Making up for Lost Time Ch. 02

Jacob was watching her unhurried exploration with delight. This was better than his wildest fantasies had suggested (and they had certainly gotten pretty wild over the years). Anna Peters was practically giving him a handjob, just minutes after he had lost his virginity to her. He couldn't imagine that his life would get any better than today.

Her lust was rising again in the presence of his cock, leaving her fighting the urge to put him in her mouth. He wanted her to suck his cock. She wanted to suck his cock. But there was a problem. As a rule, she didn't do blowjobs. No matter how many times her husband had pestered her over the years, she had refused. There was something gross about the thought of putting a penis in her mouth. At least, there was with her husband's. Confronted with Jacob's dick, she was no longer so sure.

Her hand ceased moving on his dick. Anna was paralysed by indecision. She could imagine that many would argue a blowjob wasn't as bad as what they had already done together. But this was something she wouldn't even do for her husband. Despite her anger with him, it felt like a betrayal to bestow that gift upon Jacob, knowing that she never would with Simon. Not to mention it required her to be an active participant, unlike back in the shower. Her mind was made up.

Jacob's face was one of disappointment as Anna joined him on the bed. Nothing had been spoken, no requests had been made, but something about her manner made it feel like a rejection. But he didn't want it to end here. He decided to take the initiative again. If she wasn't going to give him oral, he could at least do her.

Before Anna knew what was happening, he was at the foot of the bed, occupying the same position she had just moments before. Any thoughts of protest were silenced as he gripped her feet, pulling her body towards him.

Jacob surveyed the feast laid out before him. Her cunt, in particular, with its neatly trimmed hair and glisten of arousal, looked particularly inviting. But he was in no rush to skip to the main course. He was quite happy to take it slow and tease her, as Anna had done with her languid inspection of his dick.

Anna was mortified to be in such an exposed position, with no hope of hiding the wetness of her pussy from his inquisitive eyes. But as the heat of his breath played over her most intimate areas, her embarrassment mixed with lust. She gasped as he began his assault, planting a kiss high up her thigh.

Her attitude to receiving oral was much the same as giving it. It simply wasn't something she had ever done. And while she baulked at the concept of putting a penis in her mouth, having a man's head between her thighs somehow seemed even more shameful and embarrassing. Early in their relationship her husband had offered to go down on her on a few occasions, but he had soon learnt not to ask following a string of rejections from her. She was having trouble mustering the words to tell Jacob about her reservations, however.

It had a lot to do with how he was currently working his way down her thigh in a string of kisses which left a ticklish, tingling feeling in their wake. She had been lifting her head up off of the pillow to inspect what he was doing, but the sensation was so relaxing she couldn't help but allow her head to fall back down.

Eyes closed, she basked in the sensation. She had never known her thighs to be an erogenous part of her body, but it seemed the heightened sensitivity of her pussy had leached into the surrounding areas. His kisses were getting closer to her pussy now, dangerously close. But then he switched to her other thigh and she relaxed again.

It was a nice change of pace from the intensity of the sex earlier, all thrusting and grunting. This was slower, more sensual. Less about lust and more about... love. Oh God. The L word. The casual way she had arrived at the concept disturbed her. There was no denying there was lots to love about the way he had made her feel tonight. But were the sensations the only thing she loved? Or was it his dick? Or even the person it was attached to? In her mixed up state, she had no way of knowing for certain.

"Ow!" She was awoken from her reverie by a sharp pain. She sat up and looked down at him, only to see him returning her gaze with a guilty expression. Evidently he had gotten a bit carried away in his ardour. There, near to the crease where her thigh met her torso, was a freshly minted hickey.

There was something clarifying about the pain. Instantly, she thought of the trouble she'd have hiding that from her husband, located as it was directly next to her sex. Spell erased, the doubts came rushing back in.

She knew then that they should stop. The two of them had had sex. That was more than enough reward for Jacob having been made the subject of her husband's machinations. And it meant her husband had apparently gotten what he wanted to, not that he'd ever know what had transpired. And yes, she too had gotten something out of it, an experience she never in a million years could have imagined would happen to her.

If they kept on fucking all night, as Jacob would surely want to, she feared just how much she would give in to her lustful feelings, just how good he might make her feel. What if it ruined sex with her husband for her forever? That was the last thing she wanted, and the last thing he would want too, no doubt.

"Stop," she said forcefully. "I... I think you'd better leave."

