Awakened Passion
                    (M+F, wl, exhib, cheat)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

They were just friends, she thought. But in his time of need she
discovered they were much more than that.

OK, so even in my stories the husband may occasionally feel really
cheated. He wasn't getting totally left out, but he sure as hell
didn't like what he discovered.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hi, Tom, how's it going?"

"Oh, hi, Bev. OK, I guess."

"That bad, huh? Does this mean we can't have lunch together?"

"No, no, Bev, I'm sorry. I, I'd love to have lunch with you, if you
can put up with me. I'm just a bit down today."

"OK, I'll promise not to talk about anything depressing," I reassured
him, "see you at 11:30?"

"Right, see you then."

Well, I guess everybody has a right to be down once in a while. I've
worked with Tom for two years, and he always seems to have a smile and
a funny story. In fact we've really become good friends. Not in a
sexual kind of way, or anything, just more like very comfortable with
each other. The two of us usually eat lunch together in the cafeteria,
and the other girls occasionally tease me about him, but what I tell
them is honest to god true -- I can't remember any time when either of
us has even touched the other, let alone any of the garbage the girls
seem to be wondering about. We're both married, for christs sake.

I made up my mind to see if I could jolly him out of his mood this
noon, and to that end I started embroidering the story I was already
thinking of telling him anyway, about how my husband and I went to the
zoo, and Paul got into a strutting match with a chimp. Cute little
fellow, he was (the chimp, I mean.) I got the craziest notion that if
I was a foot shorter and on the other side of the bars it would be fun
to spend some time alone with him.

Tom did enjoy my story, and even helped me imagine some possible
embellishments to it. He decided there was probably a female chimp
hiding in the background and watching Paul, and that she was wishing
she could spend some time alone with him. So, OK, we do sometimes get
into these joking semi-sexual discussions, but I swear it doesn't mean
a thing. Well, anyway, the lunch hour went quickly, and we headed back
to our desks with Tom in a much better mood.

The next day we met at 11:30 for lunch as usual, and once again Tom
had his somber face on. There had to be something going on, and, hey,
what are friends for? Almost as soon as we sat down with our trays I
started probing gently.

"Tom, I've been thinking, and something hit me that really surprised
me. Please don't be too shocked, but I think you're my best friend."

"Yeah, Bev," he smiled a bit wanly, "I know what you mean. I sorta'
feel that way myself."

"I think it's really great the way we can talk about things," I
pressed on, "I can't believe some of the things we've gone into. Like
the time Paul and I had that big fight over money. You remember, we
were arguing about whether I could spend some of my salary without
telling him what I was spending it on. You really helped me see it
from a man's perspective."

"I think I know where you're going with this," Tom said, putting up
his hand, palm out, "and thanks for worrying about me, but I'm afraid
this is one I need to handle myself."

"Sure, Tom, of course," I smiled at him, "we're just friends, not a
couple. We're entitled to have all the secrets we want."

"Thanks, Bev, you're the greatest."

I really can't remember what we ended up talking about for the rest of
the lunch hour, maybe TV shows. We're both fans of "Lost". But I know
we did avoid any sensitive topic.

The next day he brought his long face to lunch again, and gave me a
look that said 'don't ask', so I didn't. Our conversation seemed a bit
forced, as we tried to steer clear of any pitfalls. That was
especially tough for me, because I didn't know where the pitfalls
were.

Well, actually, even though I didn't know, I was starting to get an
idea. I realized that he hadn't mentioned his wife once all week. We
usually talk a lot about our spouses, and laugh about their foibles,
and commiserate with each other, and try to suggest things to make our
marriages better.

I kept my mouth shut, though, until the next Monday noon. The poor guy
walked in looking like hell; haggard as if he hadn't been sleeping,
haunted as if he had a personal demon on his back. My heart went out
to him, and I had to say something.

"Look, Tom, I know I promised, but you really need to talk. Please,
please, clue me in. There must be something I can do to help."

"I'm not sure there's anything that anybody can do. It's Janet."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. So talk to me about it. It might help
just to get it out in the open."

"Well, it sure as hell hasn't helped to keep it to myself," he
exploded, "but I don't feel right talking to anyone else about it."

"I'm not just anyone else. I thought you admitted last week that I was
your best friend."

He sat silently thinking about it for a while, then finally looked up,
and there was a glimmer of hope in his sunken eyes.

"It's true, but we can't talk here. I don't think I can eat anything
anyway. Can we go for a walk?"

We dumped our barely touched plates of food, and headed outdoors.
There is a sidewalk all around our office complex that lots of people
use to get some gentle exercise at noon. While there were quite a few
people out, it wasn't really crowded, and we could stay far enough
away from others to have some privacy.

I had to drag it out of him, but Tom finally admitted that he had
discovered Janet had a lover. He had confronted her with it, and told
her he would forgive her if she would promise to stop the affair, but
she would have none of it. Worse, from Tom's perspective, she seemed
to want none of him. He had tried bringing flowers and gifts, and
being romantic, but nothing worked. Instead she just became more and
more angry with him. And then the yelling fights began. He didn't tell
me much about those, but I could guess.

We had walked completely around the block twice by the time he told me
this much, and we both decided we needed to get back to our work. As I
returned to my desk I found myself feeling a new and strange, but very
strong, tenderness toward him. And I wondered what the next day would
bring.

What it brought was another long walk and his admission that he felt
like giving up on the marriage. I pointed out that it wasn't his
fault; it was Janet who had created the problem. Why, I asked,
shouldn't he just kick her out of the house?

"I can't," he shook his head," the house was hers before we were
married. If we get a ... If we get a div ... orce, it will be hers
again."

"It's kind of hard to say that word, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I think I'm getting used to it. I guess I'm just going to
have to move out myself. Maybe this weekend ..."

But it didn't work out that way. Wednesday he showed up at the
cafeteria looking a lot more rested, and I complimented him on it.

He shook his head, "wait'll I tell you what happened."

It was like the old Tom. He spun the story out like a pro.

"I got home last night and pulled into the garage as usual. The only
thing I noticed was that Janet's car wasn't there. You can imagine my
thoughts, 'Yeah, the whore is off somewhere with her boyfriend again.
She's probably f...' Oh, sorry, Bev. I got carried away.

"Well, anyway, I got out of the car and walked over to the steps
leading up into the kitchen. I grabbed the knob and started to turn
it, but it wouldn't turn! It finally sank in that the door was locked.
We never lock that door.

"And about then I saw the note taped onto the door. The first thing it
said was, 'Don't bother looking for the key. I changed the lock.'
Well, I knew what that meant, and my brain started spinning at top
speed. I'd need clothes, and shaving gear, and what about all the
stuff I have in my desk, not to mention my computer.

"But the note went on. 'Your clothes are all laid out on the washer
and dryer.' The washer and dryer are in a little nook at the side of
the garage, and I looked over there. Sure enough, there were clothes
piled high on top of both of them. Sitting on the floor in front of
them was my computer. I kept reading. 'I packed most of your stuff in
the two suitcases you'll see there beside your computer. Take anything
you want that's in the garage. But take it now because I'm changing
the garage door opener tomorrow.'

"So I dumped the computer in the front seat, put the suitcases on the
floor in back, piled the rest of the back full of clothes, and filled
the trunk with tools and the like. Then I went and rented a room at
the Comfort Inn for five days. It feels very weird not having a
permanent address, but I gave my old one when I checked in."

"Oh, Tom, this must be really hard."

