The Day After

I sat there, open-mouthed and dumbfounded, having no idea what to say. Shreds of my imagined speeches ran through my head as I listened to her confession

"Do you understand? I know you're horrified at what I did, even though it was exciting when it started. I could tell when it was over you were pissed. But do you understand why I'm scared?" She grabbed my head between her hands, forced me to look at her, forced me to focus on her words. "Because I WANTED it, I LIKED it! it was incredible!" I could feel her breath as she forced the words out. "It may have been the best, hottest sex I've ever experienced!"

I had no answer; hell, I couldn't form a thought or feel an emotion. I sat there motionless, my head between her hands, and she waited, frustrated and anxious for me to say ...what? What did she want from me? Nothing came out of my mouth, and she released my head, throwing it back at me with a look that was almost disgust. She stood and resumed her hyperactive pacing, taking long strides and crossing the kitchen several times before she spoke again, facing away from me.

"I took those guys, both of them; Mike and ... whatever, I don't even know his name, for Christ's sake!" She whirled suddenly, to face me, glaring at me heatedly from across the room. "I let them fuck me in my mouth and my pussy, and even my ass, YES, my ASS, I had them in my pussy and ass at the same time, and I LOVED IT, and it scares the daylights out of me!" Her breath heaved, and she clenched and unclenched her fingers, then whirled again with a grunt, and did that thing with her hair. I watched her do a few more laps across the kitchen, and then she stopped, and again her energy drained from her, and I realized she been on the same emotional roller coaster that I'd been on all day, only worse. I had felt anger and betrayal on top of my love for her; she had shame and her own desires on top of them.

Again, I found myself wanting to protect her, to shield her from the hurt and sorrow, but I had nothing to say, I had no words to answer her statements. Finally she collapsed back into her chair, her elbows on the table, slumped forward.

"I let those two guys fuck me, Carl," she continued softly, the edge gone from her frantic ravings. "I let them fuck my mouth and my pussy, and my ass," she announced again, as if for emphasis. "I let them cum in me, like a slut, strange men cumming in my ass and cunt. I was feeling sexy, and dirty and nasty , and I came, Carl, I came hard, and a lot, and the orgasms were strong and hard, and oh, God, I wanted more. I wanted more cock. More cum." Her head dropped to the table, resting on her forearms, and I waited, but she didn't come back up.

Was she finished, I wondered? This thing didn't feel resolved, not by any means. Frankly, I wasn't sure that her confession hadn't made it worse for me. All day I had been thinking that this was about ME, about how I felt watching her with those guys, watching her being a slut, feeling guilty and ashamed and angry and stupid, and now I'm sitting here listening to her confess how great it was, how much she loved it, and telling ME that SHE'S the one who's frightened!

"I – I'm sure we can get past this, Jess," I started, and her head sprang up like it was on a trigger.

"You don't get it," she said, her eyes opened wide in astonishment. "Don't you understand? I don't WANT to get past it! I liked it, Carl. Too much. I wanted it; wanted it so bad; it was so good I STILL want it!" Her words hit me like a blow, and I felt myself recoil. "I could barely concentrate today, cleaning the house. It was all I could think about. Only instead of being terrified of what I did, I was ecstatic!" Her eyes narrowed, focused on me. Her words came out terse and firm. "What scares me is my desire to do it again."

I sat there, stunned by her announcement. "I don't know what to say to that," I confessed.

"Believe me, I know how you feel," she agreed. "It took me most of the morning just to admit it to myself." She stopped then, and considered me. "I told you that I thought you wanted it. I didn't realize until after it was over that you were upset. You were pretty standoffish this morning, and, like I said, I wasn't sure you were going to come home tonight," she said quietly. "I knew we needed to talk this out, and I'm glad you expressed your anger and your fear. I hope you believe me when I say that my love for you hasn't changed. It hasn't, not one bit. I hope you believe that, and I hope that nothing I said has scared you too badly."

"I- uh, I'm okay, so far." I swallowed hard. "I know you still love me," I added, "and I want you to know that I still love you." I heaved a sigh. "It's hard to take, though."

