about knocking her up began turning her on. Plus, annoying condom made it feel better when he came. The only reason she hadn't become pregnant with his potent jizz was because she was on the pill. Mark loaded her with cum at least once a week. If she ever forgot her prescription, there would be no way to tell for sure who had scored and put a child in her.

She enjoyed being dominated by Mark. No longer was she the innocent girl who tried to save her husband from going to jail. She allowed Mark to do what he wished, somewhat absolving her from the responsibility that came with the ring on her finger, but not really. She had stopped feeling guilty for covering up the affair with Mark. Especially after rough sex. She would go through the motions of being angry at Mark for making bruises on her skin, but in reality she was completely complicit. She had become as wild and brutal as him during intercourse, as attested by the scratch scars on his back from her red, manicured nails, or the bite marks on his shoulders.

Polar to their feral sex, Camille found Mark to be a very loving partner when they fucked slow and affectionately. They concentrated on foreplay - caressing and kneading their bodies while kissing and licking each others skin. They were very open to telling and exhibiting what felt good. He would gently penetrate her, so they could coach and guide one another into having simultaneous orgasms.

About six months passed after their 'anniversary'. Camille was a lot more at ease and desired the sensual sex as much as the rough stuff. Mark inferred her submission and obedience. The days of threatening her for sex were over. Camille reluctantly accepted that her relationship with Mark had deepened considerately.

For the first time in ages Steven mentioned work and pronounced the last thing Camille expected to hear, he had applied for a new job. She nearly choked on her food. Steven read the confused expression on his wife's face and reassured her that it was a better position, although the salary would be a little less. They had survived on less, and now they had a decent savings account... Plus, he had a higher chance for promotion at the new company. His arguments continued.

Camille sat dumbstruck. It was the way out. The skimming, the danger of discovery and ruin, the lies and deceit, and Mark... She would finally be able to look at her husband and feel proud of him. She could drop her façade that presented everything as OK, and they could become the loving couple she longed for.

They talked. Steven visibly relaxed when he recognized his wage wouldn't be a problem for her. Camille could not recall the last time she was so honest with him. She wished she could admit all the real reasons why she was so happy. It had been a long time since they'd talked about their future together, and she realized she'd unconsciously avoided the topic because she didn't want to deal with all his untruths. In her darkest moments, she'd questioned whether their marriage would last when it's base corroded with so much deceit; when her extramarital lover was more truthful to her than her husband.

Cautiously, Camille inquired how Mark took the news that he was seeking out another job. Steven laughed, which startled her, and replied that Mark had exited the company since long.

Camille felt numb. Her mind paralyzed and refused to comprehend the implications. Steven asked if she recalled the party at Mark's home. She nodded vacantly. How could she forget Mark cornering her, and how wet she had been when he fingered her while her husband socialized in the other room. Her heart beat so loud while they made out, back pressed against the door and lips knotted together like a pair of slutty teenagers. It had been madness, and they could have been caught by any of the people lurking and milling around outside the door.

Steven revealed that her Mark had given his notice the following week and quit a month later. He snickered at her credulous expression, and said his boss was terrible at staying updated with their assignments, and it was for the best that the fat, ugly bastard quit.

Just the previous day, Camille had let the same fat, ugly bastard pound her snatch in every way he could think of. Her throat was dry. He hadn't threatened her. She freely and willingly gave herself to him, as she'd weekly for a very long time.

Steven stopped laughing, and with a concerned look asked if she was alright. All color had drained from her face. Suppressing her inner turmoil and queasy stomach, she mumbled she was fine. It was just a stomach cramp.

Steven spoke enthusiastically about his new opportunity, while Camille repressed her thoughts. Sitting on the couch, she was keenly aware of Mark's blanket wrapped around her for comfort. She had told Steven she bought it at a sale. Yet another lie between them.

Later that night in bed, Steven snored away while Camille stared at the ceiling, distraught. Mark had fooled her. The nerve of that man. Oddities that she had dismissed, like how he could afford to spend so much time away from work, suddenly made sense. The way he asked questions about Steven to keep tabs on him or the fact that Steven hadn't mentioned him for a long time, it all added up.

She only slept a few hours. The next morning she waved her husband off, bleary eyed and weary. She spent the whole day biting her nails. She knew Mark was a bastard, but what he'd done was unbelievable. Not only had he blackmailed her, he'd convinced her that he actually cared for her. She'd been so blinded by good sex that she stopped resisting him. She felt hoodwinked. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, spinning around chaotically. She did not want anything to do with Mark. Yet she clutched the warm, soft blanket like a safety net. It hurt her heart to let it go. They had even had sex on the couch with the blanket around them, wrapping it tight so they baked in a hot, sweaty cocoon of their own juices. She looked around. There wasn't a place in the apartment Mark hadn't soiled her in. They'd consummated every room many times over.

