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Subject: {ASSM} Manning the Yard Sale (M/F, masturbation, pregnancy, adultery)
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Date: Mon, 15 Jun 2009 09:10:03 -0400
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My wife Susan spent all Friday getting ready for the yard sale. She
painted the signs, typed up the Craigslist ad, and alerted her
Facebook friends. She has a couple hundred of those, most her age, and
a fair number of them recent mothers or pregnant. I used to give her
grief about all the time she spent online. Her network would come in
handy for the yard sale.

We both sat in the living room. Susan folded and sorted baby clothes.
I watched TV. She had her back to me, and I noticed she'd changed into
an old pair of gray, thin, lounge-around pants. No panties.  She felt
more comfortable walking around like that. Her pert ass, not too big
but shapely and compact stood out like a round piece of wood trim,
only soft and rubbery.

I got up, put my hands on her waist and went in for a kiss on her
neck. She pulled away.

"Come on, Mike, I'm busy." she said.

"Too busy for me? Come on." I looked at her.

"What? Are you going to help?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Please, Mike, you wouldn't know where to start."

I gave up, sat back down, and pretended to watch the commercials.

"I'm going to keep the sentimental stuff," she said, and stroked her
short blond hair away from her face. She's very pretty. She had a
committed look to her. I felt bad.

We have two girls, eight and ten, from her previous marriage. She was
going to sell their baby clothes. She figured, why wait? We'd held
off. We weren't going to have any more kids. We dreamed about a boy.
We tried. She tracked her female cycles. Fertility nights loomed as an
occasion. Lingerie, oral sex, the works, even a little anal, at the
end. Something new. Where she'd gotten that? Probably the Internet.
That's what I thought.

Then a month ago she went to the doctor. The doctor ran his tests. She
passed with flying colors. Nature made her to have babies. My semen,
though, scored poorly. The stupid idiots swam in circles.

Just like that, the sex dried up. The Honeys, and the Dears, too. I
cut her some slack. I felt the disappointment, too. But that wasn't
enough. Two weeks ago, my sissy boss called me in. He smiled and
offered his apologies, anything he could do. All the usual crap. I
lost my job. Company right-sizing.

Shame and inadequacy came to live with us. It seeped in. I got it. I
couldn't provide. I'd never father kids of my own. I'd never get the
chance to get my wife pregnant, see her change before my eyes, see her
get rounder and bigger.

Susan's a nurse. To help with the bills, she started working longer
hours at the hospital.  She came home late into the evenings,
sometimes early morning. She said her line of work called for a
greater level of commitment than I could understand.

And now we're having this yard-sale. The girls were visiting with
their dad. Susan said this was a good time.

"I remember when Caroline wore this." she said. Caroline's our
youngest daughter.

"She was so adorable, and this one...Oh, I can't get rid of this one."
She wasn't talking to me.

"I want the girls to have these when they have kids of their own," she
continued.

I turned off the TV, excused myself, and went into my office. I
listlessly read some of my books. I couldn't get anything going, so I
turned on the computer and watched porn.

I'd been rubbing my pants when Susan called.

"Mike, do you have any books you want to sell?" she yelled. " I only
have these pregnancy books."

"No. Nothing. Sorry." I clicked away my porn folders. I turned around
to the hundreds of books piled ceiling-high, all around my office.

"Maybe I'll look tomorrow," I said. I'd have to sell them, eventually,
if I didn't get a  job.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey, blew the dust off a glass, and started
my drinking for the weekend. I thought of all tough breaks, and when
things would return to normal. Little did I know.

Late into the night, she continued folding and sorting. On my way to
the bedroom, I wrapped my arms around her waist and tilted her head
up. My lips rubbed across her unresponsive mouth. She gave me a quick
kiss, and went back to her business.

I got into bed and fell asleep before she joined me.

---

Next morning, I woke to the sound of birds and children playing
outside. The sun warmed my face. I yawned and turned over. I
remembered her coming to bed. I'd put the moves on her, got rebuffed
and slunk back. Now, she was gone. I laid in bed and drifted in and
out of sleep. Then I heard Susan speak from just behind the bedroom
door.

"Mike, do you know where you keep the big stapler? I'm going to need
it to hang the signs," she said from the living room.

"I'll have to look for it," I said into the pillow.

"Hurry," she said. "I have to finish setting up. The yard sale's at
nine."

I hung my head over the bed.

"Can you hang the signs?" she asked.

"Sure," I said.

