DITW 14-1: Fit Haunts Of Gods

When the video got to the end it played over again.

Kimmy lay in bed at home, the sun going down, Josh at Meyer’s, twelve hours after she’d left for work this morning. Left for work and performed the most depraved act of her life. And she rewatched it, naked under the covers, toes grabbing the sheets, humping her hips against her pleasuring fingers. She held the phone playing the video on her sternum, the image going up and down with her heaving breath. Quiet coughs came as she got closer again. This would be the fourth time she came while watching what she’d done to Devlin. Right now she focussed on her hand in the video, and the way her fingers curved Devlin’s thick cock, and how Devlin had pumped out an endless supply of pre-cum for her hand job. That perfect big cock shone in the light, wet steely flesh, and as her orgasm rose closer and closer to where she could feel its pressure expanding her ribcage, she closed her eyes and pictured what she knew came next. She’d watched this video eleven times since this afternoon. With her eyes closed she could still see the white rim light on those luscious cock curves, those pink and gray flesh shapes, the bulging swells of his perfect cock head, knowing what that thing felt like inside her, deep, deep inside her, knowing what the flared rim of his cock head felt like plunging in and out, buried in her guts. And she knew the feel of his ejaculation. Not the pulsing, but the flexing as his cock spurted its joy right in the mouth of her cervix, beyond it, by Devlin’s claim, and then that flooding wet and the silvery sensation of orgasm and an almost unbearable swell of lusty desire that made her squirt every time. And this time she did come that way, squirting, all by herself, all alone in her apartment, abandoned by the man who’d witnessed the basest lust she enjoyed. She cursed and hissed and curled her feet into balls, listening to the patter under the bedsheets as she spritzed out exquisite glee. She dropped the phone to her bare stomach, panting and gasping, putting a forearm over her eyes. Her body shuddered, her stomach fluttered, and the slightest movement of her long fingers inside her would send her over again. She had to ease them out before she succumbed once more to the worst thing a woman on the edge of losing her marriage could do. 

The intensity of this experience was something she wanted to share with Josh. Wanted him to know about it. There was this rotten tug to send him the video, saying to him, “Look what I did.” And, fuck, Josh would come just as hard as she did. She was sure of it. But Josh had wrapped himself in some newfound nobility she didn’t like at all. It put a barrier between them. His moral certitude slipped Devlin between them like a big fat flesh colored chess piece with a delicious mushroom head that she wanted to suck on right now. She groaned and cursed herself again. She was so fucking horny over this. It was rotten. And where was Josh? Not here. Josh had made her confessions and her admissions into things he could wield over her, using the sin even he enjoyed as a weapon in an effort to control her. His reaction was natural and made sense to a rational mind, but their alignment in kink and pleasure had showed Josh’s inner joy to her. He hated how it pleased him and he wanted to hurt her instead of submitting to the things that aroused him.

What was the way to show him it was okay? Tell him he was loved even if he was aroused by something that was the antithesis of every male instruction passed on down through the years. That’s what was holding him back. Flimsy tendons of yore.

But the solution wasn’t easy. Josh was a volatile opponent when you compared him to Devlin. And not just volatile. The stakes were high with Josh. Josh mattered. She loved Josh. They were married.

She growled with the compounding frustration and the growing dread. Everything had become more complicated by a factor of ten. She’d known going into this thing there would be obstacles, but everything seemed now to tighten around her, every move she made spawning newer tentacles that lashed her back, constricted her, pulled her deeper where maybe she would drown.

With that she was off the bed, stepping into the bathroom and washing her hands. Then she stripped the bed and changed the sheets.

The lure of the phone was strong. Not to do the most sensible thing, like use it to reach out to her hurting husband, but to watch the video one more time. There was a pull from down below, a nagging tug. She wanted to masturbate again. It grew stronger, and images flashed in her mind showing her the most arousing and nefarious thing a woman could do. And Devlin’s incredible dick...

She shook her hands out and exhaled, pushing back against the looming height of dirty thoughts and nasty images.

#

Later, on her phone on the couch, she checked Josh’s location again on Find My Phone. He wasn’t at Meyer’s now. He was still in town. Maybe him and Meyer going out to eat or to see a movie. Sophie would be with them. It was getting late on a school night for Sophie to be away from home. Josh was on his own somewhere?

She checked her texts. Re-read the half dozen from Hyun that she hadn’t responded to yet with more than a heart reaction. She could go to Hyun’s. Sophie wasn’t there. Maybe they could spend the night together. 

