Perversions and Transgressions

He lay on top of her panting, moving his hips very slowly, allowing the last of his semen to spill into her. He carefully lowered her legs back to the floor, so that her thighs were spread far apart, kissed her neck, moved down to kiss her nipples, and then sat up to his knees. He looked down at her with his cock still inside of her, his hands on his hips, his chest rising with his heavy breathing, and then once satisfied with that final image of her body before him and his spent cock inside of her, he slid out of her, letting a stream of his thick, milky fluid flow from her and down her butt and to the pillows.

I watched as he stood up to pull his pants up and fasten them, still looking down at her with a satisfied grin. I looked at her pussy, stretched wider, his semen leaking out of her, her skirt pushed to her waist, and thought how she looked used, and felt my body tense as I wanted to come inside my pants. Instead I backed away slowly, watching him stand over her as he straightened his clothes and wiped the sweat from his brow, as she lay silently still, and I quietly crept back to the living room.

I lay back down on the couch and felt my heart beating hard in my chest, felt myself still turned on, excited, playing the images over in my head, until the effects of the alcohol finally took me over and I fell asleep.

When I woke in the morning, I found the living room empty of sleepers. I sat up and my stomach revolted at the sight of the James Patricks sitting on a couch, sharing a cold, stale pizza. I pushed myself to my feet, the memory of the night before still clear in my mind.

They offered me a glass of water and some Tylenol, which I took, drinking the water down greedily. They told me that Denise was in The Den, assuming I was looking for her, and I thanked them and walked back there, bring her a full glass of water and some Tylenol.

The door was pushed almost closed and I nudged it open, wondering what I would find, if I'd find her in the state I last saw her or if I'd find them sleeping together. She was alone, curled into a fetal position, her clothes looking like she had only slept in them, her skirt twisted around her thighs, her sweater pulled down and wrapped around her. I nudged her awake and she woke up with a groan, pressing her hands to her head. She sat up and I gave her the pills and water. I watched her closely, looking for any signs that she knew, but she only complained of being sore all over and feeling sticky and dirty. She took a quick shower there, just to feel better she said.

When she came out, she looked refreshed and showed no signs of even suspecting anything. Later, she only said that she must have had a great dream she couldn't remember because she was a little sticky between her thighs like she had been wet. I just laughed about it, wondering if Thomas had cleaned up the worst of it. When Thomas woke up he acted no differently. He complained of a hangover and mentioned the girl, Lisa, that was still in bed from exhaustion, making many allusions to a night of acrobatic sexual activity. Denise laughed and shook her head.

I almost couldn't believe everything would return to normal. Well, actually, everything didn't return quite to normal. Thomas no longer gave Denise the look he used to. He flirted with her like he does all women, but no longer flattered her as much, choosing other girls instead. Perhaps since he had her already he was no longer that interested. My friendship with him cooled quickly until we barely talked anymore. I'm not sure if it was jealousy on part, but I just couldn't see him as the same person.

The biggest change was in me. I had found what truly excited me, more than anything else ever had or ever would. An appetite had been awakened that I'd have to feed, one that would become a private, but very important part of my life, and would drive me to such perversions and transgressions that I would risk my marriage, my career, and my life to satisfy it.