Secret Affair

I'm watching my husband kiss this stranger from afar and I feel absolutely nothing. If anything, I feel satisfaction in knowing that I'm not crazy. I am not a paranoid bitch, like he has been telling me. I don't even look at the woman because I know that he's lying to her. Just like how he has been lying to me. Before I head back into the car, I take a picture of him in the compromising position and wait for the anger to coalesce. All I feel is a sense of emptiness slowly spreading through my chest, infiltrating every inch of my body.

~~

I'm in the bar, staring at absolutely nothing. The bartender is an older guy and he keeps looking at me with a weary expression. Maybe he sees the silent rage in my eyes. Or maybe I just look really pathetic today. I'm wearing jeans and a sad excuse for a blouse, a flannel shirt with a black tank top. At least my boobs look okay. I'm nursing a Corona Light when I hear a familiar laugh. It's eerily similar to Eric's laugh; deep and hearty, almost jovial. I shouldn't be surprised to see his handsome face, but it's still a little shocking, especially after seeing my husband making out with another woman. I'm about to look away when he looks up and our gazes meet. Panic surges within me, but I tell myself to stay calm before I make a scene. I fake the cheeriest smile that I can muster and wave at him. To my dismay, he gets up and starts walking toward me.

This is the last thing I need. To have Eric's dad asking me what's wrong in the middle of the bar. He looks really good in a dark blue suit that clings to his slim figure. His dark, grey hair is parted to the side and I can already smell his distinct, rich cologne. He's your father in law, I remind myself as I feel my gaze lower to his crotch. Of course I'm leaving Eric. How can I stay with him now that I know he's been unfaithful to one?

"Hey, Marina," he says enthusiastically. "No Eric?"

Just hearing his name makes my stomach turn. "Nah, he's at work. I'm here waiting for a friend."

I get up to receive his awaiting hug. I close my eyes and quickly plaster myself against him, not caring if I'm being too affectionate. My breasts are rubbing against his suit jacket and the close contact is enough to make my nipples harden. I nuzzle my face into the smooth curve of his neck and slowly exhale. I swear I feel him stiffen against me.

"Rough day?" he asks cautiously.

"Very."

I blink to prevent any tears from shedding, but I'm like a dam that has been cracked in two. A plethora of emotions slam into me all at once: anger, hurt, sadness, and betrayal. The tears are fierce and warm as they roll down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I say numbly.

Maybe it's the alcohol, but I kiss his cheek, expecting denial or worse, outrage. Instead, I slowly realize that he must like it because he smirks as he runs his fingers over the spot I just kissed.

"Thank you," he says. "Careful, though. We don't want to get him jealous."

I'm standing so close to him, maybe a little too close. But I like it. Eric has broken our vows, but should I still keep mine? How can I when he smells so good and I want to latch myself on him? Perhaps I am cruel for having these thoughts. But I haven't been the one to cheat and lie.

"I'll leave you alone," I say as I take a step back. "I see you have company."

"Join us," he quickly adds. "I don't want you being alone."

I should really say no. My body is craving affection, especially after all this time. It's been six months since Eric and I were last intimate. I didn't even get to enjoy it. It felt so forced, so mechanical. Tears form in my eyes again as I remember him kissing that woman outside the coffee shop.

"Actually, can you walk me home? I'm ready to leave."

I hate bugging him like this, but I need a distraction. Someone to take me away from the torment. Or something to keep me occupied. Because if I confront my husband now, I will be irrational and overly emotional.

At first, I think that he's going to decline my offer, but to my surprise, he nods and follows me out of the bar. He doesn't even say anything to his friends, which surprises me.

"You're not going to tell your friends?" I ask.

"Nah. They won't even notice I'm gone. I wouldn't worry about it."

In his nice car, he turns on the classical music station. The music is so mellow and serene, a complete contrast to my inner turmoil. The last thing I should do is tell him what I saw. Yet I sense his intuition picking up on my distress. He's a father, so he knows how to sift through the lies.