"Uh, ... I feel guilty admitting this, but no, it isn't. Mostly I just
feel relieved."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No, not really. Well, actually, you've already helped a lot. If we
hadn't spent the last two days talking through things I'm sure it
would have hit me a lot harder last night."

"You mean last night when you saw the note, or when you went to bed
alone in a strange place?"

Damn, I shouldn't have said that. Tom just looked down at his food for
a while without saying anything. Then he lifted his head and looked me
in the eye.

"Both," he said intensely.

Oh, my god, this is bad. This is wrong. I can't tear my eyes away from
his. My heart is beating fast, and my palms are sweating. I've got to
change the subject somehow.

"Money, ... what about money? Do you have a joint checking account? Or
credit cards with both your names on them?"

That broke the spell. "Yeah, I checked with the bank this morning. She
drained our joint account. But I got her name off my credit card
before she did too much damage there."

I couldn't resist. I reached out and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry,
Tom, things will get better."

"Thanks, Bev, I feel like they already are."

I found myself thinking about him on and off all afternoon. The worst
part was that I thought of him again after I went to bed. I had this
picture of him all alone in a sterile hotel room, and I couldn't seem
to get it out of my mind. As I lay there starting to get sleepy, I was
wondering how long it would take him to find a place to stay, and how
he would be able to rent one if he couldn't write a check.

Suddenly I was wide awake. He WOULDN'T be able to rent without a
check. And he wouldn't be able to write a check until after payday.
Maybe not until after two paydays, because his check was probably
deposited in the old account, and it would take time to straighten
that out. The poor guy was going to be stuck living in a hotel for
weeks and weeks. Why hadn't I thought of that while we were talking?
Tom probably had, but was embarrassed to admit it to me.

Just as suddenly, I thought of the answer. He could use our guest
room. I spent the next 20 minutes thinking about how I could broach
the subject with Paul, but now that I knew what to do for Tom I was
soon relaxing and falling asleep.

                                ****

I'm going to skip over the conversation Paul and I had in the morning.
It wasn't one of our better moments, but I did finally get him to
begrudgingly admit that Tom was in a sticky position, and could use
some help. He didn't quite go so far as to say yes, though.

I was confident that I could bring Paul around in another day, so I
made a tentative offer to Tom that noon. I expected him to jump at the
chance, but he, too, was very hesitant.

"I don't know, Bev, it isn't right. It's not like Paul and I are good
friends; he hasn't even met me! I mean, I know a lot about him,
because we talk about him, but do you talk to him a lot about me?"

"Well, uh, I guess not. I've mentioned you a few times, but I guess I
was afraid he'd get jealous if I talked about you too much. Not that
there's anything for him to be jealous of," I added quickly.

"That's what you think. If I was him, and I knew how much time we
spend together, I'd be jealous of me."

I laughed, "I'd be jealous of me? That's a good one. I think I'm a
little lost there."

"Yeah, I didn't say that very well. OK, you asked for it. Assume that
you and I are married, and ..."

BAM! Did that ever hit me in the pit of my stomach.

"... I find out that you have been eating lunch every day with a guy
at the office, and having long serious talks with him, and that he has
just left his wife. Now you come home and tell me that you want him to
move in with us for a while. Jealous? That's not the half of it. I'd
be apoplectic!"

"Well, for your information, I already talked to him about it, and he
wasn't apoplectic, and he didn't sound jealous. Maybe some guys aren't
as possessive as you are."

"Bev, my lo-, my friend, if you and I were married I would be very
possessive indeed. If he isn't, it must mean he doesn't appreciate
what he has."

DAMN! There was that feeling in the pit of my stomach again.

"But I'll tell you what," he went on. "If he really says it's OK with
him then I'll at least consider it. And before I snipe any more at
your idea, I have to say I am overwhelmed. It's much, much, more
generous than I could have dreamed of, even from you."

That night I really went all out for Paul. I brought tenderloin steaks
home, and grilled them just the way he likes. I quick "baked" potatoes
in the microwave and served them split with lots of butter and sour
cream, even a sprig of parsley. For dessert I produced scoops of his
favorite cherry vanilla ice cream. I guess I overdid it, because he
got suspicious.

"OK," he said, eyeing me warily, "this is very nice, but what's the
catch?"

"No catch," I lied, "and the best part is still to come."

After dinner I told him to go relax a bit in his easy chair and watch
TV, and I'd bring him his next surprise before long. I dumped the
dishes in the dishwasher and dashed up to our bedroom. I stripped out
of my clothes, treated myself to some perfumed body lotion, and
slipped on a very naughty negligee.

Back in the living room I knelt beside his chair and wrapped my arms
around him. Nuzzling up against his neck, I whispered in his ear, "I
love you, Paul. Do you love me?"

"Oh, god, yes," he groaned, quickly losing interest in the TV.

"Show me how much you love me."

We started kissing immediately, and things heated up quite rapidly. I
started rubbing his crotch, then unzipped his pants and reached
inside. His hands were all over me, and it wasn't long before I was
naked. Soon both our pelvises were bucking like crazy, and I finally
pulled away just long enough to jerk his pants and under shorts down
to his knees. Then I straddled him right there in the recliner and
started pounding my pussy against his red hot poker.

I couldn't believe how great it felt. I came as soon as he shoved his
cock up into me, and I came again when he came. Some time later, after
my heart and breathing had slowed to normal, but I could still feel
him inside me, I groaned, "let's go to bed."

We both took time for a shower, much needed by then, but within half
an hour we were snuggled together in bed, kissing and repeating how
much we loved each other. I wasn't about to leave it at that, so I
reached down and started playing with his limp equipment.

"My god, Bev, you mean you want more?"

"Tonight I want everything you can give me."

Just saying that had a noticeable stiffening effect, and when I
scooted down so I could lick and kiss his penis it really came back to
life.

I let him pump into my mouth for a while, than came up for air and
whispered, "take me from behind."

He loves that position, and I usually try to avoid it because my clit
is considerably more erogenous than my cunt. But tonight I was
determined to satisfy him totally. He was more than ready, and when I
rolled onto my knees he mounted me with a roar.

The poor dear had come less than an hour earlier, so it took him a
while, but when it came it was so intense for him that I wondered if
his heart could take it. Once he stopped jerking he let his entire
weight sag against me, and lay there on my back for the longest time,
gasping for breath. I didn't come myself, but that was OK; I'd already
had two climaxes earlier.

I eventually twisted enough to roll him off me and we landed in a
spoons position. He hugged me tightly, but neither of us said a word.
Soon I heard his breathing slow and deepen, and knew he was falling
asleep.

I really wasn't all that sleepy myself, and soon my mind turned to
Tom. I hadn't said a word about him to Paul that evening, and that was
intentional. I had wanted this to be a time for Paul to feel loved.
But now, with Paul asleep, his naked body cuddled up against mine, I
was thinking of Tom again.

Tom, lying there alone in a lifeless hotel room, probably wishing that
someone could be snuggling up against him the way I was snuggling up
against Paul. I started wondering how he would feel if I had my naked
ass pressing against his belly and ... below. I'll bet he wouldn't be
sleeping! I'll bet I'd be able to feel something very long and very
hard pressing against my ass.

Suddenly I realized that my pussy was tingling, and I told myself I
had to stop that. But I couldn't stop all of the idle thoughts that
kept popping onto my head as I slowly started to slip into sleep. I
wonder if he sleeps in the nude. I wonder how big his cock really is.
I wonder if he's jacking off tonight.

