The Visitor

I guess that was the drawback.

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I woke up fairly certain I'd had a nightmare of a tsunami, but unlike the million times before, I couldn't remember any of the details. My heart was pounding and my skin was painted in the lightest sheen of sweat.

Jack's hands were reaching for me. He nuzzled his face into my hair and sighed. "Bad dream?"

Normally I felt comforted by his body. This morning I just wanted to hide.

Jack's hand swept to my pussy. He pushed underneath my panties and began to finger me. A light moan escaped from my throat.

Then I remembered the visitor.

"Wait," I panted. "He'll hear."

"Shhh. Not if we're really, really, quiet. Can you be quiet for me?"

I was torn. Jack and I hadn't had sex in forever, but I was unsure.

Jack didn't wait for a response. He sat up gingerly to pull my nightie down. Then he was pressing himself against me.

He was hard and pushing against my pussy. "You want me?"

"Yes." I kissed him.

He separated my legs and placed his hands on my ass. He used his grip to push my hips up. "I'm going to fuck you. Hard. I need it."

I stroked Jack's back and looked into his brown eyes. "Please. I need it, too."

Jack sank into me, pushing deep. He didn't pause for a second. He kept thrusting until we were both moaning and holding onto each other for dear life.

"You going to cum?" he asked. I could tell by the intensity of his tone that he was.

"Yesss."

Jack pumped harder into me until I felt him release. He flooded my pussy and groaned into my hair. His fingers stroked my breast.

When he finally came back together, he realized I hadn't cum yet. "I'm going to make you cum on my fingers," he announced.

He kissed me, pulling himself out slowly. He sucked on my tongue as he pushed a finger inside.

"Guys?" we heard.

We both froze.

"Do you mind if I borrow your car to go get some coffee?"

Jack jumped from the bed. "No, dude. I'll drive you. Just give me a sec!"

"No rush, man."

My husband ran around the room, throwing clothes on and completely ignoring me.

"Jack. He can borrow the car."

He looked at me and his expression softened. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you later."

And then he was gone, off laughing with his friend.

I pulled the sheets over me, feeling cold and thinking of tsunamis.

______________________________________________________________________________

Much of the rest of the week went like this. Very little of consequence happened. Jack and Tom would pop in and out of the house, off doing God knows what. I'd often be in bed by the time they'd get back. Then I'd go to work and Jack and Tom would continue their bizarre activities (Jack had taken the week off to enjoy his time with his friend).

Then the following Saturday, a week since his arrival, Jack had a work emergency at the vet. He said he'd been back that night.

Which left me alone to entertain Tom.

I asked him if he wanted to go to the movies, go ice-skating, go to a bar. I was turned down.

"We can just hang out here. It's fine."

I cooked us pasta, constantly aware of his eyes on me. I told myself it was my imagination that he was looking at my body. When I turned around, Tom's eyes were on his phone.

I sat at the table with him when everything was set. He poured the wine.

Then the silence descended.

It was truly bizarre. I didn't know anything about him, and normally I was good in social situations. I could come up with questions, carry a conversation. But I just wanted to push away from Tom, cover myself so he could no longer see me, and pretend he didn't exist.

So far, Tom had allowed me my distance. When I caught him gazing at me from across the table, I knew that he was done.

"Why don't you like me?"

It was a simple enough question to start with, and quite predictable considering my behavior. Yet that was probably the one question I didn't have a good answer to.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Jack may buy it, but I don't."

"Hey. I am not playing dumb with you. I don't dislike you."

Tom leaned back in his chair. Those gray eyes danced down my body. "Yes. I think you do. I have a few reasons why."

"I don't want to hear." I stood up and rubbed my hands down my sides. "Please stop."

"You can't avoid me forever."

"We both know you're probably going to slink off and disappear again, so yeah. I can."

He sipped his wine, studying me. "Sit down."

"No. Not if you're going to be inappropriate."

"Aren't you bored?"

I tilted my head. "Excuse me?"

"And aren't you tired of avoiding me?"

"I haven't—-"

"Because I definitely think you're bored. And I'm fairly certain you're avoiding me. This whole week I've tried to imagine how tiring that must be." He looked away from me and down at his dinner. "You're bored. So sit down. I promise things will become infinitely more interesting."

