upright as
I heard a noise. Had it come from the kitchen? Had Den returned to
fuck me? Dragging my weak body up, I stood on my quivering legs and
tugged my skirt down. As a rustling sound drifted into the room
from the hall, I froze. Still dazed from my incredible orgasm, I
listened to the deafening silence. Was my pained mind playing
tricks on me?
"I'm imagining
things," I murmured, tentatively walking to the door and peering
into the hall. Creeping into the kitchen, I noticed that the back
door was wide open. I hadn't imagined hearing Den slam it shut. The
catch couldn't have caught properly, I surmised, conveniently,
obliquely.
Closing and
locking the door, I took a deep breath, again wondering at my lewd
behaviour, my wanton act of infidelity. What was done was done, I
reflected, my trembling hand grabbing the kettle. I didn't want
coffee but it was something to do, a distraction for my torrid
thoughts. I didn't know what I wanted. A shower to wash away the
guilt? Fresh clothes to quell the odour of adulterous sex?
"Hi, Jane!"
Mat was smiling as he appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Mat!" I
cried, more out of fright than fear of him discovering what I'd
done. "Christ, you made me jump!"
"Sorry, I
didn't mean to sneak up on you. Are you OK? You look
awfully..."
"Why shouldn't
I be OK?" I snapped, my guilt rising as I felt my vaginal juices
coursing down my inner thighs like rivers of cream.
"You look
flushed."
"I've been
exercising," I replied stupidly, my chest tightening with anxiety
as I imagined him catching me kneeling over Den's face, crying out
in orgasm.
"I rang last
night, but there was no reply."
"I went to bed
early."
"I rang at
six, at seven, at..."
"In that case,
the phone must have been out of order. How was your trip?"
As he told me
about his journey, the hotel, the meeting, I wondered what telltale
signs I'd left in the lounge. Had Den taken his leather belt? Was
the carpet stained? Were my panties still on the floor? Mat's words
drifted past me, floating to the ceiling as I sidled from the room.
I couldn't listen to Mat - my only concern was for Den, my wet
panties, evidence of the thrashing, the mouth fucking, the pussy
eating. In the lounge, I grabbed my forlorn panties and looked
about me. The armchair was in the centre of the room, the cushion
wet with my tears.
"Are you sure
you're OK?" Mat persisted as he joined me. "You look terribly
guilty."
"Guilty?" I
echoed, pushing the chair back and adjusting the cushion. "Why
should I look guilty?"
"I don't know,
you tell me."
"I'm not
guilty of anything, don't be so silly!" I trilled, my stinging
buttocks cruelly reminding me of the thrashing.
"What are you
doing with your knickers?"
"I... I'm
about to do the washing," I smiled, suddenly recalling the
photograph Den had dropped through the letterbox.
Where had I
left the incriminating evidence? I wondered fearfully. On the hall
table? In the lounge? Trying not to panic, my eyes embraced the
room, unable to remember. Mat was watching me, suspicion in his
eyes as he surveyed my dishevelled hair. But he couldn't have known
what I'd done. Den had left by the back door, and I'd been in the
kitchen when Mat had arrived. No way could he know of my treachery.
Unless the walls had told him.
"Your hair's a
right mess!" he laughed. "What on earth have you been up to?"
"I told you,
I've been exercising."
"You look as
if you've just finished a marathon."
"I feel as if
I've just finished a marathon! Are you going to work or..."
"Yes, I have
to go in for the rest of the day. There are reports to complete and
a mountain of paperwork to wade through. By the way, I thought we
might invite Den round for a meal this evening."
I felt my
heart leap into my mouth. I couldn't sit at the table with Den and
Mat! I had to come up with an excuse, and quickly! As Mat helped
himself to a banana from the fruit bowel, my stomach sank. I
watched him eating the fruit, recalling my wanton masturbation
session,
I heard a noise. Had it come from the kitchen? Had Den returned to
fuck me? Dragging my weak body up, I stood on my quivering legs and
tugged my skirt down. As a rustling sound drifted into the room
from the hall, I froze. Still dazed from my incredible orgasm, I
listened to the deafening silence. Was my pained mind playing
tricks on me?
"I'm imagining
things," I murmured, tentatively walking to the door and peering
into the hall. Creeping into the kitchen, I noticed that the back
door was wide open. I hadn't imagined hearing Den slam it shut. The
catch couldn't have caught properly, I surmised, conveniently,
obliquely.
Closing and
locking the door, I took a deep breath, again wondering at my lewd
behaviour, my wanton act of infidelity. What was done was done, I
reflected, my trembling hand grabbing the kettle. I didn't want
coffee but it was something to do, a distraction for my torrid
thoughts. I didn't know what I wanted. A shower to wash away the
guilt? Fresh clothes to quell the odour of adulterous sex?
"Hi, Jane!"
Mat was smiling as he appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Mat!" I
cried, more out of fright than fear of him discovering what I'd
done. "Christ, you made me jump!"
"Sorry, I
didn't mean to sneak up on you. Are you OK? You look
awfully..."
"Why shouldn't
I be OK?" I snapped, my guilt rising as I felt my vaginal juices
coursing down my inner thighs like rivers of cream.
"You look
flushed."
"I've been
exercising," I replied stupidly, my chest tightening with anxiety
as I imagined him catching me kneeling over Den's face, crying out
in orgasm.
"I rang last
night, but there was no reply."
"I went to bed
early."
"I rang at
six, at seven, at..."
"In that case,
the phone must have been out of order. How was your trip?"
As he told me
about his journey, the hotel, the meeting, I wondered what telltale
signs I'd left in the lounge. Had Den taken his leather belt? Was
the carpet stained? Were my panties still on the floor? Mat's words
drifted past me, floating to the ceiling as I sidled from the room.
I couldn't listen to Mat - my only concern was for Den, my wet
panties, evidence of the thrashing, the mouth fucking, the pussy
eating. In the lounge, I grabbed my forlorn panties and looked
about me. The armchair was in the centre of the room, the cushion
wet with my tears.
"Are you sure
you're OK?" Mat persisted as he joined me. "You look terribly
guilty."
"Guilty?" I
echoed, pushing the chair back and adjusting the cushion. "Why
should I look guilty?"
"I don't know,
you tell me."
"I'm not
guilty of anything, don't be so silly!" I trilled, my stinging
buttocks cruelly reminding me of the thrashing.
"What are you
doing with your knickers?"
"I... I'm
about to do the washing," I smiled, suddenly recalling the
photograph Den had dropped through the letterbox.
Where had I
left the incriminating evidence? I wondered fearfully. On the hall
table? In the lounge? Trying not to panic, my eyes embraced the
room, unable to remember. Mat was watching me, suspicion in his
eyes as he surveyed my dishevelled hair. But he couldn't have known
what I'd done. Den had left by the back door, and I'd been in the
kitchen when Mat had arrived. No way could he know of my treachery.
Unless the walls had told him.
"Your hair's a
right mess!" he laughed. "What on earth have you been up to?"
"I told you,
I've been exercising."
"You look as
if you've just finished a marathon."
"I feel as if
I've just finished a marathon! Are you going to work or..."
"Yes, I have
to go in for the rest of the day. There are reports to complete and
a mountain of paperwork to wade through. By the way, I thought we
might invite Den round for a meal this evening."
I felt my
heart leap into my mouth. I couldn't sit at the table with Den and
Mat! I had to come up with an excuse, and quickly! As Mat helped
himself to a banana from the fruit bowel, my stomach sank. I
watched him eating the fruit, recalling my wanton masturbation
session,
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