All through the weekend, Mark festered in her brain. Again and again, she scolded herself for having been deceived. She felt stupid and betrayed. Betrayed by both Steven and Mark. Both men had severely misled her.

When Mark eventually knocked on the door, Camille smiled and let him in. The second the latch clicked behind him, she exploded. All the anger and resentment that had been festering, all the hurt and emotion came flooding out of her in a fearsome rage.

Mark took her wrath, but didn't flinch. When she exhausted herself, he responded by yelling so loud that she was afraid the neighbors would call the police. She was taken aback, almost incoherent. It galled her that there was not a flicker of remorse or guilt in his eyes.

She managed to scream as he grabbed her and rudely hoisted her ass over his shoulder. Through a red haze, she slapped and kicked him until he dropped her. Aware of her personal peril, she stumbled unevenly, scrambling and fumbling awkward and desperate to get away. Mark leapt after her. She made it to the bathroom, but Mark kicked the door in before she could shut it.

Camille fell back. The auburn beauty screamed hysterically and scrambled on her hands and knees. Her eyes widened in horror at the huge, barrel chested man towering over her. Mark grabbed her by the hair, smacked her across the face and dragged her out into the hallway. She had no chance of escaping his powerful, perverted grasp. She wasn't fully aware of what was happening, but her senses snapped back as he draped her over his shoulder for the second time. She screamed and vainly pounded her delicate little fists on his back, but no amount of helpless flailing could stop him.

He carried her to the bedroom. She couldn't hear what he was shouting, but it drowned out the stream of obscenities issuing from her mouth. He tore at the clothes on her body, but Camille countered, grabbing his shirt with a ferocity he'd never seen before and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying. She tore at the neck of his undershirt, wishing to cause him as much pain as possible. She yelled as he shredded her skirt down the middle. When there was nothing left to tear, they glared at each other. Camille looked like an angry feline ready to pounce. Mark took the defiant girl over his knee. His palm hissed as it cut through the air and connected with Camille's vulnerable ass cheek. The hysterical housewife cried, thrashed, sobbed and begged for Mark to stop spanking her ass. Mark stopped his punishment, and for a moment Camille sat with tears of black mascara running down her face. Then she began to wail again.

A long while later, Camille stood in the kitchen and made lunch. She was naked, but for an apron that protected her glistening flesh against the bacon oil in the frying pan. An equally exposed Mark snuck up behind her. He snaked his paws under her apron, and cupped her tits. She winced in pain. Her boobs were tender and he softened his grip tease them delicately. It was amazing how his hands could be both rough and sensitive.

She had been so angry with him, struggling and swearing for a long time while he spanked her bottom. She tried fending him off when he flipped her over on her back and got on top of her, but once he got his hips between her thighs she knew it was over. He held her down and slapped her into submission. With full openhanded swings to her boobs and butt, she could hardly stand the pain. Mark knew full well what he was doing. As much as she screamed and fought, her body was used to torment. Her nipples had hardened with the first slap of his hand, and her pussy drenched his leg as he'd disciplined her. Heck, she might get bruises, but it's not like either of them really cared.

She had been soaking wet as he entered her and after a few strong strokes, her anger tapered off as she came. She had been too dazed to count after that, but she climaxed maybe four or five times before Mark was done.

Mark kissed that soft spot on her neck that sent shivers down her spine. She pushed backwards with her ass and rolled over.

They ate quietly while she processed her feelings. Somewhere between her second and third orgasm her anger had evaporated.

Mark inquired about Steven's new job. She told him the little she knew. He said it must feel good to no longer be married to a thief. Camille realized he was right. She had viewed her husband as a criminal. It had haunted her, and Mark had continually brought it up like an open wound, scratching it so that she could not ignore the truth.

They left the dishes on the table. There was ample time for her to take care of them later, before her husband came home. She'd clean one set by hand and put one in the dishwasher. Covering up traces of Mark's visits had become second nature.

Following Mark into the living room, she paused in front of him as he sat down on the couch. She studied him. He was old. He was hairy, fat, and ugly. She was young, good-looking, and incredibly sexy.

His cock began to swell. She felt her pussy dampen in response to his erection.

It was surreal. He had deceived her in a most devious fashion, but it had not changed the way they treated one another. She straddled his lap and put her arms around his neck. He ran his hands on her hips as she began kissing up his neck. His cock hardened like steel, and she moaned softly into his open mouth when the knob bumped against her wet love canal. She rotated her hips, trying to catch the head without using her hand to steer. They had plenty of time, and neither one of them were in a rush. Her boobs hurt really bad from the previous beating but she did not feel like scolding him. They sat intimately entwined.

She could scold him plenty when he came again in the following week.