Love and Betrayal Ch. 11

Becci thought back to the shy and insecure girl she was in high school, desperately eager to please and be accepted. She was so unsure of herself, both socially and physically. Most of the other girls developed more quickly than her. Immature bullies among them sensed her vulnerability and tortured her with cruel taunts. Outwardly she seemed innocent and reticent; they would have been shocked by the secret erotic fantasies she found solace within.

In college she learnt that she was desirable, perhaps very desirable, but she constantly needed to prove and reprove that fact to herself. She indulged in a series of one night stands, often favouring tourists and married men that she met in clubs and figured she was unlikely to meet again. Her few love affairs with fellow students were always sexually charged, but never lasted.

Becci excused her behaviour as simply making up for lost time. By the time she realised that she had gained a reputation, it was too late to turn back the clock. She gradually acquired an inner strength, and the ability to portray confidence in difficult situations. Within just a couple of years of graduating she had met Paul and became his fiancée and was now his wife.

Becci still blamed her difficult adolescence for almost every subsequent indiscretion, and still retreated into the erotic fantasies she had found so comforting in high school. However, she was increasingly willing to share and embrace them with Paul, but initially only secretively whilst abroad.

On vacation in Atlantic City, she had gone much further than she planned and felt liberated. Performing her carefully practiced striptease on stage in front of so many was exhilarating! This was an enactment of a teenage fantasy, although the original and its many variants did not include a husband watching in the audience.

Winning the $500 first prize on stage and earning more than twice that again on the floor provided the self-validation she still craved. She had broken the club rules and even more taboos by secretly taking her eager punters to completion during intimate lap dances, and found this even more thrilling than winning the contest.

The last shackles to the moral restraints imposed by her catholic schooling and conservative family and friends were broken. She had always been terrified of what others thought about her, but now she could barely care less, except for Paul. She imagined herself as an exotic butterfly emerging from the confines of its chrysalis. No longer hiding in the shadows uncertain and afraid, her beauty and passion were now displayed in their full glory.



Soon after returning home from the States Paul left to attend a five-day conference. Every evening without fail he called Becci on FaceTime. It never took him long to ask her to show him what she was wearing. On command she stripped for him, starting with her dress and posing for him in carefully selected lingerie, then slowly removing that as well.

She was surprised by how much this excited her, and she teased Paul by pinching her engorged nipples and sliding her fingers along her glistening pink slit into her vagina, then spreading her secretions over her clitoris. She loved making him hard. Becci provided the backtrack telling him what she imagined he was doing to her and how she felt.

She set the bar high on the first night, "You just pinned me down, naked and legs splayed open on the bed... You are devouring me, your tongue is inside me, your hands squeezing by little tits... Ahh, oh my, my sweet, sweet boy... Now you are working up my body... Oh God I need your hard throbbing cock inside me! ... I scream, 'Pp-lease! Fuck me, fuck me properly you Bastard!'... F-finally you slam into me... Filling my achingly empty vagina... Hard and to the hilt in one powerful lunge! You just keep thrusting into me... Faster and faster... I, I'm just your dirty little slut... Your fuckbunny... Ahh, ah, ha!"

Becci was soon vigorously frigging her clit, but didn't take her eyes off her phone. She could tell Paul was close to cumming, "Your whole body tenses, your potent semen is pumping into me, flooding my womb... You pull your spurting penis out of me and pull me down the bed... It's between my lips! Ahh, the warmth of your gorgeous cock in my mouth, still so very hard and twitching. The taste of your salty nectar!"

Her nipples were engorged, her breasts felt a little fuller, her cheeks, neck and chest flushed. She withdrew her fingers from her soaking pussy and brought them to her lips. Breathless, she whispered, "Tell me, tell me that you love me, that I'm a good girl!"

On the last two nights Becci agreed to only edge, but not to cum. She came so very close, but obeyed Paul's bidding and held back at the final moment. For a girl in need of frequent servicing, this proved a strain. Frustrated erotic fantasies increasingly intruded on her waking thoughts.