I think I had some really wild dreams that night, but my rational mind
did a pretty good job of suppressing them when morning came.

For once, I woke the next morning without the alarm clock. On weekdays
I normally roll out of bed immediately when the alarm goes off, and
head for the kitchen after a brief pause on the toilet. I know that
irks Paul, who always wakes up with a hard-on, but we'd both be late
for work if we did what he wanted. This morning I was determined to
give him one more treat, so I rolled against him and gave him a
sensuous kiss. You better believe that woke him quickly! It couldn't
have been ten seconds before he was sucking a tit and pawing at my
pussy.

"Oh, baby," I moaned, "I love you so much."

He tried to say something I couldn't really understand since his mouth
refused to relinquish my breast. But I could feel his cock pounding
against my thigh and had a pretty good idea what he wanted.

"Come on, baby," I whispered, "give it to me."

With a roar, he was between my legs and mounting me. I don't think he
even noticed that I was quite dry. He rammed it straight into me, and
I gasped with the pain, but I was determined to let him have his way.

He came in seconds, but lay there shuddering on top of me for a long
time. Finally he opened his eyes, looked into mine, and shook his
head.

"I can't believe it! This has been the most incredible night I can
remember since our honeymoon. You have got to be the sexiest woman in
the world."

"You're pretty sexy yourself."

"Oh, god, keep it up like this and I'll give you anything you want."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smiled, "but for right now all I want is
to get cleaned up. So if you could get off me ..."

He quickly rolled to the side. "Of course, darling, your wish is my
command."

I was still busy putting breakfast together when he came down, freshly
showered. He came straight up behind me and wrapped his arms around me
in a bear hug.

"Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

"Not for at least fifteen minutes," I giggled.

I pulled his arms away from my belly so I could turn to face him.

"I really hate to break this mood, but there is something we need to
talk about."

"Oh, I'll bet you mean Tom." I could see the fire die in his eyes.

I reached around his chest and rested my head on his shoulder. "Oh,
Paul, I can tell you really, really, don't want this. I'm not going to
force it. I couldn't do that. I love you too much."

"And I love you too much to say no. Besides I think I remember someone
saying he would give you anything you wanted."

I pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "Are you sure, Paul? It's
true I want it, because Tom is in a really tough place, and I know we
have a room he could use. But I also know I love you, and don't want
to make it hard for you."

We stood there staring at each other silently for a while, then I
added, "If it doesn't work out, if you're having any problems with it,
please, please tell me, and I'll tell Tom he has to leave. In fact, if
you want me to, I'll tell him up front that you have doubts about it,
and make him agree that he'll leave immediately if I ask him to."

He shook his head, "No, don't say that to him, and I promise I'll tell
you if I'm having a problem with it."

He had said yes! Not in so many words, but it was definitely yes. That
morning seemed to drag on forever at the office. I was dying to tell
Tom the news, and I did the moment we sat down to lunch.

Tom took a deep breath and shook his head, and I felt like my heart
had just dropped totally out of my body.

"Are you sure he said 'yes'? I can't believe he would want me to be
there."

"He said 'yes'," I told him firmly, "and he also promised he would
tell me if he was having any problem with you being there."

He shook his head again. "Well, it sure would make things a lot easier
for me. OK, I guess we can try it, for a few days, anyway. When would
you want me to come over?"

This was actually going to happen! I knew I wanted it to happen, but I
guess I hadn't believed myself that it really would. Now I needed to
get practical. We'd put him in the spare bedroom, of course. We've
always called it our guest room, but the fact is we've been using it
as a sort of junk room. I was going to need time to get it cleaned
out. And he was going to need a place to put some things in the hall
bathroom. I would have to go through the medicine cabinet there and
make space for him. In fact I probably should find some other place
for everything we had there. Tomorrow was Saturday and it looked like
I was going to be very busy.

"Would it be OK if you came over Sunday afternoon?"

"Of course, Bev, if that isn't a problem for you. But I hope you're
not going to go to a lot of trouble for me."

I started to protest, but then he went on, "Actually, Sunday afternoon
sounds like a very good plan. I'll want to meet Paul and spend a bit
of time with him before we all get into the busyness of the week. But
I don't want to start out with him feeling uncomfortable at me hanging
around all weekend."

Once again I opened my mouth to speak, but he wasn't done.

"Actually, I don't plan to hang around your house much, anyway. If I'm
still there when the next weekend comes, I'll probably be off
somewhere in my car most of the time."

"Oh, Tom, please don't feel that you will be in our way. You're going
to be our guest, and I want you to feel like a guest. For starters,
you ARE going to eat dinner with us Sunday night. That's a fact, not
open for discussion."

He smiled, "It will be nice to have a home-cooked meal for once, but I
certainly don't expect to eat with you all the time."

"What's this? We've been eating lunch together for two years, and
suddenly you're too snooty to eat with us?"

He laughed out loud. "You're playing games with the English language,
Bev. 'We', you and I, have been eating together for two years, but
I've never eaten with 'us', you and Paul."

I snickered. "There you go again, 'I've never eaten with us.' When
will you ever learn to speak English properly?"

                                ****

Thank God Paul always plays golf on Saturday. If he had known how much
time I spent getting Tom's room ready I know he would have canceled
the plan before Tom even arrived. But I did get it cleaned up, and the
medicine cabinet cleared out, before he got home. When he arrived he
announced that we were going out for dinner.

Paul took me to a very nice French place, then brought me home and
romanced me beautifully. I guess it was his way of thanking me for
Thursday night. Or maybe he was reminding me subtly that I was already
taken, and he wasn't going to put up with any interlopers. Whatever
his motives, I sure appreciated the results. We ended up making love
twice before we went to sleep, and he made sure that I came ... and
came ... and came. GRRR!

Sunday morning was a bit stressful. We both knew that our home life
was going to be upended when Tom arrived, and we didn't know exactly
when that would be. Paul kept thinking of things that might be
problems, and asking if I had taken care of them. I assured him that I
had. I could tell he was nervous, and the truth is that I was too. He
finally told me he was going to go out and do some yard work, and I
breathed a sigh of relief.

I started checking on supplies in the kitchen, and realized I should
go to the grocery store. I poked my head out the back door, and saw
Paul was weeding our flower box. When I told him my plans I could see
the wheels spinning in his head as we both realized Tom might arrive
before I got back. He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut
again, and nodded.

"Don't take too long," he finally said.

I tried to understand his reaction as I drove to the store. I was
pretty sure he had been about to suggest that could he get the
groceries instead of me, and I was wishing he had. Suddenly it all
came clear. It would be very awkward for Paul to greet Tom, and help
him start moving in, when they hadn't even met before. But as awkward
as that might be, Paul must have decided the other possibility would
be worse; the chance that Tom and I would be alone in the house
together while he was out getting the groceries.

I was beginning to realize that I had pushed us into a very touchy
situation, and I would have to be exceedingly careful not to let my
husband get the wrong impression about any of my actions.

Thankfully, I did get back with the groceries, and even got them put
away, before the doorbell rang. Tom was still outside so, remembering
my earlier thoughts, I opened the back door and called out, "I think
he's here."

"Thanks, Bev, I'll be right in."

Indeed, Tom was at the door, looking scared.

"Bev, are you sure this is all right? Where's Paul? I really don't
think this is a good idea."

I just smiled brightly. "Paul's outside. He'll be in in a minute. Come
on in. But where are your things?"

