The Seven Deadly Sins – Lust

byVandemonium1

I receive many comments on the length of my tales. Equally split criticism of being too short or too long. I thought I’d explain my highly complex system of deciding length. I begin with what I want to say. I start writing. When I’ve said everything I want to say, I write, ‘the end’. Any questions?

This one is relatively long (28 ‘Word’ pages). About the only thing original in it is the discovery method. Again, if what I think are original ideas aren’t and have been done before I apologise in advance both to the original author and for wasting reader’s time. As usual, those of a forgiving nature should stop reading now. Unlike many of my stories, this one does contain sex.

My beautiful partner in life and crime, CreativityTakesCourage, has done her usual fabulous edit job but be warned, as most of this story is written as diary entries, I asked her not to be too fussy with punctuation. As a thank you to her, you might check out her stories. They have an average score over 4.5, a feat not many writers on this site can match.

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February 14^th, 2010

Dear Diary. Yippee, Dave finally proposed to me today. On Valentine’s Day, of all times, the romantic great lump. We’d been discussing our future for a month or so and tonight I finally answered the question he asked me three weeks ago. You remember, the one he said he was going to ask.

Three weeks ago, I asked him about his expectations of monogamy, if we finally tied the knot. I knew he was a little old-fashioned, so I had this great speech rehearsed. I explained that monogamy was a bit outdated and many people live the polyamorous lifestyle these days. He shot that down as not being acceptable to him.

Undeterred, I then pointed out that many females in nature mate with multiple males. You know how he believes that humans are just one of the animal kingdom. He shot right back, that most of the female animals at the top of the food chain had one mate at a time, lions, tigers, and even gorillas. He pointed out that many animal males will fight rivals to the death to protect their breeding rights. He guessed that I was a little reluctant to commit solely to him, so he told me to think about it and let him know if I wasn’t willing to commit to monogamy, so he could stop wasting both our times.

Well, tonight, at the restaurant, I told him I was his and only his and he proposed on the spot. The sex when we got home was as fantastic as ever. Of the twenty or thirty guys I’ve slept with, he is still by far the best. I’ll just have to force myself to keep my word, he’s too good a catch to give up.

November 8th 2013

Dear Diary. Well, I lasted over three years, but it finally happened on my latest sales trip. I have to say, I have really mixed feelings about it. On one level, I’m feeling guilty for what I did, on another, it was fantastic.

As usual, on the second night of my trip I was entertaining some of a client’s purchasing people. We were having dinner in a restaurant and the wine was flowing. Not that I’m using that as an excuse. After the meal, some of us went to the club next door for a bit of dancing. There was one guy, Stewart, the deputy head of their purchasing department, that was a really good dancer. He was a little younger than me and very muscular. On our third dance he pulled me close and started nuzzling my neck. I told him I was married and to stop, but you know men; it was a waste of breath. He just whispered in my ear that he wanted me. I don’t know about other girls, but that statement just triggers something in me. Especially, when it comes from a guy who would have been way out of my league in high school. It just speaks straight to my confidence as a woman. It says, screw the fact that you’re just on the sunny side of plain. Screw the fact that you’ve allowed your weight to drift a little above ideal since you’ve been married. Screw the fact your boobs are a little smaller than average. You’re a desirable woman and I want to fuck you.

He did me in the gents. It was quick, rough, and I loved it. Not on a sexual level you understand, it was over too fast for that. My ego just loved it though. A sexual alpha had been so attracted to me that he’d risked his own marriage to mate with me. I’m sure I was still glowing this morning, even though my wrist was beyond sore from masturbating all night.

I got back home a little after four this afternoon and am waiting for Dave to get here from work. I think part of the reason I weakened was that he was away between my last two trips. We haven’t made love in ten days.

I don’t know if I’ll feel guilty when he gets here but there is none so far. I do feel a little bad that he made such a big thing about fidelity before he proposed and I promised to be true, but I wouldn’t call it guilt. I had a flashback just now to when I first discovered my father allowed my mother to play outside the marriage. I was fourteen and supposed to be in bed. Mum was out and Dad was waiting up for her. She came home and I eavesdropped while she told him about it. Then they went to bed and I could hear them all night. I’m sitting here getting really wet thinking about telling Dave. That would be super exciting, but, unfortunately, must remain a pipedream. I can easily imagine my ass skidding down the driveway if I told him what happened. Ho-hum, a girl can dream though.

I just realised. I’m pretty sure Dave would never read this diary, but it’s now pretty damning if he did. I’d better find a really good hiding place for it. Only until next year though. Then this one can go with the other old ones into the attic.

November 10^th 2013

Dear Diary. Notice I didn’t write anything yesterday. There’s a wonderful reason for that. Dave came home just after I found a hiding spot for you. He just walked in, picked me up, carried me to the bedroom and fucked me senseless. After so long apart, he must have been full to the gills. I clearly felt him spurt inside me. I just love that. Afterwards, we went out to dinner, then he fucked me senseless again. We pretty much stayed in bed all Saturday, talking, cuddling, and screwing.

On a purely physical level it was very exciting. Dave has learnt exactly which of my buttons to press and when. Yet, on a deeper level, it felt kind of hollow. I know Dave finds me attractive, he’s proved that about six times in a day-and-a-half. But it’s like he has to find me attractive because he’s my husband, and that attraction doesn’t have the same value as that of a stranger or an acquaintance like Stewart.  God, the thought of a young stud like Stewart finding me pretty enough to fuck me like Dave has this weekend, is making me horny again. I’m going to find Dave.

Hello again. Dave is barbequing some steaks for dinner. Number seven for the weekend was short and sharp. I closed my eyes and thought about Stewart in the club toilets; it was so hot. We cuddled afterward and Dave mentioned again that we should start thinking about a family. I put him off as I’m a little conflicted right now. I’m really not sure if I can do this whole one man-one woman, thing. As I looked in his eyes, I was fighting not to tell him about Stewart. Then we could have gone all night tonight, just as my parents would have. Luckily I stopped myself. I’ve seen nothing that indicates Dave has relaxed his uncompromising attitude to monogamy. Shame.

February 3^rd 2014

Dear Diary, since I decided in December that I just couldn’t do this whole monogamy thing, I’ve been planning on how to pull it off without Dave knowing. I haven’t written about it here so that I wouldn’t have to hide this year’s diary. I’ve been doing research on my lonely evenings during sales trips. I’ve found a couple of sites on the net that describe how women who do what I intend, are caught. Unfortunately, those same stories detail what happens to them when they are. I always skip those bits. I’m determined not to start until I’m absolutely guaranteed that Dave will never find out.

I’ve decided to have one regular lover rather than a series of one-night stands. The latter, by their very nature, are unpredictable and, to some extent, uncontrollable. The last thing I need is to do something in the heat of passion without thinking about it. Besides, I don’t get propositioned by men that often to guarantee a regular enough supply. I realise that this decision partly negates the reason I’m doing this. But the thrill of being found irresistible by attractive males and actually doing something about it, is just too risky.     

I’ll list all the precautions I’ve come up with here. That way I can get rid of the list I keep in my briefcase; it’s making me nervous keeping it there.

Firstly, I’ve decided I can’t do anything locally. That way I can’t be seen by anyone I know when out with my lover. I couldn’t believe reading about how some stupid women bring their lovers home. Too much chance of leaving evidence or being caught red-handed. So, it has to be out of town and absolutely no doing anything in public, obviously. Even in towns hours away from home, I run into people I know occasionally. Oops, got to go. Dave is home early. See, that’s why nothing can ever happen here.

February 7^th 2014

Dear Diary. I had an amazing conversation today with Janet, one of the other sales girls. We were at a company seminar; an overnighter, out of town. Talk about serendipity. We got a little drunk and she just blurted out that she’d been having relations with men other than her husband for years without being caught. I think she was so proud of how clever she was, that she just had to tell someone. Of course, I pumped her for information.

She’d started off targeting married men, so there would be no emotional attachment or stalking type stuff. That was very nearly disastrous when one guy’s wife followed him and caught them together. She only survived that when she begged the wife not to destroy her marriage and her kids chances of a happy upbringing.

After that, she targeted single men, but to guard against stalking, she uses a false name. When she is with them, she makes sure there is no evidence of her real name or which company she works for. That way she can just disappear if she has to. I hadn’t thought of that. She only meets them at hotels when she’s travelling and like what I decided, is never with them in public. That way someone who knows her won’t observe her and tell her husband and there are never any unexplained credit card bills.