She picked Paul up from the airport wearing only heels, sheer stockings and a mid-length coat. Just two buttons and a belt preserved her modesty. With each stride she flashed her slender legs up to and even beyond the 'asking for it' line, the lace tops of her stockings. Some of Paul's friends and colleagues had been on the same flight, and all eyes were on her. Most of the men and some women were captivated, no doubt hoping that she would flash more flesh, but she also sensed disapproval and scorn from a few.

Teasing glimpses of her soft pale inner thighs had the intended effect. She watched the outline of Paul's cock expand as she slinked towards him, filling her with pride and anticipation. In an urgent whisper he asked, "Jesus Becci, are you... Are you naked under that?"

Becci just smiled, "wanna find out?" She melted into him and her tongue found his. With a coy smile she led him to the car. 


Mirror (check no one is watching), signal (unbutton and unbelt coat), manoeuvre (slip into Drive and grab his groin). Becci took a detour, turning onto a quiet road leading to an industrial estate behind the airport. It was late, but still warm enough. She stopped on a deserted lane within sight of the bottom of a runway and struggled to free Paul's bulging erection as his hands explored her body. He frantically sucked her flesh into his mouth, exploring and tasting her with his tongue, gently nibbling her skin and nipples with his teeth.

Paul simultaneously fingered her entrance and caressed her ass as Becci pulled his foreskin back and forth over his rigid purple cock head, almost mesmerised. It was sometimes like this, so tense and swollen that she could only just about stretch his foreskin over it. Precum oozed from the tip. She had become addicted to the feeling, scent and taste of his desire and joked, "it's better to be a cockhead than a crackhead!"

Pulling her tit free from his mouth, she sunk down on him, at first lapping the clear musky fluid with the tip of her tongue, then taking him as deep as she could, the last inch slipping into her throat. With, "I need you in me!" Becci swung the car door open, shedding her coat as she stepped out. Paul was on her in seconds, spinning her round and pushing her face down on the bonnet. He thrust into her, "Ah... hahh... fu... fuck... you're so fucking tight!"

Teetering on her heels and pushing back to meet each thrust her legs trembled as she orgasmed. A florid sex flush spread over her breasts, neck and face with vivid raised blotches erupting on her upper chest. 

The sound of the car rocking and flesh slapping into flesh was clearly audible above the rumble of jet engines overhead.

Becci noticed the little spaniel first, then its middle-aged owner. He was just standing there, watching her as she was taken, pinned naked to the bonnet of their car.

Paul anchored her pelvis with both hands to ram his cock into her even harder and deeper than before, each jolt rocking her petite body as she stared into the eyes of the voyeur. Finally Paul's twitching cock spurted pulse after pulse of cum inside her, filling her with an inordinately large load.

The man just stood in the shadows transfixed. 

Becci's heart was pounding as she collapsed on the bonnet, taking a minute to compose herself. Paul groped and slapped her ass, but he had also realised that they were not alone and was already in the driving seat as she stood. The engine fired into life.

Becci slinked around the front of the car, carefully crossing one leg slightly in front of the other in her heels to add a well practiced erotic shimmy to her pelvis. She stood legs parted and gloriously displayed in the full beam of the headlights. Her hair was disheveled, her sex flush still prominent and cum leaked from her as she curtseyed to Paul.

Reaching between her thighs she scooped up a few strands of his semen and brought it to her lips, holding the obsessed sex kitten expression as long as she could before bursting into a fit of giggles. She blew the voyeur a kiss as she scrambled into the passenger seat.



Paul could barely keep his eyes on the road with Becci sitting beside him naked and reeking of cum. Red blotches were still visible over her tits and chest. She often flushed during sex, but such a florid display was as uncommon as it was delightful. Once this used to embarrass her, but she had come to realise and relish the effect it had on him.

A few miles from home Becci pulled her coat back on when instructed with a playfully sullen look. Paul glanced at her shocked, "Would you have walked into the house naked?"

Becci giggled again, "Eyes on the road honey! But yes, of course. I still will if you want me to? After all I did promise to love, honour and obey you!"