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Chapter 8: He Leaves a Mark
Leslie lay on her right side with her legs spread so that her right was on the bed and left was up and bent at the knee. Her right hand was massaging her button and her left was stimulating her g-spot. Open next to her was her laptop, the video that was playing showed a muscular bum rising and falling as its owner thrust into a woman lying on a hotel bed.
The woman on the bed was grasping at the sheets as her stocking-covered legs swung back and forth in the air in time to the undulating bum. The noise on the laptop was turned down to a whisper, despite the fact Leslie was alone at home, but she could hear the groans of the woman in the video get louder. The woman’s hands grabbed her lover’s back, whilst her high-heeled shoes crossed over above his buttocks.
She could see the guy speed up as the woman held tighter and, just audible on the low volume setting, she heard the woman moan, “Uhn, fuck yes, Bully Boy.”
Simultaneous to her orgasm in the video, Leslie came as she watched Stuart fuck her. Both Leslies sharply exhaled but the one in the video kept going as it was only minute 23 of nearly two and half hours of footage. Leslie closed the video player and ejected the USB stick with the MP4 file. She deleted the file shortcut from ‘Recent Files’, something Google had taught her, and stashed the flash drive in her make-up bag.
Her thong and leggings lay discarded on the bed; she retrieved them and pulled them back on. She hadn’t removed her pale pink tank top or her bra, so it took her only a couple of minutes to dress. She headed downstairs to grab a drink of water as well as start cooking for dinner.
The mince, which was to become part of a lasagne, had nicely browned when the front door opened. She heard Malcolm’s briefcase touch the wooden hallway floor, followed by his footsteps into the kitchen.
“Hi sweetheart, what’s for dinner? Oh… Um wow,” Malcolm’s voice ended on a surprised tone as he looked at his wife.
“What? It’s just mince for lasagne.”
“Oh, not that, just quite a bit of skin on show there,” he mumbled, awkwardly.
She looked down at her outfit; black three-quarter length leggings and a top that admittedly was skin tight, low cut and left two to three finger-width worth of midriff on show. Stuart would have wished she was wearing less.
“Well I’ve been at home alone all day, both the kids are out with friends,” she replied, letting a little annoyance show in her voice.
“Oh, um, yeah it’s fine, just different, but uh, yeah, you look great.”
Her ‘traditional’ husband didn’t sound convincing at all, but in fairness to him, she would rarely show so much skin. Legs and arms occasionally, for dressy events, but her stomach was never on show, and her cleavage was always quite modest. However, that was always for Malcolm’s benefit. She was happier to show more skin; perhaps her outfit to see the principal with Stuart and Lewis was a little bit too much, and Lewis had commented on that, in an awkward way, like his father, but on a summer’s day she would have worn this outfit outside the house, if it didn’t scandalise her husband.
She added canned tomatoes and some herbs to the mince, before taking a deep breath and starting a new conversation with her husband, “So, you remember how I wanted a tattoo at university?”
“Uhh, maybe, yeah. I think so, why?” He asked, brows furrowed as he remembered back over two decades.
Leslie pursed her lips, but worked to hide her disdain that he could almost forget the time he forbade a consenting adult from choosing to do something that she had every right to do.
“Well, I’ve decided that I’d like to get one actually,” she said it calmly, belying the fact her heart was racing.
“Yes,” her tone was curt.
“I just think it would look nice.”
“But you’ll just regret it later…”
“No!” she forcefully interjected, “You said this twenty years ago and here I am wishing I’d got one back then.”
That last bit wasn’t strictly true, she had fallen out of love with the idea after a couple of years, and hadn’t really given it further thought until Stuart had mentioned it a few weeks ago. She didn’t think she’d have regretted it though. She just wanted Malcolm to be a grown up and say he didn’t like tattoos.
“Fine,” he grumbled, “I don’t like them and I don’t want you to get one.”
Since university, it appeared he had grown up enough to give a straight answer on this topic.
“I’m not asking you to get one. I like them and it is my decision.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think they look good…”
“But I do…” she interrupted, “so unless you want to tell me you own my body, and I don’t have the right to choose, then I’ll be getting a tattoo and… a belly ring.”
“Don’t you try and make it sound like I’m controlling you!” Malcolm replied, voice raised.
“Then what are you doing?” she retorted, matching his volume.
