Late Night Tryst and Half-Remembered Whispers (Week 6)

As the week rolled to a close, Shaun was becoming more and more smitten with Kelly. There was this crazy hot brunette dressed in barely-allowed clothes at the school – sometimes shorts, sometimes miniskirts – showing of her legs that went for days.

Her tops started getting more and more low-cut, showing off her gorgeous bosom to Shaun and the rest of the class.

Add to that the constant simulations from the weed and nicotine, and Kelly was a walking, talking wet dream for any schoolboy. She looked sexy, felt sexy, but most of all she felt aroused all the time.

It was as if she was experiencing freedom – true freedom – for the first time in her life. She was getting a glimpse of new horizons her extremely sheltered upbringing failed to show her before. Fate was a fickle little whore. And that whore has allowed her to see an exciting, exhilarating side to life she had never known.

But that’s not what was driving Shaun crazy. Even in her state of near-constant horniness, even in the face of the bullies who tormented her for a month, Kelly treated everyone with kindness. She had so much love in her heart, Shaun was almost angry at her.

“Why do you have to be so fucking nice with everyone?” he hissed to himself. It made no sense. None of this made any sense.

Kelly was complicit in tormenting a number of girls in the class with Sharon and the gang. She wasn’t usually the aggressor in chief, but she played along nonetheless. You could see she was feeling crestfallen every time she had to take part, which incensed Shaun to no end.

“Why would you feel sorry for fucking nobodies?” he gritted his teeth, speaking to himself, enraged. The last 19 years of his life taught him one thing - the world didn't care for kindness.

All the conflicting emotions were driving Shaun absolutely crazy. No one deserved to be this fucking cheery in life. He had to teach Kelly a lesson.

He had had a couple of daytime fuck sessions with Kelly this week, but from next week, he needed to up the ante. He needed to spend the nights with her. To cuddle her to sleep. To feel her raw breath on his neck when he woke up in the morning.

Shaun caught himself wishing for something he knew was not to be. He didn’t deserve her love, and neither did Kelly from her husband. Shaun needed to corrupt her more. He needed to show her what despicable trash she was. All women are. Maybe then she’ll see the truth.

Shaun motioned for Sharon to come close. He had a plan, but he’d need her help to make Kelly play along.

… … …

Next week, on Monday evening, Kelly and Shaun came running to the house. John had just returned from the office. As he was relaxing on the couch with the TV on, his head shot up in concern, looking at the ‘pretend’ couple rushing in through the front door.

“What’s wrong? Are you guys ok?”

“Classes got cancelled, so we got to leave early”, Kelly replied.

“But Sharon and the girls kept bugging us. They said any real couple would use the extra time to fuck around. They kept grilling us - why weren’t we at home fucking each other’s brains out? So, we rushed all the way from the school to here.”

Shaun managed to wave a polite hello at John. He was already grabbing Kelly’s boobs, who was busy on her phone setting up a facetime call.

“Hey bitches, what’s up?” she said while getting groped by the young student, a happy, stupid smile plastered on her face. She was half-stoned, the sensations from the premium weed multiplying the tinglings in her nerves.

“Looks like our fuckslut is going wild again. How long are you going to fuck today, bestie?” John could hear Sharon’s voice over the phone.

“I don’t know, maybe an hour? You know Shaun lasts a looong time”, winked Kelly.

“Oh, he’s going to leave after that? What kind of boyfriend leaves his girlfriend all alone after fucking her? Don’t you guys cuddle after sex?” Sharon sounded skeptical.

Sharon, the master manipulator, had gotten Kelly in another predicament. The distressed housewife looked at her husband for assurance. John nodded his head, signaling he was OK with whatever scheme his wife came up with to salvage the situation. He trusted his loving wife.

Completely.

“Now that you mention it, Shaun is spending the night here tonight, right babe?” she looked up at Shaun.

“Fuck those puppy eyes. Why do they have to be so pretty?” cursed Shaun under his breath.

“Fuck you, whore. Stop doubting us already. Jeez!” Kelly teased her ‘best friend’.

“No, not me. Fuck Shaun instead”. Sharon ended the call with a chuckle.

Without a word, Kelly started dragging Shaun to the bedroom by his hand. He, in turn, gestured an apology to John, to give the impression that this was not his intention, but he had to do it to keep their cover.

