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From: Alex Taylor Douglas <atd@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: The Betrayal, Part II
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THE BETRAYAL by Alex Taylor Douglas

PART II

Our story continues, the tension builds, and all that stuff...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex plays hockey on a team in the winter, and a lot of the guys from the
hockey team form a softball team in the summer. Alex and Eric are two guys who
play on both teams. Since hockey is a much more physical sport than softball,
gatherings of players and spousal equivalents after hockey games were not very
common because usually the players were tired. What never did change was the
way all the spousal equivalents sat together in the stands and at the diamond.
There was a lot more chatter and gossip between us than there was attention
paid to the sporting action and a constant source of gossip and chatter was
Eric. He was single, and simply gorgeous. He is one of the best players at
either sport, a natural athlete. He has dark hair and is about the same height
as Alex but where Alex is fit, Eric is built. I'm not sure if he works out but
I can only assume he does. He has wide shoulders, narrow waist, and a perfect
ass. He's not really muscular, but he always gives the impression of strength
and confidence. He really is a good looking guy and I'm sure he knows it.
   I've actually known Eric longer than any of the other wives and
girlfriends. He attended the same college as my husband but studied a
different discipline. They were introduced by a mutual friend and quickly
became quite good friends in their own right. Alex was the one who got Eric
onto the hockey team. He's been to our house a number of times for supper or
drinks and never shown the slightest interest other than that of a friend.
We've always been able to carry on good conversations although we never got
into any real serious discussions. More like general party-type small talk.
Still, he was always nice to all of the women. I know several of the girls had
a crush on him and I'm sure one of them tried to get him into bed, but I don't
think she succeeded.
   Eric-watching, as we called it, always hit a peak in the summer. We could
watch him play softball forever, dressed in shorts and a tank top, slightly
bent over in a crouch. There was always a much better opportunity for mingling
and talking after baseball games because nine times out of ten both teams
would head to the nearest neighborhood pub for a few drinks, darts, and pool.
It became a running joke among the men and all of them, including Alex,
harassed their wives or girlfriends about the amount of attention they gave
Eric. None of the guys seemed upset about it, only amused. Eric seemed to like
the attention but he was ever so nice, never vulgar, and always a proper
gentleman.
   The only clue I ever got from Eric before that fateful day was the evening
of the first game of the softball season. The boys had won, Eric hitting in
the winning two runs in the bottom of the seventh inning in classic heroic
fashion. Everyone made their way to the pub and the guys on the team each had
to buy Eric a tequila shooter as a victory gift. Eric got quite drunk. He
tried to remain as elegant as ever but that is extremely hard to do with a
body full of tequila. I know, that's why I've developed a taste for white wine
over the last few years. Eric left his car at the pub and rode as far as our
house with the intention of calling a cab once he got there. When we got to
our place I offered him a cup of coffee, which he quickly accepted. Alex went
up to have a shower leaving me alone in the kitchen with Eric. No big deal,
but as I puttered about getting coffee I could feel Eric's eyes on me. That
was no big deal either. In fact after months of neglect it felt nice to be
appreciated by a good-looking guy. I served Eric a cup of coffee and turned to
find something to snack on, and I knew he was still watching me. I guess I
started to flirt a bit, standing on my tiptoes to look on a shelf even though
I didn't have to, bending over sort of in front of him so he could almost look
down my t-shirt, that kind of thing. After a couple of minutes I glanced at
him, sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen nook.
   "Everything alright?" I asked.
   "Perfect," he replied with a bit of a smile.
   He was starting to sober up a bit by that time and started to develop a
headache so I rummaged around in my purse until I found him some Tylenol. Then
I did something very uncharacteristic, strictly an impulsive act; I began to
massage his shoulders. It wasn't a light rub or caress, or anything born of
desire, but an effort to try and help his headache. He gave a little groan as
I hit a particularly stiff muscle and gradually he began to lean back until
the back of his head rested against my collarbone just under my chin. I could
feel the warmth of his neck along the sides of my breasts. My body began to
betray me and I felt myself becoming slightly flushed. I could feel my nipples
becoming erect and a flutter in the pit of my stomach. His shoulders felt so
strong, and it had been so long since...
   I snapped my eyes open. What on earth was I doing? I made myself stop and
turn away from him, in case he saw the condition I was in.
   "How's that?" I managed to ask, surprised at how even my voice was.
   "Great. Thanks Deb, you're a good friend."
   Neither his face nor his voice gave any indication he was thinking anything
like I was sure he was thinking. He seemed honestly grateful for the massage,
and I felt a little silly. A woman my age acting like a sixteen year old. I
smiled to myself and shook my head slightly.
   "What's so funny?" he asked. "Something I said?"
   "No," I replied. "It's just that..." I didn't get a chance to finish as
Alex came into the kitchen.
   " Coffee. Great!" exclaimed Alex as he went to get a mug. "Hey, buddy
how're you feeling? Deb take good care of you?" he asked Eric.
   I felt my stomach jump a little, but again realized how silly I was being.
