This is not a stand alone story. In order for it to make sense you have to read Dilemma. It ends at exactly the same place that Dilemma ends. If you don’t like unresolved stories you might want to pass on this one. It contains no sex.
Because I glanced at the clock, I know that I’d lived 12,656,620 minutes when it happened. Don’t you think it should take more than 27 minutes to destroy everything it had taken that long to create?
It has never seemed right, or even possible that so much damage could have happened in so little time, or that there was absolutely nothing positive about those fleeting moments. In less time than it takes to watch the silliest sitcom, I changed the lives of people I’ll never know--so many lives.
Twenty-seven minutes is how long it took Professor Jacob Ethan Riley King to f•©k me, and ruin my world.
To understand how it happened you have to understand who I am and to understand that, you have to understand Chris, my ex-husband. Out parents were best friend before we were born, and we spent more time together than most twins.
In fact, we spent so much time together we developed a special sensitivity for each other. I think it was the same thing that some twins are supposed to have. I had no secrets from Chris and he had none from me.
We generally knew what the other person was thinking, and frequently could finish each other’s sentences. We were so close that like many twins we don’t have the same sense of “body space” that normal people do. Teachers were always correcting us about standing too close to them. I think that’s one of the reasons that Professor King decided to f•©k me.
It certainly wasn’t because I was some sort of great beauty. I’ve got an okay figure, if you like lean athletic women. My face would have been nice, but I had fair sized congenital melanocytic naevus on my right cheek. CMN is better known as a brown birthmark. Most people with these sorts of birthmarks, are the butt of vicious jokes by other kids. I never was because Chris was always there to make sure it didn’t happen.
I don’t remember the first time Chris got into a fight because someone was making fun of me, but I do remember the last time. We were freshmen in high school and it almost got Chris killed.
The biggest jock, and I don’t just mean the most gifted, in our school was a senior. He wasn’t “dumb as a rock” because that would demean the rock. What he was, was the biggest, fastest, meanest linebacker in Texas. I’m not exaggerating at all. He’s played in several NFL pro bowls and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have someone on his staff to read his clippings to him ... of course he graduated from OU, so what can you expect.
Chris and I were both athletes, and the first time I met ... I’ll call him “Rock” I was working out in the weight room. Rock came in after football practice and he started right in about my deformity. I’ve been known to have a tart tongue, and I was cutting him to ribbons, but he was too dumb to know it.
About that time Chris showed up and the fight was on. You have to understand that Chris is a runner and a soccer player. He’s strong and fast but he’s lean. Rock was built ... well like an NFL middle linebacker, and just as fast as Chris, or perhaps a shade faster.
He beat Chris to a bloody pulp, but he never bothered me again, because Chris scared him. There is no quit in Chris, and even Rock was smart enough to know that you could kill him but you couldn’t beat him.
That’s the way Chris was. UT won two national championships when Chris was on their club team because he just wouldn’t quit. If I tell you about the last one, I think you might understand.
It went to four overtimes and the only man on the field still running off the ball was Chris. He scored the winning goal with less than a minute left before they went to shoot-outs, although you’d never hear that from him.
Chris is modest, and I think that’s what made him popular. Yes, he was a jock, but he never acted that way, and people loved him for it. He gave me the confidence to run for class president in high school and because he had so many friends in so many different cliques, I won.
If you haven’t got the picture yet, in my never humble opinion, there might be a better man, someplace, but I’ll be hard to convince. So, why if I loved the best man in the world why did I emasculate him with my 27-minute f•©k fest?
That’s a little hard to explain...
Let me start by saying I accept the blame for what I did. I might have been worked over by the best, but no one put a gun to my head and forced me into his room. I walked under my own power, and I should have-- could have-- walked out when I knew what was happening.
That’s what I’ll never forgive myself for letting him f•©k me. When I spread my legs for him, I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway.
