Fidelity Ch 03 - Sex Stories

Fidelity Ch 03

... Matthew, his reaction was to walk out without a word or to bend me over a convenient piece of furniture. The one piece of furniture he wouldn’t fuck me on was our bed. He refused all advances anywhere near it. We simply didn’t make love anymore. “We can’t go on like this,” I said one night over another silent dinner. He looked at me incredulously. “We have to…” I jumped as his hand slammed down on the table. When the silverware stopped ringing, he said, “I already said, if you don’t want this, leave. If you want to talk, talk about anything but that.” “I miss you,” I said, almost crying again. He laughed sarcastically. “Talk about anything but us .” We talked about small things. We even went out for date nights. A kind of forced affability replaced intimacy. We conversed like two old acquaintances catching up after a chance dinner meeting. His rampant behavior continued, as did my humiliating enjoyment of it. I missed my loving husband as much as I seemed to love being mistreated by the angry doppelganger I’d replaced him with. My actions had changed everything, and I hated myself for it. I got used to it. Even expected the mistreatment. I could hate myself for that, but it deepened my humiliation. How much had changed really hit home for me late one foggy evening as we walked home from our local Sushi bar. Matthew stopped mid stride. I looked up to see Jimmy standing directly in front of us wearing a wide-eyed, fearful expression. After a moment of clear panic, the wuss ...

... lurched into the street and ran across to the opposite sidewalk. I suppressed a laugh. Matthew stood stiff, tracking Jimmy as he scurried quick as a cockroach into the mist and out of sight. I could feel the tension in Matthew winding up. With Jimmy out of sight, my husband’s attention jerked back to me. I quailed in fear of the anger behind those blue eyes. “You want to follow him?” “No.” I said. Matthew resumed walking as abruptly as he’d stopped. I followed, waiting for the storm to pass or batter me. I could feel wetness between my legs, in anticipation of what would surely be a brutal fucking when we got home. I almost smiled, despite myself. About a block from home, Matthew pulled me into the walled off yard of a hollowed out house under extensive construction. Passively, I let him push me into the shadows behind a port-a-potty and pin me against an unfinished cinder block wall. My pussy gushed in Pavlovian response. Being pushed against a wall usually preceded having his cock pushed into me. I didn’t know what was happening, but it was already interesting. He’d never done anything outside before. “You should wear skirts when we go out,” he said softly. The non sequitur took me off guard. I’d worn a T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers with a fleece for warmth. He pushed the fleece down over my shoulders. Cold air cut through my thin T-shirt like an icy knife. Matthew pushed me down on my knees and unzipped his fly. I smiled, if we couldn’t be intimate, at least we could have ...