Maybe it was a full moon or something. Alex went on to offer Eric the guest
bedroom for the evening, saying how much easier it would be to pick up his car
the next day. Eric hesitated a little, looked at me kind of funny, and then
declined. We called a taxi for him and told him to call the next day when he
got up.
   I was more aroused than I had been in a long time and felt almost desperate
for sex. Alex was wearing his bathrobe so it was an easy trick to reach under
and grasp his penis and try to kiss him at the same time. I wanted him there
on the kitchen floor, and I wanted him right then!
   To my shock and disappointment, he pulled away and said he was tired and
wanted to go to bed. I was surprised and hurt. I went upstairs to take a bath
and for the first time in a long while I masturbated. I lay in the hot soapy
water for a long time, running my hands over my breasts and gently squeezing
my hard nipples. I massaged my clitoris until I was almost at the edge and
then pulled the plug in the tub, turned on the water as hot as I could stand
on my pussy, and lay with my legs wide open with water cascading over my
vagina until I hit the peak. As an orgasm swept through my body in shuddering
waves it wasn't my husband I was picturing in my mind's eye. It was Eric.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Well well, once the little woman gets a bottle of California White
Zinfandel in her she positively opens up. She gets better as she goes, too -
really warming to the subject, as it were. Speaking of wine, there's a few
things I want to mention at this point.
   I've always suspected my wife was a tigress hiding within kitten's fur.
Over the ten years I've known her she's had the occasion to get a little tipsy
now and then. Deb is *much* friendlier and way less inhibited once she's had a
few drinks, and our most memorable sex (the times where I've basically been
able to do what I want to her) have been where she's been drunk, or close to
it. A friend of mine once called alchohol "truth serum" and I have seen proof
of that many times. Anyway, the fact that her narrative gets hotter as she
goes sort of shows how alchohol affects her.
   I met Eric through a now-dead friend of mine while I was in school, and we
grew to be good friends, meeting for lunch almost every day for several weeks
after Jake pulled his own plug. We used to go out quite often together when
Deb was on night shift and several times dragged a couple of chicks back to
his place for fun and frivolity. At first Eric was shocked that I would cheat
on Deb so openly and so often, especially since we had only been recently
married. I think when the seed was first planted in his mind was when he asked
me how I would feel if the shoe was on the other foot and it was Deb doing the
cheating. I told him I loved the idea, especially if I could watch. He laughed
at first until he realized I wasn't joking, and then gave me kind of an
appraising look and said "You're wierd, man." Since then I've tried to give
Eric every opportunity to see Deb in a bathing suit, and I'm sure once he saw
her in her underwear without her knowing but he never said anything to me
about it. I've discussed our sex with Eric lots of times and described her
body in great detail. Once when we were at the local beach with a few other
friends Eric and I watched from shore as Deb waded out of the water after a
cooling dip. I told him to look at her, pointed out her erect nipples, and he
could only nod and stare. He shifted his position fairly quickly, so I'm sure
watching Debbie gave him a hard-on. The two of them developed an easy manner
between them which I fostered as much as I could - Eric's been over for supper
or to watch a movie many times.
   The biggest point I want to make about Eric is that he is sure God put him
on the Earth to fuck every female on the planet, and I swear he's well on the
way to doing it. He is an extremely gifted athlete, intoo hockey, baseball,
lacrosse,mountain-biking, skiing (both types), tennis, and basically anything
else. He is also a thrill-seeker. He has sky-dived over a hundred times and
owns a fast sports car, and is currently saving his money for a mountain-
climbing trip to somewhere in Europe. Everything he does, though, is to
attract women. All the athletics, the working out, the friendly non-
threatening manner he has so carefully cultivated, it's all to get girls. He's
very successful - I know of two wives and two girlfriends of guys on the ball
team that he's fucked, one of them on several different occasions. They've
*all* made the first move as well, and not the other way around. Still, I
guessed that if I could subtly plant some ideas in Eric's head, in the right
situation he would take advantage of Deborah's vulnerability. Read on...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Eric called the next day, a Saturday, at about noon. I really didn't trust
myself at this point so I intended to create an excuse that would prevent me
from going with Alex to pick up Eric and his car. But, Alex told me he was
going to go with Eric to look at some stereo equipment and wanted me to come
along to bring the car home. What could I say? I couldn't think fast enough to
come up with a good reason for not doing it so I dumbly nodded my agreement. I
could only hope that the electricity that apparently existed between Eric and
I the evening before was gone, a product of a unique situation. After all it
had never existed before as far as I was aware, at least not on a conscious
level.
   No such luck. As Eric strode out to the car the only thing I could think of
was the orgasm I had had the night before, while thinking about Eric. My pussy
immediately dampened and my breath quickened. I could only manage a brief "Hi"
when Eric got into the back seat. Was it my imagination or was there something
in his eyes other than friendship? God, I didn't want this! What did I do to
cause this? I tried to think about anything other than Eric or sex, with
little success. We finally reached the pub, and Alex and Eric got of our car,
said goodbye, and left. Thank God! What was wrong with me?!
