The Promise


Author’s note: This story is about a middle-aged, married Lady. One fateful morning her husband arouses her in a manner she would never have suspected she would like, let alone love. This story is about the consequences of that fateful morning.

As always, comments are welcome. A positive response will prompt further chapters.


* * * * *

They sit, one in each corner of the double closet, like two, squat, white, abstract pieces of art, open to whatever interpretation the viewer chooses to make of them. Only the sculptor can validate the interpretation of any observer. Even though I own them I have no intention of even confirming what they represent or why they stand, alone and abandoned, in the corner of my clothes closet. They are both my cross and my salvation, all in the same breath; my sole remaining link to the past and the only hope I have for the future.

Like Scylla and Charybdis, master and mistress of the perils of the sea, and guardians of the straits in ancient Greek mythology, they guard the entrance of my own private hell; or rather they are in and of themselves my own private hell. No one, should they be discovered before my death, will ever fathom their significance in my life or the purpose of their contents. After all, they are so much more than what they appear on the surface, and only I know.

They swim before my eyes shimmering, the lettering on the sides flowing together and then separating, forming grotesque faces, first looking at me and then at each other as if deciding as to how to devour me, as if they have not already done so.

God damned you, John. God damns you to hell for leaving me responsible for them and their contents! How could you? Why would you? What did I ever do to deserve this? I was a good wife, a loving and caring wife. I followed your lead and I supported you. I kept your house and bore your children.

No matter how I shift my head on the pillow in my neatly arranged bedroom, I cannot avoid seeing them peeking out around the edges of the doors on each side of the open closet. I silently curse, once again, as I fling my glass, and the remnants of the latest drink of scotch, against the far wall of the master bedroom. The scotch diluted by the melting ice cubes, trickles down the beige wall to puddle at the baseboard beside the shards of broken glass and the fast melting ice. The two white sentinels remain impassive in the closet; observing all and saying nothing.

Deep in the recesses of my mind I know that I am not thinking clearly. Thankfully, the scotch is once again starting to take command, but I don’t care. Or maybe I cared too much, and that is why I am drinking too much, all by myself in my lonely bedroom, alone in my bed.

Naked in the bed, I let my fingers, cold and wet from clutching the ever-present glass, slide down my flat belly into the luxuriant bush of thickening auburn hair covering my pussy and spreading up my flat belly. A sly smile teases at the corner of my lips. Just like a real beaver, a coarse outer layer of fur covering the fine inner layer and the tender, sensitive skin underneath. My index finger slides down to the top of my ever-moist slit, slipping into the crevasse to torment once again the ever-agitated bud hidden in the dampened fold of skin. My eyelids droop as a slight thrill courses through my body. As I drift back into the memories, to more sensual times, my finger starts to stroke in and out, and the wet sounds of my arousal echo though the silent, lonely bedroom. The sentinels watch from the closet saying nothing, observing all.

As my fingers increase their tempo, memories of that last, fateful morning come flooding back, as if it were only yesterday. A morning that started out promising something new, stimulating invigorating and forbidden in our sex lives, and ended in disaster.

As we stand in the shower, the needle sharp spray pounds down, soothing our tired muscles, and cleansing the sweat from our bodies after our early morning eye opener. John is standing behind me in the tiny stall, his ever turgid cock wedged in the narrow crack of my ass, a constant reminder of what he is always looking for from me and what I am more than willing to give. Steam, rising from the scalding waters, clouds the small room, masking everything in its billowy clouds, and making everything slick to the touch.

“Oh John, that feels so good,” I whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the pounding water, as his callused fingers, covered in soap suds, slide over my tender nipples and down my taut belly. “You’re insatiable, don’t you ever get enough?” His fingers tense but he knows that I don’t really mean it as my body relaxes in his hands.

“Will you relax, Peggy, the kids are all gone, off on their own, probably screwing their brains out. We have the house all to ourselves, finally. We can yell and scream and chase each other through the house to our hearts’ content if we want. We are alone and I am going to ravish you in a way you have never been urfa escort ravished before.” The comment piques my curiosity but my mind is quickly distracted as his finger slides over my slick belly into the sopping hair covering my wet slit.