John understood completely. He had no doubt Shaun would treat his wife like a gentleman. Kelly could not have found a better guy to pull off this whole ‘pretend relationship’ scam with.

The bedroom door clicked shut in front of his eyes.

… … …

John had a restless night of sleep. He had had a busy day at work, and his body was crying out for some rest. Shaun and Kelly never got out of the master bedroom all night, so John decided to sleep in the guest bedroom right beside it. The two rooms shared a wall.

At times in the night, it felt like the headboard was banging against the wall. “What on earth are those two doing?” he thought to himself. Probably because Shaun wasn’t used to sleeping in his bed, they were adjusting it, he reasoned.

At some point, as John was dozing off, he was awakened by sounds coming from the bedroom. They were pretty muffled, but he could make out some of it.

“Who owns this pussy, bitc…?”

“You do, da...”

“… owns this ass, slut?”

“You… daddy”.

“… this mouth, wh…e?”

“Ahh, y… daddy.”

“Who d… you… fuck?”

“Only youuuu, da…”

“Wrong answer, fuc… worthle… cunt”.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

“Try aga... Remember what I taught… say. Who do you f…, cockbrain?”

“Only who y… tell me to fuck, da…”.

“Where d… yo… want my cum, bitch?”

“Ever…ere, daddy. In… mou, my pus…, on my f…e, … my ti…s.”

“Nah whore. I’ve got a better idea. What is that? Your wedding photo?”

As John kept listening, in his half-dazed state, his ears were hearing the words, but his brain wasn’t processing any of those. He kept drifting in and out of sleep, the words coming more clearly now, but without any meaning to John.

“Ye… Yes daddy. Sorry I’ll put it away.”

“No, you stupid slut. Give it to me. Aim it right. God, you’re a useless piece of trash”.

“Ughhh mmm daddy cum for me”.

There was a brief silence interspersed with groans from Shaun and moans from Kelly.

“Now lick it up from the photo frame, bitch. That’s your treat tonight.”

“Mmm that’s so naughty, daddy. I love it.”

Slurp.

Slurp.

Slurp.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic. You can’t even clean a photo properly”.

“I’m sorry daddy. I’m trying. I…”

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

“Fucking dumbcunt. Come with me.”

In his sleepy stupor, John heard the bathroom door opening. He was floating in and out of consciousness. On a whim, some part of his brain decided whatever was happening had to be something erotic. So somehow, the floating, weightless existence of John in between the world of the living and the temporary dead, started experiencing a wet dream.

“Pee on this, you fuckslut”.

“Oh god, daddy… I don’t know if I can…”

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

“How about we do it together?”

“Fuck… daddy…”

“You heard me, bitch. Edge yourself on the photo. Then pee on it.”

There was silence for several minutes. John’s hand was involuntarily stroking his penis. His sub-conscious found the feeling delicious, so it kept urging him on, to get more of the feeling, to get hooked on the **** of the overheard whispers.

Then suddenly there was the now-familiar sound of Kelly moaning out loud.

“Look at yourself, dumbfuck. Orgasming on your wedding photo sucking my cock. Open wide for your treat, bitch.”

“Mmm daddy… Fuck… Yesghhh…”

After a couple of minutes of faint gagging, a clearer sound emerged. Someone was taking a piss.

Soon, a second, less prominent sound joined it.

“Yeah, that’s like my whore. Pee on that prude bitch’s face. That’s not you anymore, it is?”

“Nooo daddyyyy”.

“What are you now?”

“Ahhgghh….”

“Say it”.

“A cheating wife”.

“Louder, you fucking useless fleshlight”.

“A CHEATING WIFE”.

“Louder while I pee on your face, cumdump”.

“A CHEATING FUCKING WHORE WIFE”.

“Good whore.”

John drifted to a deeper state of sleep, with a dumb, satisfying smile on his face. The trails of pleasure lighting up his resting brain, firing up random parts of it to give him the most vivid, wild, wet dream he has ever had in his life.

He was making love to Kelly on a beach, in public. Her new friends were cheering them on, urging him to go faster, to go harder. His loving, devoted wife was moaning in her throes of ecstasy, taking him along on her journey of toe-curling, soul-shattering waves of climaxes, one after the other after the other.

John came in his sleep, content, thoughtless, weightless.

All that remained was pleasure.

His brain won’t recall any of the foggy memories in the morning.