Lucy Stays

The memory of those words last night rushed back. She had forgotten. A little thrill tweaked her body. But this was daylight, in her own house. Not some fantasy.

"I don't think so. Last night was enough." She walked back to her bedroom. She needed a shower. He followed.

"You want to, Lucy. You want to have me fuck you right here on your own bed." He stepped close to her.

With a sinking feeling, she knew he was right. She did want this one last act of wildness, of wanton indulgence outside the bounds. But she said, "I don't want to. Please go."

His eyes caught hers, held hers. "Prove it to me, Lucy. Let me feel you. If you are dry, I'll go." His hand moved down her thigh to her hem. "But if you're wet, we'll both know what that means."

Staring into his eyes, she couldn't force herself to object as his hand found her slit under her skirt. She knew what he would find. She'd been wet thirty seconds after he said he was going to fuck her again out in the living room. She closed her eyes and moaned as he began to run his fingers back and forth in her slick folds, sliding gently over her clitoris.

"How do you like to be fucked, Lucy?" he asked. "How do you like Fergus to fuck you in your bed, Lucy?" His fingers kept moving.

"From behind." It was a whisper.

Gently he pushed her onto the bed, onto her hands and knees. Lucy heard his zipper, then felt the tremors in the mattress as he knelt behind her. HE's going to fuck me again. On my own bed. He's going to fuck me on the bed where I sleep with Fergus. Oh God, and I'm going to let him. The litany changed as he flipped up her skirt and pushed his cock into her. HE's fucking me. Oh God, He's fucking me again. Flushed with excitement, ashamed to be here on this bed, fucking a stranger, she let her head drop to the bedspread. HE's fucking me just like Fergus did. On my own bed. The litany trailed off into incoherency as she came, still blushing with shame. Behind she felt him pull her hips tightly to him, and then again the shuddery, irregular thrusts that meant he was ejaculating in her.

She fell forward on the bed. She felt the bed shake and heard his footsteps as he left without another word. When she heard the door slam shut, she let herself sleep.

Lucy came out of a half-sleep dream to feel a warm body next to hers. As she moved, she heard her husband whisper, "Hello, sweetheart. I missed you." She came to full attention when she felt his hand slide between her legs. In a panic she grabbed his arm with both hands, but he had already found the soggy evidence of her infidelity. "You really did it, didn't you? I still love you, you know. How was it?" His hand rubbing up and down now, too strong for her small hands to stop.

"Oh Fergus, forgive me. I wasn't going to do it, but when I saw the clothes... Please don't hate me." Still his hand moved.

"Feel me." He moved her hand to the front of his shorts. He was hard. "Does that feel like I hate you? I want you, Lucy. I want you more than ever. I want you with another man's come in you. I love you and I want you now, Lucy, my wife." During his speech he had moved between her legs, pushing them up and open with his.

"The kids," she started.

"Still at Jane and Bob's," he answered.

His erection was pressing in the crease of her thigh, then against her mons, then sliding to the left. She started to reach down as always to guide him, then stopped. Then she moved her left hand down and put him in her.

Lucy watched as Fergus' face got red and strained. He was pounding in and out of her now very fast now, and she knew he would come soon. Her own doubts and guilt wouldn't let her take pleasure for herself, while the traces of the other man were still on her, in her, but she needed to give herself to him, to her husband. She bucked her hips against his and tightened her vaginal muscles. She whispered in his ear, "I need feel you in me, Fergus, deeper." And she felt him come, deep inside her, putting his seed on top of HIS.

She felt her love for her husband fill her, and she held him tightly to her. She wanted to hold him like this forever, but she knew she couldn't. She knew that soon he would have to think about what she had done. That soon she would have to think about what she had done. Even as she pulled him tighter, she knew their relationship had irrevocably changed in ways that she did not yet know. She stared at the ceiling and pondered the future, afraid and excited at the same time.

Then she smiled when she heard him say, "Ready for some Stoly?"

--A story by Miles Naismith