"Mike. Let's move it. Just do this for me. I wont ask for anything
else. You can have all day to yourself. I won't bother you, again."

"Okay."

I needed a shower, if I expected to get anything going. Why did I feel
so tired? I slid off the bed and trudged into into the bathroom. I
slapped my hand against the wall in back of the toilet and whipped out
my cock. I shook it, and the piss flowed.

I ran the hot water, stripped off my boxers, and got in the tub. I
stood underneath the jets for a while, the water slammed into my tired
body. I tried not to think. I squeezed a bottle of bath soap into my
hands. It was minty and oily. I stood up straight and spat water out
my mouth. I grabbed my cock and squeezed it in a tight grip. The bath
could wait. I pulled back on my foreskin and let the hot water  flow
around.

I quickened my speed and turned my head around my neck. I grabbed my
balls with my other hand, and squeezed my genitals together. I slowed
the pace. Relaxed into it, moved both hands up and down my eight inch
cock. I stroked myself for a few minutes. Then, I felt it rush
forward. I felt the familiar start, the shiver, the tingling all over.
I clenched my ass cheeks and curled my toes. Muscled behind my stomach
tightened and I fell forward a half step. Semen coursed from deep
within. Streams of white  ejected into the choppy ankle deep water. I
ran my palm over the purple head. A final electric shiver jerked my
body.  I squelched a the desire to groan, and instead tightened my
face and banged the tiled wall.

I stood in that shower for a few more minutes, not washing or
anything. I felt the tension flow out. It would return, of course, but
for now it emptied out with my semen. Things were so different a month
ago. I didn't have to cum in the shower.

I dried myself and shook the hair in front of my forehead. Forty going
on fifty. I dressed in a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt and sneakers.
Then, I went into my office, found my stapler, grabbed the yard sale
signs, and walked down a steep hill.

I found the perfect place for the first sign. Anyone driving this way
would see it. I pressed my forearm against the tree, and slammed a
staple-- WHAP -- right into its bark.

---

When I returned from assignment, Susan was in the process of laying
out the merchandise. I looked around, peered inside boxes, underneath
tables.

"Don't worry, I'm not selling any of your things," she said,

I walked by her.

She leaned in. "Hey, listen, I need your help with more boxes."

"You're kidding. You don't have any more space out here."

She smiled. "There's more in the bedroom."

"Okay, but then you're on your own."

"You can relax, read a book, sit in your office." She gave me slap on
the back.

I found the boxes and pushed them out the door. With nothing else to
do, I grabbed a beer and went into my office. I sunk back in my chair,
opened a book, flipped on the computer, and did my best to entertain
myself. An hour later, around nine, people starting walking up the
driveway.

I heard the voices, mostly women, but  some husbands and boyfriends,
too. My wife sounded cheerful and animated. The yard sale ran right up
against my office window. I heard them talk.

How much for this cookie sheet? Five bucks. Will you take one dollar.
No. I can sell it for 5. Any boy clothes? No. Just girls. Does this
really work? Do you have any tools? Anything you want to get rid off.
Anything you want to donate? Do you have any tools? I'm looking for a
drill.

I had a hard time tuning them out. I kept obsessing about Susan
selling my tools. What if she thought those were 'ours'? After half an
hour of muffled conversations,  I went into the kitchen to grab
another beer. I counted them. I only had seven to last me until I had
a new job. Susan's rules. We didn't have the money, she said and I
agreed. But I needed to drink. At my rate, I'd be out by Sunday. And
man, Sunday's when you really need it.

I walked out into the yard with my bottle and a book.

My wife turned around. "Mike, come here," she said. "I need to ask you
something. Don't get mad."

"What?" I asked.

The flat brim of her gardening hat covered her face.

"Mike, you remember Karen, from choir?"

"No."

She cocked her head, hand on her waist. "Well, she invited me for a
get together with the girls. It's a last minute thing. I have to go."

"What about the yard sale?"

"Mike, I don't get out much. You know that. This came up. I'll have to
leave in a few minutes."

"What? How long does the yard sale run?"

"Not too late. Four."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"You can keep anything you earn," she said.

"How long are you gone?"

"A few hours," she said. "The rest of day, I don't know. You know how
these things go. Maybe we'll go out for dinner, perhaps get some
drinks. It's just the girls." She arched her eyebrows and curled her
top lip between her teeth.

"Susan, this is not a good time for that. I don't know how to run a
yard sale."

"It's easy," she said and smiled.

