My Kinky Fiancé Slips Up

***

The following Saturday she came over and immediately lay down on my couch, appearing ready for a nap. It was only ten in the morning, and I'd just returned from the gym and wore only my sweat pants. I sat on the floor in front of her and fired up the Xbox, figuring I'd just let her nap awhile. She then commented that she really liked my couch, and that if we were to get a place together we could keep my couch and junk hers. I asked her if she wanted to do that––to get a place together––and she said maybe. Then she brought up what she'd said at the club the other night, and that she really did want to take care of me for the rest of our lives. She then wondered if I'd meant everything I'd said, and I let her know that I did, even though I didn't know exactly what part of our conversation she was alluding to.

"Would you be mad if I slept with someone and didn't tell you?"

Not being a fan of the hypothetical, I told her, "You're a shitty liar. I'd find out."

"True. But still, would it bother you if I kept it a secret until you found out?"

"Probably."

"Okay then, if I slept with someone anddidtell you about it, would that bother you?"

"Who'd you fuck, Kelly?"

She laughed. "I'm just thinking about what you said the other night. When you said it would be all right for me to sleep with a guy."

"I don't remember saying quite that."

"Really? What'd you say?"

"I think I said-"

"Scottie!"

"What?"

"It was Scottie."

"Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait! You fucked him? Again?"

She didn't answer. I flipped off the game and grabbed her leg. I asked her again what she'd meant. She tried to explain it was tough, that we are always talking about him while we did it. Then she brought up how at the club I'd asked her to get friendly with him. I quickly explained exactly what I'd meant by 'friendly', and suddenly realizing her mistake, faintly cried, "Oops!"

I honestly didn't know how to react. She had just told me she'd flat out cheated, yet it registered a lot less sever than it sounded. There was some jealousy, but it was convoluted with so many more powerful feelings––mischievous feelings. Her eyelashes were wet and turned into black stars, a phenomenon that always made her look preciously sad, but her voice was fine, and by the way she lay there so unemotional, I realized she was as equally confused about things.

"So is this it? Are you going to kick me out and call me names?"

"I don't think so. But I really don't know."

Putting her hand on mine, she said, "It was weird––I mean while it was happening I kept thinking I'd need to remember everything so I can tell you about it later. It almost felt like you were watching me––like you were right behind me telling me what to do. It wassoooweird." We sat there for another twenty minutes, quietly lost in our scrambled feelings, until she finally told me exactly what happened.

Scottie had sent her a text message that read, 'Meet me!' She texted him back, saying she couldn't, and told me she was afraid he'd intended to profess his love for her and god did she not want to hear that. Then yesterday he showed up at the saloon and took an appointment for a haircut. He didn't say anything as she sprayed his head with warm water and ran her fingers through his thick, black, sudsy hair. He remained practically silent as she circled around him combing out sections of his hair to be snipped, even when she had to lean against his leg to cut his bangs. What he did was watch her every move, and she started to feel his eyes as they crept across her body. Wearing the blue blouse with a little visible cleavage seemed like a good choice that morning, but not anymore.

When she was done, he politely asked her to lunch, but she had another appointment and said she couldn't. He then offered to wait for her, and she caved, saying, "Fine, but we're just having lunch." For the next forty minutes he sat in the lobby area and continued to watch her work. She could feel his eyes on her ass as she bent over to wash the client's hair, knowing that he could see her pink panties where her jeans buckled at the top. He made no attempt to hide his eyes, and every time she looked back at him, he gave her a pleased confident smile.

About halfway through the haircut he'd stopped staring and began talking to Cathy, their receptionist, and she was obviously hot for him. Kelly realized she'd grown slightly excited, and once his eyes left her, she found herself craving them.

When she finished with her client, Scottie walked her to his car, and butterflies took over her stomach. She knew he'd make a move at some point, and she knew she'd better be ready to say no when he did.

They headed towards a little mom and pop sandwich shop she liked, and as they looked over the menu board, she realized the butterflies weren't going to let her eat a thing. When he asked her what she'll have and found out she wasn't hungry, he announced he wasn't all that hungry either. He then offered to go some place quiet and hang out and talk for a bit, maybe even grab a drink, and she found herself really wishing she could conjure up an appetite and prevent that from happening.