"I, I, they're in the car." He nodded to his car parked on the street.
"Bev, I, I can't do this, I can't come in, until Paul invites me in
himself.

Just then Paul's voice boomed behind me. "Well, I'm Paul, and I'm
inviting you in. Come on, don't just stand there."

Never, in all my life, have I had a feeling like the one that suddenly
hit me at that point. It was like my whole body turned into jelly. No
bones, no muscles, just jelly. I had to lean against the door frame to
keep from slipping to the floor. Looking back, I think I must have
been wound tight to the snapping point. Between worrying about Paul,
and my own terribly mixed up feelings, and now Tom's fears, I had to
have been a mass of fibrillating nerves and ultra-tense muscles.

The afternoon went remarkably well after that. Tom and Paul shook
hands and chatted for a bit. I just listened; at that point I was
hardly capable of opening my mouth, let alone convincing my vocal
cords to make any sound.

Later Paul helped Tom lug his suitcases and computer up to his room.
The two of them fiddled around for half an hour or so getting his
system to the point it could use our wireless network. By that time I
had pulled myself together enough to start working on dinner. After
they got the computer working, they watched the 6 o'clock news
together while I finished fixing the meal.

Dinner conversation was more get-acquainted kind of stuff for the
guys, and mundane how/when/where questions and assurances as we tried
to set up temporary house-sharing arrangements. After dinner Tom
thanked me profusely for the meal, insisted it was a one-time thing,
and retired to his room to unpack and work on his computer.

Paul helped me with the dishes, then he and I settled down for some
television. I was soon too sleepy to keep track of what was happening
on the tube, and he admitted he was also very tired. We'd both been on
an emotional roller coaster that day, and we went to bed an hour
earlier than usual. We kissed goodnight, and fell asleep almost
immediately.

Since Paul and I both work, we have long since established a workday
morning routine. The alarm goes off. I roll out of bed, wrap my ratty
old house coat around my shoulders, and stagger down to the kitchen
after a quick stop to pee in the hall bathroom. He grabs his clothes
and ducks into the master bath for his morning shower.

Oops! The hall bathroom is not going to work this morning.

"Paul, wait, I need to use the toilet first in here."

He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded as he realized what my
problem was.

While I was sitting on the can my brain was whirling. I normally take
my shower and get dressed after we eat, but now I was going to have to
be decent for Tom before I even went downstairs. But I couldn't take
my shower right now, because Paul would go crazy waiting for me.
Should I just put on some clothes and go down that way? Still stinky
and without putting my face on? No! What if I got too close to Tom and
he smelled me? Even if I could keep my distance, he's never seen me
without makeup.

By the time I relinquished the bathroom to Paul I had come to a
decision. I squirted on some cologne to try to cover up the smell, and
I didn't put on any makeup. Paul was used to seeing me without it at
the breakfast table, and he would be suspicious if I dolled myself up
for Tom. As for Tom, he'd just have to get used to seeing the real me.

I heard Tom come down the stairs while I was frying bacon. I dashed
into the living room to greet him and make sure he was going to join
us for breakfast. Sure enough, he was dressed and seemed to be trying
to sneak out the front door. I had to talk fast to convince him to
stay, but the bacon smell helped. I had done that on purpose.

Paul came down only a couple of minutes after Tom did, and he wasn't
even properly dressed yet. I mean, he did have his pants on, but he
was still buttoning his shirt, and he didn't have a tie or jacket, and
he was wearing slippers! I almost giggled out loud as I thought about
what must have happened. He was probably still drying off when he
heard footsteps in the hall. In a panic, he pulled on his underwear
and pants, grabbed a shirt, and stuffed his feet in the slippers. The
poor dear! He's insanely jealous.

While we were eating I told Paul that Tom had tried to sneak out
without breakfast. As I expected, he was immediately the perfect host,
telling Tom that of course he would be expected to eat with us each
morning, and that going somewhere and buying his own breakfast was
totally ridiculous.

Tom did leave immediately after breakfast, and suddenly Paul relaxed.
We sat down together to think through what kind of a new morning
routine we could establish. We basically reversed everything. Paul is
very good at cooking breakfast, so we decided he would do that while I
showered and dressed. I would leave for work right after we ate,
putting him on a slightly later schedule. We didn't say it, but we
both knew this would avoid Tom and I spending any time alone together.

At least that was what it was supposed to mean. We realized Tuesday
morning that we had overlooked one obvious point. If Tom and I were
both leaving right after breakfast, and if we were both going to the
same office, then it was perfectly clear that we should carpool. I
could tell that Paul didn't like the idea, but there really was no way
around it. So that morning I left my car at home and rode with Tom.

Tuesday night on the way home Tom seemed awfully quiet. Then he
finally spoke up.

"Bev, I need to ask you about something."

"Sure, Tom, what?"

"It's Paul. He's been really great about all this, but I feel like it
may be bothering him. Are you sure he's OK with me being there?"

"Please, Tom, stop worrying about it. I promised you that I would tell
you if there was any problem, and I meant that. There isn't any
problem. Paul hasn't said a word to me about there being a problem.
OK?"

"Look, Bev, you and I used to talk a lot about our marriages, right?
So I probably know Paul a lot better than he realizes. Maybe I know
him better than you realize."

Tom took his eyes off the road just long enough to give me a quick,
but penetrating, stare. "Paul can be very jealous, can't he? And I'll
bet he's jealous of me. Admit it, Bev."

"Yes, Tom, he can be, but we're not doing anything for him to be
jealous of."

"Like hell, we're not! Just me being in the house is plenty to be
jealous of. Us riding to work is plenty to be jealous of. Tell me
something. Yesterday morning he seemed to come down to breakfast in an
awful hurry. Is that the way he usually comes to breakfast?"

"No," I whispered.

"What did you say?

I took a deep breath. "No, he's usually fully dressed and ready for
work when he comes down."

"I see, and what about this morning? Does he usually cook breakfast?"

I shook my head, but he caught it out of the corner of his eye.

"You know what this means, don't you? He doesn't want us, you and I,
to be together in the house when he isn't right there with us."

I sighed, "Yeah, I know."

"OK, one more thing. Do you usually get home earlier in the evening,
or does he?"

"It varies," I equivocated, knowing full well that I usually do.

"Last night wasn't a problem," he pressed on, "because I got there
very late. But tonight you and I will be getting there at the same
time. How is he going to feel if he comes home and we're already
there?"

"He wouldn't like that," I admitted.

"So what time do you usually get home?"

"Well, after he leaves in the morning I usually clean up the kitchen,
then take my shower and get ready. That means I don't get into the
office until about 8:30; so I work until about 5:30 and get home
around six."

"I see."

He pulled off the main thoroughfare onto a side street and stopped at
the curb.

"This morning," he pointed out the obvious, "we left earlier and got
in about eight. That's the time I'm used to coming in, and that's why
I suggested we leave at five. But that means we could show up half an
hour earlier than Paul is expecting, doesn't it?"

There was that penetrating stare again. This time it was relentless.
No, I thought, I can't stand it. Please, Tom, take your eyes away. But
it was only thoughts, and I was trying to convey them by staring back
at him with pleading eyes. I knew I had to break the connection
myself, and I finally looked down.

"Yes, but what can we do now?"

"Well," he smiled, "we could sit here for half an hour."

"No, Tom, we mustn't do that."

My voice was so shaky it was cracking. I took a deep breath to try to
get it back to normal.

"Please, Tom, get back on the road. Maybe we can drive around for a
while, but we can't ... park."

