Ate's Affair

The melodic ring of an instant message shook her from her sleep. She got up sleepily, making her way to her computer and sitting in the chair.

“Morning, babe.”

“Morning, hot stuff,” she typed back.

“How’s my pet?”

They’d been talking online for a couple months now. Sent pictures to each other. She’d even called him on the phone one night when her husband was away. They’d talked for hours, the conversation flowing as easily on the phone as it did on the computer. And, God, that voice. He had an amazing voice, confident and sexy…just thinking about that voice in her ear made the muscles between her thighs clench involuntarily.

It was insane, really. He was ten years younger than her, barely a man. She had a husband she loved, she’d been happy and content. Then she found David and everything changed. For one thing, her sex drive was at an all time high. Her husband enjoyed it, but couldn’t keep up. She found herself with hard plastic vibrating between her legs more often than not and once, she’d even whispered

his

name as she climaxed.

I’m not doing anything wrong,

she told herself. After all, she felt better about herself than she had in years. And yes, she was incredibly turned on most of the time, but what was so bad about that? Still, the idea that some guy she’d never met, a very young guy as a matter of fact, could bring that wetness between her legs made her feel guilty. Shamefully guilty – yet shamefully good at the same time.

Thank God he lived so far away. Thank God there would never be a chance for anything to happen. She constantly was pulling her thoughts away from David, telling herself it wasn’t a good thing to think about him so often, to fantasize about him, but

goddamn

it made her feel so good and so young.

She knew in her mind that there was no point to the fantasies. Really, when it came down to it, even if she could and did fuck him, what then? Give up her life and everything she’d worked for for some young kid she barely knew? Not only was that foolish, it was an impossibility. Realizing that, however, only made it easier for her to indulge in her fantasies. After all, if nothing would ever come of it, what was the harm in letting her imagination run wild?

And run wild it did. To the point where there were times, when she closed her eyes, and felt her husband’s hands on her, his mouth on her, his hardness inside of her, that she would pretend it was David. Every time she allowed herself this fantasy she could feel the need,

the wanting

, pull at her immediately and intensely. More often than not, the guilt she felt afterward was overshadowed by how powerful her orgasm had been.

“I’m good, babe. Gonna be gone for a week though. Have a conference to go to,” she typed back.

“Oh yeah? Where at?”

“Georgia. Savannah. I probably won’t have internet access, but we’ll see.”

As she packed her things, the thought of a week without the internet weighed on her mind, to her chagrin. She had friends she kept in touch with on the internet, people she’d known for years, even met in real life, and they were good friends. In spite of this, it still made her feel somewhat pathetic to be so dependent on it that a week without it made her feel like she was going to be without cigarettes or something. No David, either. That bothered her more than she cared to admit.

She’d rented a condo out on Tybee Island, about a half an hour from Savannah. Her first day there she spent on the beach, the wind blowing in her air. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the surf in her ear felt like sweet freedom. She had no one to answer to, nothing that needed to be done. No bills to pay, no dinner to prepare, just the ocean. She spent the entire day there, turning her skin red.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she found herself alone in the sand. The only sound was crashing surf. The stars were bright and she lay on her back on the sand, watching the clouds form shapes and thinking about her life. Was what she had what she wanted from it? There was a certain comfort in security; in having a place to come home to, where she was loved and wanted, where there was a routine and everything had its place. But part of her yearned for more, much more.

How long had it been since she’d spent time alone, truly alone, without a care? Back when she was young and decidedly pretty - never beautiful, but admittedly cute - she hadn’t appreciated times like these. She’d spent her days longing for what she had now. She was old enough now to be able to look back on those days with not only longing, but also with the knowledge that they weren’t everything her mind wanted them to be. They’d been lonely, and scary, and yes, boring at times, but they’d been free.

She could do as she pleased, and she’d taken full advantage of it. There were some things she regretted, but for the most part she was glad she’d spent her youth wild and free, sleeping with whomever she chose, throwing caution to the wind. Now part of her longed for those days, even while realizing her life was happy and good.

The next day she muddled through the conference, in rooms that were either too cold or too hot, as her peers spoke in monotone about topics she had no interest in. Finally it was lunchtime, and she waited in the heat for the ferry across the Savannah River with other conference-goers, their name tags flashing in the sunlight.

Her first stop was the visitors bureau, where she asked about an internet café. The woman was helpful and friendly, sketching out a path on a map of the city in a lazy southern drawl. She walked in the heat through the city, the live oaks drooping with spanish moss, enjoying the small parks she would cross every few blocks. Finally she reached her destination, ordered a cappucino, and took her place in front of the three computer that overlooked Market Square. Berating herself for her foolishness, the first thing she sent was a note to David.

The next day, she cut out of the conference early, eager to get to the café and a response from David. She wasn’t disappointed. That night, she lay on the beach again, unable to tear her thoughts away from him, her mind a mix of guilt and shame, but her body so hot it felt like she had a fever. She lay in the sand with the beach to herself, and her hands felt their way down and played there until she was satisfied, but the heat did not dissipate.

The next morning as she readied herself for the day, she stood in front of the mirror. She hated the lines and dark circles that had formed around her eyes in the past several years. Her body, while still better than most, in her eyes was not what it had once been. A little softer in the middle. Her breasts not as high as they had once been. Her thighs a little thicker. Oh, to be twenty-four again. She thought about it often, and that was the year she would chose if she could choose one to be for the rest of her life. Twenty-four. The same age as David.