They ended up on the patio of some Bistro with two mojitos. He politely made conversation, never looking away from her eyes and relentlessly treating her to his confident satisfied smiled. There happened to be another couple who was full of tattoos, and he began to make her laugh by joking that he'd planned on getting a bunch of ridiculous shit, like koala bears and Teletubbies. And as he was saying this, he pulled up his T-shirt sleeve and pointed to the spot on his shoulder where he'd put a unicorn, and then he lifted up his T-shirt to reveal where a Pikachu would go on his chest. It was an obvious ploy to show off his body, but none the less, it had the intended effect on her. Scottie was an extremely good looking guy with an incredible physic, and she felt like a stupid fool for allowing such a cheap trick to get to her, but she just couldn't help it. She had to cross her arms to keep from touching him, and she ordered another mojito to calm her nerves, even though she still had an afternoon appointment.

For his last joke he stood up and started to unfasten the buttons on his jeans. "Let me show you were I'm going to put the whale form Save Willie!" His crotch was head height with her now, and less than an arms length away. Laughing, partly at the joke and partly due to embarrassment, she reached out and grabbed his hands to stop him from going any further on the patio of a restaurant. He sat back down, but the damage had been done. Her eyes were coerced to where the shape of his big dick could be detected through his jeans, and her pussy tingled like mad at the sight of it.

In her mind she escaped to her bedroom, where she and I sat on her bed as she told me how badly she wanted that monster plunged into her. She was losing it, and she felt the need to remind him that nothing could happen between them. He claimed that was fine, but that confident smile of his told her otherwise.

They'd been together for an hour, and she let him know she needed to get back soon. He asked when her next appointment was, and she leaked the truth––that it actually wasn't until three. She immediately hated herself for not lying, and knowing he had her for another hour made his smile grew more confident than ever.

He paid up and they left, and as he pulled his Bronco out of the parking lot, he claimed to know the perfect spot for killing time. It didn't take her long to figure out she was being driven to her own apartment, and she immediately told him no. He took her hand, and assured her he wasn't planning anything funny and was just out of ideas. Then they were parked, he stepped around to her side of the car, opened her door, and she took his hand and got out. Inside her place she poured them some orange juice, and before she returned with it he'd wandered from the couch to her bedroom and was sitting on her bed. She walked in, shaking her head, and when she handed him his juice, he grabbed her wrist and tugged it lightly, suggesting that she should take a seat. She did.

That was it. She was sitting on her bed next to him. There was no way to deny what was about to happen and there was no way out––not anymore.

They set the juice down and kissed, and then leaned back onto the bed. He peeled his shirt off, and then peeled off her blouse. Minutes later she had his cock in her mouth, sucking it like it was her life support, and she truly hated herself for it.

He mentioned he had a present for her, grabbing for his pants on the floor. He fished around in the pocket and pulled out a string of four condoms, and dangled them before her. Minutes later he banged her so hard she cried for mercy.

She looked into her mirrored closet doors, seeing their profile as they fucked. She saw herself on her back, and he clutched her tiny ankles in his strong hands, opening her legs as he slammed his pelvis into hers, and forced that monster inside. She imagined I was there and that the mirror was my view of the action, and speaking to it, she asked if I liked what I saw. Scottie had to answer for me, saying, "You bet your hot little ass!"

All the teasing he'd done to get her there had put her body in an electrified state, and finally having Scottie's lady killer tapping her juices like a ripe oil well was enough to put her near orgasm, even though they'd only been going at it for five minutes.

But what she witnessed in the mirror––how his huge frame totally dominated her, and her small hands ineffectively pushed against his broad chest, while his back and triceps twitched and moved under his skin, and his squared off ass desperately slammed down between her legs, sending her helplessly into the mattress so hard that she couldn't keep her head still––it was this removed image of herself fucking that brought on a total mental collapse, along with wave of spasms up her thighs and deep into her pussy, followed by a fresh flooding of juice. As it happened, she spoke beyond the mirror to me, and watching her own face get overtaken by her orgasm, she shouted, "Oh god, Scottie, I'm coming. Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, Scottie, fuck me. You're so deep. You're so big and deep and I'm coming so hard. Don't stop. Please, god, don't stop. I'm coming. I'm comingsoooohard."

