God, he felt good she thought. Her body lay on top of his, swaying with the force of his thrusts,
relishing the emotion poured into it. She felt his hands caress her sides, her back, her thighs.
She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest. They kissed wildly, passionately, as people who
know they will not have a second chance. She loved him intensely, innately knowing the kindred
spirit that he was. They felt each other's thoughts, feelings. Words were unnecessary. They rolled
around on her bed, until he was looking down at her intently, his eyes glazed with passion, his
breathing quickened. She whispered I love you between her heated moans and wild screeches. Her
tears flowed as they both came. It wasn't like her. No one would believe it if you'd told them. If
there was one thing that she believed in, it was integrity. You keep your promises, or don't make
them. Marriage is a promise, you don't break it and it's forever. You do your best not to lie;
don't cheat, steal, or break the rules. To look at her, you'd see the picture perfect Donna Reid.
But inside, she seethed. Yes, her husband loved her…in his own way. He never let the walls down,
always maintained that safe distance; never entirely trusted her. Even after 5 years and a child.
People who love each other don't try to knock each other down, but raise them up. The years of
putdowns were wearing out her ideals, even though she still struggled to keep them. Then, she met
Him. It was summer. She walked to a friend's house one balmy evening to play some cards when they'd
been introduced. The attraction was there immediately, though they both tiptoed around it. Her
friend never liked her husband; she wouldn't put it past her to try to set her up. When cards
became blasé, they made plans to go out. They spent the evening walking around town, comparing
notes, talking about everything. It was after dark when they arrived at the park's playground. You
could hear the crickets singing over the passing cars, and the fireflies fluttered like fallen
stars around the children's toys. Her friend raced for the swings, and she was close behind. It
felt good to laugh like a child. She jumped on the swing, and felt him push her. It was like a jolt
of lightening. Nothing else could describe it. The simple touch of his hand on her back, and she
shivered. She took a deep breath, and she knew she would never forget the smell of dew-laden air
with the green smell of summer. She blamed the shiver on the damp night, as he noticed it (noticed
everything about her comfort), insisting afterward that she wear his jacket. But she was Donna
Reid. She made no pretenses about her marriage. They all knew she was married, and not always happy
about it. But she didn't touch him, though her body was screaming out for her to do so; to snake
against his body, wrap her arms around his neck. To press up against him and feel the heat she knew
his body would generate if she did such a thing. To practice the wiles that lay dormant due to her
subdued relationship. She wanted to watch him shiver and quake and have him at her mercy. But,
while her mind went wild, her body stayed put. She sat in the swing, chatting with her friends, no
one really having any knowledge of her inner turmoil. Her friend knew it, of course, and kept
pushing her in his direction. He's so much better for you, she'd say. You have so much in common.
And while everything she said was true, she knew what she shared with her husband really was more
important. Even if there were days, and perhaps even weeks where she couldn't stand his attitude,
they had a life together, had a family together. So what if he couldn't be her rock? That is what
friends are for, right? Perhaps against her better judgment, they stayed in contact. She felt it
was safe, as he lived so far away. But then, her friend decided to move. And friends being friends,
he came up to help. She watched him circumspectly, so dreadfully careful to not give the wrong
impression. She found herself falling in love, but unable or unwilling to change her situation. It
was a sad time, as her friend was moving out of state. Her husband didn't care, as he was out on
yet another road trip. She helped wrap up breakables, putting them in boxes, labeling them with
wide black markers. There really wasn't much, but they'd needed help driving, and unloading. Her
friend, worse than fate herself, assigned her to the vehicle he was to drive, since to go home, he
would have to drive back that direction anyway. The tension was there. Stiff, restrained
conversation. They had discussed the attraction many times in their correspondence. They
acknowledged it, studied it. But one of the things she found herself loving about him was his own
moral code. He didn't want her to cheat any more than she wanted to. But that was discussed in
distance. He was here, now, and they were alone. Part of her hated it; hated to feel so foreign to
someone who knew her like he knew his own heart. The other part is what took over, though. The part
that gloried in the tension, knowing what it stood for, knowing what the tension really proved. He
wanted her as surely as she wanted him. Donna Reid was a cardboard person, with no real depth of
character. And she didn't want to be that person anymore -- she was unsure if she ever truly
existed, or if it was just the ideal her husband put into her mind early on. The battle took her
through the trip there. Her friend looked sad that they had reached their destination on time. They
unloaded, helped with set up, made sure at least the bed was set up. They gave each other hugs,
promising to stay in touch, and visit soon. Then they both got back in the car and left for home.
She watched his hands on the wheel, his long fingers capable of such gentleness, yet such strength.
She knew he could sense her watching him. He glanced over as if to ask why, but she never answered
the look. Finally, she laid her head in his lap. She didn't ask, he didn't mind. She snoozed a bit,
(it was a long drive). When she woke, she noticed much more. Her breathing still regular, his hand
was on her side, caressing her arm, her waist, her hip. Stolen touches, forbidden touches- touches
that stirred her soul. She wanted more of him. She didn't care anymore. She moved slightly,
attempting to turn. His hand jerked back onto the wheel, his knuckles white from the strain. She
smiled as she rolled slightly, her face toward him now as she nuzzled him. She smiled at the low
moan and the sudden hardness beneath his jeans.