She has a throw-away phone that she hides in her work car. Her lovers don’t know her email address or her regular telephone numbers. That fixes one problem that I was stuck on. She always makes sure she cleans up well, tries to have a 24-hour break between lover and husband and always insists on condoms. That way both pregnancy and STDs won’t give her away. I assured her I wouldn’t be stupid enough to pack lingerie when I travel. 

Janet warned me about guilt and to make sure I didn’t give the game away to Dave by fucking him any more, any less, or any differently. I laughed at that and said we fucked like rabbits whenever our schedules allowed, so any more wasn’t a problem. When I told her about Stewart and my lack of guilt she said she almost felt sorry for me. Apparently, for her the thrill of the illicitness of it all and the guilt is what make it so exciting. Otherwise, for her it’s just something mechanical to do when she’s travelling. Then she saw the advantages. She told me that twice, her husband had out and out asked her if she’d ever had an affair. Both times her reaction had almost given her away. Surely, my lack of guilt would protect me there.

Janet laughed when I asked about P.I.s putting video cameras in hotel rooms. She thought that was pure fiction and almost impossible to do. Besides, what was the point? With no fault divorce and no kids, why gather evidence? That put my mind at ease.

She laughed again when I asked about the danger of falling in love with another guy, or just falling in lust with a huge cock. I didn’t have kids to lose and so what if I fell in love with another guy? I was a free entity; I could ditch Dave or keep both of them. It was a win/win situation.

I told her that Dave sometimes surprised me by showing up at hotels I was staying in on my road trips, for a spontaneous romantic liaison. Janet asked how he knew where I was staying. I told her I always let him know. She suggested I stop volunteering that information. If Dave pressed me on where I was staying before a trip, then cancel the lover. Tell Dave what town I was in but not what hotel. That way, if he rang to say he was in town and wanted to hook up, then I had time to clear the room. She warned me not to lie about the town. How would it be if Dave rang to say he was in the mall and I was two-hundred kilometres away? Hard to explain.

Just before we said goodnight, Janet remembered to tell me to never remove my rings. That way I would never leave them somewhere or have them stolen.

That conversation just confirmed that I was on the right course. I still had some very minor misgivings about not being the wife I’d promised Dave I would be, but this is the 21^st century, for fuck’s sake. Cavemen have been gone for a long, long time. Could he mount an argument that I’d married him under false pretences? Yes, I suppose so; but I’d really meant it at the time, hadn’t I? I wished once again that he could have had a mature conversation with my father about his lifestyle. Unfortunately, as soon as I’d told Dave about my parent’s choice, the relationship he and Dad had, soured. Dave said he couldn’t even look a man in the eye if he didn’t respect him. When Dad asked about the sudden freeze from Dave, I told him that I’d revealed to my husband what he and Mum did. That was a mistake. Dad had no idea I knew about their lifestyle. I tried to assure him that I respected his choice, but I suppose the deep-down embarrassment felt by men living that kind of alternative lifestyle was triggered. Oh, I know they deny it to themselves and others, but watch how they have trouble looking other men in the eye. Whatever, our relationship is still cool.

Shit, I suppose I’ll have to go back to hiding this diary. Got to go now. Dave and I both have the next four days off and he’s planned a surprise weekend away.

February 13^th 2014

Dear Diary. Well, what a fantastic weekend. Dave rented a cottage at the beach and spoiled me rotten. Every night was a different restaurant and every time he told a little fib that it was our anniversary. We got spoiled by the wait staff, I can tell you. The first night we had sex in the back of the car, just like the old days. The next day we snuck into the dunes with our beach towels and screwed. Don’t you think the risk of being seen just makes it so sexy? That evening we fucked in the surf. Good to do once, but probably never again. Water is a terrible lubricant. It was day three before we actually had sex in the bed. God, I love that man. I had trouble walking today but that may have been the sand. 

On the way back, Dave asked again about starting a family. A few months ago, I would have said yes, but now I have a bee in my bonnet about whether I can get away with what I am planning. If I can pull it off and it’s as exciting as I think it will be, then I’ll continue stalling. If it isn’t as good as my imagination, then I’ll become a full-time mum. Janet agrees it’s another win/win situation. I do really want a baby one day, and Dave will make a fantastic dad.

February 25^th 2014

Dear Diary. The planets are out of alignment again. I’m stuck home while Dave is away. I’m horny but with no way of relieving it. Maybe I should just give up work and have a baby. It’s not like we need the money with Dave’s career taking off. That way at least I will get laid more often. No Jen, you are strong enough to do this.

Spent all evening doing my expense claim for the month. It’s a pain in the ass working for a company that doesn’t trust us with a credit card. I have to keep all the receipts for hotels, meals, fuel etc. and claim the money back. Details were never my strong point. After the cock-up last year, I will leave the spreadsheet and all the receipts for Dave to check as usual. He’s good at that sort of thing.             

March 18^th 2014

Dear Diary. Well, that was easier than I thought and much, much more exciting. I was on my normal two night sales trip and dressed sexy to go to the hotel bar. John came over and started chatting me up. He invited me to a club but I said no. They’re usually so loud that I can’t hear my phone ring if Dave were to call. John is cute and about my age. I went to the loo and got out my checklist. It must be fate, as he ticked all the boxes. He’s unmarried and owns his own business. I checked my memory. After following Janet’s advice about not volunteering to Dave which hotel I was staying at, he hadn’t asked, so being unexpectedly sprung wasn’t a risk. If he’d asked I was prepared to say that I just rocked up to town to get the cheapest standby rates as the company wanted to save money. When I came out, I looked around the bar and there was no one even vaguely familiar. I just asked him if he wanted to fuck. The look on his face was comical, I guess he wasn’t used to scoring that easily. I asked him if he had condoms, I didn’t carry them for security reasons. He said he didn’t as he didn’t usually do casual relationships but as I was so pretty, he’d make an exception.

It was weird hearing him call me Sandy; the name I’d given him. He agreed to go find some condoms. When he came back, he was to tip me the nod and I would go to his room ten minutes later. Using his room would prevent him seeing my real identity.

I smiled to myself when I got to there and found myself looking to see where a P.I. could have hidden a camera. I reminded him that I couldn’t be marked in any way and we got straight into it. There’s something special about first time sex. Sure the orgasms aren’t as good because you’re unfamiliar with each other, but the sense of anticipation makes up for that. John was clean, considerate, and skilled. With his endowment and skill, I was one satisfied lady the next day, I can tell you. He seemed pleased with my performance as well.

In short, it was just what the doctor ordered. An attractive, virile man wanted me and not just for short term pleasure. In the morning he said he really wanted to see me again. My ego was very happy with that. We discussed how we could meet again. He lived six hours drive from me and we decided on meeting at a good sized regional centre, roughly half way between. I occasionally did business there, but knew I would usually have to take annual leave to go. As he had his own business, he could get away just about any time. I explained that I was married and my husband wouldn’t condone what I was doing. He volunteered to book and pay for the hotel and even suggested he book a different one each time. With great self-control, I turned down his attempts at morning sex, I would be home with Dave later that day. John had to settle with me blowing him.

April 7^th 2014

Dear Diary. I really don’t see what all the fuss is about acting normal around your husband while having an affair. I was confident there wasn’t a trace of John left and I’d covered all my bases. I still wanted Dave badly and I didn’t compare him with John. Dave is about love and spoiling me. John is just sex and maybe an opportunity to explore some things I’m a little self-conscious to raise with Dave.

Like yesterday, for example. I told Dave I had a trip to do, just one day and two nights. I left in the afternoon, saying that I had to be up early the next day for a breakfast meeting. I’d taken the next day as leave and would drive to another town for a meeting on the third day. Dave wanted to know what towns I was overnighting in but didn’t press me on what hotel, so I knew I was safe. I didn’t want to catch myself in elaborate lies so I stuck to the truth with the name of the town. Janet said she always briefed the company receptionist on what the real story was, so she could cover for her if her husband enquired. I did the same.

As soon as I arrived in the room, John attacked me. He said he’d really missed me and couldn’t help himself. It was very flattering. This man was so attracted to me that he has no control. We were a couple of minutes in before I noticed he wasn’t wearing a condom. I scolded him on that. We were just having a leisurely second session when Dave rang and scolded me for not letting him know I’d arrived safely. I frowned at John as he made faces at the phone while I was talking.

