Keon Before Enna
Keon Before Enna
Two years before he met Enna...
“Fuck! Keon, harder,” Lesley moans in my ear.
I straighten my arms, lifting myself higher above her. With renewed vigour, I fuck her into the bed. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, and she clenches around me. She feels so fucking tight, I can’t hold back much longer. The familiar tingle runs up my spine and I know I won’t last more than few more moments.
“Come quickly,” I order her.
Lesley moans and clenches down harder. I grit my teeth and try to resist the urge to cum until she does. She cries out my name and it’s my undoing. My balls tighten up and I groan, releasing into the condom.
I pant heavily, trying to get my heartbeat to return to normal. I pull out and knot the condom. When I turn back around, Lesley is already getting dressed.
“Do you want to stay for a drink?” I ask, pulling my boxers back on and binning the condom.
“No, I need to be up early tomorrow,” she replies distractedly, looking for her skirt, I think.
I pick it up from the floor and hand it to her. She takes it and gives me a grateful smile. In a few minutes, we’re both dressed and presentable.
“I’ll see you soon, Keon, when we both need to relieve a little more tension,” she murmurs softly.
She kisses my cheek and leaves the apartment. The door clicks closed and the loneliness instantly descends. I strip the bedsheets for something to do and then pour myself a whiskey. I drink it in front of the window, looking down at the traffic below.
Lesley is a friend of mine; we use each other to scratch an itch when we have one. I want more, but not with her. I don’t know what to do. I glance over at my wedding ring, sat on the kitchen counter. A reminder of my shit marriage, a mockery of commitment.
I slide it back on and mentally prepare myself to return home. I wonder who my wife fucked tonight?
Running my hand down my face, I let out a low groan. I can’t keep doing this. I hate this. I hate her. I need someone to talk to, I need a proper relationship. This is driving me insane, sneaking around and smiling for appearances when we’re out together.
I’m lonely. I want someone to talk to, someone I actually want to come home to. With a heavy heart, I get a car back to our house.
Sadie is still up when I let myself in. She’s sitting on the bed, reading.
She’s wearing a black nighty and a cream, silk robe. Four years ago, that would have brought me to my knees. Now, our relationship is filled with bitterness and loathing.
She hasn’t made any attempt to hide how messed up her hair is, or the fact that the room smells like another man and sex. At least I make an effort to hide my infidelity from her. Sure, she knows I’m not faithful, but I don’t rub it in her face like she does with me.
“Good fuck, darling?” She asks sarcastically, not looking up from her book.
“About as good as yours was, I imagine,” I retort dryly.
I go into the wardrobe and change. She doesn’t even spare me a glance, my body does nothing for her anymore. I work hard at the gym, but for who? No one but myself.
“Remember we have dinner with my parents tonight. Wear that blazer they got you for Christmas, it will make Dad happy.”
She couldn’t sound more bored if she tried.
“Can’t wait,” I mutter under my breath.
Her parents are the only reason we’re still together. It’s good for business. We fake smile and play nice when we’re together. They know we don’t love each other, but they don’t care, either. As long as our sexual exploits remain secret, they don’t give a shit what we do.
No scandals, that’s the rule.
Sadie fucks around because she craves the attention. She knows I won’t give it to her. She’s a greedy gold-digger, obsessed with appearances.
What she doesn’t understand, is that I sleep with other women for comfort. Something to stave off the loneliness I feel.
I want a relationship, not a quick fuck. Dressed in my pyjama trousers, I grab my book and phone. I don’t bother saying goodnight to Sadie as I leave. Once again, I sleep in the spare bedroom.