Chapter 8

Saturday did not drag; it flew. Called into work an extra shift, I unloaded heavy pallets all morning. After dashing home, I rushed around, preparing my gear. Somehow, I managed to slap together and cram a sandwich into me, quieting the stomach grumbles.

Before I knew it, evening arrived, and I was hurrying through the motel suite, checking, and rechecking everything. All the while, anything but my growing hunger for Mrs. Goodman faded into nothingness.

At long last, I leaned back against the bureau beside a bottle of deep ruby wine. Although the alcohol game had been upped, only a pair of red Solo cups sat next to it. Given I’d no idea what state of mind she’d be in, glassware seemed a bad idea.

And then the waiting began. Between slow stretches of my tensing shoulders, I glanced at the time on the phone. Seven came and went.

It was strange, but none of the angst like before surfaced. Angry, fearful, or just plain beaten, she’d come to me. That was a certainty. It was approaching seven thirty when tires squealed to a halt in the parking lot. After slipping into my suit jacket, I let out a heavy breath.

“Show time,” I mumbled while straightening my tie.

At the muffled click-clack of approaching heels on the concrete outside, I opened the door. The world dropped away. Even as I struggled for words, Mrs. Goodman pushed past me to scan the room in a cloud of perfume and shimmering blonde tresses.

With golden hair weaved in a neat mound atop her head, she wore dangling golden earrings that swayed as she spun to face me. In only a tiny black halter dress, most of her sleek glimmering frame was exposed. Backless, displaying toned muscles, its plunging neckline sucked my eyes to her heaving braless chest. Steel-hard nipples threw shadows across the slinky halters. An ultra-short hem flicked around her upper thighs, offering glimpses of the ebon lace bands holding up dark stockings.

“Uh,” I started, while closing the door behind her.

All the words I’d planned to say evaded me. As she scanned me in my finest suit, the faintest hint of rose appeared on her cheeks. But before either of us could speak, she whirled again. As she stared at the bed, her eyes widened.

“Um, I got some—”

With words failing me once more, I lifted the bottle and poured wine into a cup. Just as I was going to comment about liquid courage, she strode to me, took the bottle from my hands, and filled the other cup to the brim. After plonking the bottle on the dresser, she stepped back, raising the cup to her glossy, full red lips. With her eyes screwed shut, she gulped. Then kept right on gulping until, with a lengthy sigh, she slapped the empty Solo onto the bureau’s glossy top.

The whole time, I watched in silence. I hadn’t even taken a sip. As I did, she forced open her eyelashes and tossed a black clutch purse to a chair. At the faint glimmer of fear, my heartbeat raced. Okay, better. Only liquid courage. Just to get herself malleable. Perfect.

After draining the small amount of wine in my cup, I stepped closer to her. My nostrils flared at the elegant perfume. Follow the plan. After another step, I lifted my hands to run my fingertips along her cheeks. But when I bent forward, she leaned away.

“No kissing, Damon.” Her hands flew behind her neck. “I’m here. We do the deed. And that’s it.”

Before I could respond, the top of the dress peeled downward. One quick shift of her hips, and it slid free to pool at her ankles. Even as my gaze swept her bare chest, she inhaled, tightening her frame. But as I moved to grab her, she dodged towards the bed. Burned into my mind was her in only black high-cut lace panties, stockings and shiny heels sliding on her back across the slick, glossy blue-green comforter.

Just as I wriggled free of my jacket, the first tears appeared in her blinking eyelashes. At the release of my tie, she exhaled as if all the air in the world was leaving her lungs. God, how those tits trembled. At the fall of my trousers, her gaze flicked to my aching mast. As those pretty eyes widened, tears streamed down her pale face.

“Damon.” She gulped as I crawled onto the creaking mattress. Her voice was so low, I could barely hear it over the room’s rattling air-conditioner. “P-Please. Please, no.”

At first, I thought she was begging me not to go through with it. My cock lurched upwards. But she rolled to the side. When her arms skimmed outwards over the shiny cover, my brows knitted.

“Not that way. My husband and me...” After completing her roll, she lifted to her hands and knees. “Um, that’s how we do it. So, please.”

Oh, my God. The plan was really working. She was going to let me fuck her. All the months. So much plotting. Hours of work. Her perfume wafted through my soul. At the lace taut over her perfect, hard butt, my entire body shuddered.

Rather than speak, I crawled closer until I towered behind her. At the touch of my hands on her warm hips, she jolted forward. A quiet yip escaped from her dangling head. When I curled my fingertips beneath the stretched waistband, air raced from her lips. As I drew the panties down, she panted ever quicker.

