The Seven Deadly Sins: Lust

John soon distracted me though. He must have been thinking along the same lines as me because he'd brought a huge dildo. For our second session he did me in the ass, while I used the dildo in my pussy. It was nowhere like the real thing, but I did have a better than average orgasm. For the first time, I felt a cock shooting in my ass. I was too sore to feel it when Simon had done it. Knowing sex with Dave was still out, I even relaxed my rules and did John this morning before driving home.

Yes, life is good again.

August 28^th 2014

Dear Diary. Spoke too bloody soon. My life has gone to shit again. Knowing that an abortion this late would mean I couldn't have sex for about a month afterwards, I left on Sunday to meet John for a two-day, three-night fuck fest. Dave's back is still not fully recovered, so I've had nothing at home and I'm horny as hell. Dave was away when I left, so he swallowed my story of another sales trip. I met John and for two nights and two days we did everything two people can do. He briefed me on where he was at with planning our next threesome. It'll work, and the anticipation made me insatiable. I begged off sex the third night so I'd be fresh for the clinic. I told John I was too sore to screw. You'd have thought he'd won Olympic gold; he was so proud. God, men are so easy to manipulate, it's almost embarrassing to share a species with them.

I pretended to be leaving the next morning but actually checked in to another hotel, with cash. I would take a cab to and from the clinic as they wouldn't let me drive away after the procedure. Things turned to shit as soon as I got to the clinic. The full-time doctor was back and called me into the office to apologise. The locum hadn't picked up on the fact I'd ticked the box saying I am allergic to eggs. I tried to explain that it was only raw egg whites that I was anaphylactic to, but he said it was too risky. The local anaesthetic they usually used was egg-based. He told me I'd have to be rescheduled and have a general anaesthetic with an overnight stay. I told him I was a little concerned about timing, I was entering my third month after all. He did some juggling and we were on for the fifth of September.

I took a cab back to my hotel and decided to have a drink in the bar to settle my pissed off nerves. A fellow salesman started chatting me up. I thought what the hell, told him to get some condoms and come to my room. He proceeded to fuck the shit out of me all night. On a purely animalistic level it was fantastic. With a very early morning start, I battled to stay awake on the drive home and all day at work.

It was at work, that I noticed the rash on the palms of my hands. Strangely, it doesn't itch, just looks horrible. Bloody stress again. That explains why my hair is falling out as well, not alarmingly, but enough to be noticeable. Roll on the bloody fifth, I just want this over.

August 29^th 2014

Dear Diary. My luck just gets better and better. I applied for two days leave next week and got knocked back. I didn't have enough accumulated. I toyed with the idea of telling my boss I needed it as my husband and I were trying for a baby and the two days were my fertile time. The matronly old bitch would swallow that. In the end, I decided not to. She would no doubt point out that I could spend the two nights screwing Dave. Also, she knew Dave from my company functions. The last thing I needed was she and Dave to get together and find that I'd spent my conception leave out of town and away from him. I'm starting to dread brushing my hair because of what I leave on the brush now.

I also considered calling in sick those two days but that would cause all sorts of alarm bells now I'd had leave knocked back. In the end, I wrote next week off and rang the clinic. They got back to me later and said the next time the anaesthetist was available was the eighth. I agreed. I could get away with two sickies then, I'm sure.

Dave rang later and told me his latest trip had been extended. He didn't know when he'd be back. He could tell I was angry and apologised profusely, reminding me that we'd agreed to his increased travel.

September 8^th 2014

Dear Diary. I'm really, really starting to regret some of the choices I've made. With Dave away, I let my horniness influence my decisions. Ignoring the risk, I met John last Saturday night in our usual town. I did that so we could have Saturday night and Sunday morning together before my self-enforced celibacy the night before the op. John did suggest bringing our new playmate along but the last thing I wanted was a gaping ass Monday, at the clinic. I rang Dave before I left Saturday afternoon, from the home phone, to minimise the chances of him ringing me and finding me not home. I was still grumpy and he picked up on that. I told him it was because I missed him so much.

