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Flowers of the Night, part one

As afternoon becomes evening, then night, a secret grows.
I had really screwed up. There was no way to undo what I'd done, to make it not have happened. I'd have to live with the guilt, hide it from Damion for the rest of my life, or confess it to him and run the risk of ending our marriage.

I hadn't meant to cheat. I've always been a flirt, though, and this wasn't the first time flirting had gotten me in trouble, just the first time since my wedding. Well, I'd made it almost a year as a faithful wife. That should count for something, shouldn't it? I'd meant to be faithful forever, and people are always saying that it's the thought that counts.

I can't blame it on being drunk. I was a bit tipsy, but I was in full control of my facilities.

I'd met Hunter Carr at the bar in the hotel. He was in town on business and wondered if I'd like to get together for a drink. We had worked together in my very first job after college. We had spent a lot of time working together, and hanging out with a group of our friends from work. We'd been very close friends during those two years between college and when I decided to go back for my graduate degree.

I hadn't told Damion that I was meeting Hunter for a drink, or even that he was in town. There was no need to, really. We didn't feel the need to keep each other updated on our daily schedules. He worked long days, with so many meetings that it would have been hard to keep up with him.

My usual schedule was much simpler. Work, lunch, more work, driving home, waiting for Damion to come home. Not that I'm blaming loneliness, of course. I find plenty to keep me busy, and I have friends to talk too. It certainly wasn't lack of sex either. Damion and I have sex almost every day. In fact, we'd had a good long very satisfying fuck the night before.

It just happened. That's all I can say.

I had a couple of drinks, and a small salad. We talked about old friends and old times. We flirted, of course. We'd always flirted. We talked about our marriages, our jobs, our new lives. He looked really good. He still had the head of thick black hair, and I could see that he had kept himself in shape. The thought that we'd end up in bed that afternoon didn't even cross my mind.

“So, what are you working on now?” I'd asked him.

That was the moment of my destruction, although I wouldn't know that for awhile.

“I'm shopping a novel around,” he told me.

“I want a signed copy when it's published,” I said.

“Would you like to see it?” he asked. “I've got it on my laptop.”

I could have asked him to send me a copy, of course. I didn't have time to read a novel in an afternoon. He knew that as well as I did.
“I'd love to see it,” I said. “Do you have it with you?”

“It's in my room,” he said.

Of course it was. Nobody takes their laptop to the bar with them. It would have to be in his room. I could have asked him to go get it, but that would be putting him to a lot of trouble. I'm not sure that I'd already made up my mind to fuck him before I went up to his room. It may be that he really just wanted to show me his novel. He may have had seducing me in mind when he asked me if I'd like to see it. I don't remember if he mentioned going to his room, of if I did.

He was on the top floor. His room had a really great view. He opened his laptop and I sat at the desk to look at it. He had a bottle of scotch, and we had a drink while I skimmed the first chapter.

It wasn't bad. I knew that he was a good technical writer, and a fine editor, but I hadn't realized that he had ambitions to be a novelist. I was impressed.

I got up and looked at the view when he went to the bathroom. I was still standing by the window when he came back. He put his hand on my back, and I turned toward him. I could feel the warmth of his body. He leaned in toward me, and I lifted my mouth to his.

I could have stopped it anytime. A kiss doesn't really mean anything. It isn't a promise, except when it is. His lips felt very promising. His hands pulled me closer to him, and I could feel the strength of his maleness calling out to me.

Okay, I'm a slut. I'll admit it. He was doing exactly what I'd hoped he'd do. He kissed me with such passion that there was no doubt that he wanted me, and I kissed him back. It was a promising kiss, full of intention and need. Then I was against the glass of the window, thirty floors up, and I wanted his dick in me so bad that I was begging him to fuck me.

When our lips parted I looked into his eyes. I touched his face, and felt his hands on my backside, pulling me close. I could have stopped him then, told him no, that it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong. Not at that moment, with his erection pressing into my belly and his hand pushing my skirt up.

His hand moved up my inner thigh, finding the wetness of my panties. He pulled them down. I helped by sliding them down and lifting one foot out of them. I pulled at his belt, got it unclasped, and undid the button on his slacks. Lowering his zipper, I got my hand inside his briefs, and grabbed his stiff cock, pushing his underwear down out of the way. His fingers moved along the wet slit of my pussy, finding my clit and touching it gently.

