Chapter 3

The next summer when my son came home from school, he told Marsha and I that he was going to stay with Christy.

His mother was disappointed, but she understood. I didn’t.

“So you’ve been keeping in touch with her through the winter?” I asked casually.

“I call her once or twice a week.” Phil said.

Christy laughed nervously when I confronted her; “I told you I’m no good!” she said, as if it was a joke.

I left angrily, but when Phil returned to school again a couple of months later, I found my cock in her mouth and there didn’t seem to be a thing I could do to stop it.

I lied to my wife and Phil with ease, unable or unwilling to give up my self-aggrandizing affair with my son’s girlfriend.

We were very careful; we knew that both our lives would be turned upside down if we were found out. I parked my car 2 corners away from her apartment, when we went out together I made sure it was where no one would know us. We used burner phones and rental cars.

Our intense sex lead dragged us into an emotional attachment; we met, we talked, we laughed. We argued, shared opinions, angst, advice. We talked about everything except those we loved and betrayed, Phil and Marsha.

I didn’t need Christy to have an orgasm; it was her smile when she looked at me, when she laughed at a joke, when I licked her sweet tight cunt; that was what I was hooked on.

When Phil graduated and really moved in with her, I told her it was over. Even I had a limit, I could compartmentalize my emotions to a certain extent but that was the line even I would not cross.

Yet.

It was about a year later when Christy called me on my cell phone;

“Hi Harry.”

“What can I do for you, Christy?”

“Let’s get together somewhere.”

“You’re with Phil now; it’s not going to happen.”

“Just for lunch ... I could meet you out in that cute place in Somerville. Come on, Harry, just for lunch. I miss the talks we used to have; I could use your input on a few things.”

Talk, wise advise, I could give her those.

“Alright. One o’clock?”

But of course it wasn’t just lunch in the end.

“We need to agree on what we’re going to tell Phil about the apartment.” Christy said after we’d ordered. “I told him that my uncle helps me with the rent.”

“Oh, right.” I said, and we discussed the details of our lie into the meal.

“They have rooms here Harry.” Christy said over desert, coquettishly licking a bit of chocolate from her lower lip.

That smile of hers; so bright, so lovely, so irresistible. I tried, I really did; I tried to say No; but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate with my brain.

She was 6 feet 3 inches tall in high heels, she had legs that could kill a man from a distance. She took off her light dress, revealing her slim strong body to me again.

The body that made love with my own son, I reminded myself. He also held those firm young breasts in his hands, he also kissed those sugary lips. He probably loved her; who wouldn’t? What man could avoid it?

She was wearing a lacey bra that I had bought for her a year before, and the matching garter belt. Christy did about 5 fast pirouettes in the small room, her hair flying outwards. She stopped facing me, laughing; her laugh was like music, but the kind I didn’t enjoy anymore. Her nipples stood proud, poking through the large holes in the centers of the cups.

I sat on the bed, and she put an ankle on my shoulder, her other strong leg easily holding her weight despite the high heel. I reached forward, between her thighs, and stroked her ass and crotch as she removed the bra.

She bent and kissed me, her foot still on my shoulder; I held her sturdy slim hips. She stood there, balancing on the heel with apparent ease, as she kissed my mouth and opened my shirt, and then my trousers.

I still had a little bit of conscious left, and it was screaming at me to stop, to go home to my wife.

Christy stroked my stiff dick with her pretty hands, the sensation blasting the weak protest straight out of my head. I looked at her gorgeous face, her big blue lying eyes, and I knew I was going to do it. So I figured I might as well enjoy myself.

We kissed in that unlikely position for a while, before we pulled apart to undress.

She left the garter belt and stockings on, knowing that I like that; she held her legs straight out, her ankles in her hands as I climbed into position above her.

Her vagina was stretched wide, waiting for my dick; I knew I shouldn’t, Phil had moved in with her!

Ahh, but it did feel good to be in her again. It had been so long since he’d returned and we’d stopped doing it.

She was so perfect, her wetness and heat against my dick filling my primal being with contentment.

The way she arched and tensed as my cock slid into her, the happy noises she made; she was a slut, a fun little wanton ballerina.

