Going Down to Get Up: Things We Do For Lust Bk 2

  Going Down to Get Up

  The Things We Do For Lust Bk 2

  By

  Sean Geist

  Published by Sean Geist

  Copyright 2015 Sean Geist

  Cover Photo Valentina R. /Bigstock

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any actual persons is entirely coincidental.

  All characters in this story are over the age of 18 unless specified. V1

  Acknowledgement

  I would like to thank my infinitely patient and understanding wife who was willing to read my work, point out my many typos and offer her helpful guidance. She will always be my muse. I would also like to thank my friends who agreed to read this story and offer helpful notes. You know who you are. And a final thanks to you, my reader. I hope you enjoy.

  Any mistakes that remain are entirely my fault.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  Also by Sean Geist

  Except from Book Three

  Chapter 1

  I stood in the bathroom, looking at the fruits of my outburst - crumpled and damp paper towels strewn across the floor before me. A shallow dent was evident in the dispenser on the wall. The knuckles on my right hand were red, raw and bleeding.

  I looked to the left and saw my reflection staring back at me. My brown hair was disheveled, my shirt open where several buttons had been ripped off, and tears were running down my cheeks. I looked like I'd been in a fight, and I had, with myself.

  More than a month of pent up frustration and rage had finally been released in an empty rest stop off US17 south of Camp Verde, Arizona. It was in the early hours of Saturday morning, the dawn still a couple of hours away.

  The weekend had started pleasantly enough. Well, about as pleasantly as it could, given the situation.

  I was in my own bathroom, in my own home - the one I've shared with my wife, Robin, for the past three years. I was packing up her toothbrush, make-up and skin care products so she could move further up state to run the Sedona Spirit Rejuvenation Spa and Fitness Center. It's a mouthful, I know, so we just call it the Spirit Spa.

  She was moving to the small town of Camp Verde, about a hundred miles north of Phoenix. She would still be my wife, but you couldn't really call us a couple anymore. For one thing, we were living apart. And for another, she had a lover on the side, one I knew about, and condoned.

  She said she still loved me as much as ever and, God help me, I believe her. I still loved her as well and I wanted her to be happy. So I had to accept our new unorthodox lifestyle.

  “Robin,” I called out, “do you want me to pack up your shampoo and conditioner?”

  “No,” she answered, from right behind me. “And you don't have to yell.”

  “Sorry, I didn't know you were so close.”

  I turned and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  “So, you're not planning on showering in your new digs?” I said.

  “Don't be silly,” she said, giving me a playful slap on the butt. “Leave those so I'll have something to use when I'm here. I may be moving to Camp Verde, but this will still be my home.”

  This will still be my home. I liked the sound of that. After an agonizing week of packing, it was good to know she still cared.

  “So, can I call your place up north our apartment?”

  “Sure,” she said. “You know what's mine is yours.”

  “Yeah,” I said, turning to pack away a few more toiletries. And what's yours is Scott's, I didn't add.

  Scott was her new boss and boyfriend. I tried not to think about him too much, but it was difficult since he was the reason Robin was moving out.

  In the end, we had two suitcases full of clothes and about a dozen boxes of stuff my wife would need: dishes, a television, our spare computer, a few books, and the like.

  I took Friday off from the veterinary clinic where I work, and that morning we put all the stuff in Robin's SUV and headed out.

  The first hour of the drive north was pretty slow, lots of traffic with families escaping the big city for a weekend of camping or boating. After the exit to Cave Creek, the trip got a little smoother with just the occasional camper heading up to the Grand Canyon or a semi loaded with goods toward who knows where.

  Robin found the jazz station on the satellite radio. I let the sweet notes of Miles Davis' trumpet fill my head, sweeping away all the anxiety I had about this trip. We still had some issues to discuss, but they could wait. I wanted to enjoy as much of the time I had with Robin as I could. I didn't know how many good times we had left, just the two of us. For now it was just her and me and the music moving smoothly through the Arizona desert, saguaro cactuses standing like sentinels until they finally gave way to the ponderosa pine of the Mogollon Rim.

  Neither of us were speaking, we were just enjoying the music and the time together; the talking would come later. A short while after the turn off to the Arcosanti Artistic community, state highway 69, to be precise, I felt Robin's hands slowing stroking my cock through my jeans. My first thought was, what the fuck? I turned to look at my wife, but she was busy looking down at my crotch, licking her lips, a hungry look in her eyes.

  “Watch the road, Peter,” she said as she worked down my zipper.

  I snapped my head forward and enjoyed the feeling of Robins finger's digging inside my pants and pulling my quickly swelling penis out into the open air. After stroking it a few times, to get it nice and hard, my wife undid her seat belt and leaned across the console to take me into her mouth.

