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  Sex Story Part 3

  An Erotica Short

  ALSO BY BEBE WILDE

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  Sex Story Part 3

  An Erotica Short

  Bebe Wilde

  Abernathy and Monroe

  Sex Story - Part 3: An Erotica Short. Copyright © 2013 by Bebe Wilde.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher. For more information, email [email protected]

  Published by Abernathy and Monroe.

  eBook ISBN–13: 978-1-938107-49-8

  eBook ISBN–10: 1-938107-49-7

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  For those who can forgive and forget.

  Contents

  Sex Story Part 3

  Sex Story Part 3

  It was getting more intense, our sex story. But then again that’s what happens when you become sexually awakened. And that’s what he was doing to me. Bit by bit, I was coming into my own and I was loving every minute of it.

  However, sometimes it did baffle me that I basically went from being a prude to this woman with a really sexually satisfied life. I never used to get into sex and I certainly never touched myself. But one day that all changed. One day, I discovered the joys of self love, as they say, and I began to feel a stirring of my sexuality that had been missing from my life for far too long. And then one day my boyfriend, Eric, walked in on me while I was having some quality alone time. What happened after that was some seriously hot sex. And it kept happening, so much to the point I didn’t think it would get any better. But then it did. One day, we argued over his perceived notion that I was into another guy, which was totally not true. And we made up in the best way possible—sex on top of his car.

  I kinda blush whenever I think back on it, to be honest. That was me? Me getting fucked on top of his car and then all the way home, me being unable to keep my hands off of him. Then the two of us having sex, more wild sex, before we even made it to our apartment. Yes, that was me. That was us. That’s just how it was.

  However, if anyone had said to me years ago, “Lara, seriously, when you get older, you will have an amazing sex life,” I would have laughed. Not because it didn’t seem possible that people did have amazing sex lives. No, it was because I didn’t think I could ever have one myself. But now I did and it was better than I could have ever imagined.

  But there was just one caveat, one problem. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any hotter between Eric and I, I met someone. Someone else. Another man. I didn’t think it was possible that I could have a such a strong sexual attraction to another person when I was so totally in love with my man, the one who’d brought out these feelings in the first place. But there I was, standing face to face with him and feeling so sexually drawn to him I almost couldn’t stand it. Almost. And he had it for me, too. He didn’t tell me but I could tell by the way he looked at me that he felt this way, too. Whenever I was in the room, he’d stare at me, taking in my trim figure and blonde hair. I could tell he noticed my “work” clothes, the cute button-down tops and tight-fitting skirts that made my ass look, well, really good and the designer stilettos I always wore. I always made a point to look nice for work and I appreciated the fact that my efforts didn’t go unnoticed. He always made a point to stare into my eyes, once commenting on the color of blue they were. He liked me, I could tell. And I liked him.

  Even so, all this sent me into a wave of panic. What did it mean? Did it mean I wasn’t that attracted to Eric anymore? That I wanted to be, well, a bit of a slut? That I wanted my cake and wanted to eat it, too? I did. I had to admit that. I did want my cake and I wanted to eat it, too. However, I knew if I ever crossed that line, it would be over between Eric and I and that I couldn’t handle. He wasn’t the kind of guy that would be okay if I cheated, to say the least. Just as he wasn’t okay with me talking to another guy he thought I might be into. It had sent him, quite literally, into a jealous rage. So, to actually cheat on him? If it happened… Well, I didn’t like to think about that.

  Therefore, I kept my feelings to myself, thinking they would pass, that they would abate. And they did for the most part until that day. After that day, it was all over and I knew it would be all over mainly because Eric was very jealous over me. He looked at me as “his woman.” And I have to admit that I looked at him as “my man.” There was nothing wrong with it. That’s how men and women usually see one another once they fall in love. And, yes, we were in love and in lust. However, we came to a big bump in the road, something that totally tested our relationship and made me wonder if he was really the right one for me.

  Let me clarify—I didn’t want to be attracted to another man. I didn’t want him to be into me, either. I loved Eric with all my heart. But it just happened, as they say. Or, as some say, stuff happens. And it did.

  His name was Jack. He was tall, dark and so freakin’ handsome I couldn’t help but stare at him, mouth agape. And he was nice, affable. I liked him immediately. We met at work.

  It was innocent at first. We had to work together some and we would flirt a little here and there. He was just there for a few weeks. That’s all. He was there to train then he was leaving for another job. One day he told me, “I’m transferring to another office. This is my last day here.”

  I suddenly felt a little sad that I’d never see him after this. “Oh, that’s too bad,” I said.

  He stared at me, smiling slightly. “But, hey, they’re throwing me a little going away party tonight. You wanna come?”