She showed me the money jar and gave me a few pointers. Keep the money
in the house. Let them browse. Don't talk too much.

She went inside. When she came out, for no good reason that I could
see, she'd changed her clothes. She put on a tight, form revealing
yellow summer dress. I'd never seen her wear that. She'd imposed a
moratorium on spending. How'd she buy it and how'd she keep it hidden?

She rushed into the car, and without another word, drove away.

Crap.

I had a good mind to wrap it up. But then I'd have to deal with angry
pregnant women, and Susan. I refilled my beer and sat out under the
shade of a large avocado tree.

It wasn't long before I had my first customer.

A tall brunette rummaged through a rack of clothes at the edge of the
driveway. I'd missed her coming over. Probably a neighbor.

She had on a white tank top and a pair of tight butt-cut lemon yellow
shorts. They barely contained her ass. I kept looking. She stood a
little taller than my wife, not quite so thin, and her legs were
fuller. I stared at her muscular, bronzed legs.

Then she turned around. She wore a pair of expensive looking brown
sunglasses. She held a hanger with a pair of draped pants next to her
red neck.

"How much are these capris?" she asked. Her glossy lips pressed into a
hard smirk.

I knew the ones. I looked at her shapely legs and back at her face.

"Those aren't going to fit you," I said.

She looked at me hard."They're not for me. They're for my daughter."

My face pulled back in embarrassment. I looked along the fence for
prices. Surely, Susan had written down prices somewhere.

Women's tops and bottoms, five dollars. "They're five," I said.

She lifted the hanger above her head."They're a little frayed. I don't
know, I'll give you three."

"I don't know," I said.

She arched her eyebrows above her glasses.

I rubbed my head and smiled. "Okay, three."

She gave me a bunch of crumpled bills, and didn't say a thank you or
anything, just pranced away. Her ass slammed up and down. Another
happy customer. Her sandals shuffled vigorously across the driveway. I
heard a door shut, the engine start and a gold plated, late model BMW
speed away.

I drank down my whole beer after that.

Pretty soon, I had more customers come over. After my incident with
Ms. Capri, most of the women were either pregnant or had young kids.
Word must have gotten around. They came by themselves, sometimes with
their families or a kid or two. And then they started coming in
droves. I don't know. They looked like a herd, full of chatter and
constantly moving. Big round happy women.

I peeped behind my book. I admired their bellies, their enlarged
breasts. Most of them were a little older, more than thirty. They
didn't dress like it, though. If anything, they dressed up, wore more
revealing clothes, tops and stretch pants that accentuated their
conditions. It was like a parade.

Some of them hung around quite a while. I brought out some lawn chairs
I offered them something to eat, graham crackers and water. I was
getting the hang of this. The hours went by. The money jar filled with
dollars. I sold a lot of our knickknacks, as well as some stuff from
Susan's previous life, photo frames, kitchen appliances, things I'd
never seen.

This was easier than I thought. And then, the time came to shut it
down.

And then, just as I was about to take down the signs and move the
merchandise up against the house, I had my last customer.

She must have been in her early twenties. She wore a pair of designer
sunglasses and a blue sweat outfit-- in this heat. She was a brunette,
petite, and small featured. Her stomach showed a small bump, like a
small beach ball. She drifted from table to table. She kept rubbing
her stomach and smiling. When she spoke to me, her speech was slow and
deliberate.

"Where are the newborn?" She wasn't from around here.

I asked her where she was from.

She smiled and told me she was Armenian. She flitted her tongue
against her top teeth when she spoke. She had a smooth curvy face, the
slightest roundness under her chin. She was beautiful. I imagined
Susan like this. She would have looked just like her, same build,
different hair color, but just as trim and slight, like her. Her names
was Lucine. I told her it was a pretty name. She smiled a wide
unselfconscious smile, full of teeth and pink cheeks.

She built a little pile of clothes. She asked me a few questions. How
many girls I had? How long I'd lived here, what my wife was doing. I
told her. She half smirked. Shook her head.

Lucine had married a young man from her country. This was her first
child. But her husband wasn't around. His mother had died and he'd
gone back home. He was supposed to have returned after two weeks, long
enough for a service and to spend time with the family. Two weeks
turned into two months. She called his mother's home. Emailed him. She
hadn't heard a word since he'd left.

I don't know why she chose to tell me all this. I couldn't guess.
Maybe she didn't have any friends. Maybe she was all alone.

