Chapter 1

"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE"

I screamed as my orgasm, the first in I couldn't remember how long, finally arrived, simultaneously with the throbbing of Brad's cock as it spat string after string of that creamy pearly cum deep inside me. I wrapped legs and arms around him and held him tightly.

"Stay inside me, honey, don't pull out."

"You know I never just pull out, baby; I always stay inside you."

"I know, I know, but I forgot; it's been so fucking long. You're the only guy who doesn't hop out of bed and go pee before I finish cumming."

"It's been almost a year."

"Thirteen months, but who's counting?"

And what is wrong with him? There's something strange that I can't put my finger on.

"I still love you, Adrian."

Sure you do, you bastard. You live twenty minutes away, your office is only ten minutes away and I haven't seen you in a fucking year. What does she look like, that new cunt you've got to be fucking? Does she take it up the ass?

"Oh, Brad, Brad, I want to show you a letter I wrote to you last year."

"I didn't get any letter from you."

"Of course not, dummy. Should I have sent it to your office, so your secretary could open it or to your home for your wife to read? Or maybe just printed it in the newspaper?"

He had enough sense not to answer that question. When his cock finally began to shrivel, oh jeez, how does he stay so hard for so long, I helped him slide out of me, bent to lick him dry and then went to my dresser to dig out my collection of unsent love notes. The one I wanted was right on top. I skimmed it as I felt his love juice oozing out of me, seeping down, reminding me of that old childhood taunt, 'the best part of you ran down your mother's leg'.

"Read this, Brad."

His eyes flashed over the words, absorbing them with the speed of a life insurance agent, which he is, examining a medical report.

"No, read it out loud, Brad. I want us both to hear it together."

He looked at me questioningly but said nothing. He was laying there on his back, his flaccid but still shiny cock resting tantalizingly on one leg, inviting me to gobble it up, but I wanted to keep my eyes on his face as he read the words.

"My darling Brad,

"Well, here's another letter I'll never mail, just something to add to my loose leaf collection of thoughts and memories, my scrapbook that no one will ever see, unless maybe Charlotte.

"How long has it been since that evening when I walked into the insurance class? What the hell, I was newly divorced, raising two kids and I needed more money. My teaching salary was shit; I had been planning to move to New York or California, where they value teachers and pay them decently, but then I never would have met you. Funny how fluky things change your life, like that old Robert Frost poem:

'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.'

"Twenty empty chairs when I walked in. And how come I chose to sit in the front row? No one sits in the front row; they're afraid of being called on. Then you walked in, with your baby faced grin, threw your briefcase on the front desk and welcomed us all. I was wet just sitting there, and then I saw you staring at my tits, then tearing your eyes away to look at the rest of the class, only your eyes kept coming back to my twin babies. I wondered if the rest of the class noticed. I felt good, special, because my tits have always attracted guys' attention.

"Five beautiful evenings of listening to your stories and then going home to masturbate. That was before the kids grew up and moved out, before I got up the nerve to use a vibrator. Can you imagine what Charlotte and Donny would have said if they heard that thing buzzing from my room?

"Then six months later you walked into that office where I was working for Nancy and Lilly and on the way out you asked me to lunch. And I remember that you looked at my tits before you looked at my face, and I knew, I just KNEW, that you were going to hit on me over lunch. I didn't know then what I would say, but by the time they brought the coffee, I was ready to jump your bones right there.

"OK, I forgive you for that sleazy motel. That day I wanted to fuck you so badly that I would have been willing to do it in the back seat of your car, in broad daylight. Ha! That's something we never did; do you think we might someday do it?

"And when you couldn't keep it hard that day, after you took care of me, when you had to jerk yourself off, I felt so proud that you would trust me with that personal knowledge. I've never told anyone about that, not even Allison, who knows everything about me and you. (Charlotte, if you find this letter after I'm dead, make believe that you didn't see this paragraph.)

Jeez, he's blushing.

"That was the day you asked me to go to Atlanta with you for that conference. Do you remember, it was right after you finally shot your cum all over my stomach, that sweet juice running down toward my pussy. When I told Nancy that I needed three days off, she knew immediately what we had planned, and she reamed me a new asshole. She told me all about that blonde cunt she had seen you holding hands with in the Italian restaurant. That bitch, she didn't want anyone to fuck me except her, plus Lilly of course. I must admit she tasted pretty good, but that's for a different letter.