She gripped my cock with her unforgettable tightness and bucked upwards against me as I fucked her, her big clear eyes the picture of happy innocence, her laughter as sweet as ice cream, and perhaps as cold.

She gripped me tightly, like a boa constrictor; her arms around my torso, her legs around my legs, and her vagina around my cock; she squeezed me, as if to force the last of my strength from me; all of my semen, all of my power, and the last of my decency. She began to groan and buck below me, and I knew the youngster I was fucking was about to come; my dick exploded within her, filling her taught slim body full of my frustration and shame.

The deception became easier. I even started having sex with Christy a few times every month, while my son was living with her in her apartment and working for me at the agency. I knew I was sharing her with him, that his semen was in her while she made love with me, and I did it anyway.

Sex addiction, or love? Is there a line somewhere? If I was in love with Christy, she wasn’t in love with me, or she wouldn’t be living with Phil. Or maybe that was part of it, her revenge on me for keeping her as my girl on the side, while keeping my marriage intact.

Or did she love me and my son simultaneously? I loved Phil and I deceived him.

We were both evil; we were both pleasing ourselves while betraying those we loved, risking the destruction of our family for our hour of carnal pleasure. We both knew no good could come of our need to come, but we kept on coming anyway.

I didn’t meet Christy at the apartment. We met other places, leaving no trace behind. I had keys to houses and apartments all over town.

She dressed slutty, or elegant, or not at all. We kissed, caressed, sucked, licked, fucked, came. But we talked too; talked about all sorts of things except Phil. We cuddled and communicated, and that was more binding than fucking.

“I have an announcement.” My son said to Marsha and I over dinner one night, “I’ve asked Christy to marry me, and she’s agreed.”

“That’s fantastic, dear!” my wife said excitedly, “Have you set a date yet?”

“Not yet, Mother; one thing at a time! We’re going to keep living in Christy’s apartment in town; she likes to be near the theater.”

“You don’t like Christy much, do you?” Marsha said to me later, as we got ready for bed.

“Why do you say that?”

“You go all funny whenever Phil brings her over. You hardly talk to her at all.”

“I like her fine.” I said, working to cover up whatever Marsha might have observed. “I just don’t know if she’s the right girl for Phil.”

“Oh come on, Harry! She’s absolutely stunning, as sweet as honey, tall and strong and hard working. What don’t you think is right?”

I grumbled something insensible and rolled onto my pillow.

“I’m looking forward to the wedding.” Marsha continued as she turned off the light. “I want you to get a new suit, and I’m going to have that face lift.”

“How could you accept?!” I demanded of my cheating young mistress when I had her in private.

“He asked me, and I said ‘yes’!” she said, “I love him, he loves me, and we’re getting married.”

“You can’t do it! What happens when he sees the lease with my signature on it?”

“Shit, Harry; I’m not going to let my life be governed by a signature on a piece of paper. That’s your problem, you deal with it.”

“You know that it’s over between us, don’t you?”

“That’s up to you, Harry.”

I stared at her; what went on inside that pretty head of hers?

“When you marry my son, Christy, you become my daughter.” I told her.

She put her arms around my neck and looked me straight in the eyes; she touched my body lightly with hers.

“I look forward to it.” She said, and kissed me.

My compartmentalization of emotions couldn’t hold this; even as Christy eagerly sucked my penis, her silky hair tickling my thighs, I knew this truly had to end. I came in her mouth and left without another word.

“We have to talk” Christy said to me on my burner phone a couple of weeks later. “You’ve been avoiding me, Harry.”

“Yes, I have.” I said. “I don’t have anywhere we can meet, and I’m busy.”

“Stop by the theater. My friend is working on my dress today. We’re downstairs in the costume room.”

The theater had a back door, but I still felt exposed slipping in there. I found Christy in her wedding dress; long and elegant, heaven white, with a cute little headdress and a veil. Another girl was busy with some detail, but she left soon after I arrived.

“What do you think?” she asked me excitedly. “Don’t you think it’s sexy?”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” I said, “But yes, I suppose it is.”