She bought a small bundle of clothes. She handed me the money. Her
fingers rubbed my palm. I looked at her, she smiled. And then she
turned and walked away. Her ass was pert, her legs tight, and a fair
amount of baby fat rolled under her legs. My eyes glued to her
backside. She looked behind her. She saw that I was watching her. I
smiled and nodded. She winked, stuck her ass out, slowed down, and
with a few steps, she gave me the best walk I'd ever seen. I wanted to
follow her. She drove away.

I walked to the fence and gazed into the end of the street.

"Nice girl, Mike. Do you want to follow her in my car?"

Misty.

"Hi, Misty. A guy can look, can't he?"

She walked from across the street. Misty's my neighbor, also a very
good friend of mine.

"Sure, looking's okay," she said.

Misty's pregnant, with two girls in her belly, as it turned out. She
was huge.

"I was wondering when you were coming over," I said.

She wore a black workout outfit, thin white stripes ran down her sweat
jacket and polyester pants. Somehow she'd managed to zip the jacket in
front of her stomach. She draped the elastic hem just below her
navel.

"You looking for some clothes? We got a few. I can cut you a deal.
Good neighbor discount."

"Got any pants that'll fit me?" She brushed her hair with her hands.
Her wavy brown hair fell half way down her back.

I looked her over. "Maybe," I said. "How much longer, Misty? When are
you done?"

She laid her hands on her stomach and rubbed the sides. "I'm nine
months, so any time. It could happen right here in your driveway."

"Wow. Should you even be walking?"

"I could sit down, if you have a chair." She walked up to the gate and
I noticed she had two black bricks dangling by some wires like dead
rats. "Can I ask you something? This should be easy for you."

"Sure," I said.

"Thanks, Mike. Hopefully, this won't take long." She sat down.

She told me about her problems replacing some old fluorescent lights.

'Yeah, you got the right one. You just need to wire them differently.
This one's the old style. Have Tim come over. I'll make sure to
explain it right."

I handed her the transformer.

My dull eyes went straight to her tits. Her white shirt bunched and
creased obscenely at her large breasts. I gazed at her legs. They were
still shapely below her hips, just rounder, fatter. Her legs had
gotten thicker around her thighs. Sitting down, her thighs spread out
like dough. The rest of her was plump, too. She looked sexy.

"My husband can't understand what to do," she said.

"I'll talk to him. It's not that hard, but I know how awkward these
get."

"You can tell me, Mike. Tim's not home right now. He's going to be out
for a while. Probably won't return for another few hours. In the
meantime, I have a dark kitchen, and no way to feed me and the baby."
She fluttered her eyes.

I smiled back. "Come inside the house. Yard sale's done. You can make
yourself a sandwich. Eat anything you want."

I pushed open the door. She walked in. I gazed at her ass as it rolled
under the tight pants.

"I hope your not climbing ladders on your own, Misty."

She didn't answer. She sat down on the nearest sofa seat in the living
room. I realized she was doing this work by herself.

I said. "I'll wait for Tim to come back. Misty. I wouldn't feel right
if you fell down, hurt yourself."

She smiled, shook her head and once the act was done, She frowned
weekly. That's when she started to cry.

"Misty, Misty," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She looked down at her stomach, hair in front of her face and avoided
my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mike. It's nothing you said. I understand. I'm sorry." She
turned and started to get up.

"Misty, wait. I'll do the wiring for you. Just flip off the breaker
for the kitchen and I'll be right over."

She looked at me with streams of water pouring down her red face. She
smiled and shook her head. "It's not that." She looked at me with a
pained look. "

"This isn't about the lights, Mike. Can I tell you something?" she
asked. "I don't know who else to talk to."

She laid into me about her problems with Tim.

"I shouldn't be saying anything, Mike. I'm just so alone. No one to
talk to. What would my girlfriends say. They'd say I was crazy." She
opened her huge brown eyes at me. Her forehead creased. "He's cheating
on me, Mike."

She paused.

"I'm so sorry, Misty."

"Can I talk to you, Mike? Do you mind?"

"Go ahead. Get it out."

"He has another woman. He's visiting her, right now. I know it. I've
read some of their emails. He knows that I know. Her name's Heidi.
They work together." She breathed out. "I even think I've met her,
shook her hand. She's young, tall, pretty. Good looking. He'll stay
with her all night. He doesn't even excuse himself. Just comes back
whenever he feels like it."

She looked at me for permission to continue. I nodded.