“Leslie, güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri you can’t just suddenly from nowhere decide to get a tattoo…” raising his voice further.
“I CAN’T?!” she shouted back, matching his volume, “I can’t decide if I want to put a tattoo on my own body?!”
“But what about what our friends and the kids will think about…?”
“Malcolm!” she interrupted, “I was NOT asking you. I am informing you. If you have nothing positive to say on the matter, you can leave me to finish cooking.”
Her eyes made daggers at her husband. He opened his mouth, cheeks red, looking like he was about to outburst at her but he stopped himself. He shut his mouth, stared for a couple of seconds and stormed out, shaking his head.
Leslie flip-flopped between feeling angry at her husband to guilt for that anger, aware she was only modifying her body as a way of arousing their son’s teenage bully. However, by the time the lasagne’s filling finished cooking, anger had won out; regardless of her infidelity, Malcolm had no right to stop her changing her body, whether it was now or twenty years ago.
She slopped the mince into a baking tray, between pasta sheets and threw the dish into the oven before slamming its door closed. She picked up her phone and messaged Stuart, asking if he was free. He replied within seconds to say he was done, having been hanging out with friends. She told him she was going to pick him up in her car, before shouting to her husband to tell him to remove the lasagne when the oven timer beeped. Donning her tan coat and a pair of pale pink heels, to match her top, she left the house to see Stuart.
Leslie returned to the house around an hour later, more relaxed and satisfied than when she had left. She and Stuart were only able to get in a 20 minute session in the back seat of Leslie’s car, but having done that half a dozen times now, they were getting pretty good at it. She had awkwardly removed her underwear in the car just before meeting Stuart, but she had only bothered to put her bra back on afterwards. A disapproving look from her husband did not persuade her to change, despite the fact both her children were back. However, she switched to a friendly demeanour very quickly, partly because dinner had been set but more importantly because she realised her affair, and who she was having it with, meant her hold on the moral high ground was tenuous.
Katie, Malcolm and Leslie sat down at the dinner table as Malcolm called for Lewis again. Lewis walked in and Leslie thought she noticed a slight hobble to his gait. He sat down and looked at her, with red, puffy eyes, clearly he had been crying. Wondering if she already knew the answer, she asked what was wrong.
“I’d headed into the shops and Stuart was there,” said Lewis, his voice warbling, “He didn’t notice me at first, so after a bit I almost forgot he was there.”
“Les,” her husband chimed in, presumably already having heard the story, “We need to do something about this kid.”
“First, what actually happened Lewis?” asked Leslie, subconsciously crossing her legs, feeling guilty that Stuart’s semen was leaking into the crotch of her leggings.
“I was walking through the little path next to Costa, to get to the bus stop, and I came out by Weybourne Street, when I felt someone grab my shirt,” Lewis continued, his voice a little croaky, “It was, of course, Stuart, and he kneed me in the thigh twice giving me a dead leg.”
Lewis stopped to let out a sob and Leslie’s heart felt a huge pang of anger, guilt and sympathy.
She listened as he finished the story, “I fell down and he asked if I had bought a dress for the next time I visit Principal Bullock. Then he left, saying he wished he could hang out longer but he had to go.”
“He’s ambushing our son now, Leslie,” said Malcolm, with the same anger in his voice from their earlier tattoo discussion; if only he knew who the tattoo was for.
“This is obviously a problem,” she said, sincerely, each word spoken cautiously, “but firstly, I don’t think it sounds like it was a planned ambush, just Lewis got unlucky. Secondly, what can we do?”
Leslie’s stomach churned as she knew Stuart was completely in the wrong but she had an overwhelming urge to protect him. She also knew Stuart hadn’t ‘ambushed’ Lewis because she knew he was passing by that street to meet Leslie in her car. He had hit Lewis twice, knowing he would be inside Leslie just minutes later. She had climaxed calling his name; no, not even his name; calling out ‘Bully Boy’, as her son sobbed in pain; a pain caused by her boyfriend.
“Let’s talk to the school,” suggested Malcolm.
“We tried that,” stated Leslie, pushing to one side the memory of climaxing in the Principal’s office by Stuart’s fingers, “so I’m not sure what would change, besides this happened outside of school, outside of term time, between two legal adults, what should the school do?”
“Fine, have you got any ideas other than güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri ‘let’s do nothing’?”