The conference kept her bust the rest of the day and twilight was turning into night as she made her way through the city to the café. She made her way up the concrete steps to the little bar, where she ordered her cappucino and took a seat in front of the computer. She had just begun a small note to David when she felt a hand on her shoulder and a voice, a gorgeous voice, speak her name.

“Kate.”

She spun in her chair, unable to believe it was who she thought it was, but it was him. His tall frame towered over her small one, his dark eyes gleamed a little mischievously, and she thought, my God, he’s even more handsome than I thought he was. She was a little frightened at the thought of him finding her here, and her mind thought, Oh God, no…but her body said the opposite.

“David? What are you doing here? How did you?”

He shrugged. “There's only one internet café in Savannah.”

After a small, awkward silence, she stood from her chair and smiled, giving him a hug. The top of her head only barely made it halfway up his chest. “This is a little strange…”

He smiled, a warm, unpretentious, absolutely safe smile, and she knew she was in trouble. The took a table and talked; talked for hours. There were few times when she was reminded of the difference in their ages: he was intelligent, and more importantly, he was incredibly mature for his age. Often she found her eyes wandering, felt heat between her legs and a flush on her cheeks. They finally stopped their conversation and rose from their table only because the café was closing its doors. There was nobody there but the two of them.

They got about halfway down the concrete steps to the street before he stopped, three steps below her. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her to him, almost, but not quite forcefully, and their lips met. She pulled back briefly, then gave in and poured all her frustrations of the last few months into that kiss, her tongue searching, her hands entwined in his hair. His hands moved to the small of her back, pulling her in closer, their bodies pressed tightly together until finally she pushed him away.

“God, David, I can’t do this.”

He said nothing in return, just clasped her small hand in his, leading her out of the stairwell and into the street. As her mind spun, she let him lead her through the streets of Savannah. Their trip halted every few blocks, where one of the other of them would give in and enfold the other, her back pressing hard against the cold brick of a building or the scratchy bark of a live oak in a garden square. She barely remembered entering his hotel, or the elevator, or walking to his room, but once inside, he lifted her by the waist, pressing her up against the wall as her legs wrapped around him. He brushed her hair aside with a hand and kissed her neck, licking and biting as she pressed herself against him.

She couldn’t think straight. She knew she had to stop but she didn’t want him to stop. How had it come to this? And what were the odds, not only that they would meet, but that it would be like

this

, the electricity, the heat, the feeling that this was exactly what they were made to be doing. Her breath came in ragged heaves and tears spilled from her eyes, but still she pulled him towards her and pressed herself against him. Finally, she pulled his head from her neck.

“David…”

His hand was in her hair and he pulled , bringing her head back, and forcing her neck towards his mouth. One hand in her hair and one on her ass, pulling her against the hardness of him. His mouth moved to her ear and he whispered huskily, “Kate.”

“God, no,” she cried out as he turned, laying her on the bed and covering her body with his. He pulled up her shirt and her bra, his mouth enclosing on a hard nipple and she whispered, “God, yes.” She moved against him, pulling his hair, pulling him harder against her breast. His hand moved below the waistband of her pants and immediately found her clitoris, dipped lower, found the wetness there, and brought it back up and began to trace circles and move back and forth.

Her mind kept telling her to make him stop, tell him to stop, but it would be so much easier if he wasn’t doing everything so goddamned

right

. He hadn’t done a single thing that was wrong and it made it almost impossible to stop him. She moved her hands down to his pants, undid the button, and opened the fly, reaching her hand inside and drawing in a sharp breath before she could stop herself. His cock was huge. She pulled her hand back immediately.

Her first thought was his age. She remembered what it had been like with guys his age, the rush, the lack of foreplay. Hell, she was so turned on it wouldn’t matter except…it was huge. She was afraid he would hurt her. He grabbed her hand by the wrist as she moved it away and placed it back around his rock hard cock and it only made her more concerned.

“David…” she began, in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own.

He put a finger to her lips. “Shh.” He kissed her again as he removed her pants and her underwear, and then his own. Then his mouth moved to her neck, her breasts, her stomach, until finally it was

there

. He knew what he was doing. His tongue flicked back and forth and then he brought his lips around it, sucking lightly and nibbling softly. He put his tongue inside her, then brought it out, replacing it with a finger. Again and again he sucked and licked her clitoris, until he had two fingers inside of her, then three. She could feel how slick and wet she was, and still he didn’t stop. She could feel it building inside of her, she arched her back against him, one hand in his hair pushing him against her, the other around his wrist as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Just as she was reaching the point of no return, he stopped. He left his fingers where they were and brought his mouth to her neck again, his teeth scraping against her skin as he whispered her name hotly in that amazing voice. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he withdrew his fingers from inside her.

His mouth met hers again and she kissed him hungrily. She felt him shift his weight above her, and then she felt him beginning to enter her. Even with how wet she was, even though his fingers had opened her and probed her, it was still a tight fit. He moved slowly, little by little, one hand behind her neck, one in the small of her back pulling her towards him. Maybe an inch, maybe two, she couldn’t tell, she just felt the hugeness of him as she let out a short scream and came, squeezing and contracting, amazed that there was any room for movement, almost squeaking with every spasm that drew him in deeper and deeper as she came until she felt him entirely within her. And still she came, grasping at him, clawing, biting, bucking against him until she felt him grow impossibly larger, pulling her hard against him as he came deep inside her. And still she came, squirming and bucking as he shuddered against her, finally collapsing beside her.

Once he was asleep, she quietly rose, putting on her clothes and letting herself out of the room. She’d never see him again, this she promised herself. But she also promised she’s never allowed herself to regret it, either. It was just too good to regret.