Beat of My Heart Ch. 01

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Our headboard pounded against the wall. Marriages are filled with compromises: my wife Carol wanted a king size bed. I wanted a headboard. I warmed to the king immediately. The headboard has been a different story. Carol loves the look and feel of it. It's just that when I get a good head of steam up, it makes an amazing racket thumping against the wall.

Among other things, Carol is put off by the ancillary sounds of sex; whether bouncing beds (the effect of growing up a floor below actively amorous neighbors), or squeaky bedsprings (a college roommate whose attitude was 'so many men so little time'); Carol literally doesn't want to hear it. When it comes to our thumping headboard, Carol stuffs a pillow between it and the wall to muffle the sound. Unfortunately a thumping headboard is not a problem that we have very often.

It's not that that Carol doesn't like sex; she does, just not much of it. Once or twice a month is plenty enough for her. I consider once or twice a week to be the absolute bare minimum requirement to maintain reasonable marital accord. After seven years together, six married, it's become a major problem in an otherwise strong relationship. During this time we've dropped from my minimum to her maximum, with some pretty tough arguments taking up the slack. We're at a point where Carol simply will not discuss it anymore.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

I could feel that little tingle of impending orgasm. This was going to be one of those huge nut-draining ejaculations. Hell, it had been almost three weeks since I'd last fucked Carol. I thrust harder and the slap slap slap of skin on skin added to the sounds in the bedroom. I love everything about fucking doggy-style: the feeling, the sights and especially the sounds.

If only it was Carol on all fours beneath me.

I was cock deep in our next-door neighbor Sondra. She's a Filipina mail-order bride with the same problem as me only flip flopped; she was lucky if she got her husband interested in sex even once a month. I knew this because Carol mentioned it all the time, encouraging me to be less of a sex maniac (her words) and more like good neighbor Ralph.

As my fingers terrorized her clit, Sondra's scream announced she was coming again; this was orgasm number three for her. She'd come knocking at the back door this morning looking to borrow something. I took one look at her in her little sundress and just snapped. I pulled her inside and dragged her to the bed. I stripped us naked to a chorus of thickly accented protestations. It wasn't until I was licking her nearly hairless cunt that her "no's" turned to "oh's."

"Ah! Ah! Ngghhh" I spurted uncontrollably into Sondra. Even as my ejaculations ceased I couldn't stop thrusting into her. We eventually collapsed across the bed, my cock still in her.

We gulped hungrily for air. I shivered briefly as the sheen of perspiration that covered me cooled. Or maybe it was the shiver of guilt. The full impact of what I had just done slowly dawned on me. I had cheated on my wife and sexually assaulted another woman in doing it. I struggled to find something to say that would make sense of this.

Sondra rolled away from me, my limp cock disengaging with a pop. She turned and looked at me with expressionless eyes. "Why you do that?" Why? I couldn't come up with a single good reason to give Sondra. If I was talking with Carol I could've marshaled half a dozen good arguments to justify my actions. With Carol, I was practiced at the art of defending my position, no matter how unreasonable. I had never had more then the most basic of neighborly conversations with Sondra, and now her she lay on Carol's mattress with my cum leaking out of her. I was stumped. My stomach growled loudly.

"I was starving." That's it. That's the best I could come up with.

Sondra simply nodded. She crawled off the bed and walked into the bathroom. I simply stared at the closed bathroom door as I listened to the muffled sounds of her cleaning herself. When she returned, I was sitting on the edge of the bed. I still couldn't read her expression or her mood.

"Sondra..." I knew I had to try and say something.

"No, Mark, you listen to me. This all your fault. I did nothing. You did this. If you think I am going to go home and act like nothing happened, you couldn't be more wrong. You got that?" A fire flared in her eyes that was arresting; she was clearly more than the quiet little housewife I'd thought her to be. I nodded.

"You drag me in here and you take me like whore." My life and my marriage began to flash before my eyes. I was totally screwed. "You think you can treat me like a common whore? Do you? No you can't, Mark. And now you're gonna pay – big time."

"Sondra, I..."

She walked right up to me. "Shut up, Mark. Look at me. Do I look like whore to you? Do I act like whore? Dress like one? No! No, I don't. I act like lady and I will be treated like a lady. Do you hear me?"

As I nodded mutely I couldn't help but look at her lean, naked body, so different from Carol's lushness. I felt blood flow into my cock – shit, not now. I looked up at Sondra only to find her gaze angled down at my cock. I stiffened to full erection.

Sondra reached out and grasped it, squeezing hard until I gasped. Her eyes glared at mine. "When I get fucked, I like to be kissed. And I like to be kissed a lot – got it?"

Thump! Thump! Thump!