"Yeah, I know," she said, and she lowered her head to the table, resting on her forearms. I watched her shoulders rise and fall through several deep breaths. From beneath her hair I heard her voice. "It took a lot for me to admit to myself that I enjoyed it, and it took a lot more to admit it to you. But I have to ask you something now, and I want you to be honest with me."

She lifted her head, but remained hunched forward. "Please don't answer right away. I know you're feeling insecure and hurt, and I understand, but I want you to think about your answer, okay?"

"Yeah, all right," I assured her.

"Last night," she began, looking at me with narrowed eyes, "you were pretty drunk, and you did some stuff you've never done before. I told you before, I went along, and then I started enjoying it. And then things got ... crazy ... and I kept going, thinking you wanted it, and I wanted it. When it was over we went to bed, and we didn't talk, but I sensed you were angry." She sat up then, her back against the back of the chair. "This morning you were a little cold to me, and I was afraid I had lost you, that you were disgusted with me. You say you still love me, that you were afraid I didn't love you, and that I had cheated on you. I hope you don't think that anymore."

She was rambling now, the words just spilling out of her. I wondered what her point was, and when she would get to it. I didn't have to wait much longer.

She heaved a sigh and blew it out, sounding frustrated with her hesitation. "Okay, here it is. I told you I enjoyed it, that it was hot. And you were into it at first. So I have to know. Was it hot for you, too?" She paused, and looked at me, and waited.

And there it was; the question I had managed to avoid through all my paranoid hysteria, my injured ego and my insecurity and fear of abandonment and betrayal. She had given voice to the one thing I had dodged and denied. He words hung in the air, filling the room with silence as my imagined conversations ran through my head again at lightning speed, trying one last time to pretend she hadn't asked, and that I could delay, and not answer.

"It's okay; don't answer right away, I know it's a difficult thing to admit. BELIEVE ME, I know! But it's funny, you know? You were drunk and feeling me up, and having a grand time, and pulling up my shirt and showing my tits to those guys. And you didn't stop it when it went, uh-m, off the deep end." Her eyes narrowed again, and she angled her head a little to the side, the way she does when she's thinking. "And I watched you, I checked on you while I was with those guys, and you didn't look pissed off then, but you were pissed this morning, and you were wound up pretty tight when you came home. But you seem better now, and I know that I FEEL better having told you that I enjoyed it."

She sat forward, and leaned her elbows on the table. "So now you tell me, honestly. Was it hot? Did you enjoy watching me? Be honest. I need you to be honest."

I knew the answer; I guess I had known the whole time, but it was hard to admit. I had convinced myself that she had betrayed me, cheated on me, didn't love me, NEVER loved me; all the hurt I had imagined and created in order to protect myself from the truth. "Kinda," I said softly, "I guess."

"Only 'kinda'? 'Cause like I said, I was checking you, and it looked like you were pretty into it." She grinned a little. "You were sporting some pretty significant wood, there, sweetie." Her grin broadened to a full smile.

That smile did me in. "Well, I was pretty drunk, like I said, so I don't remember it all," I confessed, "but yeah, it WAS pretty exciting watching you." I lowered my head and shook it back and forth. "I didn't really think about it until late, and that's when I started worrying and getting angry. I think that, maybe, like you, it scared me a little." I picked up my head to meet her eyes. She was staring intently now, no smile, just a deep, intense gaze that drilled through me. I grinned uncomfortably. "But yeah, it was hot." I saw her smile flicker. "You were an animal!" I blurted. And now her smile was back, full and beaming.

"Oh, God, that's a fucking relief!" She stood then, and came back to my chair, kneeling again in front of me, and taking my hands in hers, so soft, so warm and gentle. She looked up into my face with a contented gaze, her lips slightly parted and wet. "It feels good to say it, to admit it, doesn't it?" She was nodding her head for me. "This afternoon, when I finally admitted it to myself, I felt such a relief, like I was carrying around a giant rock, and could finally put it down." She grinned. "I wanted to open the window and shout it to the neighborhood!"

"It's hard for me to understand..."