“You can scream and yell all you want. Only the walls can hear and they can’t talk.” He whispers into my ear as his finger massages the soapsuds trapped in the thick mat of auburn hair that has always been my secret pride and joy. I can feel his teeth start to nibble at the lobe of my ear as the blood starts to run more quickly through my veins. Can I ever get enough of my man, I silently ask myself, as I feel his stiff cock probing insistently at me from behind.

My mind wants to follow this conversation, to question what he means, to question what is to come. John’s fingers are entwined in the tangled hair of my bush. The coarse curls protrude through his spread fingers. His index finger finds my leaking slit and starts to gently massage the little button. His hard cock slides up and down the narrow crack between the small cheeks of my ass, rubbing against the puckered little rosebud that is my asshole. My attention wanders and I quickly forget the provoking words, and lose myself in the physical sensations of the moment.

The coarse whiskers on the side of his unshaven cheek chafe the sensitive skin on the side of my neck. His unseen lips open, once again, capturing my earlobe between them, sucking on it, teasing, and pulling at it. His tongue flicks out, probing the opening to my ear. A shiver darts down my neck, down, down into my sex. The smell of my arousal permeates the heavy steam, giving it a special scent, the smell of a woman in heat.

My mind and body start to relax, to float gently into that ever so special world I visit solely in the arms of my loving husband. “Oh, John… don’t you ever get enough,” I moan over my shoulder. The words of protest are made lie to by the actions of my body, as I melt back into him.

I feel his lips release my earlobe and he whispers right into my ear, “Never Peggy, I never get enough of that tight little pussy of yours.” A smile, unseen by him, teases at the corner of my mouth as my neck arches back and I fit the crown on my head under his chin; my lips searching for his, my eyes closed in the pounding spray.

His left hand slides up the flat plane of my tummy and cups my right breast. His fingers separate and the hard, engorged bud of my nipple slips between them to be teased, sending a shiver up my spine. I barely notice his right hand slipping out of my bush, abandoning the dripping slit and its sensitive little treasure, and circling over my hip. He eases back and the log that is his rampant cock slips out of the crease of my ass. Surely he is not going to stop, not now. “John…please don’t stop,” I whine, a tone of pleading in my voice.

“Relax Peggy, relax and go with the flow. I won’t leave you hanging. We are going to experiment, try new things. We are all alone, so nobody will hear us, nobody.” His gentle, soothing words, the warm water and my singing nerves ease my fears and I ignore the signals my questioning mind has started to send. His hand glides across the small of my back, the fingers like fire on my sensitive skin. They slide down the crease of my ass where only moments ago his thick cock had been so firmly lodged. Lubricated with the rich, thick suds he worked up in my bush, his long thick fingers work their way in my crack, teasing my nether hole as they slip back and forth across the sensitive opening.

My breath starts to come in ragged gasps as hoarsely I cry out, “Oh, John, it feels so good, sooooo good, please don’t stop, pleaaaase!” His hand massages the tense muscles in the cheek of my ass, his fingers slide up and down the crack and slowly I relax under his gentle massage. His left hand moves from one breast to the other, tormenting my rigid nipples. My head is thrown back, and the hot spray beats on my face.

Unconsciously, my legs inch apart, as the soles of my feet slip on the suds covered floor of the shower. My knees buckle, giving easier access to his exploring fingers. I lean forward and rest my forehead on my forearm on the shower wall. My free hand grasps his as he pulls at my taut, singing nipples. Deep in my conscious thought I marvel at John’s renewed vigor. Maybe we should have encouraged the kids to move out sooner, I think as his fingers slide up and down my crack, working their way into the narrow channel as my muscles relax. I gasp as I suck in air to satisfy my racing lungs.

I inch my hips back and open my legs further apart as his fingers work their way into my crack. The spray beats on my back and runs down the crack of my ass, providing a lubricant for his roving fingers. Lank strands of my still dark hair hang down into my face, the water dripping from the ends. I see nothing, feel nothing but the rough hands massaging my taunt ass. His index finger begins to circle the brown, balıkesir escort puckered hole, touching, teasing the tense little bud.

My eyes are partially open and the water blurs my vision but my brain begins to register this alien presence in this forbidden, most private area. “John…John…what are you doing?”