“I didn’t say that!” exclaimed Leslie, whilst thinking that’s exactly what she wanted to happen.
“Could we go talk to his parents?”
“That’s not changed anything so far,” she replied, thinking to herself that sleeping with Stuart probably muddled the point somewhat, each time she went to talk to him.
“I might have more luck,” began Malcolm assertively, but quickly changed his tone, “but then again we have no idea what kind of family this is. Probably a rotten family.”
Leslie bit her tongue quickly, holding back the desire to shout down her husband with an explanation of Stuart’s brother and their family’s struggle.
She remained quiet as her husband kept talking, “We could go to the police.”
“Wow, honey, that’s serious,” replied Leslie, her voice just about hiding the panic she felt underneath.
“And what Stuart did wasn’t?” retorted Malcolm, his tone turning accusatory, “It doesn’t seem like this bothers you, Leslie.”
“No, Malcolm,” replied Leslie, the panic starting to seep through now, “I just mean, taking this sort of charge to the police is serious, they’ll look for witnesses and evidence or it will just turn into a battle of Lewis’s story against Stuart’s that could be prolonged for months. It’s not something we can take lightly.”
“Mum’s right,” agreed Lewis, with heart-breaking defeat in his voice, “Stuart was pissed off today because of going to the principal, so taking it even further might make things worse, especially if things aren’t ruled in my favour. I just wish he got some justice. At least when it looked like he’d fail his exams it seemed like he was getting some comeuppance but according to Facebook he got an ‘A’, at least in English.”
“Why are you friends on Facebook?” asked Malcolm, “You’re risking cyber bullying.”
“We’re not, just a lot of other people, who I am friends with, liked it and so it came up on my wall.”
Awkward guilt paused itself, temporarily giving way to pride, as Leslie thought about all the people praising her boyfriend for his hard work.
Feeling the conversation drift away from methods of retaliation against Stuart, Leslie thought it was best to wrap up that topic, “Lewis, Sweetie, see how you feel tomorrow and we’ll leave it up to you and do what you think is best.”
Leslie knew her son was too passive to want to pursue the issue by the time he had slept off any heightened emotions. Before she let the creeping guilt at her manipulative move absorb her completely, she justified herself by thinking it was definitely best to leave it to her son, as he was grown up enough to make his own decisions.
As Leslie had predicted, Lewis had calmed down by the next day. It seemed he was no longer bothered about what Stuart had done by the time he left the house to go to his friend’s house. Leslie had driven Katie into town so she could meet her friends for lunch, and so it seemed an opportune time for Leslie to visit her boyfriend, especially as this was the last day Colleen was at work before Christmas.
Leslie intended to bring up yesterday’s incident to Stuart, but she didn’t want to ruin the mood before sex even began, so with very few words, the two made it to Stuart’s bed and the boy who made her son cry the day before gave her two screaming orgasms as she lay pinned under him.
Tingling, panting, and with her legs wrapped round Stuart, Leslie kissed her son’s bully. They were less energetic than when Leslie first arrived, but no less passionate. Feeling grateful, she twisted her hips and body; Stuart took the hint and the two of them rolled over, so that Leslie was now on top of Stuart. She used her hand to slip her boyfriend back into her pussy and started to lazily rock her hips back and forth. Even at a slower pace, Leslie enjoyed the feeling so much that she didn’t trust herself to stop early enough to talk about yesterday. She ran her hands up and down his chest, gripping his pectorals a couple of times, whenever she hit a good spot.
She made eye contact with Stuart, briefly, but looked directly down at his chest before she spoke, “Baby… I’d like talk about yesterday.”
Stuart responded immediately, evidently pre-empting what she was going to day, “I knew the little dickhead would be a fucking tell-tale.”
“Well Stuart, what did you expect?”
“Dunno, that he’d grow some balls. Maybe I’ll kick him there next time to check.”
“Stuart!” scolded Leslie, “This is serious. My husband was talking about getting the police involved.”
“Fucking hell, Leslie. I suppose Lewis had to get his pussy ways from somewhere.”
“Stuart, rather than just brushing this off with insults, could you think what this means for a second. I managed to talk them out of it this time but…”
“But what? Is this about protecting me or about him?”
Leslie sat up and stopped bucking her hips, before güvenilir bahis şirketleri making eye contact and responding, “Both! You could get in serious trouble but also, he IS my son!”