As her first orgasm passed it only left her wanting more, but they were fucking against the clock, and so he soon clawed her ass, drove his massive steamship deep into her tiny exotic port, and unloaded a high volume of cargo. She looked into his belligerent face while he laboriously grunted for a full minute and pumped cum into a condom jammed way up inside her. He pulled out and rolled her over, then slapped his big hand onto her butt, and shook her cheek violently as he yelled, "Goddamn I love fucking your ass. Whooooo!"

He sprung off the bed and ditched the condom in the trash, while Kelly rolled back over and lay still, with her chest heaving and heartbeat racing. Scottie still had his confident smile and began stretching his back and arms. "Shit, I'm actually starting to sweat." He had her get up on her knees, as he held her by the hand and looked her over. "You are so slamming hot." Leading with his hand, he brought her up to standing on the bed. "I knew I was going to fuck you again. No girl can get off like you did and then leave it alone." He ran his hands along her curves while she reminded him of the time––she really needed to get back. Before he let her off the bed, he asked, "You've been thinking about me, huh? And don't lie!" She didn't, admitting she had, but then failed to tell him that on at least twenty occasions I'd helped bring her off as she relived the night his horse-cock ravaged her. But apparently she didn't have to mention it, because he then grabbed his softening dick and said, "I got it where it counts, and you love it, huh? And, man, there's so much we haven't even done, yet." The very thought made her weaken all over again.

He then grabbed her hips and shouted that he fucking loved her tight little body. He bit the skin on her hip as she put her hands in his hair. He put his face into her neatly trimmed, dirty-blonde muff and shouted that he loved her tight little pussy. He put his hands on her waist and rolled his face in her pubs, growling and snarling, which made her giggle. He then pushed her back on the bed and got his face between her legs, and his tongue in her still swollen, wet slit. "I gotta get back!" she pleaded. He popped his head up and complained that she made him miss lunch and proceeded to devour her cooch, making a lot of noise. Despite the silliness, he'd lit up her pussy again. He ended up handing her the cell phone from her jeans pocket and she called the saloon to cancel on her next client.

She requested that he be good while she call, and he agreed, although she didn't trust the look in his eye. Sure enough, as soon as Cathy picked up the phone, he went back to work with his tongue.

Kelly told her something came up, to which Cathy contested, "Don't lie, girl, I sawwhocame up." Cathy then had to find the client's name on the chart, and when the number wasn't there, she had to look through the record sheets, as Kelly talked her through it.

Meanwhile, Scottie had worked two fingers into her pussy just past his round second knuckle, vigorously giving Kelly a massage from the inside out. The pleasure it caused worked itself into Kelly's voice, and she had to concentrate hard to maintain composure on the phone. She attempted to close her legs and push him away, but the strength difference between them was ridiculous, and he wasn't giving it up.

She held her hand over the receiver, "Uhn! Goddamn! You are so evil!"

When Cathy couldn't find the number, Kelly finally got some relief by sending Scottie into the other room for her purse. She opened it, pulled out her address book, and thumbed though the pages, as he put on a condom, threw her legs apart, gave a really mean smile, and pushed his cock into her near boiling flesh.

She got off the phone just in time, and for the second time that day he pumped ten inches balls deep into her snug little body. She traveled down the runway and soared towards heaven. Then on her knees, with her ass in the air and her face in a pillow, she looked at the mirrored sliding doors of the closet, and saw herself with him behind her, at least eighty pounds more of him than her, with her ass looking helpless in his strong hands. She was mesmerized by the sight of his fat cock appearing form between her cheeks, and the frightening realization of just how huge it looked and how far inside her it would submerge. But this she already knew, because she felt every inch of its path spring to life as it did.