"Forgive me, Bev, you're right."

With that he did pull back out onto the road, and we did drive around
for about twenty minutes, mostly without talking. I spent part of that
time giving myself a real tongue lashing for having said "park." God,
I hope he didn't interpret it the way it sounded to me.

When we finally got home he stopped at the curb and left the motor
running. "I think it's better this way," he explained. "I'll eat
dinner out, and come in later."

Thankfully, Paul was already home, and he seemed quite relieved that
he had gotten there before I did, and that Tom wouldn't be joining us
for dinner.

                                ****

By the next morning we were settling into our new pattern. Paul had
breakfast ready when I came down after showering and dressing. He and
I drank a cup of coffee and chatted for a bit before Tom came down
apologizing for being late. I had the dishes in the dishwasher by the
time Tom finished his coffee, then we left the house just as Paul went
up to clean up and get dressed.

Tom and I didn't talk much on the way into the office, but he did
explain that he had intentionally stalled a bit, thinking it would be
less awkward if I went downstairs before he did in the morning. We
also agreed that we would work until 5:30.

Thursday afternoon Tom poked his head into my office and announced he
wanted to leave a bit earlier that night, say, maybe, 5:20. I nodded
and said, "Sure," without thinking about it. But I did start wondering
what was up as I shut my computer down for the night. He kept me in
suspense until we were almost home, then once again he pulled over
into a side street and stopped at the curb.

"Tom," I said in some alarm, "I told you we mustn't do this."

"I'll only take a minute," he assured me, "and I promise I won't even
touch you."

Touch me? Oh dear. Who had said anything about touching? Not that it
wouldn't be ... no, Bev, stop thinking like that.

"So, what's up?" I tried to sound casual.

It took him a minute to collect his thoughts. "Bev, it seems like ages
ago now, but back before Janet left you were saying that we were
friends, and you almost insisted we talk about my problem. You asked a
lot of personal questions, you know."

Then he smiled. "I'm glad you did, of course. You were a tremendous
help, both in helping me face reality, and in helping me work through
my feelings. I'm so very grateful, I'll never be able to thank you
enough."

He clearly had more to say, even though he stopped talking, so I kept
silent. My heart felt like it weighed a ton. There was a "but" coming,
I knew there had to be. Was it a "but" that would end our friendship?
Oh, dear God, please, no. I couldn't stand that.

Finally he went on. "Now it's my turn to ask a personal question. I
know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. And of course you don't have to
answer it. You really shouldn't answer it, but I have to ask anyway."

'Oh, dearest Tom,' I thought, 'I can't stand to see you in so much
pain. Ask anything, anything at all, and I'll gladly answer.'

"Last night," he whispered, "was the fourth night I've been a guest in
your home, and I heard something in the night that I hadn't heard
before. It sounded like you and Paul were making love. Is that true?"

"Yes, Tom, it's true. I was afraid you might hear us, and I almost
told Paul we shouldn't, but then I realized I couldn't say that."

"You mean, because Paul would guess why, and become angry at me
because I was destroying the most intimate part of your marriage?"

I just nodded, ashamed, but incredibly aroused that we would be having
this conversation.

"Don't you see, Bev, I need to leave. I can't do that to you."

"No, Tom, please don't leave! I don't think I could stand it."

Tears sprang from my eyes and I reached blindly for him. He put his
hand up and stopped mine with his palm, pushing it back to my side of
the car.

"No, Bev, we mustn't. I said no touching, and it has to be that way."
He shuddered. "I couldn't stand it otherwise."

"Oh, Tom, I'm being so selfish! My god, it has to be much worse for
you than for me. Admit it. How did you feel when you heard us making
love?"

"I ... I ... *No*, I can't tell you!"

"It turned you on, didn't it?"

He gulped, and nodded.

"And you felt guilty about that?"

He was crying now. "Yes," he sobbed.

"It's OK, Tom. I understand. I ... I don't feel upset that you felt
that way about me. You may ... you will ... probably ... have feelings
like that again. Please don't feel guilty when ... if you do. In a way
it's a compliment to me, you know?"

I was grasping at straws, but somehow I had to keep him close. I mean,
I had to keep him from running away from me. I mean, I don't want to
lose him. I mean, DAMN, I don't know what I mean.

"No, Bev, you don't understand." He was acting as skittish as a deer.
"I wasn't just turned on, I ... you know. Oh, Bev, I'm so sorry!"

"I told you it's OK."

God, if I could only make myself believe that. Yeah, it was OK, like
the sound of a bomb going off 50 feet away is OK, like the most
intense orgasm of my entire life is OK.

"Really, it is OK. After what you've been through you've got to have
some relief, some release. So go ahead and do it, and I ... I'll just
... accept it and be your ... friend."

    <Stop fooling yourself, Bev. You know you want to give yourself to
    him. You know you want him as much as he wants you. You're dying
    to be his lover. Oh, god, yes! Be my lover, Tom. ... NO! NO! I
    mustn't.>

"Thanks, Bev. Now we'd better go."

Without saying anything about it, Tom and I both decided we'd better
work until 5:30 on Friday. And in fact I don't think we said a word to
each other until we got home. Tom stopped at the curb as usual, and I
opened the door.

Then he spoke, intensely, "Good night, Bev, my ... dearest friend."

"Oh, yes, Tom. Good night. Sleep well. Luscious dreams."

'Luscious dreams?' My god, woman, what possessed you to say that? I
was out of the car now, and starting up the walk, but I could swear I
heard him say: "Oh, yes, my love, I will, I WILL!" I had to be
imagining it. He wouldn't have really said that out loud. But I'll bet
he was thinking it!

I was so horny that night I tried to seduce Paul. But he mumbled that
he was very tired, and promised he'd make up for it tomorrow. Then he
rolled over and was asleep almost instantly. Not me. I think I lay
awake for at least an hour. My pussy was tingling, and I started
rubbing it, very gently, because I didn't want to make the bed bounce.
I was thinking about Tom, naturally, and then I heard him come in.

Listening closely in the silent house, I heard him pad quietly to the
hall bath. He must have taken his shoes off. Perhaps he was in his
pajamas. Or perhaps just in his under shorts with a robe thrown over
his shoulders. Or perhaps just the robe with nothing under it. I
listened for the shower, but didn't hear it. I imagined him standing
at the toilet with his penis out. I wondered how big it was.

Yes, there's the flush, so that is what he was doing. What next? Water
running, but it doesn't sound like the shower. He must be washing his
hands. Yes, it's stopped now. A moment later I heard the floor boards
creak as he padded back to his room. He'll shower in the morning, of
course, not tonight.

I wait, but there are no more sounds. He's getting into bed not thirty
feet away from me. Will he go to sleep quickly, or will he lie awake?
If awake, will he be thinking of me? I imagined him lying on his back
with nothing on, the sheet and blanket thrown back. His penis is
erect, and he's rubbing it. Oh, yes, he's definitely thinking about
me! I listen closely for his bed creaking, or for a sound as he
climaxes. Nothing.

My imagination keeps me on the edge forever, but I don't dare come.
Paul might wake and catch me. Finally sleep overtakes my fantasies.

                                ****

Saturday night Paul made good on his promise, and how! The first time
I came he was sucking my tits and had two fingers in my pussy and a
thumb on my clit. The second time I came he was licking my clit and
had three fingers up inside me. The third time I came I had my legs up
over his shoulders and he had just slammed his cock all the way into
me for the first time. The fourth time I came my legs were spread wide
and he had been pumping furiously and he suddenly groaned and pushed
and I could feel him squirting. God, what a night.