  I stared back at him and thought about it. Eric was out of town on business and I didn’t have anything else to do. So, sure, why not? “I’d love to,” I told him, feeling good about it.

  “Cool,” he said. “We’re all heading over to the bar after work.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I said and picked up a bunch of files. “I’ll see you there.”

  It was after six when I finally made it to the party. Everyone in our office was already at the bar so it was very crowded, mainly because it was a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of place that played loud music and served cheap drinks. I saw a few of the women I worked with sitting at the bar and waved at them. They motioned me over and we chitchatted until Jack came up and said, “Long time to no see.”

  I laughed. “I know. It’s been like at least a few hours.”

  The women told me they were going to get a booth in the back. I told them I’d join them later. They left and then Jack ordered us some shots.

  “Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t handle straight liquor.”

  “Just one,” he said and picked up a shot glass of tequila and handed it to me, then a lime, then he sprinkled some salt on my hand. “F
or your health.”

  “Well, if you insist,” I said and licked the salt, slammed the shot and then sucked the lime. Then I shuddered. The tequila burned my throat and I coughed a little. Jack patted my back and laughed, then ordered another round. Sure, why not? We had another shot and then… Well, he got really close to me. And he started talking, whispering in my ear, telling me things I didn’t know if I wanted to hear or not. He told me he thought I was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and that he was going to miss me. I told him that was very nice of him to say but I had a boyfriend. He ignored this and kept talking about this and that but mostly about how much he’d miss me and it was too bad that we’d probably never be able to see each other again, unless, of course, I wanted to keep in touch.

  I listened to him for a while and kept telling him that I was unavailable in that capacity. However, we kept drinking, therefore I was getting drunk and it was getting late. Soon, I knew I had had enough, so I excused myself to the restroom and when I came out, he was standing just outside the door, waiting on me. I started to say something but he just shook his head. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine, so much to the point that I couldn’t resist and kissed him back. It was quick and it was hot and a little dirty. Next thing I knew he was pushing me back into the bathroom and I was going with him, loving that he was doing what he was doing. He shut the door, locked it and pulled me to him, pressing his lips to my lips once again. I don’t know why, but I was so swept up in it that I just went along. The heat of the moment just took over and he looked so damned good, it was hard to resist what he was offering. And what he was offering was something that I had to admit I’d been curious about for some time. What would another man feel like? Yes, that thought had crossed my mind more than once, especially since I had been sexually awakened. I had thought about it, about other men doing things to me, nice and hot and dirty things. I had tried to ignore my feelings, but they were there, popping up occasionally. Well, I had my answer now. I knew what another man felt like. And he felt really fucking fantastic. I didn’t want to let him go. I didn’t want him to stop. I couldn’t control myself and so there I was taking what he was offering and offering him what I had in return.

  I don’t why I just went with it, but I did. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than what we were doing. It’s like as soon as he kissed me, we got wrapped up in a bubble and nothing could penetrate it. It was just us and there was nothing else at that moment that really mattered.

  He was so close to me that I could feel his penis, hard and thick inside of his pants, wanting me, wanting inside of me. I wanted it too. But I was more than a little drunk. That might have been the reason the hesitation I would have normally felt was overridden by this lust we were sharing. It was probably the reason why I just did it without thinking about what would happen afterwards. My inhibition just wasn’t there to keep me from doing what I was doing.

  Our kiss was getting deeper, lustier and then his hands were all over me, sliding into my shirt and into my bra and grabbing my breasts. I moaned softly and threw my head back and then he was unbuttoning my top and his mouth was on my nipple, his lips playing with it and sucking it at. Then his other hand was in my panties and he was doing things to me that made me want to come. I grabbed onto his shoulders and pressed myself on top of his hand, pushing at it, trying to get the orgasm out and wanting much, much more. And then it happened. I came as he sucked on my breasts and played with my clit.

  What I hadn’t noticed was that he was grinding against me, too. And when we pulled apart, I saw that he, too, had come, prematurely. His pants were wet with it. I stared into his eyes and saw how embarrassed he was. He’d been that turned on by me. It was a little overwhelming and he looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. I stared into his eyes and felt his humiliation and for that I felt bad, even though I was strangely a little flattered that I’d had that effect on him.

  “It’s okay,” I said quickly and started to straighten out my clothes.

  “I gotta go,” he said and started out of the room. He stopped and turned to me and said, “I like you, Lara. A lot. I’m leaving tonight but can I call you?”

  I shook my head. “No, this was a one-time thing.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said.

  I shook my head again, this time more empathically. “No. And I mean it. Don’t call me.”

  “I am sorry about this,” he said. “I feel like a fucking asshole.”

  “You’re fine,” I said and gave him a small smile. “Just forget about it.”

  “Please let me call you.”

