Memories Were Never Enough
A sequel to 'Wasted By Love'
"Sorry, but I left my keys behind this morning."
"I kept you from leaving me, so early."
Darryl smiled at her as the front door was closed behind him, all that they needed to say to each other, and desired, repeated as if their affair was as fresh as the moment it had burst into life. Some days had passed since she had sought to assure him that their relationship had to be over, the risk of discovery too great to take any chances with.
But they each had their ways of keeping their bond as strong as it had been when their affair had burst into a white-hot heat of passionate loving, he pursuing her but the purpose was always clear. She had been taken to bed as if that would make her feel better about herself after abandonment, her husband walking out on her.
That 'comfort' had soon changed into the pursuit of wayward pleasure for its own sake. That they were related had failed to act as a restraint on their actions.
Mabel knew again that she had been in this place before, and along with that came the answer to the burning question whenever she saw him. Would he sense her emotional involvement with him, again, and that the past few days, since that tempestuous first time had not diminished in any way?
Now, she was stone-cold sober, and yet she could not suppress her feelings. Only a few words from Darryl, on how she was dressed or in response to what she had said, would reignite her feelings into a raging need to have him take her to bed; a woman who was fully aware of what she was resorting to; a woman succumbing to her incestuous lust for the young man before her; strong, vigorous and attentive.
The emotional mayhem of earlier times, when she had been drunk, had since been lost in the emotional mayhem that had followed their first time in bed together. Her bond with Darryl had not loosened, no matter how hard she had tried and Darryl was so understanding. Her need for him kept being fanned into a red-hot heat and everything that they sought of each other was made real again in the only way and that set it apart from everything else that they lived through in their otherwise separate lives.
She worked in a supermarket not so far from where they lived. Darryl worked in construction and she never knew what time he would return to her.
"Hi, I'm home!" he called out as the front door was shoved shit behind him. "I'm going out tonight!"
Mavle heard the enthusiasm in his voice.
"I know, you've already told me," she answered, gazing at him as he shoved off his work boots and strode to close the gap between them. "Just come home safe."
"I will, but I don't know when that will be. It's Tony Ellwood's birthday party so we're bound to get wrecked."
His laugh suggested that he was looking forward to the diversion from the pattern of life they had settled into.
Darryl had it all, was scarily well-endowed, and deployed loving techniques to take her in ways, and to places in mind and body, that she simply did not want to end. Darryl's role in that was never forgotten. Her body's needs, to be loved in the ways that Darryl pursued and sought of her, were impossible to ignore, nor the man who settled her when she succumbed to her longing for him and what they so lustfully demanded of each other.
The man, her lustful and irrepressible son, remained in her blood and mind, no matter how she tried to deny that it was so and whenever she rejected his advances, which weren't too often. She was the insect fascinated by the bright light. Get too close and you'd get burned up.
Earlier in the day had been another one of those moments when she had not denied him entry. She had felt warm and mellow, amply satisfied by what she had taken from him and bestowed on a lover who could so easily become an obsession whenever she met a certain look of his upon her.
Lust overcame all reason and they had each known how to satisfy that destructive and irrepressible need for what had become more than sex and the satisfying of alien desires.
♥
Whenever he saw her, Darryl's thoughts would spool back to what they had done at the very beginning of their times together, moments of wanton pleasure that had been sought and with only one purpose in mind, to get Mabel out of the spiral of depression that she had fallen into, the seeking of comfort to be found in alcohol and that rejection had brought down upon her. But through the weave of their relationship, there was also a thread of lust, an inexcusable depravity that became lost in what they sought of each other.
Mabel's feisty personality and her vigorous, but voluptuous figure and fleshy legs, her flyaway sandy brown hair, and engaging smile when he said something to grab her attention, had become too much to resist, and her abandonment had taken on a dynamic all of its own.
Mabel had been seduced by the idea, finally, of letting him offer her comfort, of letting him in. After some persuading and a purposeful fuck-fest, what they had found the first time had become times of tempestuous and noisy sex; Mabel's body finally accepting his long, thick, and meaty length in ways that he could no longer find after being ditched. And soon, and between them, there raged an insatiable appetite that was heightened by the secrecy that they had to live their lives by.
The risks of discovery, whenever he 'slipped her a length', were too great to contemplate, and Mabel had finally prevailed upon him that their affair, or sex sessions whenever they could be arranged and her work allowed, should be brought to an end or at least curtailed.
So it was that they had settled on the loosest of arrangements, the energy that each brought to their times together; he with his stamina and strength, his wide repertoire in ways of possessing her, and Mabel's hungry demands, the clamping walls of her moist pussy and bucking hips, made so wasting and pleasurable.
Sex with the girls he met, and in particular Ella whom he would see at the party, was like a time of rehab after a wasting marathon.
Daryl now watched her as Mabel took slow steps up the stairs, reaching behind her back to unfasten her work dress, her nimble fingers unhooking her bra. He knew what would be seen as she turned to face him, just as she had done the very first time they had taken to each other in these ways.
"You... you shouldn't be showing yourself to me," he smiled, yet lifting his work shirt away and tugging at his belt buckle.
"You were so good with me, Darryl...again, this morning" she laughed coyly. "Fortunately, for me, you left no marks where people at work might see them."
She had clung to him and felt the press of his lips to her throat, to the swell of her breasts as he humped her and she drained him of his longing for her. How crazy their times together had become.