I heard our bed squeaking and thumping against the wall. I heard
myself moaning, then wailing, and finally screaming. The whole time
one corner of my brain was thinking about Tom. He must be going wild.
    <Yes, Tom, do it! Make yourself come while you listen to my
    noises. Oh, Tom, are you coming? Come with me, Tom, NOW! NOW!>

When it was all over and I was no longer panting and neither was Paul
and my heart had stopped pounding, I listened for sounds from Tom's
room. Nothing. No, wait! I heard him going back to the bathroom. Water
in the sink. More water in the sink. And a third time. He's cleaning
himself up. He must have made quite a mess. I was deliriously happy,
happy for him, and I went to sleep.

On the way home Monday night I couldn't resist.

"I guess you probably heard us Saturday night."

"Oh, god, yes, did I ever! I think that was the hottest thing I ever
heard! You guys went on and on and on!"

"And how about you? Did you do some 'going on' yourself?"

"You know I did! You may not believe this, but I came three times!"

"I'm glad. I was hoping you would. I mean, not three times. I didn't
know guys could ever come three times, one right after the other. But
I'm glad you came."

"I didn't know either. I've never come three times before. But just
listening to you had me turned on like I have never been in my entire
life. I was rooting for you, Bev. I wanted you to come again and again
and again. And you did! It was fantastic! I have never been so
satisfied and so happy. So happy for YOU, Bev. Isn't that weird?"

"If it's weird you're not the only weird one. After we finished and
everything quieted down I listened for sounds from your room, and I
heard you go back to the bathroom. And then I heard water running. I
decided you must have come, and it made me happy, very happy, for
YOU."

"Bev," he said in a strangled voice, "I want to stop, just for a
minute."

"I want that too, but we mustn't, Tom. We mustn't."

"OK, you're right, but there's something else I have to tell you.
Saturday night we've already talked about, and I slept like a baby
after it was over. But Friday night I woke up in the middle of the
night. And I was ... uh ... erect. And I realized I had been dreaming
about you. And I came then, too. After I cleaned up and got back in
bed I looked at my clock and it was 2:15.

"That probably doesn't seem too strange to you, but last night I woke
up again, from a dream about you, and the same thing happened. And
guess what time it was when I finally got back to bed."

"2:15?"

"Yes, Bev, 2:15."

Tuesday night on the way home it was my turn.

"Tom, I really, really shouldn't say this, but I can't help myself. I
just have to tell you. Last night, at about two o'clock, I woke up
from a dream. It was a very ... exciting ... dream, and it was about
you. I wanted to ... finish the dream, but I was afraid if I did I
would wake Paul, so I went into our bathroom and sat on the toilet and
started, uh, touching myself.

"I was so, uh, it felt so, uh ... Oh, this is so embarrasing! Anyway,
it wasn't long before I ... well, you know. Well, then I was just
sitting there and calming down, when I heard you come into the other
bathroom. You know, don't you, that the bathrooms are right next to
each other. I could hear you so clearly. I heard you run the water,
then wring out a wash cloth, then I couldn't hear what you were doing
with it, but I knew! And I knew you were standing right there, only
two or three feet away from me! And, OH TOM! It was like I could see
you. I knew you had to be naked. And I could see you! I could see ALL
of you! And I came SO HARD!"

When I finished my story my breathing was ragged, my pulse was like a
snare drum beat, and I discovered that one hand was on my breast and
the other at my crotch. Embarrassed, I moved my hands and tried to get
my breathing under control.

"You know," Tom admitted, "I thought I heard something, but I was
afraid it might be Paul, and I froze. I must have stood there ten
minutes, trying not to move or even breathe. Finally I heard steps
going away and I relaxed. I don't know why, but I kept thinking he
could guess why I was there, and then guess what I had been thinking
of. Guilty conscience, I suppose."

"Oh, my god, Tom. What is happening to us?"

"We're definitely on treacherous ground. We're going to have to be
very careful."

"It may be too late for that," I whispered.

That night I again woke up at 2 AM from an extremely erotic dream
about Tom. I was so horny! I needed to come so bad. I slipped out of
the bed and started for our bathroom, but on an impulse I instead
tiptoed out of our room into the hall. Once there I realized I was
wearing only a flimsy nightgown. What if Tom should step out of his
room and see me? Just thinking of the possibility set my cunt to
twitching. I had to know if he was awake. Still on tiptoes I snuck
down the hall to his room and put my ear to his door.

Oh, he was awake all right! I could hear his bed squeaking, and then I
started hearing grunting sounds. I was on fire! I yanked up my gown
and shoved my hand inside my pussy. I heard him mutter, "Yes, yes, oh,
YES!" and I was coming like crazy.

When I calmed down it suddenly hit me that he would be walking through
that door very soon, heading for the bathroom, and I would be
discovered. I panicked and almost ran back up the hall to our room. As
I sank back into bed I promised myself I would never, ever, do
anything so stupid again.

Wednesday night it happened again. I woke up sweating and twitching,
and realized I had been dreaming that Tom was eating me out, and that
he brought me to an orgasm. I felt like I really had just come, and
then the blissful feeling was suddenly replaced by a cold fear in my
gut. Had I bounced around or made any noise? Had I wakened Paul?

I looked over, and he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Thank god! Then I
looked at the clock; it said 2:03. Would Tom be awake, too? I just had
to know. Forgetting my promise I slipped out of bed, out of our
bedroom, and started down the hall.

Suddenly I froze. Tom's door was partly open. Was he coming out? If
so, it was too late to hide. I stood there unable to move, but the
door didn't move, either. Finally I tiptoed up to it and peeked
through the crack. OH, MY, GOD! I could see his bed! I could see HIM
on it! It was only a dim shadow, but it had to be him. I could see
something moving slowly near the middle of his body. He was jacking
off! I had to see more.

I turned across the hall to the bathroom, pulled its door nearly shut,
then reached in and turned on the switch. Light spilled out into the
hallway, but not enough to reach into Tom's room, so I pushed the
bathroom door a bit wider open. Then back to Tom's door, and I pushed
it a bit wider, too. YES, OH, YES! I could really see him now. He was
lying naked on top of his sheets, and his hand was moving up and down
his cock. I grabbed at my crotch and moaned.

Tom's head swiveled and he looked at the door. Oh, no! He'd heard me!

"OH, MY, GOD!" he groaned and started pumping faster.

My brain was reeling. He sees me! He's watching me! I'm turning him
on! Oh, yes, Tom, I want you to see all of me. I turned so he could
see me in profile, lit from behind, and I started pulling the hem of
my nighty up. Up, up, until my pussy was exposed. Up until it was at
my waist. Then my fingers were in my hot sticky cunt. I dragged them
through the slime and then up to my clit. OHHH, FUUUUCCCCCKKK!

When I came down enough to open my eyes I looked over at him. His hand
had stopped moving, but he was breathing hard. We must have both come
at the same time. I dropped my nighty, padded quietly back up to hall
to our door, then turned for one last look. I saw him dash across the
hall naked to the bathroom. His cock was still sticking out, leading
the way. I got a great look at it as he pushed the bathroom door open
and the full glare of the light inside hit it. OH, SHIT! I WANT THAT
SO BAD!

I made a dash for our bathroom, and put my ear up to the wall between
the two. Silence for a moment, then water running, and silence again.
After that, the sound of the toilet lid and then I heard him!