"He's probably fucking that Scandinavian bitch, right now," she said.
"He hasn't touched me in seven months. You think that's right, Mike?
What kind of man does that? I'm carrying his baby, for fuck's sake. He
doesn't even look me. He doesn't like how this pregnancy's changed me.
He needs someone with a perfect body, young and flawless."

"I'm sorry, Misty. That's horrible. There's no excuse. A guy has
responsibilities." I tried again. "You're a very beautiful woman."

She half smiled. "You think so, Mike?"

"Absolutely. It's too bad your husband can't see it." I pressed her
knee with my hand.

"You're sweet," she said.

"You deserve someone better," I said.

"No shit."

She didn't say anything for the longest time. I scooted myself next to
her and put my arms around her neck. She pawed my back.

"Thanks, Mike. You don't know how much I needed that."

Just then my phone rang. I answered. It was Susan. She'd been paged,
she told me. She had to go into the hospital. Don't wait up for her,
she said. I hung up the phone.

"It was Susan," I said.

"Mike," she said and then stared at me, darting her eyes all over my
face. She looked like she needed to say something and had a hard time
getting it out.

"Mike, it's not my place," she continued. "I just think you'll hate me
for it. But I want to be honest with you, and you're such a nice guy."
Her words came slow. "You deserve better."

"What?" I asked.

"Mike. Susan's having an affair." She lowered her head. "I'm sorry
Mike."

I must've looked like I'd been gutted. I turned and fell down on the
other end of the couch.

 "Mike." She got up and sat down next to me. She searched for my
hands. "Mike, you okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

I gazed at her. "It's okay. Thanks for telling me, Misty. It's good to
know."

She got down into a squat in front of me. She held my trembling hands
in hers.

"I don't believe it," I said. "How can you be sure, Misty? How do you
know? "How? When?"

"I've know about if for about a month. He comes to the house a couple
times a week. I first saw him about a month ago, mid-day, when you
were at work. I saw him kiss her outside your door." She pulled her
dark hair away from her face. That gesture reminded me of Susan.

The doctor, the yard sale. Of course she had to go looking for some
other man's cock. Of course she'd get herself pregnant by someone
else. I'd raise the man's kid. My mind flashed across possibilities.

"Anything else?"

"He's here all the time, during the week. Sometimes she leaves with
him. He's dark." She paused.

"Go on."

"He's tall, probably in his 20s. Athletic." her eyes bounced over my
face. "He's good looking. Dark."

"A black guy?"

She nodded. I tossed my head back. She got up and put her hands around
my head and pulled me against her stomach. She felt warm and
mothering. Her bare leg touched mine.

We talked for a while more. I dropped a few choice epithets about my
wife. I had to come up with something. I don't know what I would have
done if Misty wasn't pregnant, and I wasn't afraid to upset her.

"Mike, I'm so sorry."

"I needed to know, Misty. I'm better off knowing," I said.

She kept looking at me like she had something more. "Mike, if there's
anything I could do." She kneeled on the cushion and held my hand
between her legs. She moved her face in front of mine. I had a choice
and I kissed her.  She grabbed the back of my head. I held her small
face. Her lips moved over mine, hungry and biting.

We kissed with her over me until she got tired and fell  back on her
legs. I lowered my sore neck and looked across at her. She sucked in
her lips. It was my turn to smother her. My face crushed against hers
and I sucked her lips into mine. She opened her mouth and spoke.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said.

"Why not?"

"Right." She laughed.

I moved my hand around her hip. It was soft and round. I caressed her
flesh in my palm. She pulled me closer. We kissed for what seemed like
an eternity. Her hand glided across my rough cheek.  I ran the tips of
my fingers against her stomach. I pressed gently and felt the movement
inside her. Our kissing was full of looks. She took my hand and shoved
it behind the pants' elastic. I palmed her lower stomach and touched a
thin pair of panties, felt her slick pubes and then, with her
swallowing a breath, I slid my fingers against her swollen cunt. She
oozed wetness. I searched out her lips with mine and sucked on her
tongue some more.

"Mike, I don't know how long I can last."

I asked her what she meant.

"You know. Down there. Before I need you fucking me."

I laughed at her.

"I'm not kidding."

She lifted her her shirt and her breasts sagged against her stomach.

I looked on. She squared her shoulders. 'They're beautiful." I said.

"They were nicer before. Smaller. Firmer. Not so saggy. She lifted the
undersides with her fingers.

"No, these are better."

She shook her hair. "I like you more and more," she asked.

I took an nipple into my mouth.

"Careful," she said. "I'm sensitive. Every day the feeling gets more
intense. The slightest touch sets them off."