"Is everything all right, Marina?" he asks in a casual tone. "You know I'm here for you."

I smile pathetically. "Work is stressful. I think I'm going to get fired." I pause before I say, "I'm a bad wife. My life is just one fucking joke."

"Wait a second," he says. "What was that second part?"

I feel myself blush all over as I shake my head. "Nevermind. Please forget that I even said that."

He sighs. "Too late. He fucked up, didn't he?"

I greet his question with silence. The truth settles in my gut like a poison, ravaging my stomach and spreading through my body. I feel like screaming into the dead night, banging my head against the wall until the physical pain eclipses the emotional torment. My pain isn't new, though. I'm used to this; the lies, the deception, the ugly betrayal. I can't believe I was such a fucking idiot.

"No." I laugh. A fake, syrupy sweet laugh that convinces no one in the car. "I'm just being hormonal."

I don't dare to look at him. Not just because of the pathetic lying. But because I don't trust myself around him, now that my husband has cheated on me. Which makes it all that much worse when he places a hand on my knee, making my entire body shiver in anticipation. I stare down at his large yet beautiful hand. I remember the first time I met him, on a cold winter evening five years ago at his house. I was mesmerized by his honey brown eyes. He was quiet, unlike his son, who is boisterous and loves to steal the spotlight. I remember staring at him with reddened cheeks as he spoke of literature and photography, my two favorite subjects. His voice was so rich and seductive and I imagined him whispering poetry into my ear. My nipples tighten at the bittersweet memory, the guilt that I experienced afterward...

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "My son is an idiot."

His words send me over the edge. The past month has been too overwhelming, far too demanding for me. Filled with sins and secrets. How much can a person sustain until they obliterate into a tiny million pieces?

He massages my knee. I make a decision. I forcefully grab his hand and slowly bring it to my panties, to my unwavering lust. I'm so warm and wet for him, aching for his unique touch. My breath stills as I wait for his inevitable reaction. Shock, anger, and rejection. All these things that I'm used to dealing with. His fingertips graze the hem of my silky panties and he inhales sharply. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek as my throat tightens.

He stops the car by an abandoned construction site. My stomach is heavy with the acrid sting of regret.

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter as he turns the car off and retracts his hand from my core. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

He frames my face with his hands and kisses me so hard, I feel like I'm dreaming. His lips are a little chapped but he delves his tongue into my mouth with an insistence that makes me moan. His mouth tastes like spearmint and his delicious cologne surrounds me like a thick mist.

He breaks the kiss and stares at me with raw hunger in his expression. His hand traces my thigh until he reaches the hem of my panties. I am trembling and my chest is rising and falling with every shaky breath. I'm too scared to utter a word. If I say something, then he'll stop and the spell will be broken.

He brings his mouth to my ear and I feel my self control melt as he says, "What are we doing?"

I place my hand over his long, lean fingers, trapping him. The tension is so thick, so overwhelming. My clit throbs painfully as he rests his middle finger over my slick wetness.

"Please," I plead. "Do what you want."

"You're soaked," he roughly whispers in my ear. "Why?"

"You...you turn me on," I say nervously. "You always have."

He hums in my ear, making me squirm. He moves his finger across the silk and I moan at the sensation, thrusting my hips forward.

"What about Eric?" he asks as he slips a finger inside my panties. "What if he finds out?"

I gasp as he slowly begins to caress my drenched sex. It feels so good, how can it be wrong? It's like he knows how to touch me. His breath is heavy, echoing in my ear as I struggle to retain control.

"Fuck," I whisper hoarsely. "I'm gonna come soon."

He groans. "I can smell you. God, that sound..."

I bite back a scream as his finger slides up and down my wetness. I've never been this drenched; his finger is making slippery sounds against my aching cunt, tightening my core. I don't ever want it to end. I feel myself unraveling, though, and greedily reach out for his cock. He hisses as I stroke his shaft through his pants. When he replaces a finger with another digit, I begin to lose it.

"Please don't stop," I beg him. "Please."

