DITW 13-1: Thoughts They Cannot Defend (Patreon)
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All he wanted was for Kimmy to tell him the truth. He already knew the answer, whether she fucked Devlin in Cayman; it was screaming in his face. How would she contradict all the lies she displayed on the bed before him, letting Devlin fuck her from behind, putting his cock in her mouth, knowing where she liked Devlin’s long dick to touch her, a spot deep inside, where her husband wouldn’t find it? Deep secrets.
A voice in his head dared her to lie. Fucking dared her.
“Yeah,” she gasped, rocking with Devlin’s thrusts. “While you waited. Ah, mm, while you waited for me to c-come back.”
He’d been so ready for a deception, had been so accustomed to hearing lies and rolling with them—fucking believing them like some simpering fool—that when the truth sang in his ears, he didn’t even know how to react. His stomach soured and rolled over; an awful, sickening feeling. His heart pounded. And though for the first time in a month he felt some relief, he simmered on the edge of a boiling pot of ruin. Tears threatened to burst. A sadness for the man he never wanted to be: the dumb, disadvantaged fool sitting in wait, fooled by an evil enchantress. He felt shame for that visage of himself. That cretin. Not the man he’d ever wanted to be, not the man how he saw himself a man. A victim. A cuckold.
“Did you laugh at me?”
“No, Josh,” she gasped. “No.”
“How could you not?”
She shook her head no, but Devlin amplified his thrusts, getting the bed squeaking again, robbing Josh of this moment of clarity, kidnapping Kimmy’s attention, luring her into his sexual realm.
“I did it,” she gasped, fighting the passion, “I did it so I could tell you I did it some day.”
“Such fucking bull shit,” he muttered.
Devlin hauled up Kimmy’s hips, bringing her onto her hands and knees, his big cock never disconnecting, taking her now from behind, like two rutting dogs. Her ass slapped Devlin’s hips with each thrust. Balls deep.
Kimmy loved Devlin’s capabilities. He could hear it in the sound of pleasure she sang and cried. Her nipples jiggled, plump and swollen; Devlin’s meaty shaft glistened with evidence of Kimmy’s overwhelming desire.
Now Josh clenched his teeth, fighting his own lust, hating the beauty in this brutal grotesquerie. He growled, “You’re such a fucking cunt.”
Kimmy whined and cried.
Devlin said, “Such a wicked cunt,” still pounding her deep and hard. Slap-slap-slap, hips on ass.
Kimmy’s cries grew thin, and Devlin buried himself inside her. She orgasmed again, her sounds thin and croaky, like she tried to hide them from him. Soon she shuddered, and when Devlin released her hips, she fell to the bed, her hair hiding her face in a black tangle.
“She just needs it, Josh,” Devlin said, panting, stroking his glistening member, Kimmy’s copious dew and his own precum dripping from the swollen glans and onto Kimmy’s ankle. He admired his handiwork, Josh’s wife exhausted, boneless on the bed, her legs shaking. “Look how bad she needs it. Kimmy’s a woman who needs to get fucked.”
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Knees pressed together to keep overwhelming pleasure from taking her over, from spreading like a wildfire from her sexual core and corrupting her mainframe, she struggled to open her eyes and locate Josh. He sat on the chair still, but he’d changed. Anger bloomed on his cheeks and flared in his eyes. Rage. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of a thumb and lifted her head.
She said, “I couldn’t help it, Josh,” tensing inside, hoping it wasn’t too much, hoping it was just enough to bring him to the edge of his sanity without bowling him over the edge and sending him to doom. “I couldn’t help it. In Cayman. And I saw it in your eyes, too. I saw how bad you dreamed it. You made me think of it. You put it in my head to do it.”
Josh lay a hand over his mouth like a man witnessing a cosmic horror, then drawing the hand down to his chin. “How evil are you?”
She cupped a hand over her own mouth, knowing there was so much more she could say, but that saying it would scare her husband away forever. “More than you know,” she said; a fitting answer.
There might be more he wanted to say, but she could read in his eyes he wouldn’t say it in front of Devlin. Because begging her for more truth would make him weak. It would show Devlin his most vulnerable emotions. He wouldn’t say it here, but he would say it when they were home. She needed him aroused. Needed him entangled. When they went home, they would never talk about what happened in this hotel room ever again. Josh wouldn’t ever bring it up.
She needed his dick in the game. With blood on both their hands, all they could do was hide the body together while avoiding a squabble.
She stated it for him clearly: “We’re in this together. We’ve always been.”
And she watched her husband wrestle with that nugget. There wasn’t much he could say. He wanted the sin to be his own; wanted to watch her with Devlin today so he could own it. But so far, all he’d seemed to attempt was to load this into her pickup bed, make her haul it around. She was guilty and she was wicked, but her transgressions didn’t occur in a vacuum.