It occurred to me that I shouldn't be doing what I was about to do, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to do it. I rubbed myself on the head of his cock, wetter than I'd been in a long time. He lifted me with his hands, and I guided him into place. He gripped my ass and plunged into me, in and out, over and over. Then, impaled me on his stiff pecker, I had the best orgasm of my entire life.

Hunter filled me with his come. I could feel it leaking out and down my legs even before he took his dick out of me. We clung together in post orgasmic fatigue until he grew small and slipped out of my pussy. I was dripping wet with my own fluids and Hunter's come. I would need to clean up before I went home, so I didn’t stop him from unzipping and unclasping my skirt and letting it drop to the ground. I unbuttoned my top and tossed it on the chair, and slipped off my bra.

There was no reason to not help him get his clothes off. We’d just fucked, after all. There was no harm in taking a shower together. Soaping each other up, we let the warm water rinse away our crimes. I turned to the shower wall, putting both my palms on it to support myself as he entered me from behind. His hands gripped my hips as his stiff cock drove in and out of my pussy, as I screamed, “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I thrust myself back at him as he pushed his cock into me, meeting his strokes in perfect harmony until I was coming.

“You are a really noisy fuck,” he said as he slowly pulled his cock from me and turned me around to hold me in his arms.

“You...” I started to say something, but his mouth closed over mine.

The water continued to fall over us as we kissed. His hands cupped my backside, pulling me toward him. I could feel his erect dick pressing against me. In a moment he turned off the shower and we stepped out, helping each other dry with the big fluffy towels that the hotel supplied. I started to tell him that I had to get dressed and go before anything else happened, but before I got the words out, he scooped me up in his arms, carried me into the other room and lowered me to the bed.

I could have stopped him then, put on my clothes and gone home. Maybe I wouldn't have felt so guilty. I could have told myself that it was just the heat of the moment, lust mixed with liquor.

He opened my legs and kissed his way down my thighs, his lips dancing down my skin, sending shivers of pleasure through me. When he reached my pussy, his tongue darted out and flicked my clit, then slid between my swollen labia. I put my hands on the back of his head and tousled his damp hair. I was almost worn out with coming when he stopped, raised himself above me on his elbows and said, “I'm going to fuck you now.”

I wasn’t going to tell him no. Even if I could have managed to be heartless enough to let him eat my pussy until I had multiple screaming orgasms and then hop up, get dressed and dash out the door, I very much wanted to be fucked.

“I want you to fuck me,” I told him. “I want to be fucked.”

He rolled me over, smacked my backside and lifted me up onto my knees in one motion. In an instant, he was entering my wet pussy from behind, holding onto my hips and slamming into me with such force that I was thrown forward, my face landing on the pillow. He managed to keep me up on my knees without missing a stroke.

When I had exhausted myself with orgasms, when I absolutely thought I could come no more, when I knew that if I kept on I'd pass out, he rolled me onto my back, lifted my ass, and slid into me. Lying there on my back, I felt his body release his come into me. He had a surprising amount of fluid for someone who had already come twice in an afternoon. His volume didn't seem to have diminished a bit.

If I hadn’t already known that there was a distinction between fucking and getting fucked, I would have found out about it that afternoon. I had done both, many times. Many men had fucked me, Damion fucked me often, but I had never been fucked as well as Hunter fucked me that afternoon.

That seemed more of a betrayal than fucking; letting another man please me better than my husband ever had. Damion is a good lover too. He makes me come. He meets my needs.

It was already six o'clock when I made myself get out of his bed and go home. I took a shower, careful not to get my hair wet, brushed it out, got dressed and put on makeup. It was almost half an hour before I left his room. I wasn't worried about anyone seeing me leaving the hotel. It was still early evening, and I would have been able to come up with a good reason for being there if anyone had seen me and asked.

I started crying about half way home. The drive gave me time to think about what I’d done, and try to think about what I should do, but mostly I just cried. It was well after seven when I got home. There was a message from Damion telling me he’d be working late, but he’d been working late for a couple of weeks, so that was no surprise. He hadn’t called me on my cell, which meant that he’d been too busy to talk anyway, so my not answering the phone didn’t really matter that much.

I felt guilty about not being there when he’d called though. If I’d come home at my regular time I would have been. If I hadn’t been naked in a hotel room with a man from my past, that is. If I hadn’t been cheating. What if something happened to Damion? What if he never made it home again? How would I feel then? Awful, of course. It wouldn’t be any worse just because I’d spent the afternoon fucking instead of answering my phone.