At the abrupt, flooding sweetness in my nostrils, my eyes dropped. While pulling the rolled lace from her, she lifted her legs. But once clear, she spread herself wider. With pulse roaring, I inspected the warm panties. They glistened. Its syrupy aroma sliding into me inflamed my nerves.

Oh, I could’ve commented. Said something. Because, yeah, sure, she was fearful. But also, much more compliant than dance and blowjob night. Once again, her arousal was obvious.

Instead, I kept silent and smiled towards a hidden camera while holding up the shiny lace. She’d appreciate that later. After tossing the wadded ball atop my suit, I scanned the sleek woman before me. Tan lines outlined all the areas no man but her husband was meant to see. As she trembled and her glittery nails sank into the comforter, I scoured every enticing millimeter.

“I-I hate you, Damon.”

No sooner had her whisper reached me than I gripped my shaft. All those months. Right after clamping one hip, causing her to jump, I thrust forward. She was so wet I slipped through her folds, missing the gate to nirvana. But as she swayed, my throbbing log under her drew rapid panting breaths from the trembling woman.

“You hear me?” Her nails scratched at the covers. “Mmm, h-hate you. Bast—”

That time I didn’t miss, piercing that tensing tiny gateway. Such intense heat. And so slippery. As my knob shoved deep into the stretching little hole, she arched her spine. But not a sound issued from those shaking, parted lips. Only a swift puffing fled her as my cock snaked deeper into gripping sleek warmth. Once I could grip both hips, I tugged her backwards while plowing further, spreading her satiny heated insides. As her trembling quickened, my muscles tensed.

It was everything I’d fantasized. And more. Why more? As if wanting to draw me further into her, her slick walls were pulsing around my rod. Just as her whole body tightened, her arms crumpled, dropping her head to a pillow. Although she chewed deep into it to mask her moan, the entire length of her pussy came alive, undulating along my cock. Beneath my hands, her skin flared with heat.

So, yeah, first orgasm.

While my fingers roamed her ribs, I shoved the last of myself into her. The warm, soft yet firm globes of her buttocks mashed into my pelvis. Below her shaking hair, she slurped and chewed at the nylon comforter-covered pillow. To either side, her nails had gathered the thick shiny material into trembling clumps.

Time disappeared. After all that work, I straightened to revel in my conquest. With my splayed fingers gripping her quivering hips, her pale butt remained flush to my curly black pubes. Like a speeding hammer, her pulse pounded along my embedded rod. But my heartbeat slowed as I scanned her glossy back. There were no sounds but the scratching of her nails on the covers and her rapid, bubbly breathing muffled by the pillow.

“This is where you belong, Mrs. Goodman,” I whispered while leaning over her shiny spine.

Although she tensed, before she could retort, I withdrew with a quick slurp until only my head remained inside her. I’d moved so fast she again flung a moan into the battered pillow. She never had a chance to respond. Not with words. But another moan left her as I eased back inside that incredible tightness with a loud slurp. Warm juices dribbled down my swaying balls.

At last, I was fucking her.

And soon, with every forceful stroke, she rocked while trying to hide more and more moans. Pink and so stretched, her velvety pussy lips dragged outwards with each swift withdrawal. Only to then disappear with my rapid thrusts into her. Once I’d set a pleasant rhythm, the bed’s steady creaking in sync with the slapping of our bodies became almost musical. All the while, her tight cave, slick and warm, surged along my delving pole.

“Mmm, fuck,” she murmured. “H-Hate you!”

At the muffled, wet cry announcing her second orgasm, I increased my speed. With the room blurring, my breathing raced. As the bed slammed against the wall with heavy thumps, my pelvis smacked louder against her swaying rear.

Her next release was much more impressive. In one lengthy, massive contortion, her entire body twisted as a muted scream blasted frothy bubbles across the pillow. Still, I pounded her. Again, she detonated. That time, her teeth were so deep into the pillow I feared she might choke. When her arms flattened to slap shakily on the covers, I gripped her hips tighter and continued hammering into her. Wave after wave battered her twisting frame until at last she gave up and flung her head to one side. Unmuffled, her screams shot across the room as her spread heels tapped a rapid staccato rhythm on the bed beside me.

Right as the final cry echoed, she glanced up at me through her ruined hair. Sure, a flicker of that hatred. But, oh, there was such delightful fear. Yes, I was going to ruin her.