And then came the infernal horniness again. Imagining herself in bed with Hyun, doing the things that Hyun liked her to do, trying to coax Hyun into doing some of the things she liked to do. Her stomach dropped and her sex throbbed with the sudden raw thought of showing Hyun the video, of making her watch the vilest thing that poor innocent thing would ever have seen. Hyun looking at the size and beauty of a massive cock, watching how much Devlin came, how it splattered and sprayed.

“Fuck,” she hissed, standing up, aching between her hips, thinking she might just go to the bedroom and do it again.

Not on the fresh sheets though.

She sat back down, sighing, mind racing and twisting, trying to get away from the sexual tugging, checking Josh’s location again. Same place. She looked it up. A hotel.

“Josh, don’t do that,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hoping he wasn’t hurting too much. The horniness waned, and she smiled. Feelings of love and affection ebbed up from nowhere to replace it.

#

Later in the week he’d stay with Meyer. He wasn’t ready to tell his cousin his marriage to Kimmy was over. Didn’t even know how to word it. Didn’t want to say it.

And why was that?

The answer was simple. He would miss her. He would miss being with her. It was like ending their marriage would be an act of aggression. Something done to punish Kimmy. To hurt her. Hurt her because she’d hurt him. But then he could picture himself without Kimmy. Picture himself alone, Kimmy moving on, having success, having a baby. His baby.

His baby, right?

“Maybe,” he said, and dropped to the Best Western bed, looking up at the ceiling. The television was on but muted and he didn’t even know how to watch anything. All the channels were different from when he was home. He only had his phone, not his tablet, and he didn’t like watching things on that small of a screen.

What if it was his baby?

What if right now Kimmy grew their child in her belly and he was lying in a hotel room a mile away from her, wanting to end everything so she would know how mad he was? And then what? He could picture her with Devlin, the two of them together, Devlin getting all the good stuff, Kimmy making dumplings, Kimmy’s belly all big, a big beautiful baby inside. And then a baby born. He could picture a baby, and Devlin had his child, and they went to the zoo and Kimmy was happy with the man she hated. 

It didn’t take long for his own mind to show him all the things he knew would make him cry, and he ended up in tears. Like a fucking idiot. An emotional idiot.

“You’re doing it to yourself,” he said, wiping his face and blowing his nose with hotel tissue. “Fucking idiot.”

His phone rang, and he searched for it, finding it pushed up under the pillow. 

“Oh my God.”

The call came from one Kimmy Waters.

Esquire.

Cunt. Bitch.

He answered it. “Yeah?”

Silence for a moment. Long enough for him to regret the meanness in his answer, his arrogant tone manufactured with an artificial growl. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, and it took him off guard. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but that wasn’t it. She continued. “I’m sorry I told you the way I did. I didn’t think how you would feel. I’m so happy, Josh. It’s everything I want. I want it with you.”

“Uh-huh,” he said in that same gravelly way, like an idiot, but doing it now because tears were on the threshold.

“I want you to come home. I want you to come home so we can talk. I’ll listen to anything you want to say to me. We really have to talk.”

First thing he’d ask her: Why did you turn your phone off at lunchtime? Did he fuck you good? 

“What’s there to talk about?” He rolled his eyes at his own melodrama. There was so much to talk about. What a dumb thing to say. She sounded like she was trying to be honest with him.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I just want to be near you.”

That line had him covering his eyes with a hand, holding his breath so she wouldn’t hear him sob or something.

“Just come home and watch TV with me.”

Eyes squinted shut behind his hand and tears on his cheeks, he said, “Okay.”

#

He was home in half an hour, coming into their apartment to the familiar sound of the television and the smell of cooking. It hit him hard. God damn it, she was cooking dumplings. Dumplings and something else. She’d read his mind. Done this on purpose. Knew to welcome him with all these familiar elements like she was conjuring a spell.

And then he thought of Devlin getting this treatment. Of Kimmy caring enough about Devlin’s happiness, of Kimmy earning Devlin’s affection if she’d lost it. A jealous surge gripped his viscera, and he grunted and leaned on the wall in the foyer, heart racing.

Then Kimmy appeared in the archway to the kitchen, a half dozen feet away, hearing him come in.

Their eyes met and there wasn’t a swelling crescendo of reunion, only an intractable clash that had them both looking away. Terrible things had transpired.

Kimmy stepped closer, his eyes turned down to her feet clad in slippers. Her hand went to his chest, then to his neck. He looked up again, looked in her eyes and this time didn’t look away no matter how hard it was.