Sandie's First Swing Pt. 02

"You won't make me feel sorry for you! You didn't have any qualms about seducing me that night!" I said accusingly.

He shrugged. "That was different. You and I were already good friends and when Tom responded so well to Lisa I thought, why not? I couldn't believe it when you succumbed so easily."

I frowned. Had I really been such a pushover? Did I really give up my fidelity that easily? Right then I couldn't remember the detail of what happened before he took me to bed but to my consternation no memories of resistance came to mind.

But Paul was still talking.

"As I said, that night was some of the most wonderful sex of my life. I think I've always been at least a bit in love with you but after that night I fell for you head over heels. "

I couldn't believe my ears and glared at him in angry disbelief. Did all men lie to me?

"No really! I mean it! The next day when things started to go wrong between us I was devastated. I couldn't bear to think I'd fallen in love with you and lost you all in the same night; that I'd lost you as a friend as well as a lover. "

I was truly shaken now. This younger, drop-dead-gorgeous man who had seduced me and made me pregnant was even now professing his love for me less than an hour after I had discovered my husband's infidelity with his wife.

"You're... You're in love with me?" I asked, astounded, still suspicious.

My mind was reeling! How could I take in so many things all at once? The safe little world that I had tried to build around my family; the world that had been shaken to its roots but still not broken by the unwanted pregnancy and even less wanted abortion that had followed was right now crumbling around me.

"Yes, I'm in love with you!" he repeated as if gathering confidence from hearing the words out loud. I stared into his eyes looking for either deceit or malice but found neither.

"Paul I... I don't know what to say I..." I bumbled, not even knowing how I felt, let alone how to reply.

I looked into his handsome face and again saw sincerity but mixed with apprehension, anxiety and perhaps even a little fear. My chest went tight, my tummy churned and my head thumped. I felt his hands on mine and instinctively pulled them away then immediately regretted it.

"I'm sorry Sandie," he said as if alarmed at my reaction, "I didn't mean to upset you it's just how I feel and..."

"Mummyyyyy! The boys won't let me sit with them on the sofa!"

A shrill voice from a few inches behind me filled the room and I leapt to my feet, feeling my face burning with the rush of adrenalin that surged through me.

"Emily! You made me jump!" I exclaimed, thanking God for the interruption, giving me precious moments in which to think.

"They're being mean to me," she whined, walking slowly towards me with her hands behind her back, "you've got to come and tell them!

"Emily, you have to stop bursting in on me all the time. You really gave me a shock."

"Sorry Mummy but they ARE being mean. I hate them!"

I looked at Paul who grinned and shrugged ironically.

"Where did you want to sit?" I asked, knowing that I would get no peace until the issue was addressed.

"I wanted to sit in the middle next to Daniel but they wouldn't let me."

I heard Paul trying to suppress a giggle. My daughter had had a crush on his son for the last two years and it was starting to annoy both the soon-to-be-teenager and his friend, her older brother. The parallel to my own situation with Paul was too obvious to be overlooked. I blushed wildly and tried not to look at him.

"I'm happy to help if you want," he offered, amused.

"I can handle it," I replied and took my daughter's offered hand. "I think you need to let the boys play on their own for a while," I said diplomatically as we walked through to the playroom, "you girls got to choose the DVD so you must let them do what they want in peace."

This wasn't the response she had been hoping for and she scowled before reluctantly settling on a bean-bag next to Paul's daughter.

When I returned to the kitchen, Paul had refilled our wine glasses and was standing waiting. As I entered I was struck once again by his extraordinary good looks; his long, strong legs and tight buttocks displayed so well in his tailored jeans and the way his simple white T-shirt highlighted the muscles of his chest and arms.

Suddenly I felt outclassed and awkward. I had left the house in a rush of anger and hadn't given a thought to my own appearance. My own jeans were tight but old and faded, my vest top out of shape. I had done nothing to my hair and wore next to no make-up. And what little I had worn must now be tear-stained and running down my cheeks. I felt old and ugly, how could such a gorgeous man possibly be in love with me?

I lowered my eyes to the floor and felt him move close in front of me.

"Have I just ruined our relationship again?" he asked quietly. I paused for a long time, my mind in turmoil then shook my head slowly.