"Look, I'm sorry--"

"Just go," she said with a sudden intensity. She felt guilty and angry and sad and horny all at once.

He looked a little bit like a beaten dog as he silently scrambled to get dressed. Internally, she imagined he was ruing the fact that such a little mistake had blown it for him. He wasn't to know that her thoughts were tending in that direction already, and that the outcome would likely have been the same even if he hadn't overstepped the bounds.

Fully dressed, he lingered at the door, looking back over his shoulder and desperately trying to think of something to say. Anna, however, already had her eyes closed. He left without a word.

***

Simon started awake, finding himself still sitting fully dressed on the sofa. He was momentarily confused before remembering exactly why he found himself in the position he did. His wife.

He brought up his phone in a hurry. Sure enough, Anna's location was somewhere new. A hotel. That didn't tell him too much. Even if they hadn't hooked up, she had told him to expect her home the day after, so naturally she would have needed a place to stay.

He kicked himself for falling asleep and potentially missing any locations she had gone in the interim. Still, the places he knew she had been pretty much confirmed that she really had met up with Jacob. She wasn't likely to be clubbing on her own after all. Now there was just one mystery to be solved. Did she fuck him?

He looked at his watch. It was much later than he usually got up. Work beckoned. It would have to be a mystery for later.

***

Anna awoke the morning after in an empty bed, nursing a wicked hangover. Immediately she felt guilty. Guilty at having cheated on her husband, at the ways she had behaved and the things that she had said. Mixed in there was even some motherly concern for having turfed poor Jacob out late at night. She was sure he was big enough to fend for himself, though.

She had been pretty mean to him at the end. But that was probably for the best. A clean break would allow the both of them to put all this behind them. The last thing she wanted was for him to get hung up on her, after all.

It was a struggle to get out of bed, but she knew she'd feel better once she'd had a coffee. As the kettle boiled, she collected up her clothes and dressed herself, except of course for her discarded knickers.

She opened her phone and sent a text to her husband to make sure he was working in-office today. Her crumpled, faintly-alcohol scented clothes betrayed the night she had had. If he saw her coming home in them, he would surely be able to put two and two together. Simon's reply was a simple confirmation, and didn't contain any inquiries about her night, which she was glad of. She texted him back to tell him he could expect her at home once he was finished at work.

Coffee consumed and brain fog slowly lifting, she trudged out the door to begin the long journey home. What was it people called it? The walk of shame. Well, walk and bus ride of shame. Anyone who saw her would definitely be able to tell she got fucked last night. The thought made her oddly excited. Or maybe it was the way the cool breeze was once again interfering with her bare pussy.

She had plenty of time to mull over everything that had happened last night. In the cold light of day, she was shocked at some of her behaviour. But the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that there was nothing she regretted per se, and nothing she couldn't live with. It wasn't like anyone else but Jacob would ever know what had happened, after all.

Unless he blabbed, of course. But over the course of the night she had discovered that she found him unusually trustworthy. That was a big part of why she'd taken him back to the hotel room in the first place. In a way she was proud of herself, too. For resisting more sex, despite the temptation to give in. Through it all, she had remained in control of her desires (though at times it had been a close run thing).

When she finally walked back through the door of their home, she finally felt she had closure. She was actually in a very good mood, and figuring that she was dirty already, managed to get a long list of chores completed before finally heading to the shower.

Standing under the spray, however, she suddenly felt tired again. Very tired. It wasn't very long at all since she had last been in a shower, albeit this time there was no man about to intrude. If only there was...

"No," she said aloud. The whole reason she had stopped herself was precisely so she wouldn't fantasise about what had happened with Jacob. But in that moment she was finding her will subservient to the desires of her body. She wanted to touch herself. Her fingers traced across her trimmed bush, alighting on her folds.

"No," she told herself again. This time she tried the same trick of turning the temperature down. The icy blast just about did the trick. "Don't do this to me, Anna..."

***

While this had been happening, Simon had been counting the seconds until his work day was over. He desperately wanted to see her. He backed himself to be able to tell if she had or hadn't done the deed by the way she looked and behaved when he saw her. But when he finally burst through their front door late that afternoon, Anna looked exactly as she always did. Save for still-wet hair.

The two of them regarded each other silently for a moment, before giving each other a long hug. Both of them knew in that moment that their marriage had never truly been in jeopardy, despite what had or had not happened. Eventually they disengaged.

"Enjoy your shower?" Simon asked.

