Page 20 of Two Wrongs

“That’s a good, slut. You’re being so good for daddy.”

I slam my cock deep in her tight pussy. All thought flees my head except for how good she feels squeezing my cock. I squeeze her hips and take her hard. The door slams rhythmically against the jam, and she groans every time I slam my large cock inside of her.

I start pulling her back to meet each one of my thrusts. “Does that feel good, baby bird?”

She nods. “More.”

My mind flees. Everything about this is wrong, but it feels like the most right thing ever. “You’re going to be daddy’s perfect slut. I’m going to take you home and make you gag on my cock, and you’re going to love it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she moans.

I slap her ass, hard, and I feel it vibrate around my cock. “Yes, what,” I demand.

“Yes, daddy.”

I need to come. The fire races up my spine, and as loud as we’re being it won’t be long before someone interrupts us. I can’t let go until she gives it to me.

I reach around and start rubbing her clit hard and fast. I know it’s too fast a build up, and she’s going to scream, but I can’t be bothered to care.

“Come for daddy. Be a good whore and soak my cock.” As I thought, my dirty words send her over the edge. She screams, and as her walls clench around my dick I come. It’s only then that I realize I forgot to use a condom.

8

Wren

For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing, then suddenly all the sounds of the bar flood my consciousness. Feelings of elation give way to horror and embarrassment.

I work here. How the fuck could I let him, my father-in-law of all people, do that to me in the storeroom closet? Maybe I am a slut. I know those words were used in a way they were supposed to be sexy, and they were, until now.

My skirt is still up around my waist, and I flip it back down to cover my smarting ass. Another thing that was hot, in the moment, but now the only hot part is the stinging of my flesh.

How was it Liam was able to do this? Did he feel this dirty every time he met up with his mystery woman in secret? Did he also feel like he’d trampled on something that was supposed to be sacred, something meant only for us?

I sneak a look at Griffin and he looks as horrified as I am. He refuses to meet my eyes as he tucks himself back in his boxers and refastens his jeans and belt.

Shame can safely be added to the mix of emotions I’m feeling. While I might have technically cheated on my husband, since we are still legally married, Griffin betrayed his son. A son I know he loves deeply.

I flip the lock on the door, straighten my spine, and prepare myself to walk through the bar with everyone’s eyes on me. It won’t be the first time I’ve had the attention of everyone around me. I prefer to blend in rather than stand out, but there are times life doesn’t give you that option. Like when I became the poor orphan girl everyone watched to see if I was going to fall apart. I hadn’t recognized the attention the last few months, but looking back I can see clearly some people already knew Liam was having an affair. Charlie in particular watched me with more sympathy, and a wariness I’m only starting to figure out had to do with Griffin.

At least when they watch me now I’ll own my shit. This time I won’t be the poor put upon wife sitting at home waiting for a husband who’s balls deep in some skank. No, this time it’ll be him who’s pitied because his wife screwed his father in the bar store room.

I guess I am a slut. But, I’ll be leaving this town soon, and in Centralia, assuming I’m lucky enough to get into Central Valley again, no one will care about any of this.

For a moment I expect Griffin to stop me, say something, anything, before I walk out of here, but he stays silent. Sometimes silence says everything.

* * *

The bar is closedon Sunday thanks to some archaic law that says liquor can’t be sold on a Sunday. Like they expect the people who would usually be nursing last night’s hangover with the hair of the dog to suddenly wake up, become church goers, and be sitting in a pew listening to a minister rebuking all the sins they so gleefully engage in the other six days a week. But, I do appreciate the day off, so when the sun starts to slip into my room, I pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep.

It’s around noon when I finally crawl from my duvet cave. I’m disoriented, and a little freaked out that Dolores hasn’t barged in with her usual grandmotherly concern. Sometimes she claims to have heard a noise, other times she brings me baked goods, but every time I see through her and know she is only making sure I’m not crying myself puffy into a pint of ice cream.

One time that happened. Okay, two. Maybe three, but some things need tears and Cherry Garcia in order to recover.

I really should go and check on her. In the back of my mind I wonder if this is another ninja grandma tactic to pull me out of my den of sadness as she calls it. If it is, she’s an evil genius because I rush through a shower to go over and make sure she’s fine.

It’s only ever the two of us here, her family keeps in touch, but they don’t live in the area so their visits aren’t a usual occurrence, except for her grandson who lives only one town over. He works a lot as a realtor in a much wealthier community, so again, we almost never see him.

In my hurry to go and check on her, I throw on a simple ribbed tank top and a pair of boyfriend jeans. My hair goes up into my usual messy bun, and once I slip my feet into a pair of flip flops I race across the lawn.

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