"Oh, Bev! Oh, god, Bev," he was moaning. "Oh, you're so fucking hot!
You make me so fucking hot! I'm going to come again, babe! Oh, babe,
seeing you there was the hottest thing ever. OH, I'M CUMMING! HERE I
COME! YES! YES! YES! YES!"

I came again right after he did, and let him know with a long moan. I
would have made a lot more noise than that, but I kept telling myself
that Paul was in the next room.

****

Thursday morning I thought I was going to die when he came down for
breakfast, but he spared me the agony.

"Sorry, guys," he said at the foot of the stairs, "but I have to meet
someone for breakfast this morning. Paul, I hope you didn't go out of
your way fixing me something."

"No problem, Tom," Paul replied, but I saw him looking in dismay at
the stack of hot cakes he had in his hand.

"And, Bev, I guess this means you'll have to drive yourself today.
OK?"

He didn't look at me as he said it. Indeed he was already halfway out
the front door. Something seemed to be caught in my throat, so I just
nodded, not that he saw it. Then he was gone.

I didn't think I could handle sitting across from Tom at lunch and
trying to make small talk, and I knew I couldn't handle talking about
*IT*. So I decided to skip lunch. Thankfully, he didn't stop by my
office any time during the day.

That evening the phone rang and Paul answered it. When he hung up he
told me it was Tom, and that he was busy looking for a place to live.
God, how that made my heart - and loins - ache, but I tried not to
show it. Paul also said Tom wouldn't be joining us for breakfast in
the morning. I didn't ask why, and Paul didn't volunteer any details.

So I managed to get through that day without any real contact with
Tom. Until 2 AM. I woke up on the dot, burning with desire. I had to
see him again, I just HAD to. I think maybe my brain was still asleep;
at least it didn't try to stop me as my body propelled me out the
bedroom door and down the hall.

Tom's door wasn't really open, but it wasn't latched, either. It was
just ajar. I pushed it open, and I could see the dark shadow that was
him lying on his bed. 'No movement,' flashed through my head. 'Is he
asleep?'

But just then I heard him whisper, "Oh, yes, Bev!"

"Oh, Tom," I shuddered, as my body took me closer all on its own.

Now I was close enough to touch the bed if I reached out, and close
enough to see that he was lying on his back with his pillar jutting
up at a 45 degree angle.

"I thought you'd be ... you know."

"I was waiting, and hoping to see you again. Oh, god, Bev, what your
body does to me! If you took that nightgown off I think I could come
without even touching myself."

"Would you like me to take it off?" I teased him, pulling it up enough
to expose my thighs.

"Oh, Bev! Oh, Bev!" he groaned.

His cock was jumping, now, and I squatted down and stared at it,
mesmerized. I leaned forward and reached a hand to the side of the bed
to balance myself.

"Tom," I whispered hoarsely, "I need to touch it. I HAVE to!"

His only verbal response was a breathy "OHHH!", but his cock started
jumping even more wildly. I reached my other hand out and touched it.

The effect was instantaneous. He made a sound that seemed to stick in
his throat and began spurting. I grasped his foreskin lightly with my
thumb and finger as his pelvis thrust, and thrust, and thrust again.
He had cum all over his chest, and still it kept coming. Finally he
shuddered, relaxed, and opened his eyes.

"Oh, my darling Bev! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

We stayed like that for a long time, a tableau, with him staring
adoringly at me, me squatting beside his bed staring back with his
penis still held lightly between my thumb and finger. Finally I
started moving my fingers up and down his shaft.

"You're still stiff," I said, breaking our eye contact to look at his
marvelous tool.

"Yeah, and if you keep that up I'll be making another mess before
long, he growled.

"Actually," he added, "I think I'd like you to stop that for a minute
and reach under the night stand. Can you find a wet washcloth there?"

I reluctantly took my hand away from him and reached. There it was.

"Would you like me to clean you up a bit, darling?"

"Would you? Oh, yes!"

I would never have dreamed that cleaning spunk off a man's chest with
a washcloth could be so erotic and so tender, all at the same time. My
eyes started producing tears, tears of joy. Tom probably wouldn't have
been able to see that, but then my nasal passages started responding,
and before I was finished cleaning his chest I was sniffling.

"Oh, Bev, I'm sorry. What have I done? What's wrong?"

"N-n-nothing, Tom, nothing at all. I'm just too happy, so happy I
can't contain it."

"Me, too." Then, "Bev, I want to make you come."

I shuddered as I folded the washcloth to keep everything inside and
put it back under the night stand.

"Can I do that, Bev, please?"

"Yes, Tom, yes!"

"I want to touch your breasts. Will you take your nightgown off so I
can do that?"

My only response was to whip it over my head.

I went into overdrive the moment he touched me. By the time he was
playing with my nipples I was coming. I think I was pounding my pussy
against the side of the bed, but it's all very hazy. I do remember him
whispering that I should come up higher, and then he had his mouth on
my tit. I was coming continuously now, and he had to keep reminding me
to keep my voice down. I know he had his hand in my pussy, and I
searched frantically for his cock with my hand.

He was sucking my tit and pumping his fingers in and out of my cunt,
and I was pumping his cock frantically, and just when I thought I
could go no higher he jammed three fingers deep into me and started
squirting. WOW! I had never ever come like that.

Much later, when our hearts and breathing had slowed to close to
normal, he giggled and said, "Now we've really got a mess."

He was right. I had his cum all over my neck and back and arm. He had
it all over his belly. Somehow some of it had gotten squished between
his chest and my right breast, the one he wasn't sucking.

"I think we'd better both go clean up," he proposed.

We dashed across the hall naked, like two little kids, and giggled
like little kids as we took turns sponging each other off. One final
long passionate kiss standing in the bathroom, naked bodies pressed
together, then I retrieved my nightgown from his room and returned to
my unsuspecting husband.

I think I was already half asleep when I thought, 'It wouldn't have
been nearly so messy if he had been inside me when he came.' BANG! I
was suddenly wide awake again, and my pussy was on fire. 'NO, BEV,' my
brain screamed at me. 'You're not going to go there.' 'Like hell I'm
not,' I argued with myself. 'Like hell you are,' the brain came back.
'That way lies the end of your marriage.' I finally fell asleep with
the struggle still unresolved, but woke in the morning with a strange
thought from my subconscious. If he came in my mouth, and I swallowed
it all, that wouldn't be messy, and it wouldn't really be fucking.

I struggled with that thought all day. Was that fucking, or not? Would
that cross the line between teasing and cheating? Hadn't I already
crossed that line? Morally, I had clearly already sinned. Legally, had
I already broken my marriage vows? Would that one more step break
them? If I took that step, would I be able to stop there?

Once again, Tom and I avoided each other at lunch, and Paul and I were
already in bed when he came in. So I didn't see him at all that day.
Well, technically I did; I had seen *ALL* of him from about 2 AM to 3
AM that morning, but I thought of that as 'last night'. What would
tonight hold? I had no doubt that I would wake at 2:00 again, and I
knew that I would be unable to stop myself from going to him.

By 2:05 I had not only gone to him, but had thrown myself onto his
bed, and we were kissing frantically, naked body pressed against naked
body, his chest rubbing against mine, my groin rubbing against his,
his cock poking between my legs getting slimy from my lips sliding up
and down its length. I wanted - no needed - him inside me so bad.