Anna's stomach briefly lurched, until she realised he could only mean the one she just had.

"It was fine. I got dirty cleaning the house."

"And that was the only thing getting you dirty?"

"Don't," she said sternly. "I meant what I said. You're never finding out if anything happened between us. My forgiveness of you is conditional on you not trying to find out. We're putting your nonsense behind us. OK?"

"OK, OK," he said, raising his hands in submission. "You're the boss."

***

Over the next few days, they settled back into something approximating a normal routine on the outside. Internally, however, both Anna and Simon were consumed with memories of the fateful night.

For Simon, it was agonising not knowing whether or not her wife had made him a cuckold. That she had had a evening out on the town, followed by a night in a hotel, was undeniable. The question was whether she had been alone in that hotel room.

Any attempt to broach the subject was met with a wall of silence and a hard stare from Anna. Even when he avoided the subject, she had adopted a generally frosty demeanour. In the evenings, for instance, she always went to bed first without him, concocting some excuse about being tired. You didn't have to be a genius to infer that sex was off the cards.

Of course, what Simon didn't know was that Anna's sex strike wasn't just motivated by her still struggling to forgive him for his betrayal, but the fact that she had an incriminating hickey directly adjacent to her pussy. Terrified of having more, one of the first things she had done upon getting home was to thoroughly inspect her body for bright red marks everywhere else Jacob's wandering mouth might have reached. There had been plenty of times when she would have been too far out of it to notice him giving them to her, after all. Thankfully, it seemed like she was in the clear.

***

Before long, the weekend rolled along, the last before their son was due back from his travel in the middle of the following week. Then normal life really would resume proper. At least for a few weeks until he was off to university, anyway.

Simon had volunteered to make her breakfast in bed. Left to her own devices, she fingered the hickey on her thigh. It was still perfectly visible, meaning no sex for at least a few more days. That annoyed her. She had been fizzing with sexual energy the past week, peaking every day in the shower, which now had the unfortunate effect of bringing everything back to her. And a blast of cold water was becoming less and less effective at dampening her ardour...

She was certain, however, that it wasn't Jacob she was missing, but sex in general. As soon as she could do it with her husband again, it wouldn't be the all-consuming obsession it currently was for her. In the meantime, she badly needed a way of working off her excess energy.

Hearing her husband coming up the hall, she flipped the covers back over her legs and tried her best to look nonchalant.

"Looks delicious," she said with appreciation at the offering of bacon and eggs. As they ate together, she suddenly alighted on an idea to distract herself and deal with her abundance of energy.

"You know what," she added. "I think I'll go for a run."

"You will?"

"Yep."

She already had all the necessary gear, having a number of times started the couch to 5k programme in a bid to lose a bit of weight. She had never finished it, however, always losing motivation as soon as she was happy with how her body looked. Of course that inevitably resulted in her slowly gaining weight again, at which point the cycle would start anew.

"Think you'll stick with it this time?" Simon asked. He couldn't help but wonder if this had anything to do with her night with Jacob. Little did he know how close he was to the mark.

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't think I can do it?"

"That's not what I said. But maybe that is what I think." He was having fun prodding at her competitive spirit. "You get bored as soon as you see some results."

"Well I'm not running to lose weight this time. I'm running for myself." She placed the plate next to her on the bed and, judging that she could get dressed while facing her hickey away from Simon at all times, walked over to the dresser.

Simon watched her arse in appreciation as she struggled to pull some tight leggings over her bountiful butt. That accomplished, she packed her generous tits into a sports bra and threw on a t-shirt over the top. The transformation into running mode was almost accomplished. All that remained was getting her hair out of the way.

As she put her hair up in a high ponytail, Simon's heart stopped. There, on the back of her neck, was a greenish-purple bruise, quite unmistakably the fading remnants of a hickey.

He went to say something but managed to stop himself. It was proof, proof undeniable that Jacob had fucked her. How else would there be a hickey on her neck? That was the kind of thing that only happened in the throes of passion. This one was perfectly positioned so as to escape her attention, especially considering how rarely she wore her hair up. Even with her hair in a ponytail, she would have no chance of seeing it, even in a mirror.

A right-thinking man would have been enraged by the knowledge. But Simon instead had to stop himself from breaking out in a grin. His heart was racing and his dick was rock hard. His instinct was to let her know her mistake straight away. But that would be boring. He could have a lot more fun teasing it out of her, after all. A lot of fun, indeed.

TO BE CONTINUED...