Whatever It Takes Pt. 02: Truth - Sex Stories

Whatever It Takes Pt. 02: Truth

... lightness.

'Okay,' I said, with something like resignation.

'So how many times did you fuck her?'

'I don't know,' I said.

She slid her phone across the table opened to a calculator app.

'You're a smart guy. Do the math.'

I took the phone from the table. I'd fucked Kayla for 6 months. We started fucking a couple of times a week, and then added the weekend. In the end, we'd been fucking four, five times a week. And sometimes more.

Like the afternoon she'd found me in my office, lowered the blinds, crawled under the desk and sucked my cock while I took calls and pretended to clear email. At least until it became too much. I lifted her by her hair, bent her across my desk, and fucked her until she violently came over my cock, my trousers, her skirt, the desk, the carpet. I sent her out into the corridor dishevelled and wearing the stink of what we'd done.

Or the time we couldn't wait, we couldn't wait until the Marriott, and so I fucked her over the hood of my car while the city rumbled and churned all around us.

'Daddy,' she'd said, 'This pussy is for you. This pussy is all for you.'

'Well?' asked Sarah.

I simplified the math and averaged it out to 4 times a week.

'I don't know. Probably a hundred times.'

She watched me, sipped from the glass.

'You fucked 100 times, or you met up to fuck 100 times.'

'I don't understand.'

'What I'm asking is how many times did you fuck her. Not how many times did you meet.'

'Sarah, I don't ...

... know.'

She held my eyes, her look inscrutable. Not quite angry, not quite sad, something more, something other, something else entirely. Something that caused my dicklet to twitch, something that caused me to yearn.

She turned away and towards the bar, gestured with a tip of her wrist, and Jordan returned with a fresh bottle. He filled her glass and then mine.

'How many times did you fuck the slut?' she asked again. Jordan was there, right there, uncorking the bottle and pouring the champagne with a still and steady hand.

Across, just by the window, a couple - young, money, fresh - paused, broke off, and looked towards us. The woman pulled her hand away, he held tight. The moment stretched like tissue paper, threatening to tear.

'I'm waiting,' Sarah said, and I could feel myself redden. My cock cramped within the cage. I reached down to adjust. Jordan caught the movement and smirked.

'That'll be all, Jordan,' said Sarah. 'Well, for now, at least.'

Said Sarah.

Her hand against his hip. Her fingers a length away from the tautness of his ass. Her hand just a span from the bulge of his crotch. He was eye level with me now and I could tell that Jordan was packing.

'You need anything,' Jordan said to my wife, 'Just ask.'

Sarah drank and half-drained the glass with a single draw. Then back to me.

'No more fucking around. Do the math'.

I tapped at the calculator.

We started off fucking in the office, but, pretty quickly we moved things to the Marriott ...