Have you ever touched a plate, or a pot, or another surface that has just held a great amount of heat? You remember that second you allowed your fingers to hover over the object, knowing it very well could still be boiling hot and you could be burned? But you just had to touch it.

I sat. Tom ate, pretending as if he hadn't said any of it.

So I started. "What am I bored by?"

"Definitely your marriage, that's one thing."

"You have no right—none—to comment on my marriage."

Tom just shrugged which was utterly maddening. "You also want to know more about me."

"Really? Interesting."

"And you want to know more about my relationship with your husband. I'm sure that's been on your mind."

"Welllll," I said with sarcasm. "Are you psychic or something?"

He finished his glass of wine and poured another. Then he nudged my glass closer to me. I obeyed the silent command and drank.

"No, not psychic. You're just incredibly easy to read."

"I'm not so sure—"

"Except when it comes to Jack." Tom's eyes ran over my body again, and this time I felt a curious mixture of discomfort and arousal. I blushed and his eyes caught it. "He can't read you at all. Sometimes I'm not sure you're the same woman he describes."

"I know exactly what you mean."

Tom sighed and finally looked away from me. My breathing was shallow. "He was always like that. I'm not surprised."

"I don't feel comfortable discussing my husband with you."

"You will."

A short laugh burst from my chest. "Um, doubtful."

Suddenly he took hold of my arm. It was a tight grip at first. I intended to smack him, really I did, but then I caught the look in his eyes. His hold loosened until it became a caress. "You will."

Jack walked into the house, slamming the door behind him. "Guys?"

Tom quickly took his hand away.

My husband walked into the kitchen and gave his friend a big grin. "Hey, did Kelly entertain you?"

The man across from me looked at me. "Yes, she entertained me."

"Great. So I was thinking that..."

But I couldn't hear the rest of Jack's words. I was stuck staring back at Tom, wondering what the fuck was happening. My nipples were hard and I was getting wet. I crossed my legs and tried not to acknowledge how good that felt.

Why?

Was it because someone was showing me some interest for once? Was it Tom, himself? Was there something about him?

Or, like he'd said— was I just bored?

______________________________________________________________________________

Tom and I were left alone together a few days later. Jack had to go to work. I told myself it wasn't so bad seeing as he'd rented a place and would be living on his own in a little while. I dreaded having dinner with him again, so I proposed going to a restaurant. I thought maybe having people around us would serve as a buffer between the inescapable chemistry that had developed between us.

It didn't.

Tom smiled at me throughout dinner, telling me stories about Jack in the old days. He ordered us drinks and I found myself relaxing. This wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd realized he was being weird the other night and decided to act as if it never happened.

Then everything changed.

"Did Jack ever tell you about a girl named Vanessa?"

I finished my glass of wine. "An ex-girlfriend, I think. Nothing serious."

He appeared to grow agitated. He signaled our waiter over for another round and seemed to ponder something.

"She was my girlfriend. Long-term girlfriend," he murmured after a few minutes.

"Oh," I said, thinking I'd remembered incorrectly.

"We broke up right before Jack and I grew apart."

Unease grew in my stomach. "Really."

"Really." He drank from his newly poured wine. Almost the entire glass. I didn't want to hear whatever he had to tell me.

Then he stared at me. He was furious and I didn't know why. This whole night had gone off the rails and I was still unfortunately on the ride.

He looked me over. "You have no idea, do you? None. Of course he didn't tell you, but didn't you wonder?"

"What did he do?" I asked again. I felt sick. I knew I didn't really want to know the answer, but I had to know. I had to.

I knew Tom was deliberating whether or not to tell me, weighing his choices. "I really thought you knew this whole time. I mean, a few times I thought, nah, he wouldn't tell her. But then I'd become convinced all over again."

"Tom... I'm not feeling so good."

The room spun. I'd had too much wine and all of my feelings and sensations were garbled up. I wanted to throw up.

"So you asked what he did, and I'll tell you. Unlike Jack, I'm straightforward." He moved closer to me. "He fucked her. He fucked my girlfriend and he bragged about it to anyone who would listen. And when I confronted him about it, he said she was a whore who came on to him."

The music the restaurant played seemed louder. The laughter of a woman at a table next to us sounded crystal clear. I heard Tom's breathing. Yet everything stopped.