"No... No, of course not," I replied.

"Then you feel something for me too?"

How could I reply to that? How could I tell him that I found him stunningly attractive, that he had given me the best night of sex in my life and for a few weeks I had been pregnant with his child? It wasn't possible for any woman not to feel something for such a man.

"There's something I should tell you," I began, my hands unconsciously falling to my belly but my words choked in my throat; what possible good could come of telling him the truth?

"I mean I..." I stammered, trying to rescue myself from the predicament.

But he wasn't listening. Instead, I felt his finger under my chin and the gentlest of upward pressures. I raised my head to see his eyes, soft and dark, his pupils huge and black merely inches away as he lowered his face towards mine. I felt his warm breath on my ear, on my cheek, on my mouth. I felt his lips brushing against mine and I froze.

"Paul..." I murmured.

My whole body was tense as if about to flee, remained frozen as if it knew that escape was the last thing I really wanted. For a moment we looked deep into each other's eyes, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

And then his lips were on mine, kissing me gently. My body was stiff; stunned and unresponsive but the warmth of his tummy and chest against mine was so reassuring.

No! I mustn't give way! Tom was the cheating bastard, not me...

But his lips felt so good...

Paul's strong hands rose to my shoulders and began to caress my bare skin; I felt the heat of his breath on my cheek and the tip of his tongue as it began to trace the sensitive inside of my lips. His touch was delicate and yet I could sense the power within his trained body.

"Paul, I... I..." I whispered again, though I had no idea what words would come next; certainly I didn't want him to stop but couldn't in all conscience encourage him. The tears began to roll down my cheeks in earnest.

"Sandie..." he replied, stroking my arms from elbow to shoulder before drawing my body closer to his and enveloping me in his warm embrace. "Shhh... It's OK... you're safe..." he whispered and began to rock me gently from side to side.

He held me for a long time, his comforting arms securely around me, my head resting against his muscular chest and shoulder. My tears quickly slowed then stopped and I felt the manly aroma of his body engulf me; clean and fresh from the shower but with a powerful, virile undertone that brought back vivid images of our one night in bed together.

I shivered at the memory but for the first time felt no surge of revulsion or shame.

"Are you ok?" he asked softly, feeling my tremors and holding me closer as if to keep me safe and warm, "you've had a bit of a shock. Perhaps I shouldn't have..."

And then his words were brought to an abrupt halt as I raised my face and kissed him full on the lips. Without hesitation, without shame or fear, I pressed my lips to his and our mouths immediately moulded to each other, our lips parting instantly. I felt his body respond, his strong arms moved over my back and sides and then his tongue entered my mouth, first tentatively across my teeth, then delving deep into me, seeking my own and finding it.

I instinctively raised my arms around his strong neck and felt his wrap tightly around me, his hands first on my waist, then on my bottom where his fingers kneaded my cheeks as our active tongues twisted and tangled together like snakes.

His hands, large and confident, squeezed my buttocks, pulling my body firmly against his until I could feel the hardness of his erection pressed against my belly. A thrill passed through me as I remembered how it had felt to have that wonderful shaft inside me all those months ago, and wanted so badly to feel again.

Sensing my shudder, Paul's arms enveloped me even more closely, his mouth smothering mine until I could hardly breathe but I didn't care. Somehow it didn't feel wrong this time; it didn't feel like cheating on my husband. This time it felt as if something that always should have happened was finally taking place.

His hands kept moving, on my buttocks, on my hips, on my sides, on my arms, under my vest, caressing my boobs. I wanted to feel them everywhere; I wanted to touch him in return, to feel his body as I wanted him to feel mine. I wanted him to take me upstairs, to undress me, to spread my thighs, to...

"Mummy I'm tired..."

We sprang apart almost violently at the sudden interruption.

"Emily!" I exclaimed breathlessly, "What did I say about sneaking up on me and making me jump?"

"Mummy I'm SO sleepy," she whined, ignoring my reprimand. I felt in no position to tell her off further and instead I looked at the kitchen clock.

"Goodness! I'm not surprised. It's nearly midnight!"

It had been quite late when I had dragged to kids into the car but where had the rest of the evening gone?

"I'd better check on the others and get us home," I said, turning to Paul whose face was a picture of frustration. "Come on Em...!"