“Relax Peggy, our sex life is about to get a lot more interesting,” is his cryptic response.

The finger swirls around the tight little hole, touching, stroking, teasing but never probing, never threatening to penetrate. The tight muscle slowly begins to relax under the soft touch, sensing that all is well, that this alien appendage is not a threat, a danger. The warning bells in my head turn off and, as my eyelids droop once again, I slide back into the world of my senses and feelings as my tingling nerve endings take me to my own special place that only I know and cherish.

“…Oh, John, oh…you don’t know what you are doing to me. Oh, please don’t stop, please…” Deep inside me my taut nerves start to sing. A low moaning, like the wind singing through the telephone wires on a deadly quiet winter evening precursing the coming of a heavy winter storm, starts to escape from my lips. My eerie moan is lost in the sound of spray beating on my back before it slides over my hips and down my legs to disappear into the swirling drain. The sharp, pungent smell of my arousal mingles with the steam to add a special perfume to the heavy air. I gasp for breath as the steam sears my lungs but nothing can tear me away from my man and his lust for me.

The feelings, the sensations, as old as woman and time, flow through my body. The feelings, known only to a woman, begin to build. His roughened fingers continue to slide back and forth against the tender flesh, touching, massaging the sensitive nerve endings. The sensations begin to grow, to take command of my body and my mind. All rational thought is lost as my nerves scream for one thing and only one thing. My fists clench and unclench as they start to gently beat a tattoo against the plastic wall of the shower stall.

I am swimming in the current of conflicting feelings, emotions, and passions. I barely notice his hand extending his long roughened forefinger into my thick bush and up my dripping channel. I am so wet, so aroused, that it slides in like a hot knife sliding into butter, worming its way without resistance up my tight channel. The scarred and twisted finger roughly massages my little button on its way past, sending shock waves deep into my belly. A shudder passes through my body and I shake, impaled on his finger.

He slowly draws his finger out as my muscles, with a will all of there own, clamp down on him, trying to stop him from escaping. Then, when he starts back in, relaxing, to invite and welcome his penetration. The cadence builds as he slides his finger back and forth, the roughened sides abrading against the tender walls and the little bud hidden at the end of the channel. My body relaxes, totally surrenders, into the loving hands of my man. As the birds chirp outside the window in the early morning light, I float off into my own special world one more time this magical morning.

Every muscle in my body relaxes as I dreamily flow on the current of feelings generated by my loving man. The warm water cascading over me, the stroking finger sliding in and out of my lubricated channel sending thrills coursing through my body. The pad of his thumb caressing the sensitive muscles guarding my nether hole…pop!

My eyes open as wide as two saucers but not before his horny thumb has breached the relaxed sphincter muscle, and lubricated by the warm water and the soapsuds, has slipped up my anal chute. It slides in to the first knuckle before I can bear down on the muscle and prevent any further penetration. “No, John…no… I don’t want that…We’ve never…no, John…please…take it out…please, John, take it out, John!”

He gives no sign of hearing a word that I have said. “John, no, we have never done this. We always agreed you are too big or rather I am too small. You’ll tear me apart.” I turn my head, trying to see John, but he is bent over my back and I cannot see his eyes.

Finally he answers, his voice behind me, close to my ear. “Relax, Peggy, I won’t hurt you. Things are going to be different from now on, the kids are gone, scream, cry if you want, there is nobody here to hear you, except the gulls and your screams will just blend into their shrieks. Nobody is going to hear you and nobody is going to know, just us.”

He leans closer to my ear and whispers, in a voice that penetrates over the hissing spray, right into the core of my brain. “I am going to fuck you in the ass whether you like it or not. Get it through your head, it is going to happen, not someday, not sometime, but today and now…right now. I am going to skewer you on my pole and you are going to dance, whether you like it or not! It is up to you to decide how hard or how easy trabzon escort it is going to be on you.”

The words, whispered into my ear, send a cold chill down my spine and fleetingly I wonder if the hot water has run out. I start pleading, “No, John, please, we’ve never done this. We always agreed that you are two big, that it would never fit, that you will rip me apart and we could never explain to the doctor what had happened. Please, no, I’ll bleed, I’ll have to go to the hospital to be stitched up. Everyone will know what has happened. All out friends, the kids, no, John, please.”