She climbed over me, again, sort of sideways. Her face against the arm
rest. She maneuvered her tit into my mouth. I lapped it up.

"Gentle," she reminded.

I inhaled her mound and sucked. I got back cries of pleasure. I tasted
the trickle of something sweet. And then, milk shot into the back of
my throat.  I took a deep breath and swallowed. The excess poured out
the side of my mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I patted her leg. "It's good."

She laughed with a touch of embarrassment. She held steady while I
drank a few more ounces. I rather enjoyed it. I palmed her belly with
my left hand.

She staggered out the words. "Mike. Fuck me. Please." She sat down
next to me.

"Not here. Lets go into the bedroom."

"I can't wait," she said. She searched around the room. "Over there by
that wall. She walked to the entryway by my office and leaned forward,
"Come over here."

I walked to her and pressed her backside with my crotch. The outline
of her panties showed through her pants. She wiggled her ass. I rubbed
her bottom and pulled her pants and green transparent panties just
below her hips. Her cunt was dark and hairy. I couldn't see her
vagina, nothing but the mat of hair between her legs. She spread her
legs and shifted from foot to foot.

"Come behind me," she said.

I walked down and put my hands on her hips. I pulled the rest of her
pants and panties below her knees. My hands moved over her cold
dimpled skin. She was fully naked, mounds of flesh, waiting for me to
fuck her.

"Hurry," she said.

I undid my pants and took out my cock. I stepped into her and slid my
penis between her two mounds of perfect white flesh. She reached
behind herself and pulled my penis into her hole. With a gentle push
on my part, she spread open up like a fist. She banged the wall. We
both groaned in unison. I grabbed the flesh above her ass and pushed
in slowly. She held my arm to control how deep I went. I grinned as
the sharp points of her fingernails dug into my arm. I took it easy.
She relaxed after a while.

"It feels good. Just like that."

I fucked her in quick, shallow strokes. She squeezed her vagina in
gratitude. One long tight interval and then flashes whenever I slowed
my pace.

"That's good," she said. I started pumping her faster. "Oh god, oh
god. Michael, my god. Fuck me harder. Harder."

She was too much. My heart raced. I came inside of her. My balls gave
all they could. I pulled out and gazed down between us. The semen
surged out of her red swollen cunt. I didn't know if she realized it
or not. She kept humping my dick. I massaged her broad back. I didn't
want to disappoint her. I wasn't done yet.

I increased my pace. She lowered her head and pushed her ass as far as
it would go. She'd meet me half-way.

"Ah, shit," she said. "Ah shit, ah shit, ah shit. I'm cumming,
Michael. I'm coming." She shuddered, her feet scampered across the
floor.

She screamed loud enough to alert the neighbors.

"Oh shit." She covered her mouth, laughed and then got lost again in
the pleasure that coursed throughout her bodies.

I kept on fucking her. I jammed it as strong as I could. Her meaty
thighs slapped against mine. I climbed as deep as she'd take me. She
pressed herself closer to the wall. My chest pushed against her back,
now. She turned her face to me and I kissed her open mouth. She
grabbed back and pulled my ass into her. She slowed down.

"Stop. No more," she panted. She clenched her ass and with that we
were done. I popped out.

She turned toward me. She had her hands on her knees. Her tits and
stomach hung naked like some Mayan fertility goddess, which she was.
She curled her arms around my neck, slipped me kisses and passed her
fingers through my hair.

"Mike, whatever it takes. Whatever. I don't care. I'm leaving that son
of a bitch. And your wifes' a whore."

I smiled. "Yeah. I think I know that."

Misty washed up. I watched her get dressed. I helped with her socks,
pants, and shoes. We hugged. We told each other we'd do this again
soon. I kissed her again on the sofa. We kissed lazily, and drank each
others spit like high-school kids. She was tired, she told me, and had
to go home, fall asleep.

I saw her out the door. It was dark outside. She unlatched the gate
and walked out across the street. She disappeared behind a tree. A
moment later she turned on her front lights.

But this was nothing like the end. Things like this never end easy.
This was a far cry from a one-night stand. I'd dugged myself a hole.
The cunt's a trap. A cheating wife, an affair with a pregnant
neighbor. And this was a complicated place to be. I could've gotten a
divorce, walked away from Susan. But I didn't. I stayed. I'd fuck
Misty, again. And then there was my wife. She had it coming, too. My
heart filled with rage. I wanted  to fuck her even more.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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