I took her by the hand but before leading her through to the playroom I gave Paul what I hoped was a caring look and silently mouthed, "Saved by the bell!"

"Did you want to be saved?" he whispered in return.

Before I could respond, my little daughter turned to me.

"Were you and Uncle Paul kissing, Mummy?" she asked with the innocent directness of a child.

I felt my tummy churn in horror and heard Paul cough behind me.

"Goodness! What makes you think that, Em?" I asked, taking care not to answer properly.

"Well you looked like they look on TV. You had your mouth on his and his hands were on your bum and.."

"Emily!" I interrupted, as sternly as I could, "You mustn't tell stories like that!"

"But Mummy I saw you and..."

"Emily, that's enough! Now come on, let's get your brother and leave these guys in peace."

She led me sulkily back into the playroom. The boys were half asleep with an action movie on the screen, the sound turned down. Paul's daughter was curled up on her bean bag, fast asleep but opened her eyes when we entered.

"Come on you two," I said softly, "it's time to go home. Just get your..."

"How would you like to spend the night here with your friends?"

Paul's unexpected voice made me jump once again. Despite their sleepiness, the kids cheered and I span round to stare at him, not realising he had followed me into the playroom.

"What?" I stammered, surprised and cross at not being consulted. "We couldn't, really. We have to...".

"What do you say, kids?" he asked and got another, less sleepy cheer.

"Paul, I don't know..." but I wasn't allowed to finish.

"You mean a sleepover?" Emily yelled excitedly, suddenly wide awake. Her little face beamed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Of course," he replied, "tomorrow too if you like! We'd be pleased to have you!"

"Yayyyyy!"

"IF... IF your Mummy says it's ok, of course," he added looking at me with a mischievous shrug as he stood close alongside me.

"Oh PLEEAASSEEEE Mummmyyyyy!"

Still stunned from our unplanned embrace in the kitchen, I felt ambushed. I knew I should put my foot down there and then; that the decision I made would have implications well beyond the next twenty-four hours but I felt powerless to stop the momentum that was building.

On the one hand there were four happy kids in a warm friendly house and a man who had just declared his love for me and kissed me so wonderfully.

On the other hand there was the house I shared with my unfaithful husband, a bed I would sleep in alone, knowing that the man who should be alongside me was at that moment sharing a room and a bed with a woman I used to think of as a friend.

But if I stayed, there could only be one result; after all that had happened I couldn't remain under Paul's roof all night without making love with him again.

If I stayed, it was inconceivable that I would leave the house still faithful to my husband.

My husband... the father of our two wonderful children...

My husband... the man I had been married to for so many years...

My husband... who was probably even now in London fucking Paul's wife...

My husband... the man who had lied and lied to me for the last nine months...

My husband...

I took a deep breath.

"Well, if Uncle Paul says it's ok..."

Innocent sounding words that meant so much more! I could feel my skin prickle and the hair on my arms stand on end as the words emerged from my mouth. The message to Paul was clear; I wanted to share his bed; to sleep with him again. I could feel the tension and excitement in the room surge.

"Yayyyyy!"

Another cheer rose from all four kids. My gaze flashed across at Paul, my face flushed with embarrassment and for a split-second our eyes met full on. He had understood and was smiling at me. For a moment his fingers touched mine in a gesture of affection that almost reduced me to tears on the spot.

"Where will you sleep Mummy?" Emily suddenly asked. Paul coughed and suppressed a giggle.

"I'll sleep over too, darling." I replied, trying not to notice him.

"Will you share with Uncle Paul like you did on holiday?" she pressed on.

"I... I don't know..." I began, flashing Paul an anxious look.

My stomach churned. They couldn't have avoided noticing that night but had they told anyone else about it? Surely not, please God!

"Mummy can have the guest room," Paul cut in, saving me from further awkwardness then quietly added, "if she wants it!"

For a moment I wondered whether I had misread the situation; perhaps he didn't want to sleep with me after all, but then I felt his hand on mine, squeezing my fingers between his as he continued.

"Now who needs a toothbrush? And you two; go and get your pillows!"