The hope that I may be able to reason with him in spite of his arousal is totally destroyed by his next words. “Yes, Peggy, yes. I am going to drive my rod into that tight little ass of yours if it is the last thing I do on the face of this earth. You have twitched it in front of me for twenty-five years in your tight jeans and shorts. I have dreamed of it, I have fantasized about it and I am going to have it, possess it. If they put me away in a windowless room for the rest of my life, it will be worth it. I will spend every last moment of my life remembering each detail, each sensation as I worm it up your delectable ass.”

The cold hand of sheer terror grips my heart. As a big lump starts to form in my throat I start to beg, “No, John, please no, we’ve never, you are too big, you’ll tear me, rip me apart, please don’t pleaaaase!” The words fall on deaf ears.

His thumb works to loosen the tightened muscle. He leans over my back. I can hear him, over the noise of the shower. “Yes, yes, Peggy, it is going to happen. I am going to drive my cock up your tight little ass until it is tickling your belly button…from the inside. I’m tired of watching you prance around the house in your tight little shorts with your come hither look. I always wondered what it would be like, and now, I am going to find out.”

Trapped against the shower wall, there is no escape.

The thumb starts to work its way up the forbidden virgin hole in my body. It slides, ever so slowly, up to the knuckle and then back, threatening to withdraw totally after having stormed the ramparts. The sphincter muscle adopts a will of its own, ignoring the commands from my brain, to clamp down, to seize the intruder and expel it from this virgin territory. The anal muscles surrender, yielding victory to the intruder, grasping it, and sucking it deeper and deeper into my bowel. The initial shock, the initial pain, passes as the muscles relax and his thumb starts an in and out rhythm.

As the pain subsides the sensations take over. The deep hum starts again, deep in my core. My body starts to slide down the slippery slope, welcoming the new sensations; forgetting the fears, the worries, and the potential dangers. For the first time in my married life, John is in total command of my body. I am totally exposed as his fingers saw in and out of my orifices. My brain, losing the battle for control of my body, emits one last silent prayer of hope that he will not hurt me. “Oh God, John, it feels so good. Don’t stop, please God, don’t stop.”

His fingers slide up my channels. His hands, roughened by years of immersion in salt-water brine, chafe at my tender protected membranes. The back of his finger slides over my little bud each time it slides up my canal to probe at the opening of my uterus and now barren womb. The lump has disappeared from my throat as I gasp for air in the steamy shower. All fear has disappeared as I goad him on. “Oh, Jesus, don’t stop, shove your finger deeper, John, deeper.”

My legs slip further and further apart as if they have a will of their own and somehow are still taking orders from my leaking pussy. My head, resting on my forearm, slides down the wall and my ass tilts upward to give him easier, fuller access to my leaking holes. Modesty and fear have been forgotten, I can’t get enough of his probing fingers. Exposed, I am begging for it with every fiber of my being. Every muscle, every nerve ending is screaming at me, fuck me, fuck me now, fuck me hard, deep…but his fingers just keep sliding in and out of my self-lubricating holes.

The muscles in my little rosebud stretch, accepting, even welcoming, the alien invader. The sensation of the thick, rough thumb insistently prodding up this forbidden passage is indescribable. Grasping, clutching, pulling, they try to suck the thumb up my tight, dark back channel.

The warm water, the probing thumb and the suds are beginning to have a consequence that is decidedly not erotic as the urge to void my bowel grows. I’ m so lost in the waves of ecstasy coursing through my body that I scarcely notice. I can hear a female voice in the shower stall starting to moan and only barely am I aware the sounds are coming from deep in my own throat.

John, chewing lightly on my earlobe, whispers in a voice only I can hear. “Get ready Peggy, get ready for the first day of the rest of your life.”

The meaning of his comment is lost on me in my state of sexual arousal. His thumb and forefinger saw, in and out, of my delicate, sensitive holes. My own body secretions seep out and run down my legs staining the shower stall before swirling away down the drain. I would be mortified under any other circumstances but I am so aroused I do not even notice or indeed care.

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