It was frustrating not being able to go anywhere in public, but we made up for it. We slept very late, then John went out to get lunch. In the afternoon, we just went back to bed. That was the raunchiest session of the lot. We had a leisurely cuddle, as John was exhausted. At one point, he rolled me onto my stomach, with a pillow under my hips. He reached one hand under me and started playing with my clit, while he tongued my vagina. After a few minutes, his tongue moved to my perineum.

I’m not stupid, I knew where this was heading. Dave had tried licking my butt once and I’d shut him down. So why was the anticipation building now? In a moment of absolute clarity, I realised one of the drivers that had caused me to open a second sex front—I was, by nature, an explorer. I wanted to explore the very limits of my sexuality, but was afraid that by doing all the things I wanted with my husband, I risked losing his respect. Him, I had to face every morning over the breakfast table. Thus, my main justification was born. I would fearlessly explore what I liked and didn’t like with John, then find a way to introduce those I liked with Dave. That all made sense. Except, why would someone who felt no guilt, need a justification? Could I be lying to myself about the guilt?

When I didn’t object to what John was doing, he was emboldened enough to continue his plan. I screamed when his tongue flicked onto my anus. It was a stunning orgasm. I collapsed in a swoon, it was that good. I was aware that John left me for a few moments. The next thing I knew I was being rudely dragged back to reality by his cock nudging my sphincter.

Angry, I spun around. He wore a look of pure lust as he held his now rigid and uncovered cock, glistening with lube. Very disappointed that he’d not allowed me to just bask in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms of my life, I blasted him. He’d taken the time to lube up, but wasn’t wearing the compulsory condom. That was twice in twenty-four hours that he’d broken that rule. Sex should be relaxing. If I had to check he was wearing a condom every time, it would prevent me fully letting go.

John apologised for both the lapse and taking the liberty of trying to claim my ass. I was frank and told him what he’d done was mind blowing, opening my eyes to the possibility of anal play. But I wasn’t ready yet. We had another nap. This time I was pleasantly awoken with a tongue on my sex. I suppose he was again encouraged by our earlier conversation, because whatever position he fucked me in, he managed to finger my anus, even penetrating me with one or two. It was very erotic. I drove away that morning, very, very satisfied.

April 28^th 2014

Dear Diary. Phew, what a two days that was. As you know, Dave left last Friday on a short notice work trip to Africa for nine days. That gave me a golden opportunity to be with John. I did contemplate spending both weekends with him but eventually decided against it. Even though Dave is in and out of phone coverage areas, if he rang our land line when I wasn’t here on the weekend, I would have to lie to him. I respect him too much for that. So I told him I had a two-day sales trip. That wasn’t a lie. Then I took two days leave and met John. I’d done my research and found some out of the way restaurants just out of the town we met in. The odds of meeting someone I knew there were astronomically small. I knew why I took the risk. Although the sex on our first organised tryst had been fantastic, it lacked something. Sex without even the pretence of some romance was missing something. It was robbing me of the complete experience. It worked too. We returned to the hotel after dinner on the first night and screwed like rabbits. There followed two days of fuck, eat, fuck, eat. John was flagging by the second afternoon but I bucked him up by sharing some of the fantasies with him that I was too embarrassed to mention to Dave. We even had sex, very early, this morning before I left to go back to work. Why not? There was no Dave waiting at home.

May 1^st 2014

Dear Diary. I picked Dave up from the airport tonight and even though he was exhausted, I pounded him into the mattress. I couldn’t understand why I was so driven. Could it be that however exciting my time with John is, it’s just missing the spark that being with a soulmate provides?

May 13^th 2014

Dear Diary. Had to cancel next week’s meeting with John. He wasn’t happy. Dave suggested I take two weeks off and we go to a tropical island. I love spontaneity, so I readily agreed. That leaves me with only four annual leave days when we come back though.

June 1^st 2014

Dear Diary. Wow, what a fortnight. Two weeks of swimming, talking, lazing, and sex with my man. I must be the luckiest girl in the world. I’ve just tried to think what else I could have to make it better and came up blank.

The decision is made; my life’s path is set. On the last night away, Dave took me to the beach in the moonlight and we made love in the dunes. Afterwards, he told me our happiness would be complete if we could have the children that we’d always talked about. Overwhelmed with love, I agreed to go off the pill. Back in our chalet, we ceremonially flushed them down the toilet, then made love again.

On the way home, my naïve, lovable lump of a husband asked me if I thought I was pregnant yet. Why did the boys never pay attention to sex education lessons in school? I explained that the contraceptives I’d been on for years, would probably be upsetting my natural hormones for several months yet. Once they did settle, I expected to get back to my regular cycle. I do mean regular. Before the pill, my cycles lasted twenty-eight days plus or minus a day. I could even sense exactly when I was ovulating. This conceiving lark is going to be simple. I even dedicated one of our calendars to marking my cycle. Once it settles down, I should be able to mark exactly when my fertile days are.

June 8^th 2014

Just got back from a two-night, one-day, stay with John and am very conflicted. Work would only give me one day off so soon after a two-week absence. My period started the day after Dave and I got back from our tropical island. I pencilled in some dates on the calendar to see how quickly my cycles returned to normal. When it started, I took a punt that it would last four days. It lasted six and just finished in time to meet John.

John was as fantastic as usual and I initiated a conversation about my threesome fantasies. The sex afterward was unbelievable. We finished up very late that second night. I woke up just before my alarm at 5:00 a.m. with John’s arms wrapped around me. I realised he’d progressed beyond thinking of me as a sex buddy and had developed feelings. I lay there and analysed my emotions at that news. I decided that any love I felt for him was just me putting some romance into it to improve the experience. Janet and I had discussed what would happen if love entered the equation. I knew it was decision time and especially now that I’d decided to become a mother. Besides, my conscience had started having another problem. While I knew our sex life was normal and I have no trouble maintaining our regular behaviours, I did notice I have trouble making eye contact with Dave. I am starting to strongly suspect that I’m suppressing more guilt than I’m letting myself believe. Yes, time to end this.

I decided against a clean break. I’ve never been one for hasty decisions. The simplest way is just to stall John whenever he suggests meeting next. I got up, showered and left after writing John a note. On the three-hour drive back, I got to thinking about Dave and my love for him. He is away out west again, and it was 4:00 a.m. where he was. I did want to hear his voice though. Feeling a little silly, I rang our home line just to hear the message. Dave’s sonorous voice boomed into my ears,

“Hi, you’ve reached the answering service of Dave and Jenny Brown. We’re not taking calls at the moment as there’s someone we’re trying to avoid speaking to. Leave a message after the tone. If we don’t return your call, it’s you, all right.” Beeep.

Dave was proud of that joke. I rang it three more times just to hear his voice and his chuckle. It is going to be a long week until he gets back.  

June 9^th 2014

Dear Diary. As Dave is away, I keep the John phone in the house with me and he rang early this morning. I tried to pretend everything was normal but I think he guessed something was wrong when I rejected his third proposal for our next meeting date. He went quiet for a while then dropped a bombshell on me. He told me that for our next meeting, he was lining up with a male friend of his to join us. My heart immediately started beating very fast and my breath became ragged. It wasn’t just the thought of all that pleasure, but the thought of two men wanting me together is just about the biggest ego boost imaginable.

With no hesitation, I agreed and we began discussing dates. The only dates that suited him were next Monday and Tuesday, the 16^th and 17^th. The trouble was that would mean leaving on the Sunday when Dave was due back late that night. I thought about going on the Monday but the idea of spending three nights being spoiled rotten was just too much. I gave Dave the bad news when he rang later tonight. I would make it up to him. Just one more trip away from monogamy, two or three at the most, and I would be his forever. God, my vibrator is going to cop a flogging in the next week.

June 17^th 2014

Dear Diary. Yes, I am home a day early. What can I say but, damn, what a rollercoaster. I drove to meet John on Sunday night as planned. I left at my normal time, just in case Dave rang the landline. I was quite proud that even in my excitement, I was sticking rigidly to my precautions.

John had rented a holiday unit this time, as he didn’t want my screaming to wake the whole establishment. There was a lot of screaming, I can tell you. The first minor one occurred when I walked in and met John’s friend, Simon. He was a muscular black man. I was a little taken aback. No, I’m not a racist or anything like that. It just struck me for the first time that physically, I would be completely at the mercy of these two men. If they wanted to stop me leaving, or hurt me, they could and there wasn’t a damned thing I’d be able to do about it. If being dominated and being fake raped weren’t fantasies of mine, I may have chickened out there and then. But I didn’t. Do I wish I’d bolted now? I’m not sure.