  “No,” I said. “Forget about that, too.”

  He nodded and opened the door, then gave me one last look. “Well, I’ll see you later, Lara.”

  I nodded and smiled at him. “Goodbye, Jack.”

  He exited. As soon as he left, I realized if I hadn’t gotten him so wound up, we would have had sex. And for that, I was relieved.

  * * * * *

  The day after, the reality of what I had done set it and I felt so sick, so guilt-ridden that I called in to work, telling them I needed the day off. I was a little hung-over, too. But I didn’t tell them that. I’d been crying, on and off, since I’d gotten home. I didn’t know what to do to be honest.

  My neighbor and good friend, Jill, called about ten in the morning. “Hey,” she said. “I saw your car in the garage. Are you okay?”

  Without hesitation, I confessed, “I cheated on Eric!” Then I started crying again.

  Silence. She didn’t say anything for a good thirty seconds, then, “Oh, shit.”

  Oh, shit was right. I cried, “I know! We didn’t have sex but I wanted to. What am I going to do?”

  “So you didn’t actually have sex?”

  “No,” I said, thinking about the things we did do and then blushed with the memory. I shook it off and stared around the living room, at the new tufted couch Eric and I had painstaking picked out. It was something that I had wanted and he hadn’t. We’d argued about it. It was covered in linen and he had been totally against buying it, saying that it would attract dirt and look old after a few months. He’d been wrong. It still looked new. But then again, I vacuumed it at least twice a week. It went well with everything else in the apartment and I was glad I had won the fight. Now I wondered why I’d pushed so hard on it. It didn’t matter now, that couch or the other nice furnishings we had. Nothing mattered now, all because I hadn’t been able to resist a few minutes of pleasure.

  “Okay, good,” Jill said. “Keep it to yourself. You can’t tell Eric. Even though you didn’t actually have sex, he’ll freak out like last time.”

  She was right. He’d freaked out, all right. The last time all I did was talk to another guy. And he’d seen me doing it and got so jealous he picked a fight with another guy, a guy I had flirted with at the bar and grill where Jill worked because I was so pissed off at him for being jealous in the first place. Uh, it had been a mess. It had been… Well… It had not been a pleasant experience, to say the least.

  “Just keep it under your hat,” she said. “You’re feeling guilty, I know, but my advice would be to not tell him. You’ll only be doing it to make yourself feel better. You won’t be helping him by confessing. Take my advice and just shoulder this burden yourself and don’t mention it to him. Okay?”

  I thought about her advice. Could I do that? I’d always heard that confession was good for the soul and honesty was the best policy and all that.

  “Lara?” she said. “Did you hear me?”

  “It’s just… I don’t like keeping secrets and I think, in a way, that I should just fess up. You know, they say confession is good for the soul or whatever.”

  “Not in the case,” she said. “It won’t help anything. You know how he is, girl. Remember that.”

  “Uh, huh,” I muttered and wished I hadn’t gotten myself into this mess.

  “You should keep a lid on it,” she said. “Do you hear me?”

  �
��I do,” I said, nodding to myself. “I’ll keep a lid on it.”

  “Good,” she said. “I just think you’ll do more harm than good if you tell him. If you love him, you’ll keep it to yourself.”

  It was good advice but, of course, I knew it would be hard to follow it. I couldn’t. I felt so bad about it that I began to convince myself that I had to do something about it, that I had to confess. I wanted to let it go, I did. But my guilt was so overpowering, I just couldn’t let go of it long enough to rationalize with myself.

  Eric came home from his business trip the following day. I was a complete wreck at that point and was not even making an effort to conceal my guilt. I didn’t prepare him a welcome home meal or anything like that. I didn’t even dress up. I had come home from work and put on a pair of old, baggy sweats and an old t-shirt from my alma mater. I then pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail and waited. Then, after he arrived, I greeted him at the door with a weak smile.

  He gave me a good once over before saying, “Glad to see you missed me.”

  I groaned a little, hating what I was about to do to him, about to do to us. I stared at him, at his handsome face and felt the love he had for me, the love I felt I no longer deserved. His blonde hair was getting a little long and needed a cut and his blue eyes looked tired. Other than that, he looked hot, as usual. His tall frame and muscular body was enough to make any woman swoon. If I hadn’t had this issue, I wouldn’t have hesitated to jump his bones.

  He leaned down and gave my cheek a quick kiss, then pulled back. “Are you okay? You’re not getting sick are you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Just in a weird mood.”

  He eyed me then shook his head. “Well, okay. Let me put my stuff up.”

  He passed me in the hall and then went into the bedroom where I heard him unzip his suitcase and start unpacking it. I wanted to go in there and hug him, to tell him I loved him more than anything and ask him to please, please forgive me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.