"Why?" was all I could manage to ask.

"Because that was cool. That was what was accepted." Tom peered down at this hands. "Because he could."

"Your girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "I don't really know why she gave in. Jack was sort of a big deal back then." His eyes met mine in the darkened light. "I loved her. I still do."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. I placed my hand against my chest. Tom watched the gesture.

"I shouldn't have told you. That was in the past."

Was it really? Hadn't he said he still loved her? That didn't feel like the past to me.

"Then why did you tell me?"

He reached out. Hesitated. Then pressed his hand against the side of my face. "I don't know. I don't know. I just know I wanted to tell you."

"People change," I whispered.

Tom tilted his head and caressed my cheek. "Do they?"

"Yes."

"He wanted to fuck a girl the other night, you know." He licked his lips. "I stopped him."

"Stop. You're lying to me." But I said these words with zero emotion. I was in shock. I felt like a puppy who'd gone too long without a good pet.

We sat in silence until Tom got the check and walked us out. We didn't have much to say to one another, and I found that oddly satisfying. Jack and I talked and talked and talked until I wasn't even sure what the topic was anymore. Sometimes I wondered if we talked to fill the space between us.

There was a little alleyway next to the restaurant. Tom looked around and pushed me inside. He took hold of my hip. I didn't, couldn't, stop him.

"What are you doing?" He didn't answer. He just looked at me. "You can't use me to avenge something he did to you back in college."

Tom was amused. "I'm not using you."

I pushed his hand away. I was drunk and I didn't know what to believe anymore. "You're coming on to me, and I'm his wife!"

"I think it's hot to tempt the forbidden." He grabbed hold of my body again, and this time I did not fight. "To see how far a person would go. Plus there's just something about you."

"I'm not fucking you," I whispered. I sounded afraid, even to my own ears.

He ran his fingers along my side. Goosebumps rose from my flesh and I reflexively lifted my hips towards his. He breathed out against my neck.

"This was meant to be from the first moment we laid eyes on each other. Don't you know that?"

He reached under my shirt and palmed my breast. And I didn't do a thing about it.

I couldn't understand it. I barely knew Tom. Something about him set me on edge, and I didn't feel like he could be trusted. I shouldn't be letting him touch me this way. I was a good girl, and I was married to a man I loved. A man I trusted.

I thought back to what Tom had told me and wondered why I believed it. If I believed it, I would have to consider Jack a stranger.

"Do you know what I want to do to you?" Tom's husky whisper drew me from my frightening thoughts. I was reminded of how turned on I was, how the liquor I drank warmed me from inside and I just wanted to be free and loved.

"Tell me," I pleaded.

Tom kissed my throat. Then he sucked my skin. His fingers clenched my hips.

"Tom, please. I can't."

"You can," he whispered against my wet flesh.

And I could, couldn't I? What was stopping me?

Jack was always distracted. Even before Tom came, we'd been having problems. We struggled to connect. There were times he felt more like a friend than a husband.

This could just be a fling. People have flings all the time. And if his story was true, and it sounded true, Tom was hurting.

It's amazing the things your mind can convince you of when you've had a few drinks. Or when you've been lonely for far too long.

We heard people laughing as they passed the alleyway. We both froze.

"Not here," he said.

We rushed back to the house. Once inside, we ripped each other's clothes off. I couldn't recall being this turned on in ages, and it felt good. As a matter of fact, it felt like the complete opposite of boring. The thought made me tremendously joyous in a fucked up sort of way; when was the last time Jack had made me feel this good?

I had been bored. I'd been so incredibly bored, and I hadn't had an opportunity to change that until now.

I stopped thinking about Jack. I just wanted to kiss Tom. I wanted to feel his body against mine. I wanted to take him inside me.

His eyes danced across my body, taking in the heavy breasts with hardened nipples, the quivering stomach, the bare pussy. He zoned in on my face and came over to kiss me.

I felt for his cock and slowly jacked him off. He grew fully hard. Tom's kisses became insistent then. He was in a rush, and I wasn't sure if I felt like slowing him down. I hadn't cum because of a man's touch in so, so long. A needy sound purred from my throat and I held him closer to my body.

