The Price of Seduction By Dryad (Rom, oral, cheat, trag)
God, he felt good she thought. Her body lay on top of his, swaying with
the force of his thrusts, relishing the emotion poured into it. She felt
his hands caress her sides, her back, her thighs. She leaned forward, her
breasts brushing his chest. They kissed wildly, passionately, as people
who know they will not have a second chance. She loved him intensely,
innately knowing the kindred spirit that he was. They felt each other's
thoughts, feelings. Words were unnecessary. They rolled around on her
bed, until he was looking down at her intently, his eyes glazed with
passion, his breathing quickened. She whispered I love you between her
heated moans and wild screeches.
Her tears flowed as they both came.
It wasn't like her. No one would believe it if you'd told them. If
there was one thing that she believed in, it was integrity. You keep your
promises, or don't make them. Marriage is a promise, you don't break it
and it's forever. You do your best not to lie; don't cheat, steal, or
break the rules. To look at her, you'd see the perfect Donna Reid.
But inside, she seethed. Yes, her husband loved her…in his own way. He
never let the walls down, always maintained that safe distance; never
entirely trusted her. Even after 5 years and a child. People who love
each other don't try to knock each other down, but raise them up. The
years of putdowns were wearing out her ideals, even though she still
struggled to keep them.
Then, she met Him.
It was summer. She walked to a friend's house one balmy evening to play
some cards when they'd been introduced. The attraction was there
immediately, though they both tiptoed around it. Her friend never liked
her husband; she wouldn't put it past her to try to set her up. When cards
became blasé, they made plans to go out. They spent the evening walking
around town, comparing notes, talking about everything. It was after dark
when they arrived at the park's playground. You could hear the crickets
singing over the passing cars, and the fireflies fluttered like fallen
stars around the children's toys. Her friend raced for the swings, and she
was close behind. It felt good to laugh like a child. She jumped on the
swing, and felt him push her.
It was like a jolt of lightening. Nothing else could describe it. The
simple touch of his hand on her back, and she shivered. She took a deep
breath, and she knew she would never forget the smell of dew-laden air with
the green smell of summer. She blamed the shiver on the damp night, as he
noticed it (noticed everything about her comfort), insisting afterward that
she wear his jacket.
But she was Donna Reid. She made no pretenses about her marriage. They
all knew she was married, and not always happy about it. But she didn't
touch him, though her body was screaming out for her to do so; to snake
against his body, wrap her arms around his neck. To press up against him
and feel the heat she knew his body would generate if she did such a thing.
To practice the wiles that lay dormant due to her subdued relationship.
She wanted to watch him shiver and quake and have him at her mercy. But,
while her mind went wild, her body stayed put. She sat in the swing,
chatting with her friends, no one really having any knowledge of her inner
turmoil.
Her friend knew it, of course, and kept pushing her in his direction.
He's so much better for you, she'd say. You have so much in common. And
while everything she said was true, she knew what she shared with her
husband really was more important. Even if there were days, and perhaps
even weeks where she couldn't stand his attitude, they had a life together,
had a together. So what if he couldn't be her rock? That is what
friends are for, right?
Perhaps against her better judgment, they stayed in contact. She felt
it was safe, as he lived so far away. But then, her friend decided to
move. And friends being friends, he came up to help. She watched him
circumspectly, so dreadfully careful to not give the wrong impression. She
found herself falling in love, but unable or unwilling to change her
situation.
It was a sad time, as her friend was moving out of state. Her husband
didn't care, as he was out on yet another road trip. She helped wrap up
breakables, putting them in boxes, labeling them with wide black markers.
There really wasn't much, but they'd needed help driving, and unloading.
Her friend, worse than fate herself, assigned her to the vehicle he was to
drive, since to go home, he would have to drive back that direction anyway.
The tension was there. Stiff, restrained conversation. They had
discussed the attraction many times in their correspondence. They
acknowledged it, studied it. But one of the things she found herself
loving about him was his own moral code. He didn't want her to cheat any
more than she wanted to. But that was discussed in distance. He was here,
now, and they were alone. Part of her hated it; hated to feel so foreign
to someone who knew her like he knew his own heart.
The other part is what took over, though. The part that gloried in the
tension, knowing what it stood for, knowing what the tension really proved.
He wanted her as surely as she wanted him. Donna Reid was a cardboard
person, with no real depth of character. And she didn't want to be that
person anymore -- she was unsure if she ever truly existed, or if it was
just the ideal her husband put into her mind early on.
The battle took her through the trip there. Her friend looked sad that
they had reached their destination on time. They unloaded, helped with set
up, made sure at least the bed was set up. They gave each other hugs,
promising to stay in touch, and visit soon. Then they both got back in the
car and left for home.
She watched his hands on the wheel, his long fingers capable of such
gentleness, yet such strength. She knew he could sense her watching him.
He glanced over as if to ask why, but she never answered the look.
Finally, she laid her head in his lap. She didn't ask, he didn't mind.
She snoozed a bit, (it was a long drive). When she woke, she noticed much
more. Her breathing still regular, his hand was on her side, caressing her
arm, her waist, her hip. Stolen touches, forbidden touches- touches that
stirred her soul. She wanted more of him. She didn't care anymore. She
moved slightly, attempting to turn. His hand jerked back onto the wheel,
his knuckles white from the strain. She smiled as she rolled slightly, her
face toward him now as she nuzzled him. She smiled at the low moan and the
sudden hardness beneath his jeans.