But my brain made one last surge against the inevitable, and I turned
end for end. His mouth was on my clit and my mouth on his cock, and we
both soared to a climax almost immediately.

That was great, but we both knew we needed more, and I didn't object
when his head joined mine at the foot of the bed. I didn't object when
he stated kissing me, oh so passionately. I didn't object when he
climbed between my legs. I didn't object when I felt his cock touch
the entrance to my cunt for the first time. I moaned into his mouth
and clawed at his back when it slipped in, in, in.

"YES, YES, YES!" I hissed, wrapping my legs around him.

Then we were off on that final journey of love, the indescribable
union of two bodies made for each other. Nothing in all my life had
ever been anything like this. Not in all my years of marriage had I
dreamed that a world like this could exist. It was ecstasy without
end.

When I finally left my lover's bed and crawled back in beside my
husband the clock said 4:26. I fell asleep immediately.

                                ****

Paul and I both slept in the next morning, as we usually do on
Saturday. He woke before I did, and went into our bathroom for his
shower. The sound of the water woke me, and I felt so alive! 'I'm in
love!' I thought joyously. Nothing could dampen my spirit; not doubts
about my marriage with Paul; not questions about my future with Tom.
Love would conquer all.

When we got down to the kitchen we found a note from Tom saying that
he would be out house-hunting all day. Just seeing the note made me
realize how much I already missed him. Sometime the three of us would
have to get together for a really serious talk, but that could wait.
Tom probably wasn't ready for that talk yet, even though I was. And as
for Paul, he was going to need some heavy preparation for it. So the
day devolved into the usual Saturday chores; cleaning, shopping,
working in the yard. Once again, Paul and I went to bed before Tom
returned.

Paul was in the mood for some bedtime fun, and I wasn't particularly
(well, not with him, that is!), but I figured he deserved it, so I
went along with whatever he wanted. It turned out that included
sucking him off, and then a doggie-style session. I didn't come, but I
knew I'd make up for that in spades later that night. Finally we both
fell asleep, both happy, but for different reasons.

At two o'clock sharp I was wide awake and dying to be with Tom. I
jumped out of bed and nearly ran to his room. Oh, yes, darling, it's
heavenly to be in your arms again! I told him I didn't need any
foreplay and wanted to get on to the main event. But he teased my
body, pushing me higher and higher, until when he did finally enter me
I came immediately. That was OK, I knew it was only the first of many
ahead of me that night. He seemed to be almost as charged up as I was,
and began driving furiously into me.

"YES, YES, YES, TOM! HARDER, FASTER! OH, YES, TOM, I'M CUMMMING!"

We both came together, and lay there panting and sweating, our hearts
pounding. Suddenly I heard a new scream.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE??"

It was Paul! He had heard us! Tom rolled off the bed, grabbed a
pillow, and crouched at the foot of the bed holding it in front of
him. I tried to cover myself with my hands and rolled toward the wall.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE THIS MINUTE, AND DON'T EVER COME BACK!!"

Tom was cowering against the wall, trembling with fear.

"OK, I'm going, but can't I put some clothes on?"

"SHIT, NO! YOU WANT TO SHOW YOURSELF NAKED TO MY WIFE, YOU CAN SHOW
YOURSELF NAKED TO THE WORLD."

I pulled myself together enough to try to come to Tom's defense.
Turning my head to look at Paul, I said, "But, Paul, if he goes out
naked, everybody in the neighborhood will find out, and we'll be the
laughing stock ..."

"SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING WHORE. I HOPE YOU DO BECOME THE LAUGHING STOCK
OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD. YOU DESERVE IT! I'M GOING TO FUCKING THROW YOU
OUT ON YOUR EAR."

But maybe I got through to him anyway. His face was still beet red,
and his voice still full of venom, but he turned back to Tom spoke and
in a slightly lower voice.

"All right, shithead, I'll give you ten minutes. Everything that's not
out of this room in ten minutes gets thrown out the window. And that
includes you."

Tom nodded and pulled on a pair of pants. Then he looked around the
room and dashed over to his computer. He pulled out wires frantically,
grabbed it and ran to his car.

Paul turned to me, his eyes and voice still angry. "One thing I'm not
throwing out of this room tonight is you, you fucking bitch! I don't
want to see your fucking ass in *my* bedroom again. You're spending
the night here in his fucking bed. You can fuck *it* all night long
for all I care. I'll decide what to do with you in the morning."

About then Tom dashed back in, cast a frightened look toward Paul,
then grabbed his computer monitor and dashed out again. Two minutes
later he was back, grabbed clothes out of his closet, then stopped on
the way out the door.

"I'm sorry, Paul, so sorry. You didn't deserve this. You'll never see
me again."

"SORRY DON'T CUT IT, ASSHOLE, AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE BEV AGAIN, EITHER."

That last part really cut me, but it cut both ways. Maybe, just maybe,
there was a chance Paul wouldn't throw me out.

As soon as Tom was out the door Paul was as good as his earlier word.
He opened the bedroom window, kicked out the screen, and started
grabbing, and throwing, everything he could find in the room: shoes,
socks, underwear, suitcases, books, papers, watch, everything. Soon
there was nothing left but me, naked and curled up in the bed, and my
nightgown on the floor.

He glared at me one last time. "I'll handle you in the morning."

With that he grabbed my nightgown and slammed the door on his way out.
I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke in the morning I peeked out the bedroom door and heard him
downstairs. I felt so naked, in a horrid way; the nakedness of
indecency and shame. I was so ashamed of my body that I was afraid to
leave the room. But I didn't have any clothes here, so I would have to
sneak into our bedroom ... I mean his bedroom. Cowering, trying to
hide my privates, I scuttled down the hall. The door was closed, and I
couldn't turn the knob!

I had been bent nearly double trying to hide myself, but now I looked
up and around in panic. He wouldn't make me go downstairs naked, would
he? There was a note on the door:

                          NO!
                      IT'S LOCKED
                       YOU CAN'T
                        COME IN!

                    Go to the hall
                       bathroom.

I went down there and found some clothes stacked on the toilet seat. I
also found another note taped to the shower door.

                   You'd better get every
                  bit of that fucker's cum
                   off of and out of your
                   body before I see you.

I took that to heart and spent a long time in the shower, scrubbing
myself as thoroughly as possible, inside and out.

Look, I'm not going to tell you what happened that day between Paul
and me. Some things in a marriage are private to that marriage, and
should never be discussed elsewhere. I'll just say that some of it was
pretty ugly, but in the end we came to a sort of a truce. I promised I
would never do anything like that again. He gave me one more chance,
but insisted that I had to quit my job and find a new one, and never
see or speak to Tom again.

Monday morning Paul called my boss and told him I was quitting
effective immediately, no matter what penalties might be involved. I
heard him assure the boss that, no, I wasn't ill, but that a serious
family emergency had come up. No, he insisted, it wasn't the sort of
thing that would be resolved in the foreseeable future, so my job
should not be held open for me. He said that he would go in and pick
up any personal belongings I had there. I listened numbly to Paul's
side of the conversation, and didn't object to anything.

I've kept all my promises, and had no contact at all with Tom. I've
tried very hard to be a loving and obedient wife to Paul, but I can't
stop waking up horny at 2 AM every night. I slip out of the bedroom,
and down to the guest room, and lie on the bed that was Tom's, and
make myself come again and again. I'm absolutely positive that,
wherever he is, Tom is awake at the same time, doing the same thing.
YES! YES! OH, YESSS, TOMMMM!!!!