Chapter 1

"Oh, no!" Bethany sighed to herself.

Bethany, a beautiful mulatto with butt-length, dark, curly hair, deep green eyes, and cafe-au-lait colored skin, was reviewing the exam her instructor had just returned to her. Her full bosom heaved in disappointment, while waves of guilt washed over her.

It was all for nothing, she thought to herself. He's sacrificed so much for me and all for nothing! She felt a need to be snuggled securely in her husband's arms for comfort, but she felt shame for the need.

She fought to control the tears which welled up in her eyes. In her grief, she didn't notice the occassional glance from her instructor as he presented the lecture for that evening. After an interminable period of time, the class ended and, gratefully, she prepared to leave.

"Mrs. Chatelaine. Can I speak with you for a few minutes?" Mr. Stanchion, her instructor, had been speaking. Numbly, she nodded and continued to put her things away as the students trickled out.

"Yes, Mr. Stanchion. I can only stay for a few minutes. My husband will be here to pick me up soon." Her voice trembled.

"You seem to be having trouble with the material. Is there something I can do to help? I couldn't help notice how upset you were when you saw your test."

"I hope no one else noticed. I don't know why I don't get it. It's not required for my major, thankfully. But, I sit here and understand it, and then when I get home I don't get it. It makes no sense to me."

"Well, perhaps I can help. Let's meet for a couple hours. What day will be good to meet with me after 6:30 p.m., Mrs. Chatelaine?" He smiled at her.

"Fridays. My husband works late on Fridays, and we'll be able to spend time working on the class material then. Uhm, call me Beth." She smiled back at him shyly.

"Okay, Fridays it is. I'll see you at 6:30 p.m. sharp tomorrow evening." He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed them briefly. She wasn't aware, after she'd turned and walked out of the room, that her teacher's gaze followed those long shapely legs until the door closed.

All the way out to the car she wrestled with the guilt and shame she felt. Her husband, Franscois, had taken on more hours at work to help put her through her remaining courses. She had vowed to herself to get straight A's in all of her classes in return for his sacrifice. A black Ford Escort was waiting for her outside when she exited the front doors. She smiled, waved, and dashed over to the car. A tall, handsome blonde was standing there holding the door open for her.

"Bethany." He said in his very thick accent. "I thought of you today, love."

As he bent down to place her bags in the back seat of the car, he allowed his free hand to follow her leg up to her crotch. He kissed her gently, then closed the door. The drive home was quiet, he looked at her from time to time, but said nothing.

"Come, let's have dinner out tonight. I have been saving my pennies." He allowed his right hand to reach around and rub her neck. Then he followed her shoulder down then allowed his hand to drop to her, oh, so lovely breast.

She smiled, then nodded. She took his hand in hers and kissed each finger individually as she looked into his eyes from beneath her long lashes.

They had dinner at Michelle's, during which time they sat in their favorite booth in the back of the dimly lit restaurant. They sat next to each other and talked in low tones. The waiter failed to notice that Francois' hand was buried deep in Beth's crotch. He was also unable to see the look of sheer bliss on her face, since her head was turned towards the source of her pleasure. Knowing her as well as he did, he stopped at just the right time to ensure she literally ripped his clothes off of him when they returned to their small apartment.

"Oh, love, I will be staying after on Fridays for a little extra tutoring. Will that be okay with you?" She asked as they were leaving the restaurant.

"Of course. You know I have to work late that night anyway." She noticed what seemed like a shadow of relief pass over his face.

Then, as a way to assuage her guilt, she gave him a blow job which made him come twice and left him hot on the brink for a third time. He groaned not only in agony, but anticipation. She had a gifted tongue, but that's not why he had married her.

When they got home that night, just as he had known she would, the door had barely closed behind them, when she began to rip his clothes off of him. She wouldn't let him touch her, but she pushed him towards the couch as each garment -- jacket, shirt, tee, belt, and pants -- was strewn carelessly about the room. He loved this and she knew he did. She pushed him gently back on the couch and then lifted her skirt. After hooking her thumb in her panty hose, she pulled them down slowly, then turned around so her ass was facing him when she bent over to remove them. When she turned back around there was an appreciative lear on his face. She sat astride his lap and as she slowly slid down his erect pole, she unbuttoned each button of her blouse laboriously. She untucked the blouse from her skirt and allowed it to fall open. After placing first one then the other of his hands on her taut nipples, she rode him up and down slowly. She controlled his excitement and kept hers in check until she was ready for them both to come. Her cunt muscles were well-toned and provided endless hours of pleasure for both of them, but that's not why he'd married her.

So, after many, many orgasms, she finally packed her hubby off to bed and broke out the books and began studying. She was barely aware when he had gently picked her up from the table and carried her into bed with him. When the alarm wakened her the next morning, there was a note on her pillow.

"Love. I've taken the bus so you can have the car. You can pick me up when you get done with school."

Beth's classes flew by that day and soon she was on her way to her appointment with Mr. Stanchion. The building seemed empty and her footsteps echoed down the hall. The door was closed to his office.

"Mr. Stanchion?" She called as she knocked. She heard a chair move on the floor and then the door opened.

"Beth, hello! You can call me Paul. Come in." The door closed after her when she'd entered the office.

"Now Beth. Let's take a look at the material. Come stand over here at the table and let's work at the white board. They spent an hour reviewing and then, Beth was surprised to find she really did know the stuff. She was baffled then by her poor grades.

"Well, I don't understand. I seem to know it now." She said quietly.

"Maybe it's your study habits. Tell me what a normal study night is like for you."

"Well, my husband usually picks me up after school. We then go home, have dinner and spend some time together. We've only been married six months now, so every minute is precious to us. It's usually quite late when I finally tuck him in. Then I do my homework."

He smiled with understanding.

"I think I can help you then. A weekly review will go a long way to solving your problems, I think. But, of course, my time is precious, too. What will I gain in return?" He looked at her directly.

"What do you mean? I have lilttle money to give."

"Well, perhaps another means..." she took his meaning immediately when his left hand cupped her breast.

She drew back horrified. Then packed her things and walked determinedly over to the door. But, something stopped her. It was the guilt which had overwhelmed her yesterday and was yet with her today.

"I can't. I love my husband." Her voice was very quiet and very shakey.

"Of course you do, but you must think of the bigger picture here. What happens if you don't pass the class. I think that between your tutoring sessions with me and your studies at home, your grades in the class will improve."

"But, I can't meet you anywhere to... to... do that. I mean, what would I tell my husband?"

"Well, we could do it right here. I think we can work it all in. But, it's up to you."

In response, she walked over to the chair and put her things down. Then she sidled up to Paul and looked demurly into his eyes. A look that made men go weak in the knees. That's why Francois had married Bethany.

"Is this better?" She asked quietly. She figured the greater sin would be her failing her husband than complying with Paul's demands.