John was fantastic as usual. My ass and his dildo got a thorough workout. We were lazing in bed just before lunch Sunday, when Dave rang my cell. He was at home, wondering where I was. He'd arranged two days off and flown during the night to cheer me up. He also pointed out that according to my new calendar, I was 'in the zone'. If it wasn't so disastrous, it would have been touching. I fobbed him off, when he asked where I was, saying I'd decided to leave early and visit some friends on the way. He pushed until I told him where I was staying. John was good about it and cleared out. With Dave having to leave before my appointment Monday, the situation was recoverable.

While waiting for Dave, I practiced some excuses to avoid having sex with him. I didn't want my recent activity to give me away. I decided to rely on Dave's consideration by telling him I was sick. Well, the combination of morning sickness and my nerves were making me throw up. Plus, I did actually have a slight fever and other flu symptoms by the time he got there. He took me out to dinner and expressed disappointment at my sickness but acted the gentleman. He didn't take my hints that if he stayed the night, he might catch what I had.

I didn't sleep a wink that night, in Dave's strong arms. I couldn't think of a way of making sure he left before my appointment that afternoon. The next problem was that I was supposedly here on business but hadn't bought my usual clothes; just casuals. I got around that by leaving before he awoke. I left a note saying I had an early meeting and didn't want to wake him, so he could recover from his night flight. The note also said that checkout time was 10:00 a.m., I loved him for being so considerate and would see him next week. Once clear of the hotel, I rang in sick as planned and killed time till the afternoon.

Dave rang just before lunch. He'd decided to look after me, as I was sick. He'd rung work and told them he was taking an extra day; not negotiable. He was going to hang around until I'd finished for the day and we'd drive in convoy back home that night or the following morning. I tried to bluff my way out of it by saying it could damage his promotion prospects. It was then he gently reminded me it was his birthday that day. In all my scheming, I'd forgotten. The guilt hit me suddenly and hard. This shit had to stop. I had no choice but to ring the clinic and defer. They weren't happy but gave me the nineteenth as the next available day. I pretended to finish early with business and we were home by six; me still throwing up. Dave leaves tomorrow morning. I'm writing this while he's in the shower, then we're going out to dinner. He's due back on the eighteenth.

The nineteenth solves one problem. As the twentieth is a Saturday. I'll only have to take the Friday off. I'll have accumulated a leave day by then.

October 20^th 2014

Dear Diary. This will be my last entry to you as I have decided to kill myself. Take the coward's way out to expunge the pain I've caused myself and Dave. Plus, the shame I've brought to my family. I have the pills and the alcohol, now I just need the courage to do the deed.

Things started out all right. I met John on the eighteenth as planned and we went for dinner. On the way back from dinner, I received a tearful phone call from Janet. Her husband had found out about her infidelity; she didn't know how; and threw her out. That terrified me. The precautions I was using, mostly came from Janet. If she'd been caught, then my plan was flawed too. I was distracted and didn't want to have sex with John, so I relied on his love for me by just asking him to cuddle me all night. He didn't object. Actually, he said he was relieved, as he had some strange sores in his groin, but hadn't the time to go to the doctor.

It was a mainly sleepless night. As I lay in the light of dawn, I decided that this had to stop once and for all. I was overwhelmed by my love for Dave and just wanted to hear his voice. Despite the early hour, I rang home. The answering machine picked up, so I just left a message for Dave to ring me. Laying back I had an unexplained sense of foreboding. In a panic I rang home again and really listened to the answering machine this time.

"Hi, you've reached the answering service of Dave Brown. I'm not home right now so leave a message after the tone." Beeep.

Gone was Dave's joke. Chillingly, apparently I didn't live there anymore either. Suddenly, I knew how Janet's husband found out. Dave knew. I didn't know how he found out about Janet and I, but I was certain he had. I desperately left messages on the house phone and Dave's cell, urging him not to do anything hasty, but to wait till I got home. Without packing or a word to John, I got in my car and headed home.

