Addicted

The next six months were filled with confusion, guilt, and a newfound sexual freedom. Quinton took me to heights I had never known physically, and frankly, I became a nymphomaniac. There weren’t enough hours in the day to have sex, and when I wasn’t with Quinton and Jason was ignoring me as usual, I began to masturbate ten times more than usual.

I even masturbated with an umbrella once in my car. It was a rainy day, and I had to pull over because it was pouring down too hard to drive. I parked underneath an underpass and didn’t make it five minutes without playing with myself. My obsession with sex was getting way out of hand, but it was beyond my control.

Quinton was just as creative sexually as he was with a paintbrush. He taught me so much about sex, including how to 72, a variation of the old 69, where three fingers are inserted into the ass for extended pleasure. He turned me on to liquid latex. We poured it over each other’s bodies and let it harden before we fucked each other. The only parts that weren’t covered were my nipples, my pussy, my ass, and his dick. It was a wild sensation. It felt like wearing a tight, full-body mask. I loved it.

Everything was going great. I had the husband of my dreams, who

loved me and was a great father to our kids, and I had the lover of my dreams as well. Everything was perfect, or so I thought.

“Zoe, sit still.”

“I’m trying to, but my back is itching.” I was sitting on one of the velvet-covered crates, posing for Quinton while he painted a portrait of me. It was the second one. He had already painted one and hung it over his bed, just like he said he would. He wanted another one to hang in the studio itself.

“Okay, let me scratch it for you then.” He put down his paint palette and came over to put me out my misery.

I started laughing while he scratched my bare back. “That tickles!”

I was nude from the waist up, having agreed to let Quinton paint me that way. I was becoming bolder by the day. “Zoe?”

“Yes?”

I thought he was going to say something like he wanted to fuck or wanted to go out and grab a bite to eat, but never in a million years could I have been prepared for what came out of his mouth. “I want you to leave him.”

“Umm, say what?” I was frozen like a Popsicle.

“I want you to leave your husband and move in here with me. I want you to do it like yesterday.”

I got up from the crate and put on Quinton’s silk bathrobe I had laying nearby. “Quinton, you know I can’t leave Jason! Not now! Not ever!”

“I see. Well, then, Zoe, we have a serious problem.”

I started caressing his dick through his pants. “No, we don’t have any problems, Boo.”

“Stop it!” He pushed my hand away from his crotch and walked over to the window. “This isn’t working out anymore. I need you to be here with me all night, every night. Not just when it suits you. This isn’t fair to me.”

“Quinton, you knew from jump I was married. Why did you get involved with me if you wanted more?”

He turned around, looked at me, and threw his hands up in the air. “Hell if I know. I just had to have you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.”

“Well, I can’t be the one. Not in that way.” I started up the steps to get dressed. “I’ll leave and I won’t ever bother you again if you don’t want me to. I promise. I’m sorry, Quinton. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

“No, you aren’t going anywhere!” He caught up to me on the stairs, tore the robe off me, and pushed me down on one of the steps. Then he took his dick out his pants, moved my panties to the side with his fingers, and fucked me right there on the steps. “We’ll do it your way. I would rather have a part of you than nothing at all.”

For a brief moment I feared him. There were times when he seemed to have an evil side to him, but I could never pinpoint it. I would often try to ask him about his older brother and sister, but he would become tense and change the subject. The only halfway decent response I ever received from him was, “They’re long gone!” I had no idea what that meant.

Driving home that night, I wondered whether I should break it off with Quinton for good. In my heart, I knew it was the right thing to do, and only trouble could come out of it if I continued the affair. He had laid his cards on the table and made me well aware of his wants and desires. Continuing to fuck him meant three things: trouble for him, trouble for me, and trouble for my marriage. But I couldn’t stop. I was straight-up hooked. I was addicted.

chapter

sixteen

“Peter, get Kyle down off of there before he falls and busts his head open!” It was family outing day, and Jason and I had taken all the kids to the park for a picnic.

“Zoe, don’t yell at them like that. Let boys be boys.”

I sat back down on the blanket next to Jason, after being comfortably sure Kyle wouldn’t fall off the jungle gym. “Jason, you talk that mess now, but you’ll be the first one having a panic attack if one of them gets hurt.”

He smiled at me. “Well, you have a point there.”