Stuart slid his bum down a few centimetres and pulled Leslie’s chest close to his. He held her tight in place and thrust his hips upwards into her. She wrapped her arms under his neck and began gasping into his ear. She was going to have her third one this session and she knew she would lose focus on what she had to say. She knew she should stop and talk about this properly but she had no willpower to do so.
“Leslie, if I had got into your car yesterday and said what I’d just done, would you still have sucked and fucked me like you did?”
Leslie ignored the question, just huffed and groaned as she got closer.
“Come on Leslie, just admit it wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
Leslie ignored him again, but this time she yelped as she came hard, and called out, “Fuck yes, Bully Boy.”
She collapsed onto him, as he slowed down, her breathing slow and heavy. He was wrong; if he’d have turned up and admitted what he’d done she wouldn’t have fucked him in the back of the car. At least, she hoped she wouldn’t… Either way, by cumming hard instead of answering him, she knew it sounded like she was agreeing with him and by calling him Bully Boy, even out of habit, it only made it worse. She knew it was pointless to try and argue with him now, especially when deep down, she wasn’t convinced herself.
Instead, she sat back up, once again slowing Stuart to a stop, before speaking, “Stuart, please, for your sake, just be careful about picking on Lewis, especially the physical stuff.”
They made eye contact and Stuart’s expression softened as he responded, “Fine, you’re right. That’s fucking unfair, but you’re right. He’s still a dickhead.”
Stuart moved out from under Leslie, pointing his finger at her back, which was the sign she recognised he used whenever he wanted to take her from behind. She spread her legs and arched her back so her buttocks were in the air and felt Stuart smoothly enter her. Stuart was kneeling and Leslie was on all fours but they both swung their hips towards each other; their motions almost synchronised, getting the most out of each thrust.
After a couple of minutes of this, Leslie dropped her head and torso to the bed, with her left hand pawing at the sheets and her right went to her clit. She rubbed as fast as she could, sure she could manage one more climax before Stuart had his. She heard her phone go off; it was sitting on Stuart’s desk as Leslie had been texting Katie, just before they got into the heat of things, to work out how much time she had with Stuart. She felt Stuart slow down and one of his hands, which had been firmly grasping her waist,matr let go her. She looked round and saw him pick up the phone.
“Guess who, babe?” he asked, as he held the phone close to her face just long enough to see Lewis’s contact picture on the screen.
“No, Stuart, NO!” she begged.
He held his thumb over the green ‘swipe to answer’ bar at the bottom of the phone’s display and she lamely swiped at it with her left hand; she was far too slow, having to switch all of her weight to her right arm before she could attempt to grab it. Stuart stopped thrusting for a second; just long enough for him to brush the hair from the left side of her face and press her phone to her ear. The glass was cold against her cheek, which was flushed red hot from the combination of arousal, embarrassment and anger.
“Hi Mum,” came her son’s voice through the phone’s speaker.
She propped herself up on her elbows, with her forehead buried against her right forearm and her left awkwardly positioned to hold the phone to her face.
She focused intently on controlling her breathing, before she responded, “Hey sweetie, what’s up?”
“Um so, I need you to pick me up. Wait, what’s that noise in the background? It’s like a tapping?”
“Oh… uh… um… yeah… that’s the uh… outside… one of the neighbours hammering something,” she said, hoping he didn’t realise it was the noise of skin slapping skin.
“Mum, are you ok?”
“Yeah… I… uh… just went to… the… the… place… the gym… so I’m outta breath…”
Stuart had slowed down a little, but only so that he could reach round and rub her clit as he thrust into her. She knew she was going to cum soon so she had to end the conversation soon.
“Oh right, well anyway…”
“Yeah… what do you want?” she snapped, barely able to focus on the words she was saying.
“Wow Mum, no need to be so rude…”
“Lewis… OK… I’m sorry…” she said through gritted teeth, not sure she was going to be able to get him off the phone before climaxing.
She could hear him sigh over the phone and she sincerely considered hanging up and pretending the line went dead but he continued after a couple of seconds, “I just wanted to ask you to pick…”
Leslie lost all ability to pay attention to what Lewis was saying. She bit down on the sheets as hard as she could to stop her yelping down the phone. She heard something about cello and buses as every muscle in her body contracted in reaction to Stuart’s hands and cock.
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