It was late so we went straight out to dinner at one of our secret places out of town. I got to know Simon, while John had his hands in my panties between courses. Dave rang during the main course but I rang off after the bare minimum of conversation. When we got back to the room, I was boiling over. The first session was stunning. John sat back, at first, and seemed happy to just watch me and Simon. I was amazed when I first took off Simon’s pants. Boy, was he big. The biggest I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure. I just couldn’t stop looking at it, feeling it and licking it. The first time I mounted him cowgirl style, to control the entry. It was wonderful. After a few minutes he rolled me over and took me missionary. I was pleasantly surprised at his gentleness. I lost count of the times I came. When he’d finally finished, I wanted to sleep but John had other ideas. He settled for a blowjob though.

After that, John cuddled me to sleep in one bed, while Simon slept in the other. John woke me up in my favourite way and when I was wet, began pounding me. I looked over at Simon, who was awake and watching us. I tried to convey with my eyes, that while I was fucking John, I was thinking of him. After showers, we went to another place for lunch.

When we got back to the room, both guys took me together for the first time. We alternated with me fucking one of them, while I sucked the other. The difference between when John was inside me to when Simon was, almost made me laugh. Mind you, it was bloody hard to concentrate when I was screwing John, I could hardly breath with Simon in my mouth and he made my jaw ache. Another shower, another restaurant. This time I had a guy each side of me at the table alternating fingers in my panties. Talk about heaven.

Before we entered our cabin, John stopped me and asked if I trusted him. I replied yes. He then told me to go in alone and put on my oldest clothes; ones I wouldn’t mind being destroyed. I went in and put on my travelling garments and came out again. They entered after telling me to follow in five minutes. I knew what was coming and could feel my panties getting saturated. John and I had discussed this on previous trysts. On shaking legs, I opened the door. Just an innocent working girl, coming home from a hard day at the office.…

I shut the door behind me, before trying the light switch, which failed to work. I’d just started toward the centre of the room, in the almost pitch blackness, when they pounced. Even expecting it, the hands grabbing me from behind were a shock. From the size of the body behind me and the strength of the hand over my mouth, I knew it was Simon. That meant it was John in front of me using a knife to cut away my clothes. I could tell they were both naked, so I used my last shred of self-control to feel their cocks. After confirming they were both ensconced in rubber, I gave up any semblance of control.

Once I was naked, Simon picked me up and threw me on the bed. I pretended to resist as I felt his cock trying to force its way in my mouth. I gave up eventually, of course. He tried his best to choke me as John got between my legs and, without preamble, started fucking me. He lasted long enough for me to come once, before he grunted and collapsed.

Pulling out, he ripped off the condom and traded places with Simon. The mixed taste of latex and semen almost made me gag, but once Simon shoved that big cock in me, all was forgotten. I just gave myself up completely. That started the pattern until we all collapsed exhausted. Multiple orgasms while Simon fucked me and I got John hard again. Bit of a break while John fucked me and I slurped on black cock. I think we did about three cycles of that before collapsing unconscious.

The dawn was breaking when I extricated myself from the pile and went to the bathroom. I checked myself out for evidence of cum, but both boys must have behaved themselves. I crawled back into bed, snuggled under the sheets and was just dropping to sleep again, when I felt a finger gently caressing my groin. You know how that feels when you are half asleep. Hmmm, delicious. I don’t know how long he kept that up until Simon rolled me onto my back and mounted me. I visited heaven again.

My groans or Simon’s grunts must have woken John up. In my daze, I saw as he whispered something to Simon, who rolled us over until I was on top. I didn’t resist as John pushed the back of my neck until I was lying flat on Simon. What happened next, just blew my mind. I felt hands spreading my ass cheeks and once again John’s talented tongue was on my anus. The combination of Simon’s cock stretching one hole and John’s tongue on the other was incredible. I held off cumming for as long as I could, but it was a losing battle. Even after an exhausting night, I’d never felt so charged. I’m sure the whole neighbourhood heard my screams.

After I came, I was too exhausted to do anything but lie there. I should have expected what came next, after all, John had tried it before. I felt Simon’s hands spread my cheeks before I realised what was happening. I struggled as I felt John’s cock nudge my most private entrance. I knew this was going to happen anyway and there was nothing I could do. I’d toyed with the idea of letting John do my ass since our second meeting, so I tried my best to relax. John was as considerate as always and took his time working his dick in. It was uncomfortable to start with, but not painful. 

Fully awake by this time, it was a feeling I could take or leave. That is, until Simon resumed thrusting. God, I felt so full. I could definitely go for this. I stayed as relaxed as I could and just enjoyed the unique sensations. I could tell that another orgasm wasn’t going to happen soon but not to worry, maybe next time I would be relaxed enough to cum.

Overall, I was a little relieved when John pulled out. Cursing himself for not going to the bathroom before he started, he sped off. I languidly moved up and down on Simon. I had no expectations for what would happen next. When John returned, Simon pushed me off and headed for the vacant can. John just lay next to me with a loving smile, caressing my breasts.

When Simon returned, things happened too fast to follow. He grabbed me and rolled me on top of John, face down. John put his arms around my neck and held me firmly as I felt a large set of hands spreading my ass cheeks. I tried to scream no, but felt John tightening his grip, pulling my face into one of his arms. One of the hands on my ass let go but then I heard rather than saw a black arm reaching for a tub of lube on the bedside table. I could feel John trying to work his way inside me from underneath. With no way to move and no way to protest, I could only impotently wriggle around. I don’t know how many microseconds this delayed the inevitable but I soon felt what seemed like a big black baseball bat nudging my ring.

Simon wasn’t as courteous as John. With little preamble he stuffed what felt like the whole lot inside and began thrusting. All I could do was scream my pain into John’s arm. This wasn’t sexy, it was just painful. I don’t know how long it went on, but I did noticed that my ass was getting numb. I tried my best to enjoy it. My muddled head decided to share the pain a little. I sensed John relax his grip a little, so I twisted my head and bit his bicep, very hard. He just grunted and returned the favour by biting the only thing he could reach. My right breast. While this little interchange was going on, Simon was grunting and cumming in my battered back passage.

With his weight gone and John more relaxed, I made my escape. I ran to the bathroom doorway, my gait made awkward by pain, before turning.

“You pair of cunts, that hurt. John, how could you let him do that?”

Simon smiled but John looked concerned. He left the bed and came to hug me. I wept into his shoulder, noticing I’d drawn blood with my bite. All the while, my ass throbbed and ached. Then I felt something trickle down my inner thigh. I pulled away and spread my legs. You guessed it, there was cum running out of my ass. I looked at both naked members.

“You pricks! You didn’t wear rubbers. You could have given me a disease, I could be pregnant.”

Simon smiled again. “No black baby for you, bitch. Can’t get pregnant from a load up the ass.”

I waited for an equally smart assed response from John, but he just looked uncomfortable. I rushed to the shower and used the detachable head to clean inside both holes as well as I could. God, my ass hurt. I vowed this would never happen again. I couldn’t be trusted to enforce the condom rule in the heat of intense moments and had exposed myself to huge risk. John had assured me he was clean so the only exposure I had was catching something from Simon.

I was standing under the water, weeping, when John joined me. I tried to push him away but he hugged me tightly.

“I’m sorry, Sandy, I thought you got off on the whole rape thing.”

“I did last night, but that just now was horrible. I didn’t mind when he was in the front and you were in the back, but when you swapped, it was awful. Now I just feel like a foolish slut.”

He continued holding me as I wept at the loss of my innocence. I sucked it up and left him in the shower as I got out. Finding comfort in routine, I dried myself and started dressing. It was then I noticed the clear mark on my breast. That was it. This shit had to stop right now. The terror I felt at that moment, swamped whatever ethereal thing called pleasure that I’d felt during the weekend. I let John know I was ropable. He just kept apologising and looking like a wet puppy.

I put on my makeup and left as soon as I could. Simon had gone already, thank fuck. John kept begging me to forgive him. I told him I’d think about it. I jumped in my car and headed toward home. One slight problem was that I was supposed to be away for another night. No hassle, I’d tell Dave I’d had a cancellation. No, the major problem was that I was going home to a husband who I hadn’t seen for over a week and I was marked. Worse still, my whole groin ached horribly. I relaxed as I realised that Dave, as clueless about women’s issues as all men, would swallow a story about going off the pill resulting in unscheduled bleeding, hook, line, and sinker.