She looked up at him, watched him stare doggedly at the road ahead. She
let him pretend that she was still sleeping, but they both knew she wasn't.
The hand that had been under her head while she slept moved toward his
belt. He shifted his body, sliding forward a bit in his seat.
Then she had it. His cock through his jeans crushed her will; his cock
out of his jeans molded her will to its own. She nuzzled it with her nose,
flicking the ridge of its head with her tongue. She felt his thigh tense
beneath her.
"Are you sure about this?" he whispered raggedly.
Instead of answering, she took his head into her mouth, swirling her
tongue around it, sliding her mouth lower. She poured her attention onto
his cock, frantically moving her mouth over him. She reached low, grasping
his balls, squeezing them gently. One of his hands came gently down to her
hair, stroking it so tenderly. She was desperate for this moment,
desperate for connection, to become something bigger than she was alone.
For even married, she was alone; her husband made sure of that. The moment
drew out, nearly close to infinity. She threw her desperation into her
attention, ferociously, realizing as she did, she was truly in love
with this and the desperation grew, for she knew she could never leave
her husband.
He came moaning her name, his hand white knuckled on the wheel,
squeezing a fistful of hair and shoulder. She kept him in her mouth,
continuing to suck until he was clean. She smiled warmly, lovingly at him
and set his lap to rights.
A few moments later, he pulled into a rest area.
"Why did we stop?" she asked.
"Because I couldn't drive and do this."
This was the most gentle, tender kiss. He leaned into her, as she did
unto him. His fingers stroked her cheeks, as his lips brushed hers,
teasingly gentle, as though afraid. Her arms stole up around his neck.
She let her fingers run through his hair, softly sighing into the kiss. It
was all the encouragement he needed. The kiss continued on, warmer,
heating her entire body, his tongue, soft and searching in her mouth, as
though it was the entrance to her soul. And in some ways, it was. If she
felt desperation before, it was nothing compared to know that he wanted her
the same way. They nuzzled and nipped at each other's lips and tongues,
smiling into the kiss. When the time started again, they each took a deep
breath and looked at the other with new eyes. They knew they had just
crossed some line, a line both of them had no idea how to deal with.
She knew. She knew she'd always be with her husband. This once, this
time, she would take something she desperately needed…something only for
her. Part of her wanted to cry for her lost ideals, part of her wanted to
sing for joy at the freedom, at the joy of finally finding what she had
always been looking for, her other half…even if it was too late.
He watched her for those moments. As easily as if she had told him, he
knew. But, like her, he was torn. He knew she deserved better, deserved
him. Knew her ideals would never let her leave and break the promise she
made. He also knew as surely as he breathed that even if they were never
together again, neither would they ever be apart. He nodded almost
imperceptibly, silently taking what she silently offered, and leaned in for
another kiss. Slowly they separated, buckled back in as he took her home.
It was late when they reached her house. Without a word, he followed
her as she led him to her bedroom. The kissing started again , kisses that
made time slow down. Slowly she undressed, as his lips worshipped each
inch of flesh as it was revealed. He lovingly stroked her curves,
seemingly memorizing the feel of her skin. Then, she repaid the favor, her
fingers following her mouth along his lanky body. She relished the feel of
his fevered skin, the feel of the humidity of the night like silk against
it. He lifted her into his arms, holding her as though she were the most
precious thing he could ever hope to touch. Then laid her softly onto the
bed.
"Now, its my turn." He whispered.
He kneeled on the floor, and licked a line up her calf, making her
shiver. His tongue teased the back of her knee, then her inner thigh. He
blew lightly on her center, until her hips bucked up, begging for the
pressure of his tongue, his finger, anything. He knew, and flicked at her
with the tip of his tongue. She moaned low and hard. Her body shivering,
his arms came up to support her, his tongue running circles around her clit
until she thought she'd scream. Her body tensed, about to explode, she
cried out to him.
"I don't want to come without you inside me." She panted.
His answer was a moan against her clit as he shifted upright. The
vibration of the moan had her on the edge, and the moment his head entered
her body, the dam broke and she began screaming his name.
He plunged into her, moaning himself at the strength of her orgasm
around him. He continued to make love with her slowly, out her
pleasure, until her body was once again slack and relaxed before he picked
up the tempo. Without any words she flipped him on his back. They both
knew they only had tonight, and weren't going to ruin it by saying the
words. But she wanted him every way imaginable. She slid down over him,
her hands resting on his chest. God, he felt good, she thought. Her body
on top of his, swaying with the force of his thrusts, relishing the emotion
poured into it…
He wiped the tears away, held her gently, as they fell asleep.
It was still dark out when he woke her.
"I need to leave." He looked at her like a lost soul.
"I know."
"I won't make it harder for you by asking you to come with me. You know
I'd take you and your son in a second."
The fact that he included her son made her tears well.
"We still have time…he won't be home for another day."
He looked at her like a wounded animal. "I need to leave now, or I
won't leave at all. I HAVE to go."
She nodded mutely, knowing he was right, hating herself right now for
letting him go, pulling herself back from screaming to him to stay, and
damn the consequences. She helped him collect his clothes, touching him
gently. She led him to the door.
"I won't see you again, will I?" She already knew.
"No," he whispered. He gave her a soft kiss, then walked away.
She got an email a few days later:
"I will always be yours. The deepest corners of my heart, where secrets
are even from me, will always find your name carved on their walls.
Your mark is on my soul, and the mark will never disappear."
Copyright Dryad 2002 (gbbjg@yahoo.com) http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad
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