Reunited

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"Where did he cum?"

My first instinct is to flee, and I pull at the restraint but my struggle only serves to cinch the scarf tighter around my wrists.

"Where did he cum?" Your voice is still soft, coaxing, as if I were just reluctant instead of hurt and disgusted and afraid.

"Don't do this," I say.

I don't think you hear me. You groan and slow your movements and I see the lust and the need on your face, and I see that maybe you aren't punishing me. Or, at least, you aren't actively trying to punish me. Your fingers slide alongside my clit again and, though I thought your request had jolted me out of any sexual rhythm we'd achieved, your fingers pull me back.

You stop thrusting and work my clit until I am cooing and moaning and begging for you to finish me, because every time I get close to cumming you start fingering slow lazy circles around my clit. "Don't stop," I plead, when you slide a finger teasingly over my clit.

"Where did he cum? Just tell me where he came and I'll make you cum. Please. I have to know. If we're going to move past this, I have to know."

Maybe you just know the right thing to say to get what you wanted, but it works. "My face."

A finger sweeps over my clit-- light teasing pressure. "Tell me about it. Was he inside you before he came?"

"He was in my mouth." You exert a little more pressure on my clit which each revelation. "He was kneeling over me and I was giving him a blowjob but—oh God, yes please. Oh, Joe. Wait no, don't stop... at the last minute he pulled out and sprayed it all over my face. He came all over my—oh, oh yes, please.." I buck wildly into your cock, trying to jump start your thrusts, but you hold steady and bring me to orgasm with your fingers. I cum around your cock, my pussy throbbing around you.

When the waves of pleasure wear off you slide out of my pussy. Spent, I don't realize what you're doing at first, but then I see your hand pumping up and down your now liberally lubed cock. Kneeling over me, you grunt as you jerk off, ready to unload onto my face. I don't protest, though this is not something I enjoyed the first, and only, time it happened.

My mouth is slightly open and the first spray does a good job of coating my lips. I taste your cum even as the second gush lands on my cheek. There is cum everywhere by the time you are done—in my hair, on my chin, even some on my breasts. You get up to leave and walk toward the bathroom. Still tied to the bed, I can't wipe away the drips. I lick my lips, trying to at least get them clean, but I can feel a dribble of cum following my cheekbone into my hair. It is cool by this time, and tickles my scalp.

You come back with a warm washcloth and begin cleaning me. Once the majority of the damage is taken care of, you untie the scarf and my hands fall free. I am still too shaken to move, so you move me, exchanging the now damp pillow under my head with a dry one and pulling the covers over my naked body. You tuck me in, then walk to the other side of the bed and slide in beside me.

Even though you asked for the information, I didn't expect you to be able to handle hearing about it. Having never been through anything like this with anyone before, I am unsure how couples move forward from events like these. I want to tell you, again, that I'm sorry. But I finally trust that you know the depth of my sorrow and regret over everything.

You wrap your arms around me from behind, and we sleep, wrapped in each other, the light from the bedside lamp still glowing.

Sometime during the night I wake, and you are beside me still, though you have been up and moving around. You are wearing your boxers, and the light in the room has been switched off. Normally a light sleeper, I did not wake when you moved around the room. I turn to look at your profile, which is the only thing I can see in the darkness. Your mouth is slack and open some and you are snoring slightly. I am grateful for the familiar sound, for what it means. We have reconciled.

I lay my head on your chest and though I don't mean to wake you I know I do. Your hand comes up to lazily stroke my back and without looking, I can tell you are smiling. "Maria," you whisper, squeezing me to you. "I love you, Maria."

"I love you, more," I say.

The next time I wake up you are gone. I know immediately you are not in the bathroom. I know you did not slip out to get some breakfast, or some coffee, or the paper. I know you did not receive an important phone call and have to leave abruptly. I know there is no note on the nightstand explaining your absence. I know all of this because the ring is gone, too.

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AnonymousAnonymous11 months ago

That was just... depressing. Absolutely nothing to take away from it other than sadness, and wondering how he even fell for a skank that would happily get her face painted like some coke'd out gonzo porn slut is beyond comprehension. Blech, blech, blech. Now I think I'm going to go puke.

OvercriticalOvercriticalover 2 years ago

Just a sad, sad story.

tazz317tazz317about 12 years ago
FORGET ONCE BITTEN

if you know something is bound to happen, why tempt it. So many clues and sirens going off. TK U MLJ LV NV

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
wow..... emotions sex amd rels human style

What an anti-climax climax. Brill. Never saw it coming. Being so in, you want to ask 'what happened next?' ..... Quality

bruce22bruce22about 13 years ago
Interesting

The punishment was more than deserved but he had to have a special personality to pull it off. Most would be unable to do it.

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