Page 38 of The Try Line

"Janel, I–"

"Oh! They're home!" Janel jumps off my lap, brushing the wetness from her eyes, and running out to meet Jason's ostentatious SUV.

She goes over to Jase's side and links her arm with his, walking into the house chatting about the surprise she made him. She's been making all his favorites, and even has a list of things she wants to make him before he leaves for college. Tonight, she made dirt pudding, even topped it with little gummy worms and spent the extra few minutes to make them look like they're coming up out of the crushed Oreo "dirt". I smile at the way Jase pumps his fist.

Jason is standing inside the open door of the SUV, watching me. He's too far away to make out his expression, but the intensity shines through. His eyes flit to the door when the screen doorslams shut behind Janel and Jase and then back at me. It occurs to me what it must have looked like when he pulled in, me holding Janel the way I was. I feel an odd lurch in my chest, akin to the worry I was feeling moments before they pulled in and I was about to spill my guts.

How fucked up is this, that I feel equally guilty for showing her affection as I do for cheating on her with him?

I meet his harsh gaze for a few long, drawn-out moments. The intensity of his stare increases exponentially until it crackles between us like another storm might break. I half expect a bolt of lightning to land in the yard between us. The SUV door slams shut, and I watch with mounting trepidation as he walks right through the yard, past the corner of the porch where I'm standing, and into the backyard. He disappears out of sight, and I falter for a moment. I'm not even overthinking. There are zero coherent thoughts in my head. I just stare at the dark hedges where he disappeared.

My body moves without my brain processing that I'm walking across the porch, down the stairs, and around to the backyard. Fireflies are flashing everywhere, twinkling around the lush garden, making it look otherworldly. There's no sign of Jason among the flowers and bushes, and the back shed has a padlock on it that I know I locked yesterday.

A slight rustling grabs my attention, and I follow the sound into the small, wooded area that separates our yard from the neighbors behind us. The fireflies and my errant heart lead me into a small copse of trees that Jase used to build forts in. We used to go backyard camping out here, using a small grill as a fire pit to roast marshmallows and hotdogs. It seems like so long ago. I don't remember the last time I stood out here.

Jason's large form lurks in the dark, resting against a thick branch that grows almost perpendicular to a massive oak tree. Even with hisweight on it, the branch barely dips. We had family pictures taken here once, the three of us perched on that sturdy branch.

He doesn't speak, and neither do I. I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to assure him that nothing happened. With my wife. Who I'm cheating on. With him. That nothing has happened with her in a very long time and might never again, because I'm pretty sure I'll never recover, physically or mentally, from what we've done.

What we'redoing, if Jason's glare is any indication of what's to come. It's so dark I can barely make out his features, but I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel his anger, his frustration, his lust.

Does a moth know it's about to die when it grows closer to the flame? Does it feel the heat and decide it's worth it?

However slow and wary my steps are, I find myself moving closer to Jason. The moment I'm within reaching distance, his hand snaps out and grabs me roughly by the arm and all but tosses me around. My breath escapes me as I'm clotheslined by the thick branch, my body instinctively leaning over and bracing myself against the rough bark.

He yanks my pants and underwear down my legs in one swoop, exposing my ass to the warm, damp night air. There's rustling behind me, but the thudding of my heart is too loud to distinguish the different sounds. From my vantage point, I can see into the window that sits behind the eating nook in our kitchen. Janel is sitting at the kitchen table, her arm resting on the wood surface. She's scrolling through her phone, while less than thirty yards away her husband is bent over, bare ass exposed, eyes crossing when cool liquid drips down my crack and two thick fingers are thrust inside me.

“You carrying that around with you now?” I try for humor, but he doesn’t answer me about the lube. We both know I’d let him fuckme without it, no matter how much it hurt. Even with the lube, my hole is still sore, but my body welcomes the intrusion, opening for him with little to no effort.

Jason grunts appreciatively, muttering something about loosening my tight hole until I'm slack for days. I haven't admitted how sore I was after that night, and the next day. It's been two days, and I've just now got to the point where I can sit comfortably. Because despite the pain, despite the guilt, despite it all—I've still found myself walking down to the basement at odd hours, loitering in the garage, pausing in doorways, hoping that something would happen.

Thatthiswould happen.

There's very little prep before Jason is thrusting into me. He doesn't wait for me to adjust, either, but sets a rough pace. I hiss and try to curl in on myself, but end up folding myself further over the branch. Jason presses a hand on my back and holds me there, pounding into me. It hurts. I'll be feeling the ache for days, but I'm fucking sick because Iloveit. It's pleasure and penance and exactly what I've been craving. Tears are streaming down my face with the effort to hold in my cries.

My muscles finally start to relax and accommodate to the onslaught. It's then I realize Jason was going easy on me, because the more I relax, the harsher his thrusts become, until he's holding my hips hard enough to deepen the existing bruises, driving into me hard enough to lift me feet from the ground with each hard thrust. We're panting, grunting, and growling loud enough that the neighbors could easily hear us if they stepped into their backyard. They'd probably call animal control.

The pain turns into a delicious ache. That ache blurs into pleasure. I'm desperate for touch. I want to stroke myself, but I'm holding myself steady on this damn branch. Jason's cock saws in and out of me, using me for his pleasure, taking his frustration out on my body. I slip forward enough that he has to pull me back, and when hedoes, his cock hits my prostate dead-on, pegging it hard. I cry out, my voice echoing in the quiet night. My eyes fly back up to the window. Janel doesn't look up from her phone. Jason doesn't seem to give a fuck, because he does it again, and again, and again. The blunt head of his thick cock punches at my prostate like a speed bag, and it's all I can do not to scream. Instead, unintelligible noises pour from my throat until my orgasm seizes up all the muscles in my body and I'm incapable of drawing breath.

I wheeze, my mouth open on a silent scream, vision wavering. Jason makes a choking sound. My cum coats the underside of the branch and the ground in front of us, my legs shaking with the force of it.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck yes.Uhng–You're fucking strangling my cock, Mik.Miiik." His voice sounds strained.

A feral growlleaves his throat, and heat floods my ass. I'm still pulsing around him, my hole greedily squeezing every drop from Jason's cock. He doesn't pull out right away. Instead, he pulls my back against his chest and turns my chin to face him. His tongue licks into my mouth.

"You're fucking mine," he whispers roughly into my mouth.

I swallow his words, nodding as I come back to earth. Jason's lips are on the back of my neck, his hips still rocking gently into mine until his dick is soft enough that it slips from me. Hot liquid rolls down the inside of my thighs. My eyes flutter open like I've been asleep the whole time, in a daze, hypnotized.

But when they focus, I'm looking at the house again. Where Janel is standing in the window, looking outside, moving her gaze around the yard like she's searching for something.

For us.

CHAPTER 17

JASON

Beads of sweat roll down my spine and my forehead. My favorite maroon team t-shirt is so saturated it looks several shades darker. Fuck, I forgot how hot it can get here.

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