"Don't I know it," she chirped, and stood, and swung a leg over my lap, straddling my waist, hanging her hands on my shoulders, her forearms resting on my chest. "When I got past the fear and the shame and the shock, I was still so confused, I mean, how could I have liked that?" She leaned in and pecked me lightly on the lips. "My pussy was sore, my mouth hurt, and my ass is still killing me; hell, this morning I was crying on the toilet, trying to go to the bathroom. That guy really gave it to me." She blew out a breath. "But I admitted it; I've embraced it. I liked it." She paused, then, and her eyes narrowed. "And you liked it, too." She kissed me again. "And I want more."

I stared at her, blinking in surprise. "What?"

"More. I want more; I want it again, like last night." She dropped he forehead to mine, and I could feel her breath as she spoke. "Tell me how hot it was, tell me how you liked seeing me on my hands and knees, with cocks fucking my face and cunt. Say it," she hissed. "Say you liked hearing me scream as I came, tell me how hard you got when that cock went in my ass, tell me you loved it when my pussy and ass were filled with hot cum, baby."

"You were so fucking hot," I heard myself answer. "My dick was so hard for you."

"M-mm," she said, squirming her hips in my lap, "Like it is now?"

And yes, I was hard, solid as steel under her grinding hips. "Yeah, rub that slutty pussy on my dick, baby, you were so hot, you slut. You loved those cocks, you nasty whore."

"I'm your whore, baby," she whispered, and leaned in and kissed me, not a sweet peck this time but a full, open mouth, loving kiss, her soft lips pressing on mine as she pulled her head to me. I felt her grinding her pussy on my shaft, and her breasts pressed against my chest. My arms wrapped around her and grabbed her ass, pulling me tighter against her.

"You were so fucking hot, I loved seeing you like that," I managed when she pulled back from the kiss.

She leaned back, hands around the back of my neck, arms fully extended. "Good," she said, her eyes half lidded as she slowly moved her hips back and forth, "because you're going to see it again. I want more, Carl. Lots more. I want two guys, three guys; I want to get gang banged and serial fucked. I want cum in my face. I want all my holes filled, baby; I have tasted debauchery, and I have not had my fill."

I reached down to my pants and opened them, squeezing my hands between our bodies to pull my zipper down. She stood and whipped her pants down her legs faster than I thought was possible, and as I pushed my pants and underwear down my legs she was back on me, and slipped me inside her wet hole, sliding right down to my thighs in one stroke, taking me fully into her pussy. She grunted as I filled her, then began sliding up and down on my shaft as she talked.

"I want you there, watching me be a slut, watching your wife lose her control, surrendering to lust, taking her pleasure. I want to see your face as suck hot cum from some guy's cock, I want you to hear me cum, screaming, begging for more cock."

I was thrusting up into her, meeting her hips, driving my cock up hard into her cunt, squeezing her butt cheeks firmly. "Yeah, you nasty slut, I'll watch you get your holes fucked, and when you cum I'll shoot my cum on your face like the slut you are! I'll make you eat the cum from your ass and cunt while you beg for more cock!" I felt my pent up climax rising, feeling my balls tighten and clench even as she opened her eyes wide, her mouth panting and gasping, and then she froze, and came on my cock, screaming as her orgasm took her.

"Fuck me! Fuck! I'm coming on your cock, fuck me hard! Cum in me, I want your cum!" And then I exploded as my load blasted into her, filling her wet, used hole with my cream.
I gave her short, vicious thrusts as my first big blasts launched into her and then held her still, grinding her hips on my dick as my balls emptied the rest of their load. She collapsed onto me, her face buried in my shoulder, panting and moaning as she rode her climax to the end, my dick slippery and wet inside her.

She picked her head up, then lifted her hips off me, releasing my cock, looking down at her pussy as several large globs of cum dripped out, landing on my softening cock, still throbbing as it lay on my stomach. "Oh, fuck," she muttered, and then slipped off my lap, moving backwards and taking my cock into her mouth, sucking my cum from my cock and balls, smearing her face in it, making yummy and slurping noises as she sucked and licked me clean.

When she was done, she stood, and pulled me to my feet, and we hugged and kissed. Finally she pulled away, and we chuckled as we gathered our discarded clothing.

"So," she said, "how soon can we arrange to have a couple of guys come over?"