This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if it
is, its not what they would do. (not that you are likely to know them
anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I don’t like to get in trouble.
If you are turned off by perversion, what are you doing at asstr? In
other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great! Read on!
Have fun! Let me know what you like!
Oh, and I work hard on my writing…so guess what? Its mine.
That’s right boys and girls…its copyrighted…so if you want it? Just ask-
we’ll talk.
Dryad
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The Price of Seduction (MF, 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 picture 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 family 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, sucking ferociously, realizing as she
did, she was truly in love with this man 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 now 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, drawing 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 hidden 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 ([email protected]) 2002