I watched his tall, strong figure as he turned to follow the kids out of the room and up the stairs. I had seen him do this many times but tonight was different. This wasn't just the father of our kids' best friends any more, this was the man I wanted to make love to me; to take me as he had done that night in Wales. I looked at his powerful arms and chest, his firm, flat stomach and strong muscular legs as he crossed the hallway. He was every bit as gorgeous as he had seemed all those months ago - perhaps even more so now I understood him so much better - and I remembered vividly how it had felt to have that wonderful body between my open thighs.

I felt a tingle of excitement surge through me.

It's impossible to convey the exquisite, almost unbearable anticipation the next half hour brought. Trying to settle four over-excited kids onto mattresses and under duvets after multiple brushings of teeth is hard enough. Trying to do it alongside a drop-dead gorgeous man who has just told you he loves you and with whom you expect to have wonderful sex very soon was almost more than my mind and body could cope with.

Time after time as we manoeuvred mattresses and children into place, our bodies would brush against each other, each 'accidental' collision accompanied by an exchange of looks so meaningful that by the time we were ready to put out the light and let them sleep, there was a small but distinct damp patch in the crotch of my rather tight scruffy jeans.

What made it worse was that I knew Paul had noticed it too but was being too much of a gentleman to let it show. It was a relief to see the swelling in his own jeans that showed he was just as aroused by me as I was by him. It took all my self control not to stare at the growing bulge and imagine what it might soon be doing to me.

The atmosphere between the two of us was electric as we wished the kids goodnight. Paul pulled the playroom door closed and reached for my hand and I realised the moment of truth had come. My nerves began to fail me; my stomach heaved with a mix of anxiety, guilt and fear topped with a huge helping of lust.

"I... I'd like to take a shower," I said quickly in a desperate attempt to buy time to think, pulling my fingers from his grasp almost violently.

Paul smiled and stepped a little away from me.

"Take whatever time you need. The guest room is yours - all night, if that's what you want. I'll find you some night clothes while you're in the bathroom."

Moments later with the hot water cleansing my body I tried to wrestle with the emotions teeming round my head. The desire I felt for Paul was undeniable and powerful; why he felt so strongly about me, a mother of two ten years his senior was more of a mystery but he seemed sincere.

I looked at my body as the water cascaded down my front, comparing myself unfavourably with Lisa at every stage; my hips rounder than hers, my legs shorter and curvier, my boobs smaller and beginning to sag, my tummy with its small but distinctive stretch-marks bulging forward ever-so-slightly. I almost understood why my husband would want to fuck her rather than me.

But even if Paul really did want me, could I go through with it? Wouldn't it make me just as bad as my deceitful, cheating husband?

My fingers were beginning to prune as I stepped out of the cubicle and began to dry myself with the fluffy white towel Paul had slipped inside the door. My reflection in the large mirror over the sink did little to reassure me of my own attractiveness but to my relief, a certain confidence began to form.

Last time Paul had quickly and efficiently seduced me after the shock of seeing my husband in the arms of another woman. This time it was different; he was merely offering himself and leaving the decision to me.

Did I want him? Oh God, yes! But would I dare go to him? The decision was mine alone. If I gave myself to him, I could never blame anyone but myself for anything that happened afterwards.

Was I brave enough or foolish enough to take that step?

Wrapping the towel around my naked body I stepped barefoot into the hallway and looked towards the bedroom where I knew Paul was waiting. The low orange glow of candles spilled through the doorway onto the carpet, soft and romantic, both threatening and enticing at the same time. I took another step, then another until I was standing on the threshold hidden by the open door.

One more step and there would be no turning back.

Despite all that had happened, I could still escape; I could still leave the house with my fidelity intact and return unsullied to my husband, the man I had loved; the father of my two children; the man I had promised to remain faithful to 'as long as we both shall live'.

The man who, as I stood wavering on the physical and metaphorical threshold, was almost certainly in the arms of Paul's wife.

I took a deep breath and, small tears forming in my eyes, stepped nervously forward.

The bedroom carpet was soft beneath my feet and yellow in the candlelight. For a moment, I stood just inside the doorway, anxious as a teenager on her first date. I could feel my knees trembling and the butterflies in my tummy made me feel sick. It was all I could do to raise my head towards the bed where I could sense Paul's presence.