by Mally Stewart written for Camilla.
Things seemed strange when Jessica got home to Atlanta.
She had to allow that she herself was irretrievably changed and, allowing for that, things were still strange.
Her husband Jason seemed happy that she was home, but there seemed to be an underground current emanating from him.
It almost seemed that rather than being happy with her, he was secretly laughing at her. His smile was almost a smirk.
Her torrid affair with Marshal Williams was still all over her.
She was sore in several places.
She'd iced her lips during the flight back from Miami because they were visibly puffy and she didn't want her husband to see them that way.
The feel, the taste and smell of Marshall was burned into her cells and she feared that she would be unable to hide anything from Jason. Mostly she feared making love to him.
She'd heard - girl talk - that a big penis could stretch a vagina out and that if a man was reasonably perceptive he could tell right away.
True or not, she had no idea, but along with the pleasures she'd enjoyed came the fear of being found out and the consequent necessity of being guarded and careful.
Apart from that, in a weird way she felt a need to be faithful to Marshall.
She understood that her thoughts and feelings were not logical - they just were there and had to be dealt with.
Strange, to think that making love to her husband would be cheating on her lover!
Fortunately, he went to sleep early and was already gone when she awoke.
There was a strange atmosphere at the office too.
When she got to her desk she definitely smelled the odors of sex.
At first she thought she was having a flashback, but no, the smell was there on her desk!
Somebody had been screwing on her desk!
She was outraged!
Who would have the nerve to do such a thing?
Surreptitiously she looked around, looking for what she didn't know for sure, but felt she would know it when she saw it.
Was anybody reacting differently to her? Were there any hidden smiles? That made her think of Jason's smirk, and she felt herself flushing with anger.
Who else would have the nerve - or even the opportunity - to screw somebody on her desk?
The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that her suspicion was justified.
But with who? Somebody from the office?
Someone he'd picked up while she was gone? One of her friends?
Oh God, she hoped it wasn't one of her friends!
Her head was popping with ideas and images. Her emotions whipped her into feeling sick.
She went to find Jason to tell him she wasn't feeling well and was going home.
She found him in the data entry area, talking to that new red-headed girl whose name she couldn't remember.
They stopped talking when she appeared.
Jason had an almost insolent look on his face and the girl ..... no, the girl was much too young for Jason.
It couldn't be her.
The look on Jason's face, though, hardened the suspicion that he was the one.
She admonished herself on the way home.
How could she be pointing a finger at Jason, based on sheer speculation, when she herself had indulged herself so thoroughly?
She thought of Marshall and felt herself heating up.
Had she fallen in love with the man, or simply in lust? She didn't know, only knew that she missed him and wanted him.
She thought about it.
Taking a man into your body was quite a thought.
The whole process, from initial interest and attraction, to the closing of distance between the man and the woman, from distance to touching, from touching to pressing, from kissing and manual manipulations and heated cells secreting lubricating liquids designed to facilitate the entry, the complete take-over of the logical brain by the sensations produced by mutual thrustings followed by the Pavlovian reactions that caused her to thrash about, whimpering and moaning, building up to the gigantic release of orgasm, to the man's liquids spurting up inside her and bathing her insides with the hot little DNA packages called sperm, and then the peaceful descent into a relaxed feeling of accomplishment - a joint accomplishment with her lover - and the warm loving feeling towards that lover.
She shuddered, thinking about it.
What was it about sex that could so wrap a woman up in a man, while it didn't seem to have the same power over the man?
Men were dogs, no doubt. Were they biologically programmed to plant their seed in every available receptacle? It sure seemed so.
Look at Jason. The moment her back was turned he was screwing somebody else, and on her desk too! That was a direct insult, she realized.
With Marshall in mind, she wondered if she should worry about Jason; try to take this further and find out who he'd been screwing?
If they were headed for divorce it might be handy to know shuch a thing.
Divorce? The word shocked her.
The thought had never come up before.
'Whoah!' she told herself. Divorce?
That brought a whole new perspective to things. Was Jason that bad of a husband?
No. He'd always treated her well.
Would Marshall be a good husband?
The thought caused her to laugh out loud.
Should she be like Hillary and hang in there with her man, no matter what?
Keep Marshall as a side dish, a very spicy dish all the more delicious for being rare?
She nodded. Yup. That made more sense.
Having reconciled herself to her current situation she felt better, but not yet entirely. She DID want to know who Jason had been screwing.
In their bedroom, she lay down on the bed and thought about the days and nights with Marshall.
She thought about how their first kiss had made her so hot that, from that moment, there was no possibility of resisting.
She grinned as she remembered that up until that moment she was sure that nothing much would happen between them.
What had happened? Marshall was not the first man to kiss her.
His tongue was not the first to pierce her lips, his fingers were not the first to squeeze her nipples, nor was he the first man she'd felt growing against her body.
Why this man? Why that kiss? Why his tongue?
What about him had rendered her suddenly unwilling to resist, demanding to receive him into her body?
As though acting on their own volition her fingers crept up the inside of her leg. She remembered how Marshall had pushed her panties aside and caressed her with his tongue and fingers.
Her fingers repeated the performance and soon she was in the throes of a ripping orgasm.
With sudden inspiration she knelt over Jason's pillow and as the juices flowed out of her she rubbed her cunt all over it.
When she'd calmed down she sniffed the pillow.
Yup. The funk was there. She made the bed and took a cold shower.
Whatever Jason's reaction would be, she was sure it would be interesting, and expected that it would give her the opportunity of questioning him about who he'd been screwing.
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