He caught her watching in the mirror, and he let go of her ass, and said, "Come on, fuck me!" He then spanked her ass several times until she moved her hips in a rhythm that pleased him. "Look at that, babe," he said to her reflection, "Look how awesome you look with me going in. There isn't a damn thing in the world prettier than that. Look at it, look at all that cock I'm giving you. Look at your face, baby. Look how it makes you feel." And she looked, and all she could think was that she'd have sold her soul for me to witness the spectacle at hand.

An hour later they lay sweaty in her bed gasping for air. He got up to get them water, and she thought enough to grab her cell phone, cover her face with her hand, and snap a picture in the mirror. It showed her lying naked and sweaty on the bed, having just been fucked for second time. That picture became a present for me.

She then text messaged her friends, saying she couldn't meet up later, and he called a buddy to cover his shift at the bar––describing his illness on a scale of one to ten, as a ten. His buddy caught his meaning, but didn't believe him, and demanded to see a picture of the girl as proof. After he hung up, Kelly let him know a picture wasn't going to happen.

With several quick breaks, and one long one for diner, although she still couldn't find an appetite to eat anything, they managed to keep the sexual frenzy going until three in morning. At one point, while trying over and over again to deep-throat him, she blew him for twenty minutes straight, a new record for her. She swallowed his cum when he finally climaxed, and if she'd swallowed it once, he knew she'd do it again. So later, when he hammered her snatch towards one last violent crescendo, and he felt himself verging on the final note, he pulled out, spun her around and unloaded on the back of her tongue. She my have lost her appetite, but she certainly had her fill of dinner.

That was the detailed account of their night together, which she leaked to me over a two month time period, and did it in a way that left me always wanting more. The first details came the morning she confessed to a slip-up, which had been only seven hours after the last of his semen had trickled down her throat, and probably still sat in her digestive track as we talked––a fact I'd been completely oblivious to at the time.

***

More for the joke of it than anything, I checked the back of Kelly's neck for a hickey the day after she'd seen Scottie, but found nothing. Apparently he wasn't so interested in her getting caught anymore. I've had many ideas about what that meant, and the only thing that makes sense, is that he loved her. It's the only way to explain why he resented her for going out with me, and why he blamed her for his breakup.

Scottie's not a stupid guy, however, and despite believing himself a good lay, if not the best, he knew who he really was, and the good lay came with a huge ego and a rotten habit of using people. Kelly, while fond of herself, saw life with an almost juvenile innocence, believing everyone was wonderful and bending over backwards to earn their affection in return. That self-sacrificing nature, I believe, meant the two of them in a relationship could only result in him laying to waste every part of her, as his ego exerted total control. Most likely aware of this, I think Scottie felt content with the one small piece of Kelly he currently had, being the occasional piece of ass––and something he'd apparently thought was his for the asking!

Kelly received a text message while lying on her bed in nothing but her pink panties and big light blue tee-shirt, and put down the book she was reading to check it out.

"Guess who just sent me a text?"

I was on a step ladder trying to hang her closet door. "He's persistent, I'll give him that much. What's it say?"

"'Thinking of you!' And then he added a link. I swear to god if he sent me some porn I'm gonna be totally pissed!"

She only had a basic cell phone, so she grabbed her laptop and returned to her bed, positioning herself between the stacks of clothes pulled from the closet. She popped it open and waited for boot up.

The first of his text messages came two weeks after what we began referring to as 'a lay and a haircut'. When he'd texted Kelly then, he said he was due for another haircut, and wanted to book an entire afternoon for it. She called me the minute the message came and asked me what to do. "Tell him you can't," I said, to which she remarked, "You mean like last time?" I then asked if I should intervene, but she didn't want for Scottie and me to become like that. She finally told him they could maybe meet up sometime next week, but not right then, and when next week rolled around, she put it off again. That seemed to stroke his ego enough to keep him at bay, and although neither of us admitted it outright, that's exactly where we wanted him, at least until we sorted our weird shit out.

"Hey," she exclaimed, while starring at the webpage displayed on her laptop screen, "Come look at this."