I had a glass of wine and took a long soak. Damion got home while I was still in the tub. I dried off quickly when I heard his car turn into the driveway, and made it into the living room before he had the car in the garage.

I hugged him tight and buried my face in his chest.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said.

I didn’t usually meet him naked at the door. I wondered if he’d suspect anything. I should have just kept to routine, let him find me on the sofa in an old tee-shirt and panties, watching TV.

“I missed you,” I said.

“I missed you too, babe,” he said. “Sorry I have to work so late.”

I’m sorry I fucked another man today,” I thought but did not say.

“I wanted to do something special tonight,” I said.

"And I ruined it by working late. I’m sorry hon.”

“No. You didn’t ruin it,” I said. I was wiping a tear from my eye.

“It’ll only be a couple of more weeks,” he said. “Then we can spend some of the money I’m making and go somewhere nice for a weekend.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

I hugged him tighter. I was a bit tender from my afternoon with Hunter, but I kept that to myself. I deserved to hurt. I wanted Damion to make me so sore that I’d never think about fucking another man.

“I want you to spank me,” I told him.

“Have you been a naughty girl?” he asked.

“I'm always a naughty girl,” I told him.

He pulled me to my feet and led me to the sofa. Plopping himself down, he ordered me across his lap. I got into position, resting my head on one of the big pillows. I felt better just being across his knee. I was going to be punished for my misdeeds, and that would make things a little better, even if he didn't know what I was being punished for.

He ran his finger down my ass crack, then, slowly, back up again. It tickled, and I squirmed a bit. I'd been lying there over his knees on the sofa for several minutes, and he still showed no sign of getting on with my spanking.

Touching my pussy with one finger, he said, “I wonder if this is the best pussy in the world.”

“Even if it's not, you'd better say it is,” I said.

“You're in no position to issue ultimatums,” he said. He gave my bottom a little pinch, then patted it. “It might be.”


“You might have the best pussy in the world,” he said. “It's the best I've ever had, anyway. Do you suppose it is?”

Did he suspect something, I wondered. Was he hinting that some other man might have an opinion on whether I had the best pussy on Earth. I tried to remember if I had been told that by anyone else that afternoon. I'm pretty sure I'd heard it from other guys, especially Damion, who always said that it was.

“Yes,” I said. “My pussy is the best in the world, and no, you don't get to try out the rest to make sure.”

“Funny how you can read my mind,” he said.

“I could see where this was going,” I said. “If I have the best pussy in the world, don't you feel guilty for keeping the rest of the men on earth from enjoying it?”

“Not a bit,” he said.

“Not even a twinge of guilt?”

“Not even. Serves 'em right, in fact. Bastards to a man, the rest of them. Not a one of them deserves you. Anyway, do you think any of those selfish gits would share you with me?”

“Probably not,” I said.

His left hand touched my head. He ran his fingers through my hair, then gently trailed his finger tips down my back. His right hand moved to my left leg, softly squeezing my inner thigh. I felt a shiver of delight run through me.

His left hand came to a rest just where my waist and right hip meet. I felt a smack and heard a loud pop as his right palm made sudden contact with the right cheek of my bare butt.

“Oww! That's not fair. I wasn't ready.”

“You've had plenty of time to prepare yourself,” he said, landing a second smack, not quite as hard as the first on my opposite cheek. I yelped again, and he quickly followed up with two more smacks. He slid his hand between the cheeks of my ass, rubbing down to my pussy.

“You get so wet getting a spanking,” he said.

I didn't answer him. I was ready for my spanking, and waiting was making me tense.

“You're ready to cry already, aren't you?" he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Do you want to cry?” he asked.

“I need to cry,” I said.

His next smack landed on the sitting part of my butt, where the curve of the ass meets the thigh. It stung terribly. One thing Damion does very well is administer a spanking. It was one of the reasons I'd been attracted to him. He had promised to spank me on our first date.

It didn't take long before the tears were pouring down my cheeks, and I was bawling very loudly. I make as much noise getting spanked as getting fucked. Between my wails and the sound of Damion's palm smacking my ass, I was surprised we didn't draw the attention of the neighbors.

He cuddled me after. Holding me in his arms and letting me cry it out. He didn't ask what was bothering me so much that I needed the release of a spanking. I loved him for that. I might have told him if he'd asked right then.

There have been times in our marriage that I haven't been taken to the bedroom right after a spanking. This was one of those times. I'd told Damion that I wanted to be owned, and he wanted to show me what ownership involved. He had me bend over the sofa, and used the wetness of my pussy to lubricate my ass.