   I was in such a rush to get home I was amazed I didn't get a ticket as I
sped along the freeway. I didn't bother pulling into the garage, or even
locking the car door. I burst through the front door as fast as I could, ran
upstairs, threw myself on the bed and once more began masturbating wildly. I
didn't take off my jeans. I just undid the button, slipped my hand inside
under the waistband of my panties and began rubbing my clit as fast as I
could. It didn't take long for another big orgasm to crash through my body.
   I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even remember the last time I had
masturbated before last night, and now I'd done it twice in fourteen hours. I
hadn't lost self-control like this in years. I honestly didn't know what to
do.
   Then the weekend was over, and by Tuesday I was back into the work routine,
events of a few days before more or less behind me. I hadn't had another
"attack" since Saturday and I was beginning to think that I was the victim of
tides, or hormones, or some other arcane reason that men use to justify a
woman's "irrational" behavior. Whatever, it was a relief to be back in control
again.
   Thursday evening after supper the softball team was having sort of a
"practice", which in fact was just a flimsy excuse for the guys to get
together for beers. Alex invited me along, and even though I felt a few
butterflies about seeing Eric I felt OK about going. Besides, I had to work
the weekend and it was probably going to be my only opportunity to get out
until the following weekend. So, away we went.
   Big mistake. I couldn't take my eyes off Eric. Mind you, neither could the
other spouses, as usual, but for me this time it felt different. Eric actually
looked back at me quite often, as if to see if I were still watching him. In
the past he may have tossed a ball at me, or shouted or waved, but now he
seemed to less of a friend and more of something else.
   After the short practice we went over to the pub. Again I knew I should
just go straight home but I couldn't think of a good excuse. In retrospect
maybe I really didn't want to go home; maybe I secretly wanted something to
happen. I really don't know.
   The air conditioning must have been turned up a little more than usual
because I began to get chills as soon as I walked in. Mind you, I was only
wearing a short pair of cutoffs and a muscle shirt over my underwear because
it was a warm evening. When I'm chilled my nipples become quite erect and
unfortunately I wasn't wearing the proper clothing to hide that kind of
physiological reaction. Alex noticed immediately and gave me a leering smile
that embarrassed me. I turned away and almost walked right into Eric. He
reached out and caught me by my bare shoulders to keep from running into him
and the heat from his hands on my cool skin caused my nipples to harden even
more, painfully even.
   "Whoa, careful Deb!" he said. We locked eyes momentarily before he swept
his gaze quickly across my chest. For the first time since I met him I knew, I
mean I really knew, that he was looking at me with desire in his eyes. I
wasn't his friend's wife at that moment, just a woman who probably had the
same look in her eyes. Again I felt the now-familiar warm wetness in the
crotch of my panties and I began to tremble slightly, not just from the cold.
   "Man, you're freezing!" he exclaimed. "Go sit down and I'll run out and
grab you a sweatshirt from my car, OK? It's not dirty, I only wore it for
about an hour last night." He left and I sat down in a chair at one of the
three tables that had been pushed together.
   He came back about a minute later with a white sweatshirt that was nice and
toasty warm from sitting on the front seat of his car. I put it on and
immediately began to warm up. As grateful as I was for the warmth the smell of
him on his sweatshirt did absolutely nothing for the state I was in. I could
smell his cologne, his shampoo, his soap, and it was with me all the time,
masculine and intensely attractive. The wetness in my panties increased until
I was sure it would show through my cutoffs, making me afraid to stand up.
Lord, I didn't even know if I *could* stand. There was no longer any doubt; I
wanted him.
   After a while Eric came and sat down beside me. The slight smell of his
sweat from the practice mingled with the smells on the shirt, and a little
voice inside me begged him to go away.
   "What's up, Deb?" he asked. "You don't seem to be your usual self tonight.
Something wrong?" The last question asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.
   "I - I'm not sure," I stammered. "I think I might be coming down with
something."
   "Geez, nothing serious, I hope. I'm sure you'll feel better soon, though."
What did he mean by that?
   He sat there beside me for a minute, not saying anything, watching a game
of darts. Then I became aware of a small pressure against my outer thigh, skin
almost as cool as mine. He didn't look at me or say anything, and then the
pressure increased slightly. I responded by slightly rubbing my leg up and
down against his, heart racing. This was going too far! Then a new touch, the
back of his hand, knuckles lightly caressing the top of my thigh near the leg
of my cutoffs! I should have stopped him but I didn't, I couldn't. God, I had
never felt this way, not even the best times with Alex. His hand turned over
and the caress continued with his fingertips, this time over the top of my leg
to the inside of my thigh and I had to stifle a moan less the others at the
table notice what was happening.
   Suddenly a call.
   "Hey Eric, you're up!" It was Jim, one of the guys from the softball team
over by the pool table, holding up a cue.
   "Gotta go, Debs," he said with a smile. "Hope you're feeling better." He
stood up and walked over to a group of guys. Soaked crotch or not, I had to
get out of there. I walked over to the bar where Alex was conversing with
someone I didn't know.
   "Honey, I'm not feeling very well. Can we leave soon?" I pleaded.
   "Sure, babe. I was getting ready to go anyway." He said goodbye to the guy
he was talking to and then we walked over and said bye to the team and their
women. I knew Eric was watching me as I left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Of Part II

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