The sound of him fingering me fills the car until all I can feel is ecstasy, raw and pure. I buck against his hand in absolute need, moaning so loudly and arching my spine as he fucks me so perfectly with his hand. I scream out his name over and over as wave after wave of raw pleasure surges through my body until I am sweating and shaking in absolute pleasure. I feel him shudder against me as he slows the pace and draws lazy circles around my clit.

"Let me return the favor," I whisper as I start undoing his zipper.

"No," he firmly says as he places a strong hand over mine. "I just want...for you to feel good."

He is so selfless, the complete opposite of his son. When was the last time my husband made me come so hard, I could barely breathe right? Does he even feel shame in cheating on me? Why should I suffer in silence while he's off fucking whoever he wants?

Eric Sr clears his throat and pulls his hand away. I'm still throbbing, aching for more. But I know that guilt is gnawing at him now, clutching its sharp claws into his chest. He turns on the engine with quick, forced movements and I don't dare say a word as he takes me home. The drive is quick but silent, filled with tenuous questions with no answers. What happens now? Should we forget this even happened? How do I move past this? Did my father in law really just give me the most amazing orgasm I've ever experienced?

When we finally get to the shared apartment that Eric and I live in, I find myself not wanting him to leave. He won't look at me as I open the passenger door and adjust my skirt.

"This can never happen again," he says with a neutral voice.

I nod and rush inside the apartment before he can see me fall apart and cry.

~~

It's two in the morning and Eric isn't home. I know he won't be arriving any time soon. He's texted me a couple of times, making up lame excuses. His friends don't want him to leave. His buddy is going away tomorrow. The lies continue rolling in, never ending. I'm about to turn off my phone until I get a text message from Eric's dad.

What have you done to me?

I stare at the text for a full minute. Is he mad at me? That would be the perfect ending to this bizarre night. I'm about to form a reply when he sends me another message.

I'll see you tomorrow.

I almost forget what tomorrow is until I remember that it's his birthday.

~~

I catch him looking at me several times when he thinks I'm not looking. Eric is oblivious to our silent, longing gazes. He's too busy talking with his cousins at the restaurant. He barely pays any attention to me. I try talking to him, to distract him, but I'm not that interesting.

Depression clouds my mood, all the way to Eric's house. He breaks open the brand new bottle of Johnnie Walker and I patiently wait for him to pour me a glass.

"Straight?" he asks with hesitation.

"Yes, please," I say as adrenaline surges within me. "Make it a lot."

He looks at me with concern flashing through his beautiful eyes. Our gazes meet for an unwavering moment before he pours me the amber liquid with a smirk. I wonder if he's hard right now, thinking about last night.

"Where's my present?" he asks as he hands me the tumbler.

"You'll get it."

We're flirting and no one is even noticing. Everyone else is wrapped up in their own conversations. I look at Eric across the room and wonder when it happened, the exact moment he stopped loving me.

"Cheers," I say to him as I raise the glass. "I hope your wishes come true."

~~

An hour later, I'm laying on the grass in the backyard, staring at the dark blue canvas that is the night sky. I've drank little whiskey while my husband has guzzled down a third of the bottle. My limbs feel numb as I hear the glass door open and close behind me. A pair of shoes crunch on the grass while I struggle to sit up to look more presentable.

"Are you drunk?"

His voice is so smooth and rich, making my nipples tighten. He sits down next to me and I fight the urge to climb on top of him and fuck him senseless.

"Not drunk enough, "I say.

"Have you tried talking to him?"

I snicker. "I don't want to talk about him, please."

"Where's the anger? I don't see it."

I finally succumb to the desire of wanting to look at him. He's string right at me with genuine concern etched on his face. I can tell that he cares about me. Why else would he be outside with me while the party rages on inside?

"What happened last night?" he asks.

"A mistake, right?"

He doesn't shudder or leave my side. Instead, he moves closer to me. I can feel the palpable lust coursing in between us and it's enough to make me shiver. I remember his skilled hand making love to me in his car and I cringe at the mixture of guilt and raw desire that I'm experiencing.