He leaned over to grab his phone and check the time. "We're good," he panted.

Then he reached for me and bent me over the couch in one rapid, smooth movement. I felt his cock nudging against my cheeks. He let his cock play against the soft flesh, using his hands to squeeze his cock between them.

Tom let just the tip of his cock invade my pussy. I moaned and bit down on my fist. One of his hands held my hip; the other skimmed up my body and grabbed a breast.

"I've wanted to fuck you like this since I first saw you," he confessed.

Then he shoved forward with no warning. It was a lot to take at first and I groaned. "Oh my God. Tom."

"You're so wet," he hissed. "You have a sloppy cunt for me."

He fucked me hard, not taking a break. His hand fell from my breast and down to my creamy clit. He circled it gently, while his cock pumped in and out of my pussy with no mercy.

"I'm going to make you cum on my cock."

"Tom."

He leaned over so that his chest was against my back. His skin was boiling hot. I could feel his hard nipples sliding against my skin. "Doesn't this feel good?"

"Yes."

"Don't you want this?"

"I do," I nearly cried.

"It's good to be bad, isn't it?"

I'd always strived so hard to be good. I thought cheating women were disgusting. I couldn't understand them. Yet here I was in my living room, getting fucked by a stranger. I could smell Jack as another man fucked me. That was messed up on so many levels, but I couldn't care about that. I could only focus on the sensations as Tom and I lost ourselves in each other.

"It is," I whispered.

"I can't hear you." He pulled my hair so that my head was lifted. "Say it again."

"It feels good to be bad."

"You're a slut, do you know that?"

I could hear the messy sounds of him pounding my pussy. My wetness dripped down my thighs. His heavy balls pushed against me and I knew it wouldn't be long until we both came.

"A fucking slut. Cheating on your husband."

"Oh my God." My pussy began clenching. "I'm going to cum."

"Scream my name."

"Tom. Please."

Tom aggressively fingered my clit while pushing harder and faster inside me. It hurt, but it felt so, so good. Our sweaty bodies were slick against one another. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, and every cell of my body was pulsating. My pussy tightened and I knew I was going to cum.

And then so did he. His cum filled my pussy and the both of us cried out. He fell against me, grasping one of my fisted hands.

"Fuuuuuuuck," he groaned. Tom's cum slipped out of me and down my legs. My pussy trembled around him. Both of our orgasms egged each other on. It went on for an eternity.

Then he slipped out of me. I felt cold, even as my body spasmed.

I heard him gathering things together, presumably our clothes.

"How does it feel?" I heard him ask.

I was going to tell him it felt like a tsunami. I felt a rush of things, and I wasn't sure if they were good, but fuck. I came. A man touched me and made me feel special and wanted. I knew there would be a fallout, but I wouldn't allow myself to think about that yet.

I turned around, still full of him and still shaking, and realized that question wasn't meant for me.

How does it feel?

Jack stood there frozen. I didn't know how long he'd been there at the time. Later, I would find out he'd been there for almost all of it.

Tom laughed but there was no humor in it, and then I realized why I never liked him. He was a ghost. He was never there with good intentions. He was there to break us. He'd lied to me. He'd pointed out the lack in my life and exploited it. Now he could leave with no repercussions.

Tom gathered his things. Jack stared at me without really seeing me. His eyes were wide and glazed over. Just imagine for a moment the scene he'd witnessed. I can't imagine, and don't like thinking about it.

I felt a stroke on my trembling back. "Sorry about that, Kelly. Hate that you had to get in the middle. I just needed revenge. I needed it for years. I never knew how I could go about it until one day... Thank you. You helped me get it."

Tom kissed my cheek. I nearly threw up. Then he said something low to Jack on his way out before slamming the door. He was gone almost as quickly as he'd come.

He wasn't even supposed to come.

Jack and I didn't move. We didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

We were over. There was no way we could rebuild things. I'd been used; Jack had been deceived. Tom had gotten exactly what he wanted, and had left it in such a way that neither of us could undo it. We played into his game exactly the way he intended.

It was as if my life flashed before my eyes, as clichéd as it sounds. I remembered Jack and I dating, the day we married, when we bought the house. I remembered all the laughs we had. I had become bored, yes. Would it have killed me to try to talk to him?