I won't list what went through my head on that long, long drive. My phone rang and I snatched it up. It was the clinic wondering where I was. It wasn't related to finding Dave, so I just hung up. I was booked for speeding about half way home.

I was surprised when my key worked. In the research I'd done coming up with my precautions, it seemed almost par for the course that the aggrieved husband changed the locks. I suppose because it was a rental, Dave had decided not to fight over it. All Dave's stuff was gone and I mean all. There wasn't a trace left. When I rang his cell, the message was that the number had been discontinued.

I spent all that remained of that Friday and all weekend, trying to find Dave. Some of our friends had seen him, so he was still in town, but I couldn't find him. As his work is a biosecurity zone, you can't just walk in there. One of salesmen that works with me and covers Dave's company, said it took a full-day induction just to get to their reception desk. Whenever I rang his company they said they'd been instructed not to take my calls. With no leave left, I had to go to work, but continued my search after hours. Thursday and Friday mornings, I camped as close to the entrance to the basement parking lot of Dave's work as the public could get, but never saw Dave's car.

By the weekend I was exhausted from activity and stress. I suddenly remembered the clinic and rang them Saturday afternoon. They were shut, so I left a message requesting they contact me. John was texting me every two days or so, but I didn't respond. The clinic rang me 10.30 a.m. on the Monday. According to their records, today was the end of my first trimester. By federal law, abortion was now illegal. I rang some shady friends about backyard abortionists but got nowhere.

Then I got to thinking bizarre thoughts. If I couldn't have Dave, I would keep his child as a reminder of his love. I shook myself. It wasn't Dave's baby. It was probably John's. Was I going mad? As soon as I got home, I pulled out my diary to check I'd given the right dates to the clinic. I had. I went back and read from the June sixteenth threesome activities. The pattern in Dave's behaviour were obvious in hindsight. From then, till now, he hadn't bedded me once. How could I have been so blind? It was a litany of, Dave away longer than expected, him accepting my excuses because of my anal discomfort, his sore back or other blatant evasive activities. I hadn't noticed as I was getting serviced regularly by John with more exciting activities than I'd ever done with my husband. More exciting because I'd never suggested them with him.

I finally got to the entry on the eighteenth of September.

Dear Diary. On the sixteenth of June my husband was checking my expense claim as I'd asked him to do. He suddenly realised that all my trips had hotel, meal, and fuel receipts except for ones to a particular town. The town I was in at the moment. He added that to my changed diary habits. He noted that late last year I had gone from keeping it in the bedside drawers and updating it before bed every night, to it disappearing. He noted the same behaviour at the start of this year. He suspected I was cheating and set up cameras in the house. He didn't catch me cheating in person but did see where I was hiding my diary. He searched until he found my old diaries in the attic. He read them and unearthed evidence of a deception so staggering that it took his breath away. He is proud of the success of his plan to avoid sleeping with me since then. He is also proud of the acting job he pulled off to avoid me getting suspicious. He's had an apartment in town for months now and has been staying there many of the times he said he was travelling. He shares it with his new girlfriend.

He avoided confronting me for several reasons. One was to slowly move the bulk of our money offshore. The second was to fuck up my life as much as I've fucked up his. The third reason is a special gift I haven't discovered yet. He hopes I will appreciate it. He resisted the temptation to get me fired, to reduce the alimony any court might order.

He sincerely hopes I will have a shitty life and he never has to see me ever again.

I screamed when I finished reading the entry. It was typed, not handwritten, and not by me. I couldn't believe how breathtakingly arrogant I'd been. I also knew the chances of Dave forgiving me were zero squared.

I cried for two days solid, then slowly planned how I could minimise the damage to the rest of my life. With the baby, I had three options. I could become a single mum, I could put it up for adoption, or I could finally tell its probable father and have an instant new family. That would avoid any security and money problems. Guess which one stupid here picked? I hadn't responded to any of John's attempts to contact me since this all blew up and hadn't heard from him in a week.