"You were in my dream last night," he whispers in my ear. "I made love to you with my mouth for hours."

My clit is throbbing, begging for release. I can't have this man. He's my husband's father. There are so many other men out there that I could choose from. Why him?

He breathes into my ear and whispers, "Meet me in my bedroom in ten minutes. I'll be there."

~~

I am confused and horny, an odd combination. I thought he made it clear that we couldn't be intimate again, yet here I am knocking on his bedroom door as my heart races with pure adrenaline. When he opens the door, he quickly pulls me in and shuts the door. He caresses my body with a hunger that makes my knees buckle. I feel his erection against my lower belly and I whimper in defeat.

"What about the others?" I ask with a shaky voice.

"Everyone's gone. Except Eric. He passed out."

When his lips graze my neck, all of my resolve shudders and collapses. He traces the arch of my neck with his tongue while he picks me up in one smooth, fluid motion. He lays me on the bed and kisses my nipples through the soft fabric. I can feel my panties are completely drenched, which he notices when he brings a finger to my underwear. He rubs me in teasing, slow circles as he unveils my bare breasts.

"I want you naked on my bed," he says breathlessly. "Please."

I quickly strip out of my clothes. He moans as I lay back down and spread my legs for him. A feral expression spreads on his face before he kneels before me and kisses a taut nipple. I gasp in surprise when his fingers replace his mouth as he plants kisses all the way down to my lower belly.

"Eric," I moan out loud.

His face is hovering over my pussy, his mouth so dangerously close to my wetness. I could always say no and stop this insanity. But my body is clearly enjoying every second of it. The way he is tweaking my nipples and kissing my wetness is too much. I just can't resist.

I almost yell when his tongue flickers across my clit. He licks me slow and patiently while he fondles my breasts. His tongue is making delicious, slippery sounds against my sex, making me tremble in absolute need. He looks up at me as my legs start to shake from the pure pleasure. I seek out his hands and clasp them as I start riding his tongue in greedy, quick thrusts. A moan escapes me as his tongue delves into my wet, tight core.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," I whisper urgently.

He wraps both legs around his shoulders and starts fucking me so hard with his mouth; I can't help but scream in pleasure. He growls in approval when I pull on his hair, urging him to keep going. His tongue is bathing my pussy in more wetness and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to stop the salacious screams escaping me.

My thighs tremble around his neck as he licks me to orgasm. I'm trembling all over and gasping for air; my hands are gripping the comforter, then they're in his hair, pulling at the roots.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks breathlessly.

"Of course," I say in a raspy whisper.

He kisses me voraciously as if the world is crumbling around us and the end is near. I taste myself on his lips and on his tongue, making me moan in need. I rub him through his pants and he shudders when I stroke his rigid shaft.

"Can I please return the pleasure?" I whisper into his ear.

Despite his raging hard on, he shakes his head and starts kissing me again. He's about to make love to me again with his mouth until there's a knock on his door. Sheer panic surges through me before I dash to the bathroom, where I hide in palpating fear as my husband steps into the bedroom and talks to his father.

"Have you seen Marina?" he asks with a yawn. "I haven't seen her."

"I'm not sure. Maybe she went home?"

"That's not like her. Hm." He pauses before he says, "I'm gonna get going, dad. Happy birthday."

I think the conversation is over until his father starts talking. To my surprise, his voice is clipped and mechanical.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, son?" he asks.

Eric Jr. chuckles. "Everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

The panic morphs into anger. Why won't he admit his mistakes to his own father? Is he that ashamed? I could easily step into the bedroom right now and confront him about it. But I don't. Instead, I patiently wait for my cheating husband to leave the bedroom. Tears are flowing down my cheeks. In a daze, I step back into his room and get dressed with numb hands. He says my name but I ignore him until I'm fully dressed again. I place my hands on his shoulders and kiss him softly and wistfully, knowing that I won't be seeing him for a long time.

[To be continued]