Unspoken Pleasure

Consciousness came back in a rush. Like a gasp for air after being underwater for two minutes too long.

I found myself lying sweaty on the deck. The sunlight too bright for my eyes. Again, reality flooded back to me. We were still in the backyard. The sounds of sex surrounded me along with the usual birdsong.

I rolled over, body aching. All around me were people -- twos and threes and fours -- fucking like crazy. A mass orgy like something out of the end times. I didn't recognize any of them. Just naked bodies, undulating against each other. I felt something bouncing up and down next to me. Another couple I hadn't caught. I rolled over to look. I already knew that I didn't want to see.

Kate -- my darling, innocent wife -- was on top of Carlos, lazily riding up and down his dick. Her long brown hair splayed all over her body. Her massive tits bouncing wildly. Thick thighs pumped as she rode him. Strange and mechanical like she was in a trance. A stream of dried sperm ran down her face. Over her tits. At the juncture of her pussy and the Latino man's cock. Like she'd been bathed in it.

At almost the moment I saw them, Carlos stiffened and groaned, unloading himself into my wife's unprotected pussy. Kate barely slowed. She grunted as another man's cum shot into her. Body barely even registering what was happening. Finally, she fell forward, lifeless. Seeing she was done, Carlos slipped away. If he noticed me lying there, he didn't acknowledge it.

Kate collapsed on the deck next to me. A river of sperm spit out of her pussy and began streaming onto the deck. A slightly smaller trail of drool leaked similarly out of her mouth.

I crawled over to Kate. Her body was trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm. Under her breath, she was mumbling madness.

I told myself I was going to check on her. Make sure she was OK. But then, why was I holding my stiffening cock in my hands? Why was I staring straight at her poor, abused pussy? The need wasn't rational. It was something buried deep in my lizard brain. An automatic reaction, a failsafe device, from a different time. But still there when needed.

I rolled Kate onto her back. Rolled her over and slid into her sex. She was warm, wet, far too slippery with the spends of so many strangers.

Kate groaned as I went in, sounding slightly pained. I thrust back and forth with abandon. Ignored everything but the sloshing motion of my cock in her cunt. I didn't look at the jiggle of her perfect ass. Didn't reach for her awesome tits. I didn't run my hands through her hair or stare into her liquid caramel eyes.

I fucked my wife, like a demon, till I came. My orgasm arrived like a punch to the gut. The pleasure of it something distant and forced, as if my body was telling me it felt good even though it clearly didn't. I fell back, having finally added my swimmers to the ocean of them rolling inside my wife. My eyes threatened to close again.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up and saw Tara smiling down at me. It was neither a grin nor a grimace. It was a sad thing, wistful and worried. There isn't a word for that kind of smile, maybe because no one ever wants to see it.

"We need to go," Tara said. Her own body was streaked with sperm similarly to her sister's. Tara's chest was covered with finger-tip sized bruises and dark, pooling hickeys. Her knees and elbows were scraped, like she'd been rolling around in gravel. Which was probably true.

Tara pulled at my arm and repeated her request. I nodded, still half out of it.

"Yeah," I said, "Yes."

Tara helped me and Kate to my feet. My wife was even worse than I'd realized. Her hair was a wild nest of brambles. Her body was nicked and cut. She was covered in semen and stank like pussy. She started to stand straight, then stumbled. When I helped her up again, she looked up at me in surprise. Like recognizing me for the first time.

"Oh fuck, Andy," Kate said, "Andy, I think I fucked up." Her words sloshed together. She was still drunk and high and who knows what else.

"It's OK," I said, but neither of us believed it.

"I think I got some... Some stuff in me," Kate said.

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"Maybe a little," Tara said. I couldn't tell if she was trying to be reassuring or cruel.

"Is it you?" Kate said asked me, "Yours?"

I nodded. It was a sort of truth and so good enough in the moment.

"Ok good," Kate said, gripping my arm tight.

Tara, Kate, and I formed a bit of a three-legged stool, helping keep each other up to our feet. We limped in concert around the house to the front yard. Behind us, the sounds of sex filled the air. I stared down the car-lined street and realized I didn't remember where we'd were parked. And my keys were back by the hot tub.

"Dammit," I cursed. I started to turn back, but Tara gripped my shoulder.

"I've already got it," she said. She held up my car keys and squeezed the lock button. Our SUV beeped happily in the distance.

"Can you drive?" Kate asked me, "I can't drive."

"I think I've got it," I said.

Tara eyed me, but she handed me the keys. We walked to the car, but halfway another question hit me.

As you reach the final pages, remember that 000005s.org is your destination for the complete story. Share the joy of reading with others and spread the word. The next chapter is just a visit away! "Where's Jesse?" I asked. I can't imagine why.

Tara was similarly surprised by my question. She looked at me like I was a crazy person. Then she shook her head.

Finally, after what felt like a three-hour hike, we tumbled into the car. All three of us were still naked. The velour of the seat felt weirdly warm against my bare butt.

I turned on the ignition. My body was on autopilot. My brain was back at that house. Maybe never able to escape.

Everything we'd said and done. The ways our lives had collapsed so completely under the weight of our own stupid, selfish decisions. It all settled onto our shoulders. The three of us, so perfectly doomed. A controlled demolition where we, ourselves, had placed the dynamite.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

For a moment, like a premonition, I saw the future clear as though it was painted on the windshield. There would be tries, solid attempts, to reel it all back in. We'd pretend like it didn't all happen. But then reality would punch its way through. We'd address it all head-on, but then it would become too overwhelming to overcome.

We wouldn't so much drift apart as we would fissure and suppurate like an untended wound. What's that they say? It's not that we make bad decisions so much as we choose things that seemed smart in the moment. Spiraling down that endless hole, all the while convinced that the mountaintop is right around the corner.

It took twenty minutes for us to get home. The entire drive, I heard a foreign, cruel laughter echoing endlessly in my ears.

No one said a word.