Knowing Dave would be at work, I didn’t rush back. Besides, I was really tired. I stopped for some lunch an hour before home, buying some nice stuff for Dave’s dinner. As I was eating my sandwich, I realised I hadn’t thought of Dave for over thirty-six hours. Ever since his call Sunday night in the restaurant. Then it hit me. He hadn’t called last night, which was unusual. I allayed my sudden panic by remembering how I’d been distracted and pretty brusque when he did ring Sunday night. I mentally built a story to tell him to explain that.

So, here I sit, Dear Diary. Dinner is cooking. Dave is due any time and I’m pondering the rollercoaster that has been the last forty-eight hours. The further I get away from this morning, the more the pleasant thoughts of the first thirty-six hours of my adventure are. They’re pushing the nightmare of this morning into the background. My naturally optimistic nature recognises that they were the most erotic moments of my life and it was an intensity that I would crave again. I was beginning to forgive John; sure that he was just as caught up in the moment, as I’d been. Certainly enough to use him for a re-run if he could absolutely guarantee a better outcome.

June 18^th 2014

Dear Diary. The last 24 have been very tough. After all my careful planning, I am so pissed at myself for what happened in that one, thirty-minute period when I took my eye off the ball. Thank god, neither of my playmates came in my pussy, so I’m not worried about being pregnant. No, I was going to write about last night.

Dave came home last night and we had a lovely evening. That is, until bedtime. I was way too sore still, to let him have his way with me. Plus, I thought I owed it to him to get tested for disease before risking his safety. Not to mention the prominent bite mark on my breast. I had a third shower just before bed, so I wasn’t breaking routine, but I got out as quick as possible. Just in time too; Dave was getting ready to join me. He made his intentions known but I desperately begged off. I hate lying to him but was forced to say I had some sort of unscheduled bleeding down there. He backed off pretty quickly, saying it was a shame as my calendar showed I should be ovulating. I told him that after so many years on the pill, the chances of returning to my regular cycle that quick were negligible. He warned me that he was expecting some big trip away next month where my calendar was marked.

I think he was half asleep this morning when I awoke to him fingering me. He stopped as soon as I snapped at him. Shit, my playing away is affecting Dave’s rights. That definitely wasn’t in my original plan.

What a husband I have. I lifted the lid of the bathroom rubbish bin this morning to dispose of my foundation pad. There was a set of those latex medical gloves from Dave’s work. He must have cleaned the toilets while I was away. The thought of my husband doing domestic chores, while I screwed two other men was extremely erotic. I daydreamed of him doing it while I was in our bed with another guy. I wondered if he would put on a frilly maid’s outfit while doing it?

I managed to get a doctor’s appointment late today. She did a test for gonorrhea and chlamydia, but said that it was pointless testing for syphilis and such for at least two weeks and HIV and hepatitis for three months. I know that responsibly, I shouldn’t have sex with Dave for three months, but neither of us would survive that. I vowed to make my ‘problem’ last two weeks though. God, how did my simple life become so bloody complicated all of a sudden?

June 30^th 2014

Dear Diary. Dave has been so wonderfully considerate for the last two weeks, while John has been a pain in the ass. Knowing I didn’t want to have sex, Dave has left me alone in the shower, so hasn’t noticed my breast, which is almost back to normal. We both consider kissing as foreplay so we haven’t done a whole lot of that either. I can’t remember going this long without sex and despite still being a little sore, you know, in the rectal area, I’m as horny as a bitch in heat. John has been nagging the hell out of me in texts. I almost wish I did have a disease so I could give it to him. Have made a doctor’s appointment for Wednesday for follow up testing.

July 7^th 2014

Dear Diary. Far out, what a week and a bit I’ve had. The shit hit the fan on the 1^st. Our bloody factory fucked up the dimensions on one of the parts, which caused three of our buyers’ big problems. Who had to fix it? You guessed it, the overworked, undervalued sales team. I’ve been racing around like a blue-assed fly ever since. Driving from town to town, wining, dining, and generally sweet-talking and ass-kissing. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Dave’s nightly calls, I’d go mad. Friday, I broke down and cried on the phone to him.

I had Sunday off but I was far from home. Then I realised I was in the city John lived, so I rang him Saturday afternoon. He came over pretty much straight away and we risked going out for dinner. He apologised for the umpteenth time over the previous experience. I brushed it off and we talked about how hot the last time had started out. He rushed me back to my hotel after that. He started growling me out as usual but stopped to tell me I tasted a bit funny. I told him it was probably the start of my period and, boy, you should have seen him turn green. He put a condom on and entered me. Despite how turned on I was, it was uncomfortable. Every time he pushed in, my ass flexed and hurt. I was starting to think that shithead Simon had done some real damage in there. Surely, after three weeks, things should be back to normal?

I told John to pull out for a while so I could rest. He freaked when he saw blood on his cock. Why do some men have to get all hung up about menstrual blood? No amount of cajoling would get him back in the saddle. We were talking things through, when my cell rang. It was my bastard, loving, considerate husband. Dave had driven for six hours to spend Saturday night and Sunday with me. He was less than 10 minutes away and wanted to know which hotel I was in. I gestured for John to clear out. When I hung up, I checked there was no sign of him being there, had a quick shower and sprayed the room with hair spray to mask any smells. I begged off sex before Dave even mentioned it, saying I was mentally and physically exhausted. He pointed out that the calendar showed I was approaching a fertile time and reminded me he was away next week. At least I didn’t have to lie again and told him my period had just started, reminding him of the hormonal imbalance I may suffer for several months. He cuddled me to sleep.

I woke up alone but there was a lovely note from my loving husband that he’d gone to get us brunch. When he came back, he told me he’d seen posters about a show we’d been waiting to come to our town. He’d already gotten us tickets to today’s matinee. Even before the show finished I’d decided that despite the blood and the discomfort, I was going to fuck his brains out all afternoon. That didn’t work out either. Announcing he had an early meeting Monday, Dave left for his long drive home. That night, John didn’t return my calls or texts.

Today started badly, I felt really nauseous. Stress does that to a person. Stress from the job and from almost being caught by Dave. With minimal guilt, I wasn’t expecting any stress from my extra marital activities. Boy, was I wrong. The day ended well though, with our last troublesome customer agreeing to our compensation package, allowing me to drive home. Dave was gone; he had a week-long trip to the other coast. As I was relaxing tonight, I realised what a light period I’d had. Apart from slightly tainted pads Saturday night and Sunday, nothing happened. I knew going off the pill stuffed you around, but this much?

July 8^th 2014

Shit, shit, shit. I’m pregnant. I woke up this morning feeling nauseous again. I couldn’t blame it on stress this time though. I started getting a little nervous when I looked at my calendar. My period should have been around the end of June. A little spotting this last weekend didn’t really count. I rushed out to the 24-hour chemist and bought a home test kit. It was positive. Despite the time difference to where Dave was on the west coast, I was about to ring him, when an insidious thought crept into my head. With Dave being away, my threesome soreness and the need to protect Dave from any possible STDs, I hadn’t actually had sex with my husband all month. With dread, I pulled my work diary out and did the numbers. That bloody weekend with John and Simon. But that wasn’t possible. Unless? A memory of a grunt while being dual speared, came to mind. I texted John. ‘Did you cum in me on that last morning with Simon?’ The answer didn’t arrive until I was on my way to work. ‘Sorry’.

I sought and got an urgent doctor’s appointment with our family guy. He confirmed it, looking pleased. I think he could tell I was less than ecstatic with the result. I’m even sure he guessed why, because he looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden. I have Hippocrates to thank for the blessing of his discretion from here on.

This is my worst nightmare. If I survive this, I’m definitely going straight. I pretty much spent all day planning what to do. I know Simon didn’t cum in me without a condom, so the chances of the baby being dark are very small. John looks close enough to Dave that his baby would pass muster, but could I convince Dave it was his? Would he realise we hadn’t had sex last month? Probably. He must have blue balls something chronic. If I screwed him senseless when he got home, would he realise the baby was a month ‘premature’. No, he probably wouldn’t. When it came to women’s issues, he was incredibly naïve. That was the plan then.

Was the timing right? According to the calendar, I should have been fertile around the fourteenth, but I’d already told him my period had started on the fifth. That meant I could convince him my next fertile time is the nineteenth, four days after he gets back. Perfect.  

