The next morning, the light of the rising sun woke Rhonda up from a very satisfying sleep. She had no recollection of the dreams she had had the previous night, only the feeling that she had been chased by something she couldn't escape.
She turned to Pat, who was still sleeping soundly. She felt a deep love for the man she had spent the last seven years of her life with. They had been through so much together, good and bad, and had come out of it strong and more in love than ever. There was her man.
As she looked at him, the events of the previous day started flashing through her mind, like a film appearing in glitches and moments. As she thought of their day of pooling and boozing, she felt a heat begin to build in her pelvis. It wasn't all pleasure, though, something burned in the sensation. The acid of guilt. But why guilt?
Then the last events of the day played out: The spying game; Seeing Tim masturbating; His huge, impossible dick; Her shame; Her and Pat's intense sex; Pat whispering taboo things into her ear.
As hot as the sex had felt the previous night, in the clear light of day, the thought of it made Rhonda feel uncomfortable. As though trying to shake off the memory, she stood up from the bed, wrapped herself in a housecoat and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
She began preparing a pour-over for herself and brought her full attention to weighing the coffee beans. She examined every bean and wanted the weight to be exact down to the decimal. She knew that this overly focused state was a means to avoid thinking about last night. That was stupid. She was an adult after all and it was just sex. What was she avoiding?
She took a deep breath, steadied herself with her hands on the kitchen island, and thought through the sex she had had with Pat the previous day. The feeling of his dick inside her, how much she wanted to feel him and his manhood, how she had pressed him into her to feel her clitoris rub against him, and the spark of sensation that had created.
And somehow, things had gotten more heated than that. She felt herself becoming wet as she heard the water come to boil in the nearby kettle. Her fingers reflexively moved down her body and into her underwear, then past her outer lips. She pressed into herself to wet her fingers and began to rub her clitoris. She remembered Pat's expression, how intense he looked, the veins in his neck defined in the effort he was spending, and the way his lips squeezed together as he thrust.
She felt the heat of an orgasm begin to build as she thought of the passionate way they kissed. The feeling of his penis reaching inside of her, ready to explode. And then, the words Pat whispered into her ear reverberated in her mind as though she heard them anew.
Did seeing his huge dick turn you on? Did you like seeing him stroke himself? Did you wonder how it would feel to hold a dick that size in your hands?
Her whole body felt hot now. The pleasure was spreading. But there had been something else, something even more exciting, more taboo... The words came back to her suddenly and, for some reason, with an image. In the peak of her arousal, Rhonda saw Tim, her neighbor, masturbating so vigorously it seemed desperate, pathetic even. And in his hand, that huge penis.
Are you imagining his dick was inside of you right now? Coming inside of you?
She was there, a huge orgasm ready to erupt through her body with another rub of the finger. Her body wanted this, she could almost feel it begging:
Please? Can I have this now, please?
But something in her mind shut it down. No. It was wrong. She didn't want to have an orgasm thinking of their awkward neighbor masturbating in his hot tub.
Some psychological mechanism stopped her orgasm and hid it away. She tried thinking of the sex with Pat, its intensity, his body on top of hers, but she couldn't get back to the feeling. She was forcing things and as wet as she had been a few moments earlier, she now felt her loins reject the idea of sexual pleasure.
The acid of guilt reappeared in her gut. She knew she'd have to talk about it with Pat. Rhonda was not someone who needed to look at other men nor to feel other men desire her in order to feel sexy and good about herself. She just needed one man, and that man was Pat. That was that.
As she was pouring the hot water into the V60 the house creaked, announcing her man was up. After a little more creaking, she saw him appear on the stairs, sporting a pair of x-men boxers and a housecoat.
He rubbed his eyes and greeted her with a "hey, sexy." Something about that mundane moment brought tears to Rhonda's eyes. When Pat noticed, he went to her quickly and took her in his arms. He knew this wasn't the time for it, but like an idiot he couldn't help but get turned out by Rhonda's breasts. The way they were on the brink of falling out of her housecoat, pushing apart the fabric, was incredibly erotic.
There will be time for that later, dummy. Focus.
It was a testament to the strength of their relationship that Rhonda opened up honestly about what she was feeling. About how conflicted she felt about the sex they had had. That it had been incredibly hot but had left her with something bitter inside.
Hearing her say these things made Pat feel guilty. He loved Rhonda with everything he had, and had made a promise to himself when they got married that he would do whatever it took to support her and lift her up in life. He felt guilty that he had put her in this position for the sake of his own arousal. Although none of it had been planned and the words had seemed to appear in the moment, he felt bad that he hadn't foreseen how the experience would ultimately make her feel.
He opened his mouth and apologized just as she did the same, with the result being them talking over each other. They both stopped to let the other speak, then laughed at the awkward pause. They laughed a bit harder than the moment required, but it felt good to release the tension.
"I love you so much, Rhonda. Can we put yesterday behind us and move on, and let's just say no more of the spying game?"
Rhonda nodded her approval and they hugged. It was the type of hug that usually led to love-making, but something about the nature of what they had just discussed made getting physical not quite right at that moment.
Delicious coffee and a hearty breakfast chased the foulness out of the air and they ended up having a wonderful day. Later that afternoon, they found themselves frolicking around their bedroom, and before they knew it they were naked and in bed.
Pat took his time to caress and kiss Rhonda's body. He massaged her calves and thighs, the muscles along her spine. As he hungrily kissed her breasts, one of his hands massaged her neck as the other began exploring her vulva.
Rhonda let herself bask in the pleasure of being caressed, and massaged Pat's scalp in response, tugging gently at his hair. She started pushing his head down towards her loins, hinting at what she wanted next. They shared a quick, conspiratorial smile and he happily moved downwards. Pat explored her inner thighs with his lips and tongue, knowing how she enjoyed being teased. When his tongue reached her outer lips, the tingling pleasure made her arch her spine.
The movement brought Rhonda back to the previous night, to when she arched her spine as he whispered into her ear. Then the image of Tim masturbating. Then the image of Pat, excited and coming. She felt herself become more aroused. She opened her eyes to rid herself of the mental images and looked down. Pat smiled at her with his eyes as his tongue caressed her clitoris.
She exhaled and took in the sight. This was going to be OK. They'd get through this. She didn't have to feel bad about it. She closed her eyes again and the only thing that filled her mind in the next few moments was the sublime sensation of her husband pleasuring her vagina.
Her orgasm came slowly, almost like a tide. It rippled through her quietly, feeling out the territory of her body, then ebbed away, then came back stronger than ever, reaching every nook and cranny, finger tip, and cell: "Oh, Oh, OK! That's nice, OOOOooooooo, Baby. Oh, yes. Oh, Yes."