I rang him as he was driving somewhere. I proposed several dates to get together, so I could hit him with my proposal in person. None of my dates in the next two weeks suited him. So, I decided to put my proposal to him over the phone. I told him I was pregnant with his child and fate had conspired to prevent me aborting it. I stretched the truth and told him I'd dumped Dave so I could marry him. He was silent for a moment and I really thought he was taking my proposal seriously.

Then he started laughing. Told me that he was already married and if I thought he would drop her to marry a slut like me, I was crazy. He told me any affection he showed me was because he liked his lovers to give him the 'girlfriend experience'.

When I threatened to hunt him down and sue him for child support, he laughed even louder. Wishing me luck tracing him through his false name, business name, and untraceable credit cards. For me it was absolutely humiliating.

I was trying to think of a face-saving comeback as he laughed loudly. Suddenly, I heard a loud, "Fuck," from the phone, followed by the distinctive sounds of a car crash. I could hear various voices saying things until two people showed up who were obviously paramedics and cleared everyone else out. I heard them say, "We'll need the firies here to cut him out. Those legs are gone for sure." Maybe there is a god after all.

I kept an eye on all the state newspapers until I saw the article I was looking for. His real name was David and he had a wife but no kids. He was tipped to live.

So here I am, alone, pregnant, ashamed, and humiliated. Goodbye.

EPILOGUE

April 20^th 2015

Dear Diary. This is the first time I've been game to even touch this diary for a long time. As you can gather, I didn't top myself. I never did raise the courage. Why is it the coward's way out if you need courage to do it?

Well, I had a baby boy. They let me see him briefly before he was taken away to his waiting parents. I remember thinking that I was glad the pregnancy was over, it made me real scatterbrained. As I'd undergone an emergency caesarean, I had to stay in the hospital six days. I got a chest infection as well and it killed me to cough. The ultimate irony was that the baby was over two weeks late. Dave would never have noticed.

Work had given me two weeks off after the delivery. I needed the whole lot to recover. Yesterday, a government doctor rang me and asked me to go to his office urgently. I was intrigued, so I went there immediately. In his office, he told me that the new parents of my baby took the precaution of doing thorough blood tests on him. At this point, the doctor swung his computer screen around so I could see it. The screen was headed 'Bacterium treponema pallidum africano'. That sounded exotic. He went on to say that the baby tested positive to this bacterial infection, that was rare in this country. The good news was that as they'd caught it early, he was easily curable. I remember thinking that this was interesting, but what did it have to do with me? I'd thought that after the pregnancy was over, my brain would have gone back to normal but it hadn't happened yet.

I was on the ball enough to pick up that when I leaned toward the screen to read it, the doctor leaned away. He went on to explain that the baby could only have picked up the bacterial infection from me and asked me if I'd been diagnosed with it as the symptoms were very distinctive. I, of course, said no. It was then he told me that the infection was more commonly known as African Syphilis, a rarer and more virulent form of common Syphilis. They were bemused how it got into this country as it was incredibly rare.

I reacted like I'd been slapped. Syphilis was a well-known whore's disease. My concentration drifted as the doctor listed the symptoms and stages. Open sores at the site of infection that were sometimes painful, sometimes not; often inside the vagina or anus. The sores disappearing as the disease morphed from the primary to the secondary phase. The change in symptoms to a discomfortless rash on the hands and feet, hair loss, and flu-like symptoms. My brain wasn't that fried, that I couldn't remember the weeks of discomfort in my ass and the blood when John had fucked me once. Blood that had fooled me into thinking I was having a light period. I remembered John complaining of sores in his nether regions. I remembered the rash, the hair loss, and the flu. I kicked myself for not going back for the tests my doctor had recommended. With everything else going on, I'd plum forgotten.

It was bloody embarrassing to explain how I'd picked it up. The doctor probed me on my sexual history and because the disease is so predictable, pinpointed that bloody threesome as the time I'd probably picked it up. When I explained, very reluctantly, how two men had both vaginal and anal sex with me unprotected, but one of them showed symptoms after me, the doctor identified Simon as the probable source. I could see the disapproval in his eyes when I explained that he may have been called Simon but I had no clue of a surname or where he lived, nor even proof that Simon was his real name.