“And I can’t help wondering whether things would be different if I’d put more energy into our marriage, into making things more interesting and exciting, instead of that stupid flirtation with Jason—whether you might still want to be married to me, instead of looking for another woman to give you that spark.
“I am so very sorry. Can you ever forgive me? Can you give me the chance to make this up to you?
“Your foolish, loving wife—
Emily”
**********************
Nick sat for a while, gazing out at the back yard, before he went into the bedroom. Emily was asleep, curled up in the fetal position under the bedspread. He stood watching her for a few minutes, then found a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He took off his clothes, lay down next to her in his boxers and tee-shirt and was asleep within moments.
Some time later, he had no idea how long, he came awake feeling Emily’s warmth against him. As his eyes opened he realized she was naked, squirming against him, kissing his neck, looking desperately into his face. When she saw him looking at her she started to cry, holding onto him tightly.
“Please, please,” she said, “please love me. Please, Nick—whatever happens, whatever you’re going to do—just hold me and love me.”
She pulled his tee-shirt up and kissed his chest, slid a hand down into his boxers and caressed his cock, then leaned down and yanked the boxers off. Before he could stop her she had taken his half-hard dick between her lips and begun kissing and sucking it.
Nick’s response could be summarized by the words, “What the hell.” He didn’t know what was ahead—he wasn’t even sure what he wanted—but there didn’t seem to be any good reason to pull Emily off his cock. He stroked her back and her ass while she sucked him, getting him very hard in her mouth, moaning when his hand slid between her legs and into her wet pussy.
Then she was rolling over, pulling him down on top of her between her open thighs, kissing him and saying, “please, baby,” over and over again. He drove himself into her smoothly, groaning, and fucked her while she clung to him like a drowning woman to a floating log, squeezing him, kissing his neck, humping her hips up at him until he shot his sperm into her.
They lay side by side, still in each other’s arms, catching their breath. Emily was weeping quietly onto his shoulder, her face hidden from him. Each time he moved as if to disengage himself she clung to him tightly.
Finally he said, “I need the bathroom, Em,” and she released him. When he returned he sat up against the headboard, gazing at her unhappy, uncertain face.
“How can I ever trust you again?”
She lowered her head, nodding.
“I mean, this wasn’t a drunken fling, a one-night discretion. This was a flirtation, an affair over several weeks. Planned meetings. Emails back and forth—when can we meet, when will hubby be out of the way? Pretty fucking cold-blooded, Emily.”
“I know,” she said, not looking up. “It’s … it’s really terrible, what I did. I have no excuse.”
Then she said, “I didn’t … have sex with him though. I mean, actual sex.”