July 15^th 2014

Dear Diary. Why does that mongrel husband of mine have to make this so difficult? Dave rang late last night and said his project ran into some problems and he had to stay another week. That would put him back on the twenty-second and with a five-day fertility window, I would be good till the twenty-fourth. I cursed myself for briefing him so thoroughly on how the whole fertility thing worked. With the stakes so high, I asked my boss for a week off to fly to see him. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed etc. She point-blank refused to grant leave.

I am pissed. At work, Dave, and the world. I’m sorely tempted to ring John and arrange a meeting next weekend, bugger the risk. But sore is the word. My back passage is still playing up. It’s slightly uncomfortable when I take long strides but noticeably painful when I lay a stiff stool, if you know what I mean. I really should go and see a doctor about it. Unfortunately, the idea of marching into the doctor and saying, ‘My ass has been sore ever since a well-endowed black man, not my husband, shoved his cock up there while another man, also not my husband, was impregnating me,’ is holding me back. No, I’ll just have to grin and bear it.

Roll on the twenty-second. This is really stressful.

July 22^nd 2014

Dear Diary. Why aren’t I surprised. Dave rang today to say that with the year-long project finally finished, the west coast branch were celebrating. They’d insisted he stayed one more day for a bloody golf game. I didn’t want to beg and plead for him to come straight home and screw me. I couldn’t think of a viable excuse for going from, not ready to have kids, to desperate to conceive, in a couple of months. I still have one day inside the five and if we go at it like trip hammers for long enough, Dave will never know.  

July 24^th 2014

Dear Diary. Aaaargh. Dave hurt his back playing golf. Even with medication, he staggered off the plane bent almost at right angles. He’d already rung me to get him into the chiropractor ASAP. Sex was totally off the menu. Even in his pain, he wouldn’t stop apologising.

So, it’s an abortion for me. I might be able to hide one month from Dave, but not two. It’s a relief actually. What if I told Dave it was a month early and it turned out to be a 12-pound whopper? What if it did come out black? Then there was the constant fear of blood types or DNA analysis giving me away. No, it’s better this way.

July 25^th 2014

Dear Diary. Made an appointment for the family planning clinic for next Friday. Dave went to the chiropractor. They straightened him out but told him no strenuous exercise for a couple of weeks. He’s still on heavy duty painkillers.

August 4^th 2014

Dear Diary. God this is stressful. The night before my appointment at the clinic, I was sent on another emergency ass-kissing trip for two days. So I rang and pushed the appointment back to this Wednesday then rang my boss and threatened to resign if I was sent away for the rest of this week.

It wasn’t all bad though. It gave me a chance to have a very wild night with John. Thankfully, my anal discomfort has disappeared, so it was all fun. I’d heard that early pregnancy makes you horny as hell and I certainly am. All the time. I didn’t tell him about being pregnant. I think he loves me and the last thing I need is for him to get all clucky and oppose what I intend. I wouldn’t put it past him to deliberately tell Dave in order to split us up and ask me to marry him. Sure, he doesn’t know ‘Sandy’s’ real name, but if motivated enough, I’m sure a good detective could find the real me.

Almost to test if my back passage was fully recovered, I allowed him to do my ass again. It was very pleasant when he licked it again, of course, and even when he inserted a finger while rubbing my clit. But when he shafted me, it just felt uncomfortable. The only reason I didn’t stop him before he came, was because I was busy imagining Simon in my pussy at the same time. In the morning, he begged me to let him do me bareback. He assured me I was his one and only and as there was zero risk of pregnancy, I agreed. I came hard when I felt him pulsing inside me. God, I love that.

When I awoke in his arms, I assessed my own feelings for him. I concluded that while I had nowhere near the feelings for him that I did for Dave, he would make an acceptable fall-back. I came home tonight. Dave’s back is still sore.

August 6^th 2014

Dear Diary. Why does life have to be so fucking complicated? I turned up for my first appointment at the clinic. Who was the first bloody person I saw? Jane bloody Carlton! Her husband works with Dave and we’d met at company functions. If she was just another client there, I could have swung it, but she’s the fucking receptionist. I made my excuses and escaped.

I went back to work and did some research. They are the only clinic in town. The next closest one is in the town I meet John. Goody, two birds, one stone. I rang and made an appointment for next Wednesday. I can tack it on to a trip scheduled next Monday and Tuesday. I applied for and got the day off as leave. I texted John and told him I was his next Tuesday and Wednesday nights. He replied saying he wasn’t available Tuesday, but was Wednesday. Considerate guy that he is, he agreed to book and pay for the hotel for both nights.

Had a big discussion with Dave tonight. After the job he did for the west coast office, he’s being sounded out as the company trouble-shooter. It will mean almost constant travel but is a guarantee of a career fast-track. All the company bigwigs did the job for a year or so. I agreed, mainly because I need him to be away in the short term. We discussed our parenthood. If the planets didn’t align at ovulation times, I could fly to where he was working. The worst case scenario was that we’d have to wait another year. We were both feeling lovey-dovey after that, but he’s still under doctor’s orders. I’m starting to avoid him seeing me naked again, I don’t need questions about my tiny bump, now I’m so close to removing it.

August 14^th 2014

Dear Diary. Finally, things are going to plan. I finished my sales trip and booked into John’s love nest. At the clinic, I was prodded and poked by a locum. The usual doctor is having a break. They joked about the upcoming ‘silly season’. Apparently, this is their busiest time of the year. The locals have some kind of hippy fest on the winter solstice and customers double from the long term average over the next three months. Another reason to hate hippies.

That and a million forms to fill out, took me to 5:00 p.m. I hadn’t thought of payment until I was leaving and they asked how I was covering it. With credit cards out, I decided to squirrel away cash. I had the time; the earliest appointment I could get was on the twenty-seventh. From memory, Dave had some time scheduled away then.

I left the clinic and met John. Not wanting to waste a minute, we ordered takeaways and got straight down to business. After our first session, I raised the subject of another threesome and we discussed how we could avoid the same mistake as last time. He vowed to think about it. I did wonder how a man could stand to share his woman, but, oh well, it takes all sorts, I suppose. I did know that if Dave ever even asked me to share him, then his current back pain would seem like a minor toothache in comparison to what would happen. Then I remembered Dave’s attitude to monogamy and knew that situation would never arise. That actually spurred some guilt in me for the first time.

John soon distracted me though. He must have been thinking along the same lines as me because he’d brought a huge dildo. For our second session he did me in the ass, while I used the dildo in my pussy. It was nowhere like the real thing, but I did have a better than average orgasm. For the first time, I felt a cock shooting in my ass. I was too sore to feel it when Simon had done it. Knowing sex with Dave was still out, I even relaxed my rules and did John this morning before driving home.

Yes, life is good again.

August 28^th 2014

Dear Diary. Spoke too bloody soon. My life has gone to shit again. Knowing that an abortion this late would mean I couldn’t have sex for about a month afterwards, I left on Sunday to meet John for a two-day, three-night fuck fest. Dave’s back is still not fully recovered, so I’ve had nothing at home and I’m horny as hell. Dave was away when I left, so he swallowed my story of another sales trip. I met John and for two nights and two days we did everything two people can do. He briefed me on where he was at with planning our next threesome. It’ll work, and the anticipation made me insatiable. I begged off sex the third night so I’d be fresh for the clinic. I told John I was too sore to screw. You’d have thought he’d won Olympic gold; he was so proud. God, men are so easy to manipulate, it’s almost embarrassing to share a species with them.

I pretended to be leaving the next morning but actually checked in to another hotel, with cash. I would take a cab to and from the clinic as they wouldn’t let me drive away after the procedure. Things turned to shit as soon as I got to the clinic. The full-time doctor was back and called me into the office to apologise. The locum hadn’t picked up on the fact I’d ticked the box saying I am allergic to eggs. I tried to explain that it was only raw egg whites that I was anaphylactic to, but he said it was too risky. The local anaesthetic they usually used was egg-based. He told me I’d have to be rescheduled and have a general anaesthetic with an overnight stay. I told him I was a little concerned about timing, I was entering my third month after all. He did some juggling and we were on for the fifth of September.  

I took a cab back to my hotel and decided to have a drink in the bar to settle my pissed off nerves. A fellow salesman started chatting me up. I thought what the hell, told him to get some condoms and come to my room. He proceeded to fuck the shit out of me all night. On a purely animalistic level it was fantastic. With a very early morning start, I battled to stay awake on the drive home and all day at work.

It was at work, that I noticed the rash on the palms of my hands. Strangely, it doesn’t itch, just looks horrible. Bloody stress again. That explains why my hair is falling out as well, not alarmingly, but enough to be noticeable. Roll on the bloody fifth, I just want this over.