His finger entered my ass slowly, giving me time to acclimate myself to it. Damion is fairly large, and my asshole is fairly tiny. We don't have anal sex much, only when I request it as a general rule, but I had told him I wanted to be owned.

Feeling the tip of his cock pressing against my asshole, I felt myself tense up. Damion gave me a loud, hard smack and dipped himself into my pussy. I felt a little tender from the afternoon, but I was careful not to mention that. His hand reached around and found my clit. I sighed with pleasure, he slowly pulled himself out of me, rubbed my wetness up the crack of my ass and entered me slowly.

He felt huge. His thumb rotated my clit as he gave me time to get used to having his cock in my ass. I wondered what Hunter's cock would feel like in my ass.

It would hurt, I suppose. Damion's cock hurt. Every man's cock I'd ever had in my ass had hurt. Every time I had a dick in my ass I swore that it would be the last time, and I intended to tell the guy fucking me that, but I never did. It was hard to tell someone you didn't like something when you'd just come so hard that your brains were rattling around in your skull.

Hunter's cock would hurt just as much as Damion's, I knew. Would he give me a hand around? Of course he would. He would rub my stiff little clit...

“Oh my fucking god!” I screamed. I was coming with my ass packed full of my husband's dick, and nothing, nothing ever, had felt so fine. He held himself inside me as I writhed and thrashed, then slowly pulled out.

He took my hand and led me to the bathroom. Turning on the water in the sink, he got a washcloth and soap and handed them to me.

“Wash me off,” he said. “Then drink me dry.”

He was hard as steel as I soaped and washed his dick. When it was nice and clean, I gave it a kiss. I licked the shaft, then licked his balls, bouncing them gently on my tongue and taking them in my mouth before licking back up his cock to the head. I took the tip of his dick in my mouth and sucked him inside, letting my lips touch him all the way down.

It took him only a couple of minutes to come. He filled my mouth with a huge load of semen. I swallowed every drop without taking my lips from him.

“You are really good at that,” he said.

Later, after we had a snack and a beer and I was sitting naked on his lap in the big recliner, he said, “Guess who I heard from today?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Hunter Carr.”

My heart skipped. I buried my face in his shoulder, hugging him tight. I wondered if Hunter had told him.

"You remember Hunter don‘t you?”

"Yes. In fact I fucked him this afternoon.” I only thought the last part, of course.

“He’s trying to sell a novel,” he said.

I mumbled, “Oh?” into his shirt.

“How’s he look these days?” I asked.

“I only talked to him on the phone. He asked about you.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. He always had a crush on you," he said. “ Anyway, he asked us to have drinks with him tomorrow.”


“I have have to fly down to Atlanta tomorrow, so I told him I couldn’t make it.”

I started to cry. Was this a test? Was he waiting to see if I’d admit to having fucked Hunter in the afternoon? He put his arm around me and held me tight.

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he said.


“That I had to fly down to the Atlanta office. Having you naked in my arms the minute I walked in took my mind off it.”


“I know I should have said something earlier,” he said. He had slipped into full apology mood just at the moment I’d decided to make a full confession. “This account is so important to the firm, though. I promise, when I come back we’ll spend the weekend just us two, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “To bad we couldn’t have drinks with Hunter though. Maybe he would have let us read his novel. It would be fun to see someone from the old days.”

“You can go if you’d like.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I wondered if this was some sort of trick. Did he know or suspect that I had spent the afternoon in Hunter’s bed? Was he trying to set me up?

“Well, he’ll be in the Blue Room if you change your mind,” he said. “About five. You could stop in there on your way home from work. He’s staying at the Carlyle. Maybe he’ll buy you dinner at the Seventh Heaven.”

“It’s Hunter,” I said. “I’d probably have to buy him dinner.”

I wasn’t going to change my mind. Definitely not. I already felt guilty about cheating. I was going to pretend that Hunter had never happened. If he said anything about us to Damion I would deny it, cry my eyes out and ask Damion why Hunter wanted to ruin my life.

I’d think of some way to make it up to Damion too. Maybe this weekend I’d take him to a strip club, get him a few lap dances. Maybe I’d propose we have a threesome with... who? Which one of my friends would agree to a thing like that. A hooker, maybe. I had some money saved back.

I wasn’t going to spend the evening drinking with Hunter; that was for sure.

To be continued.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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