Yes, Professor King set me up, he spent the time to learn my weakness, and he played me. When I took his summer class, he asked me to stay after class the day it started. He said he wanted to talk about the settlement I received when my father was killed in an airline crash.
Before the end of that course, I’d told him what I’d only shared with Chris. The last words I’d ever said to Daddy where an angry, hurtful accusations because he was going to miss one of my soccer games. I was in second grade and I was mad because I expected him to watch me perform.
Daddy changed his reservation to get home early. When we heard about the crash we didn’t know Daddy was on the plane. We didn’t know until a damn TV reporter rang our door with camera running to ask us how we felt.
As soon as he’d heard my story, Professor King began acting like a father to me. I loved it. Dad, Chris’ dad had been wonderful to me growing up, but I always knew, down deep, that he was Chris’ dad and not mine.
The week before that damn OU game, Professor King invited us to his house out by the lake. That’s when he started talking about how his own daughter had chosen to stay with his “cheating wife” and how little contact he had with her.
It should have raised all sorts of flags, instead I felt so sorry for him. I was so excited when he “discovered” that Chris couldn’t leave early because of a class, and offered to take me to Dallas on Friday morning.
If I’d had any of my normal defenses up, I think his charm still would have broken them down on the 3 1/2 hour trip. King had all the charm and persuasiveness you’d expect from a lawyer who’d won a fortune in a huge class action settlement.
When we got to the hotel it was even swankier than I expected. It was a different world, and I felt so sophisticated as we shared a couple of drinks in the bar. I didn’t think twice about it when he invited me to his room because he didn’t want to be seen “over socializing” with one of his students.
I’m not making excusing, but explaining that I was a little tipsy when he started pouring his heart out about the pain his daughter caused by choosing to live with her mother. He got me talking about Daddy and I didn’t think anything about being swept up in his arms to be “comforted.”
So there we were. Both of us had tears rolling down our cheeks, but I damn well know now his weren’t real. I was in so much pain I didn’t react when he kissed me.
Sex never entered my mind with that first kiss, just the need to comfort him, and to be comforted. But it wasn’t a comforting kiss, it was full of passion, and I responded to it. Oh God, if I’d only had the sense to stop there. Still, if that was all that had happened...
But it wasn’t. I may have been a bit fuzzy, but when I felt his hand in my pants, I knew I had to stop him. I also knew I could stop him. I wanted to stop him, but I didn’t.
No, I wasn’t drunk. No, I didn’t want to have sex with him. No, he didn’t force me. I did decide that for some reason I’ve never been able to figure out that I shouldn’t stop him, and I didn’t.
I’d worn a skirt, and he never even took down my panties. He just shoved them aside and he ignored how dry I was as he started to f•©k me. As he entered me, I saw the clock, 5:43.
As he f•©ked me, I f•©ked him back. No, it wasn’t passion. I just wanted to have this nightmare end, to be over. I remember chanting mentally, “Just get through this, just get through this.” At exactly 6:10 he pulled out of me and shot his load on my panties.
As he stood he said, “I didn’t want to cum inside you. I don’t think Chris would appreciate sloppy seconds.”
I didn’t say anything, I just adjusted my breasts back into my bra, and left.
When I got back to my room I flushed my panties down the toilet and I took as hot a shower as I could stand. I knew what I’d done. I was a dirty cheating slut and I’d betrayed the only man I’d ever love.
I’d done it with my eyes wide open and I had no excuse. I thought about it and I wondered what I should do. How should I tell Chris?
Then I made my second huge mistake. I decided that we needed to leave immediately, to get him back in Austin before I confessed. I was afraid that when Chris learned what I’d done, he’d kill King.
Don’t we always make our worst decisions for the best of reasons? As I stood in the room that was supposed to be a special treat for us, I saw a little note that claimed the sheets on our bed were 1000 count. I started to cry, I’d always wanted to make love on luxurious sheets, and I’d lost that chance by getting f•©ked on an institutional sofa.
.... There is more of this story ...