August 29^th 2014

Dear Diary. My luck just gets better and better. I applied for two days leave next week and got knocked back. I didn’t have enough accumulated. I toyed with the idea of telling my boss I needed it as my husband and I were trying for a baby and the two days were my fertile time. The matronly old bitch would swallow that. In the end, I decided not to. She would no doubt point out that I could spend the two nights screwing Dave. Also, she knew Dave from my company functions. The last thing I needed was she and Dave to get together and find that I’d spent my conception leave out of town and away from him. I’m starting to dread brushing my hair because of what I leave on the brush now.

I also considered calling in sick those two days but that would cause all sorts of alarm bells now I’d had leave knocked back. In the end, I wrote next week off and rang the clinic. They got back to me later and said the next time the anaesthetist was available was the eighth. I agreed. I could get away with two sickies then, I’m sure.

Dave rang later and told me his latest trip had been extended. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He could tell I was angry and apologised profusely, reminding me that we’d agreed to his increased travel.

September 8^th 2014

Dear Diary. I’m really, really starting to regret some of the choices I’ve made. With Dave away, I let my horniness influence my decisions. Ignoring the risk, I met John last Saturday night in our usual town. I did that so we could have Saturday night and Sunday morning together before my self-enforced celibacy the night before the op. John did suggest bringing our new playmate along but the last thing I wanted was a gaping ass Monday, at the clinic. I rang Dave before I left Saturday afternoon, from the home phone, to minimise the chances of him ringing me and finding me not home. I was still grumpy and he picked up on that. I told him it was because I missed him so much.

John was fantastic as usual. My ass and his dildo got a thorough workout. We were lazing in bed just before lunch Sunday, when Dave rang my cell. He was at home, wondering where I was. He’d arranged two days off and flown during the night to cheer me up. He also pointed out that according to my new calendar, I was ‘in the zone’. If it wasn’t so disastrous, it would have been touching. I fobbed him off, when he asked where I was, saying I’d decided to leave early and visit some friends on the way. He pushed until I told him where I was staying. John was good about it and cleared out. With Dave having to leave before my appointment Monday, the situation was recoverable.

While waiting for Dave, I practiced some excuses to avoid having sex with him. I didn’t want my recent activity to give me away. I decided to rely on Dave’s consideration by telling him I was sick. Well, the combination of morning sickness and my nerves were making me throw up. Plus, I did actually have a slight fever and other flu symptoms by the time he got there. He took me out to dinner and expressed disappointment at my sickness but acted the gentleman. He didn’t take my hints that if he stayed the night, he might catch what I had.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night, in Dave’s strong arms. I couldn’t think of a way of making sure he left before my appointment that afternoon. The next problem was that I was supposedly here on business but hadn’t bought my usual clothes; just casuals. I got around that by leaving before he awoke. I left a note saying I had an early meeting and didn’t want to wake him, so he could recover from his night flight. The note also said that checkout time was 10:00 a.m., I loved him for being so considerate and would see him next week. Once clear of the hotel, I rang in sick as planned and killed time till the afternoon.

Dave rang just before lunch. He’d decided to look after me, as I was sick. He’d rung work and told them he was taking an extra day; not negotiable. He was going to hang around until I’d finished for the day and we’d drive in convoy back home that night or the following morning. I tried to bluff my way out of it by saying it could damage his promotion prospects. It was then he gently reminded me it was his birthday that day. In all my scheming, I’d forgotten. The guilt hit me suddenly and hard. This shit had to stop. I had no choice but to ring the clinic and defer. They weren’t happy but gave me the nineteenth as the next available day. I pretended to finish early with business and we were home by six; me still throwing up. Dave leaves tomorrow morning. I’m writing this while he’s in the shower, then we’re going out to dinner. He’s due back on the eighteenth.

The nineteenth solves one problem. As the twentieth is a Saturday. I’ll only have to take the Friday off. I’ll have accumulated a leave day by then.

October 20^th 2014

Dear Diary. This will be my last entry to you as I have decided to kill myself. Take the coward’s way out to expunge the pain I’ve caused myself and Dave. Plus, the shame I’ve brought to my family. I have the pills and the alcohol, now I just need the courage to do the deed.

Things started out all right. I met John on the eighteenth as planned and we went for dinner. On the way back from dinner, I received a tearful phone call from Janet. Her husband had found out about her infidelity; she didn’t know how; and threw her out. That terrified me. The precautions I was using, mostly came from Janet. If she’d been caught, then my plan was flawed too. I was distracted and didn’t want to have sex with John, so I relied on his love for me by just asking him to cuddle me all night. He didn’t object. Actually, he said he was relieved, as he had some strange sores in his groin, but hadn’t the time to go to the doctor.

It was a mainly sleepless night. As I lay in the light of dawn, I decided that this had to stop once and for all. I was overwhelmed by my love for Dave and just wanted to hear his voice. Despite the early hour, I rang home. The answering machine picked up, so I just left a message for Dave to ring me. Laying back I had an unexplained sense of foreboding. In a panic I rang home again and really listened to the answering machine this time.

“Hi, you’ve reached the answering service of Dave Brown. I’m not home right now so leave a message after the tone.” Beeep.

Gone was Dave’s joke. Chillingly, apparently I didn’t live there anymore either. Suddenly, I knew how Janet’s husband found out. Dave knew. I didn’t know how he found out about Janet and I, but I was certain he had. I desperately left messages on the house phone and Dave’s cell, urging him not to do anything hasty, but to wait till I got home. Without packing or a word to John, I got in my car and headed home.

I won’t list what went through my head on that long, long drive. My phone rang and I snatched it up. It was the clinic wondering where I was. It wasn’t related to finding Dave, so I just hung up. I was booked for speeding about half way home.

I was surprised when my key worked. In the research I’d done coming up with my precautions, it seemed almost par for the course that the aggrieved husband changed the locks. I suppose because it was a rental, Dave had decided not to fight over it. All Dave’s stuff was gone and I mean all. There wasn’t a trace left. When I rang his cell, the message was that the number had been discontinued.

I spent all that remained of that Friday and all weekend, trying to find Dave. Some of our friends had seen him, so he was still in town, but I couldn’t find him. As his work is a biosecurity zone, you can’t just walk in there. One of salesmen that works with me and covers Dave’s company, said it took a full-day induction just to get to their reception desk. Whenever I rang his company they said they’d been instructed not to take my calls. With no leave left, I had to go to work, but continued my search after hours. Thursday and Friday mornings, I camped as close to the entrance to the basement parking lot of Dave’s work as the public could get, but never saw Dave’s car.

By the weekend I was exhausted from activity and stress. I suddenly remembered the clinic and rang them Saturday afternoon. They were shut, so I left a message requesting they contact me. John was texting me every two days or so, but I didn’t respond. The clinic rang me 10.30 a.m. on the Monday. According to their records, today was the end of my first trimester. By federal law, abortion was now illegal. I rang some shady friends about backyard abortionists but got nowhere.

Then I got to thinking bizarre thoughts. If I couldn’t have Dave, I would keep his child as a reminder of his love. I shook myself. It wasn’t Dave’s baby. It was probably John’s. Was I going mad? As soon as I got home, I pulled out my diary to check I’d given the right dates to the clinic. I had. I went back and read from the June sixteenth threesome activities. The pattern in Dave’s behaviour were obvious in hindsight. From then, till now, he hadn’t bedded me once. How could I have been so blind? It was a litany of, Dave away longer than expected, him accepting my excuses because of my anal discomfort, his sore back or other blatant evasive activities. I hadn’t noticed as I was getting serviced regularly by John with more exciting activities than I’d ever done with my husband. More exciting because I’d never suggested them with him.

I finally got to the entry on the eighteenth of September.

Dear Diary. On the sixteenth of June my husband was checking my expense claim as I’d asked him to do. He suddenly realised that all my trips had hotel, meal, and fuel receipts except for ones to a particular town. The town I was in at the moment. He added that to my changed diary habits. He noted that late last year I had gone from keeping it in the bedside drawers and updating it before bed every night, to it disappearing. He noted the same behaviour at the start of this year. He suspected I was cheating and set up cameras in the house. He didn’t catch me cheating in person but did see where I was hiding my diary. He searched until he found my old diaries in the attic. He read them and unearthed evidence of a deception so staggering that it took his breath away. He is proud of the success of his plan to avoid sleeping with me since then. He is also proud of the acting job he pulled off to avoid me getting suspicious. He’s had an apartment in town for months now and has been staying there many of the times he said he was travelling. He shares it with his new girlfriend.