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 She looked up at him, watched him stare doggedly at
the road ahead. She let him pretend that she was still sleeping, but they both knew she wasn't. The
hand that had been under her head while she slept moved toward his belt. He shifted his body,
sliding forward a bit in his seat. Then she had it. His cock through his jeans crushed her will;
his cock out of his jeans molded her will to its own. She nuzzled it with her nose, flicking the
ridge of its head with her tongue. She felt his thigh tense beneath her. "Are you sure about this?"
he whispered raggedly. Instead of answering, she took his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue
around it, sliding her mouth lower. She poured her attention onto his cock, frantically moving her
mouth over him. She reached low, grasping his balls, squeezing them gently. One of his hands came
gently down to her hair, stroking it so tenderly. She was desperate for this moment, desperate for
connection, to become something bigger than she was alone. For even married, she was alone; her
husband made sure of that. The moment drew out, nearly close to infinity. She threw her desperation
into her attention, sucking ferociously, realizing as she did, she was truly in love with this man
and the desperation grew, for she knew she could never leave her husband. He came moaning her name,
his hand white knuckled on the wheel, squeezing a fistful of hair and shoulder. She kept him in her
mouth, continuing to suck until he was clean. She smiled warmly, lovingly at him and set his lap to
rights. A few moments later, he pulled into a rest area. "Why did we stop?" she asked. "Because I
couldn't drive and do this." This was the most gentle, tender kiss. He leaned into her, as she did
unto him. His fingers stroked her cheeks, as his lips brushed hers, teasingly gentle, as though
afraid. Her arms stole up around his neck. She let her fingers run through his hair, softly sighing
into the kiss. It was all the encouragement he needed. The kiss continued on, warmer, heating her
entire body, his tongue, soft and searching in her mouth, as though it was the entrance to her
soul. And in some ways, it was. If she felt desperation before, it was nothing compared to know
that he wanted her the same way. They nuzzled and nipped at each other's lips and tongues, smiling
into the kiss. When the time started again, they each took a deep breath and looked at the other
with new eyes. They knew they had just crossed some line, a line both of them had no idea how to
deal with. She knew. She knew she'd always be with her husband. This once, this time, she would
take something she desperately needed…something only for her. Part of her wanted to cry for her
lost ideals, part of her wanted to sing for joy at the freedom, at the joy of finally finding what
she had always been looking for, her other half…even if it was too late. He watched her for those
moments. As easily as if she had told him, he knew. But, like her, he was torn. He knew she
deserved better, deserved him. Knew her ideals would never let her leave and break the promise she
made. He also knew as surely as he breathed that even if they were never together again, neither
would they ever be apart. He nodded almost imperceptibly, silently taking what she silently
offered, and leaned in for another kiss. Slowly they separated, buckled back in as he took her
home. It was late when they reached her house. Without a word, he followed her as she led him to
her bedroom. The kissing started again , kisses that made time slow down. Slowly she undressed, as
his lips worshipped each inch of flesh as it was revealed. He lovingly stroked her curves,
seemingly memorizing the feel of her skin. Then, she repaid the favor, her fingers following her
mouth along his lanky body. She relished the feel of his fevered skin, the feel of the humidity of
the night like silk against it. He lifted her into his arms, holding her as though she were the
most precious thing he could ever hope to touch. Then laid her softly onto the bed. "Now, its my
turn." He whispered. He kneeled on the floor, and licked a line up her calf, making her shiver. His
tongue teased the back of her knee, then her inner thigh. He blew lightly on her center, until her
hips bucked up, begging for the pressure of his tongue, his finger, anything. He knew, and flicked
at her with the tip of his tongue. She moaned low and hard. Her body shivering, his arms came up to
support her, his tongue running circles around her clit until she thought she'd scream. Her body
tensed, about to explode, she cried out to him. "I don't want to come without you inside me." She
panted. His answer was a moan against her clit as he shifted upright. The vibration of the moan had
her on the edge, and the moment his head entered her body, the dam broke and she began screaming
his name. He plunged into her, moaning himself at the strength of her orgasm around him. He
continued to make love with her slowly, drawing out her pleasure, until her body was once again
slack and relaxed before he picked up the tempo. Without any words she flipped him on his back.
They both knew they only had tonight, and weren't going to ruin it by saying the words. But she
wanted him every way imaginable. She slid down over him, her hands resting on his chest. God, he
felt good, she thought. Her body on top of his, swaying with the force of his thrusts, relishing
the emotion poured into it… He wiped the tears away, held her gently, as they fell asleep. It was
still dark out when he woke her. "I need to leave." He looked at her like a lost soul. "I know." "I
won't make it harder for you by asking you to come with me. You know I'd take you and your son in a
second." The fact that he included her son made her tears well. "We still have time…he won't be
home for another day." He looked at her like a wounded animal. "I need to leave now, or I won't
leave at all. I HAVE to go." She nodded mutely, knowing he was right, hating herself right now for
letting him go, pulling herself back from screaming to him to stay, and damn the consequences. She
helped him collect his clothes, touching him gently. She led him to the door. "I won't see you
again, will I?" She already knew. "No," he whispered. He gave her a soft kiss, then walked away.
She got an email a few days later: "I will always be yours. The deepest corners of my heart, where
secrets are hidden even from me, will always find your name carved on their walls. Your mark is on
my soul, and the mark will never disappear.

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