"She also told me that you had tried to get into her pants, and she was sure that it wasn't because you were trying to fuck a lesbian, it was because you didn't even realize that she was gay. Oh, you poor man.

Son of a bitch, he's blushing again.

"But I went anyway, and we fucked our brains out. By that time, you weren't so nervous, and old General Peter was able to stay hard enough for you to cum inside me. Oh Brad my darling, I can still feel that beautiful sperm sloshing around inside me.

"Of course, that same trip was when I first swallowed your cum, something I never, ever did for anyone before. And now you've made me a fucking cum addict. I love that taste, and can't get enough of it. From you, anyway.

"Brad, Brad, Brad, tell me why I'm having an affair with a married man when I threw my husband out the very first time I caught him fucking with another woman. Eating her pussy, to be more precise, on my fucking bed.

"Oh, my darling, I've long since given up my fantasy of spending the rest of my life with you, but whenever I see you, it always comes back. Well, maybe I haven't truly reconciled myself.

Son of a bitch; are those tears?

"OK, Brad, put the letter down and I'll give you the birthday present you've been wanting all these years."

"Huh?"

"You're going to get to fuck me in the ass."

"I thought you didn't like that."

"I've changed."

I gave him the hardest stare I was capable of.

"You don't really think that this wet cunt has been sitting here all alone pining for you while you've been fucking everything in sight, do you, my dear man?"

My sexual problems all started with the abuse by Daddy. No, I don't mean that he fucked me or anything like that. He never touched me, he was too straight-laced for that, and I certainly never fantasized about him in that way. The abuse from him was all mental; all he ever did was criticize me. About everything. It was always 'your brother this, your brother that.' Don't misunderstand; I love my brother, but that is in spite of my Daddy, not because of him. He even criticized my posture. He insisted that I walk ram-rod straight. For a while I thought that he might just want to see my tits sticking out but I know it wasn't that. On the other hand, that has caused my chest to become my main attraction, and I guess I should be thankful for that.

And maybe that was what caused me to pick the husband that I did. Richie too was always critical about something I said or did, or how I dressed, or anything. He even complained about sex; he could never get me to cum, I never had an orgasm until I bought that vibrator after the kids left the nest. And he was always bitching that I wouldn't let him cum in my mouth. I think I got that from my mother, who told me once that my father never even tried to cum in her mouth. Who knows, maybe he had a girlfriend somewhere. Or maybe it was a manifestation of being so straight-laced.

But Richie was a good father, and he did have a girlfriend somewhere. Next door to be exact, not that it was obvious until that one awful day. I was already teaching and one morning, the school had a bomb threat and they evacuated the building. After a while, they decided to send all the kids home. I thought about going shopping and decided to go home first to change my clothing.

When I got to the house, I heard a female moan and thought that Charlotte had come home sick from school. I went right to her room but it was empty. Then I heard the moaning again and I knew right away what it was, what it had to be. I felt the blood run out of my face, I shivered with an unseasonable chill and at the same time, I began to perspire. And held my breath. And began to slink down the hall.

I thought, why the fuck am I slinking, I'm not doing anything wrong, but I kept quiet. The door was mostly open; they weren't expecting anyone at that hour of the day. The first things I saw were a bra and panties on the floor alongside the bed, and I knew they weren't mine. Hell, the bra was too skimpy to hold up my beauties.

Then I saw some red-headed cunt spread-eagled on the bed, MY bed, with her legs hanging over the foot of the bed. And Richie, bare ass naked, on his knees on the floor, his head buried in her snatch, munching away, his cock, shiny with mixed fluids, hanging down between his legs.

That fucker never eats me like that. All he ever does is hump me like a fucking missionary.

I'm embarrassed to say that my first reaction was not anger, which I knew it should have been. No, my first thought was that the scene was hot as hell, and my pussy began to drool, so much that I had to begin rubbing it. And I kept rubbing until I realized that I might make a big wet spot on the front of my slacks.

