Betrayal of the worst kind
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
875
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
875
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work belongs to me, and plagirism and redistrubution without my consent is strictly prohibited.
Betrayal of the worst kind
Author's Note: Just something I thought up a while back and thought I'd share. Reviews are always greatly appreciated. Flames are used to toast yummy marshmallows for s'mores.
Toodles,
--ohxasphyxiationx.
-----
He sat up in bed, taking a careful glance at the sleeping woman next to him. His wife. She was beautiful, with golden hair and pale skin, her body covered only by their bed sheets, and on her face, a small smile of contentment. He stood up carefully, not wanting to wake her. Throwing on a pair of pajama pants and a robe, he grabbed his sneakers from under the bed and left.
He hated making love to his wife, but he did it to make her happy. He didn't hate his wife, far from it. He loved and adored her as the mother of their infant child. He admired her as a woman, full of strength, grace, and beauty. He was grateful for her patience with him, and her selflessness to give him everything he wanted.
But their lovemaking was purely physical, mostly biological, but in no way was it emotional or spiritual. At least, in his eyes, that was all it was. His wife was loving and devoted to him. He could see the exquisite, genuine pleasure in her features as he made love to her. But to him, it was a relief when it was all over.
And it made him feel like a horrible person, because while she gave herself selflessly to him again and again, he would only think of the true love of his life. The one who gave him true pleasure in their lovemaking, the one whose embrace weakened him in his knees, his heart, and his spirit.
He walked down the hallway of his home, peeking into the nursery before leaving. He knows that if she ever found out, she would leave him for good. He might not ever get to see his son again. There is no fury like a woman's scorn, they always say, and she'd have every reason to hate him. Perhaps, if this were a normal affair, she'd somehow find it in her heart to forgive him. But this wasn't a normal affair, he knew, and so each night he snuck out to meet his true love, he knew there was a chance that life, as he knew it, would end.
He stepped out of the front door, walking down a few blocks, turning, and walking again. It was only five blocks away, and when he reached the front door, he turned the knob and found it open. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins and his senses heightened. His eyes searched frantically for his beloved, and his heart was beating so hard he imagined one could see it pounding through his skin.
"Over here," a voice called to him, and he followed it, almost as if in a trance. He was pulled toward the darkened bedroom, to commit his sin for what very well may have been the hundredth, or even the thousandth time; he couldn't be sure. And at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Instead, he embraced his lover desperately, whispering his confessions of undying love, his wish that one day they'd wake up side by side, and his lover hushed and solaced him, before leaning in and kissing his soft, tender lips.
Fireworks exploded in his mind each time they kissed, red and blue and green and yellow, and they kissed harder, and more passionately, and it wasn't long before they were both nude and rubbing against each other. Moments after that, they began to make love, and soft moans and sighs echoed in the empty house. When they came, shouts of pleasure and bliss filled the room, before they collapsed together and cuddled for a few minutes under the warm bed sheets, nothing like the ones that always gave him a chill at home.
He reluctantly pulled himself from his lovers embrace and sighed. The other man looked up at him and nodded. He always understood, and that was the thing that he loved about him. That he would always understand. And although they both knew, that the easiest way to keep from hurting her was to stop seeing each other, they couldn't. No one can just stop loving their true love.
"I love you," he whispered, before turning around and heading back home, back into the arms of his wife, the woman he could never love, the woman he betrayed, and away from the arms of his lover, the one he would never be able to live without, his wife's only brother, and his only true love.
Toodles,
--ohxasphyxiationx.
-----
He sat up in bed, taking a careful glance at the sleeping woman next to him. His wife. She was beautiful, with golden hair and pale skin, her body covered only by their bed sheets, and on her face, a small smile of contentment. He stood up carefully, not wanting to wake her. Throwing on a pair of pajama pants and a robe, he grabbed his sneakers from under the bed and left.
He hated making love to his wife, but he did it to make her happy. He didn't hate his wife, far from it. He loved and adored her as the mother of their infant child. He admired her as a woman, full of strength, grace, and beauty. He was grateful for her patience with him, and her selflessness to give him everything he wanted.
But their lovemaking was purely physical, mostly biological, but in no way was it emotional or spiritual. At least, in his eyes, that was all it was. His wife was loving and devoted to him. He could see the exquisite, genuine pleasure in her features as he made love to her. But to him, it was a relief when it was all over.
And it made him feel like a horrible person, because while she gave herself selflessly to him again and again, he would only think of the true love of his life. The one who gave him true pleasure in their lovemaking, the one whose embrace weakened him in his knees, his heart, and his spirit.
He walked down the hallway of his home, peeking into the nursery before leaving. He knows that if she ever found out, she would leave him for good. He might not ever get to see his son again. There is no fury like a woman's scorn, they always say, and she'd have every reason to hate him. Perhaps, if this were a normal affair, she'd somehow find it in her heart to forgive him. But this wasn't a normal affair, he knew, and so each night he snuck out to meet his true love, he knew there was a chance that life, as he knew it, would end.
He stepped out of the front door, walking down a few blocks, turning, and walking again. It was only five blocks away, and when he reached the front door, he turned the knob and found it open. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins and his senses heightened. His eyes searched frantically for his beloved, and his heart was beating so hard he imagined one could see it pounding through his skin.
"Over here," a voice called to him, and he followed it, almost as if in a trance. He was pulled toward the darkened bedroom, to commit his sin for what very well may have been the hundredth, or even the thousandth time; he couldn't be sure. And at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Instead, he embraced his lover desperately, whispering his confessions of undying love, his wish that one day they'd wake up side by side, and his lover hushed and solaced him, before leaning in and kissing his soft, tender lips.
Fireworks exploded in his mind each time they kissed, red and blue and green and yellow, and they kissed harder, and more passionately, and it wasn't long before they were both nude and rubbing against each other. Moments after that, they began to make love, and soft moans and sighs echoed in the empty house. When they came, shouts of pleasure and bliss filled the room, before they collapsed together and cuddled for a few minutes under the warm bed sheets, nothing like the ones that always gave him a chill at home.
He reluctantly pulled himself from his lovers embrace and sighed. The other man looked up at him and nodded. He always understood, and that was the thing that he loved about him. That he would always understand. And although they both knew, that the easiest way to keep from hurting her was to stop seeing each other, they couldn't. No one can just stop loving their true love.
"I love you," he whispered, before turning around and heading back home, back into the arms of his wife, the woman he could never love, the woman he betrayed, and away from the arms of his lover, the one he would never be able to live without, his wife's only brother, and his only true love.