He avoided confronting me for several reasons. One was to slowly move the bulk of our money offshore. The second was to fuck up my life as much as I’ve fucked up his. The third reason is a special gift I haven’t discovered yet. He hopes I will appreciate it. He resisted the temptation to get me fired, to reduce the alimony any court might order.

He sincerely hopes I will have a shitty life and he never has to see me ever again.

I screamed when I finished reading the entry. It was typed, not handwritten, and not by me. I couldn’t believe how breathtakingly arrogant I’d been. I also knew the chances of Dave forgiving me were zero squared.

I cried for two days solid, then slowly planned how I could minimise the damage to the rest of my life. With the baby, I had three options. I could become a single mum, I could put it up for adoption, or I could finally tell its probable father and have an instant new family. That would avoid any security and money problems. Guess which one stupid here picked? I hadn’t responded to any of John’s attempts to contact me since this all blew up and hadn’t heard from him in a week.

I rang him as he was driving somewhere. I proposed several dates to get together, so I could hit him with my proposal in person. None of my dates in the next two weeks suited him. So, I decided to put my proposal to him over the phone. I told him I was pregnant with his child and fate had conspired to prevent me aborting it. I stretched the truth and told him I’d dumped Dave so I could marry him. He was silent for a moment and I really thought he was taking my proposal seriously.

Then he started laughing. Told me that he was already married and if I thought he would drop her to marry a slut like me, I was crazy. He told me any affection he showed me was because he liked his lovers to give him the ‘girlfriend experience’.

When I threatened to hunt him down and sue him for child support, he laughed even louder. Wishing me luck tracing him through his false name, business name, and untraceable credit cards. For me it was absolutely humiliating.

I was trying to think of a face-saving comeback as he laughed loudly. Suddenly, I heard a loud, “Fuck,” from the phone, followed by the distinctive sounds of a car crash. I could hear various voices saying things until two people showed up who were obviously paramedics and cleared everyone else out. I heard them say, “We’ll need the firies here to cut him out. Those legs are gone for sure.” Maybe there is a god after all.

I kept an eye on all the state newspapers until I saw the article I was looking for. His real name was David and he had a wife but no kids. He was tipped to live.

So here I am, alone, pregnant, ashamed, and humiliated. Goodbye.

EPILOGUE

April 20^th 2015

Dear Diary. This is the first time I’ve been game to even touch this diary for a long time. As you can gather, I didn’t top myself. I never did raise the courage. Why is it the coward’s way out if you need courage to do it?

Well, I had a baby boy. They let me see him briefly before he was taken away to his waiting parents. I remember thinking that I was glad the pregnancy was over, it made me real scatterbrained. As I’d undergone an emergency caesarean, I had to stay in the hospital six days. I got a chest infection as well and it killed me to cough. The ultimate irony was that the baby was over two weeks late. Dave would never have noticed.

Work had given me two weeks off after the delivery. I needed the whole lot to recover. Yesterday, a government doctor rang me and asked me to go to his office urgently. I was intrigued, so I went there immediately. In his office, he told me that the new parents of my baby took the precaution of doing thorough blood tests on him. At this point, the doctor swung his computer screen around so I could see it. The screen was headed ‘Bacterium treponema pallidum africano’. That sounded exotic. He went on to say that the baby tested positive to this bacterial infection, that was rare in this country. The good news was that as they’d caught it early, he was easily curable. I remember thinking that this was interesting, but what did it have to do with me? I’d thought that after the pregnancy was over, my brain would have gone back to normal but it hadn’t happened yet.

I was on the ball enough to pick up that when I leaned toward the screen to read it, the doctor leaned away. He went on to explain that the baby could only have picked up the bacterial infection from me and asked me if I’d been diagnosed with it as the symptoms were very distinctive. I, of course, said no. It was then he told me that the infection was more commonly known as African Syphilis, a rarer and more virulent form of common Syphilis. They were bemused how it got into this country as it was incredibly rare.

I reacted like I’d been slapped. Syphilis was a well-known whore’s disease. My concentration drifted as the doctor listed the symptoms and stages. Open sores at the site of infection that were sometimes painful, sometimes not; often inside the vagina or anus. The sores disappearing as the disease morphed from the primary to the secondary phase. The change in symptoms to a discomfortless rash on the hands and feet, hair loss, and flu-like symptoms. My brain wasn’t that fried, that I couldn’t remember the weeks of discomfort in my ass and the blood when John had fucked me once. Blood that had fooled me into thinking I was having a light period. I remembered John complaining of sores in his nether regions. I remembered the rash, the hair loss, and the flu. I kicked myself for not going back for the tests my doctor had recommended. With everything else going on, I’d plum forgotten.

It was bloody embarrassing to explain how I’d picked it up. The doctor probed me on my sexual history and because the disease is so predictable, pinpointed that bloody threesome as the time I’d probably picked it up. When I explained, very reluctantly, how two men had both vaginal and anal sex with me unprotected, but one of them showed symptoms after me, the doctor identified Simon as the probable source. I could see the disapproval in his eyes when I explained that he may have been called Simon but I had no clue of a surname or where he lived, nor even proof that Simon was his real name.

When asked for a list of my sexual partners since then, I was able to give him John’s real name, but not even the forename of the salesman I’d picked up. I gave him Dave’s name, of course. If I’d passed it on to him, I would never be able to live with myself.

The doctor took some blood, wearing both gloves and a mask. I was told to abstain from any type of sexual activity, fat bloody chance, and report back the following week.

The next week, I did return and they confirmed the bad news. The doctor said he was no expert on Syphilis, but from my current symptoms, I’d almost certainly progressed to the tertiary stage. He went on to explain that some people lived normal lives, never even knowing they had it, but listed the possible effects including heart problems and early onset dementia. The government clinic’s brief was to get rid of the bacterium from my system, hunt down any people I’d spread it to and any other steps to eradicate it. He emphasised that any treatment after that was my responsibility. I asked him for any local specialists he could recommend, he left the office to make enquiries.

While he was away, I flicked through my file on his desk and struck gold dust. Dave’s work and new cell numbers. I’d tried ringing Dave at work but he never answered. Two weeks after he’d disappeared, I’d rung it and another guy answered; like Dave had a new number. The new guy refused to give me Dave’s number.

The doctor returned with the name I’d asked for. He gave me copies of the relevant laws saying I was to refrain from all sexual activities until three months after I was cleared of all infection. I was also required to inform all sexual partners, before sex occurred, for two years from that date.

I wandered out of the clinic in a daze, imagining my future sex life. ‘Excuse me, would you like to be my boyfriend? I’m a divorcee, who cheated on her husband with multiple men. You probably won’t be able to satisfy me as I’ve had a threesome that showed me how sex could be. Do you mind if I keep the lights off? I’m a little sensitive because I haven’t been able to shift the weight I put on while pregnant and depressed. Please don’t kiss my belly. I’m sensitive about my caesarean scar. Oh, and by the way, in line with the Infectious Diseases Act 1994. I have to tell you, I had Syphilis last year.’

I’m trying really hard not to say, ‘things can’t get any worse’. Every time I say that, they do. I managed to get a specialist appointment fairly quickly. They ran a battery of tests and happily announced I had neurosyphilis. The infection had damaged my central nervous system. The only good news was that after the bacterium was killed, I wouldn’t degenerate past my current mild dementia. Better add to that request to future potential boyfriends above, ‘oh, and I may have trouble remembering your name, but nothing personal’.

I drifted out of the specialist’s rooms. My only chance of living a normal life, was by getting Dave to forgive me. Surely now he could see how I’d suffered. Surely, his honour would now be satisfied. I would never stray again, that was for sure. It hurt too much. I’m sure he still loves me. He certainly would never deliberately hurt me. I planned my speech, relying heavily on pathos. It was underhanded, I know, but I was desperate. I rang Dave from a public phone so he didn’t recognise my number.

“Hello. Centre of Tropical Disease Research, David, speaking.”

I fainted. There in the bloody street, I fainted.

THE END 

Don’t bother googling African syphilis. It doesn’t exist. I invented it to justify how tertiary Syphilis developed so fast. Some might call that a plot device, some cheating. 

Now lighten the fuck up.

Two parachutists are free falling head to head. One says to the other, “I really don’t know how your chute is going to go. I was a little distracted when I packed it by the fact that you fucked my wife.