I couldn't see the cunt's face and I didn't know who she was until I heard her moan, "Richie, Richie, Richie." Then I knew, but it didn't matter; she wasn't much of a friend, more just a neighbor. Still, I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. I was shaking but I watched silently, maybe in awe, as he climbed on the bed and knee-walked up to her face, sticking his cock into her mouth. Her honey pot was still spread wide open and I could see some leftover cum that Richie hadn't gotten out of her.

I started rubbing myself again, trying uselessly to make myself cum. I didn't think about wet spots until I actually felt it on my slacks. That sort of woke me up, but I decided that screaming was unnecessary. I spoke barely loud enough for them to hear me.

"Don't forget to change the sheets." I sensed two heads spinning toward me but I was already walking down the hall.

"Adrian." I heard him yell it down the hall.

"Fuck you, Richie. I'll be back by three and you'd better be packed and gone by then."

I went to the mall and started making phone calls. The first one was to a lawyer we knew from neighborhood parties.

"No, Adrian, I won't see you today. Yes, I have time, but why waste your time and pay me good money without waiting a week to see if you really want to go through with it."

"But I'm sure of it."

"Trust me. You have no idea how many women cancel after making that first appointment, after they've had a chance to think over all the ramifications."

He was right, of course, but I didn't change my mind. We started negotiations, spending my money like it was water, until one day about three months later; we were reviewing the final divorce documents.

"You know, Adrian, Richie must be a fool to let you get away."

Holy shit, is this the beginning of the proposition that all my friends tell me about, the matrimonial lawyer who wants to fuck his female clients because they're all so vulnerable?

Of course it was, and later I thought about reporting him to the Bar Association, only by then I was just so numb. But that day I was so depressed, so needy, feeling so unloved, really just wanting a cock so badly, that I let myself believe that he really found me attractive. Not that I'm so bad looking, thank you, but to pricks like that, I realized finally that I was just a notch in his belt.

And so we continued to discuss the financial settlement until his secretary left for the day. Then he got up and locked the office door. When he came back, he passed behind me and paused, finally putting his hands on my shoulders and beginning to massage them. My muscles tightened and immediately relaxed. In one instant, I hated him, one of those lawyers who tries to fuck every woman going through a divorce, and at the same time I needed him so badly. Not my body; I masturbated enough for that. No, it was my mind that needed him, to reassure me that I could still give a man pleasure.

When I didn't reject him, when I instead leaned back with a sigh, his hands moved down, after what to him must have been a painfully suitable delay, and began to caress my tits, his fingers feathering the nipples that pushed out with desire to highlight my blouse. I lifted his left hand off me, brought it to my face to gaze pointedly at the wedding ring he wore, and then returned his fingers to my outstretched nipple.

Soft fingers expertly opened the buttons in front of my blouse.

You bastard, you do that to all of us, don't you?

I leaned forward and his hands reached behind me to unhook my bra. Though it was still on me, there was enough space for his hands to caress those globes that catch a man's eye. I reached back to fondle his package and he moved to the side to make that task easier. I looked down at his hands pawing me so gently, noticing his watch.

"Tony, you're not going to put this afternoon on your time sheets, are you?"

His didn't miss a beat. "My secretary does my billing. What am I going to tell her?"

"Tell her you wanted to get laid and the lady didn't want to give it away for nothing."

Don't ask me why I said that, it just popped into my head. Right alongside the thought that I wanted to get laid but I sure as hell wasn't about to pay a high-priced lawyer for the privilege.

No, I didn't feel like a whore, just like someone who didn't want to be cheated.

I took his silence for acceptance of the fact that I wouldn't pay the bill if he tried to charge for that afternoon, and would probably cause him a lot of grief to boot.

He came around in front of me, his hands weighing my bodacious tatas. I unzipped his slacks and reached in, fumbling through his under shorts until I felt his hard and warm cock, fighting its way through to daylight. When it was out, a little drop of pre-cum glistening at his third eye, he pressed it against my lips. I shook my head.

"I don't suck, Tony; I fuck."

He gave me a look like, whatever happened to that demure Adrian who was such a lady?

I got myself topless, kicked off my shoes and went over to the couch against the far wall. I stretched out on it, my feet on the leather and my knees up in the air, so that my skirt fell up to my waist, exposing a chaste pair of black panties, nothing sexy. Unless you're a guy with his cock out and ready, and then anything is sexy. Tony came over and lifted my ass so that he could pull off the panties.