Josh’s features squirmed; he shifted in his chair. There was his reminder. She’d lured Josh’s perverse words in Grand Cayman while Devlin prowled beyond the safety of their walls, waiting for his temptations to cement his prey’s resolve, bring them out into the light where he could play with them. She knew badness throbbed somewhere in Josh’s good heart, and she’d encouraged it closer where she could make out its shape under the surface of the dark waters it swam in.
She got onto her elbows, ran her hair off her face, looked at Josh calm and steady and without judgment. He regarded her as plainly. Devlin remained quiet. Then she slipped off the bed again, Devlin’s pleasure payload weakening her knees, clouding her thoughts, going to one knee before her husband again. She reminded Josh: “You wanted this. You know you did.”
Josh’s jaw muscles rippled and his brow lowered. He wanted to be mad at her, but he knew he wasn’t innocent. And she wanted him to remember that he still wanted it. He wanted it right now, right here in this room, the three of them all together finally, the lies dissolving around them, coming off like blindfolds and restraints.
“So, don’t just sit there. You’ll regret it if you don’t make the most of what brought us here.”
Josh chewed his lower lip and looked down, trying to stay stony and in control. She rubbed his knees and stroked her hands up his thighs.
“Own it, Josh. Make this yours. Don’t detach yourself.”
He shook his head side to side, rolling his eyes up, giving the impression this was all so wrong and he wanted no part of it, and yet he didn’t resist, didn’t speak the words that would cease her encouragement.
“Josh, baby,” she said, taking the risk of stroking her hands higher, up to his most sensitive and secret part. She stopped her stroking at the top of his thighs and let her hands remain there, waiting. “Join me. It’s not just me in this. It’s always been the two of us. I know you don’t want to believe that, but it’s true.” She showed him how honest she meant it with her eyes, desperate for him to put his toe in the water, test its temperature, realize it wasn’t too hot, wasn’t too cold. In many ways it was perfect.
Her thumb extended, searching out the hump of his cock under his bespoke trousers, knowing it would be rock hard, charged, hammer pulled back, ready to go off. She found him. Found him raging hard. Knew his cock had probably soaked his pants with a steady discharge watching her getting pounded deep and hard, stretched and pleasured. The sounds she’d made must have thrilled him to an astounding point. He could fight his lusts as much as he wanted, but he couldn’t hide the truth from her.
“Don’t be ashamed anymore, Josh,” she said, caressing his cock through his pants, her long thumb going up and down, teasingly slow. “You never should have been.” She shook her head, showed him confidence. The muscles in his jaw ceased their rippling. His eyes relaxed, the pupils going hazy with the pleasure she knew he felt right now from the simple action of her thumb. “You wanted me to be wicked.”
Josh’s lips pursed and he looked aside by a small measure.
“Don’t you want me to be wicked?”
His mouth opened like he would answer, but instead of saying anything, he nodded and closed his mouth again, his lips swollen and pouting. She wanted to kiss him.
“I know you want me to. I can be wicked, Josh,” she said.
Devlin made noise behind her, his body shuffling on the bedding, and she pictured him amused and drawn to this action, wanting to see how wicked she could be, settling on his heels, stroking his dick. She smiled at Josh, snuffled a small chuckle, and showed him deep compassion, looking right into his eyes until she had his full attention. Her thumb stroked the hump of his erection.
“I want to compare his cock with yours. . . . Is that wicked enough?”
Josh laughed a tight sound of total disbelief and offense, raising his eyebrows and looking away.
“Come on, Josh. Let me be wicked.” She thumbed his cock with more insistence.
Josh remained silent but did nothing to stop her as she moved her hands together to the button on his pants and undid it. “I’m going to take it out,” she said.
Devlin said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
She ignored him, staying connected with josh, but answering over her shoulder: “You do?”
“Show her Josh.”
Josh rolled his eyes, vexed, shaking his head. He muttered, “Fuck you.”
Devlin shuffled behind her and now she shot a look to see him scooted to sit bedside, right behind her, ready to watch her take Josh’s dick out. If Devlin joined in, it might ruin everything, take Josh’s head right out of the game and enrage him instead of overwhelm him in a cloak of depraved sexual adventure.
She addressed Josh. “What’s the surprise?”
Devlin said, “I dressed him today.”
She frowned, not understanding, not assembling any kind of meaning in Devlin’s cryptic taunt. Josh wore the suit she’d bought him just down the street.
Devlin said, “Unzip him, Kimmy. See how sexy his little dick looks in what he’s wearing under those pants.”