  For a while, I was able to keep my mind on the road ahead. Fortunately, there was little traffic to contend with, but soon the pleasure of Robin's warm, wet mouth working its magic on my cock took my attention. It felt so sweet, her lips gliding up and down my shaft, her tongue swirling under the rim of the tip.

  Before Vegas, my wife had never really much cared for sucking me off. Now, she did it once or twice a week. Maybe she was learning to like it, or maybe she was just feeling guilty about leaving me all alone; didn't matter to me, I was enjoying the hell out of it.

  She was also getting very good at it. She worked her hand and mouth in a contretemps rhythm, playing her tongue over the tip, along the shaft, occasionally licking my balls, all while keeping a steady stroke with her hands.

  And, for a moment, I thought of Scott and how he would also be enjoying the pleasures of my wife's mouth. I never considered she might have been practicing so she could please her lover, until now.

  “You're getting soft, love,” my wife said, pulling her lips away, but still stroking.

  I had to forget about Scott, and fast. I accepted that Robin had a lover; I didn't necessarily like it. We had a wild time in Vegas, the three of us, sharing a bed, sharing my wife's body. But that was before the confession.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Just trying to stay safe, sweetheart. You're not buckled in and I'd hate to have an accident with my dick in your mouth. I'd hate to lose my wife and my best friend at the same time.”

  “Very funny,” she said just before stuffing my dick back in her mouth.

  After a few minutes of her skillful sucking, I felt a tension build in my core. I tried to keep my attention on the road, bu
t it was so hard. Yes, I get it. So hard.

  The white lines on the road counting out time, my wife's beautiful lips going down and pulling up, Dave Brubeck on the radio. It was what I could only imagine heaven being like. Getting a blowjob to the swinging sound of Take Five. If I did have to die now, well, so be it, there were worse circumstances to expire in.

  My orgasm was building. In the time before Vegas, on the few occasions when my wife would go down on me, I would have given her plenty of warning so she could pull her mouth away and finish me off with her hands. Now, she had developed a taste for semen, and she swallowed. At least I could thank Scott for that.

  The music played, the high desert moved swiftly passed the windows, and my wife continued her sucking. I was very close to coming.

  “I'm close,” I said. Robin just hummed, informing me that she was well aware of my impending release.

  As my climax built, I happened to look out my wife's window and saw a pickup truck staying with us. The driver, a middle age man, splitting his attention between the road ahead, and my wife giving head. She must have been a sight, her ass sticking up, her head bobbing up and down. He could probably even see her panties.

  He gave me a thumb's up when he caught my glance. I just smiled and turned my eyes back toward the road. Luckily, we were the only two vehicles within miles.

  And then, the tension in my core exploded in a mighty release.

  HONK! The Bastard.

  The horn startled Robin, causing her to release my cock from her mouth while I was cumming.

  Most of my seed was in her mouth, with a bit dribbling down her chin. At least two ropes of semen fired into the air, one landed in a glob on the dashboard, the other on my jacket.

  The pickup driver just laughed and sped away.

  “Dick,” my wife said.

  We both couldn't help but laugh.

  Robin took out a tissue and wiped my cum off the dash, then carefully tucked my cock back into my pants and finished cleaning up the mess with a few moist towelettes she had in the glove box.

  ***

  We were about ten miles from our destination when I decided I needed to take a swat at the big ol' hornet's nest that had been hanging over our marriage for the last few weeks.

  “We still haven't decided how this is going to work,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Robin replied. I wasn't sure if she seriously didn't know, or if she was just playing dumb.

  “I know you're developing feelings for Scott,” I said, the words, a poison I had to spit out or choke on. “And I know you're going to have a relationship with him.”

  Robin just stared at the road ahead.

  “How's this going to work?”

  More silence.

  “You say you don't want a div-”

  “I don't,” Robin blurted out, cutting me off. “I love you. You're my husband.”

  “But you also say you love Scott.”

  My wife hesitated, opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.

  “And you also want to divide your affections between me and him.” It was a statement of fact, not a question, but Robin whispered a yes.

  “So, you want an open marriage then?” I asked. I knew what her answer would be, even before she said it. I'd heard it several times since Vegas, and it didn't make any more sense to me now than it did then.

  “No, I don't want to sleep with any other men.”

  “Just Scott.”

  “Yes, just Scott. And I don't want you to fuck around with any other women.”

  “You do understand how fucked up that is, don't you? How unfair?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes staring down into her lap. She wasn't crying, but also wasn't proud of the situation. Human emotions could be so confusing at times.

  I decided I needed to make some demands of my own. I was tired of being pushed around, like my feelings didn't matter. If my wife was going to be spending time with and sleeping with another man, I needed her to make a few concessions, for my own self-esteem, if for nothing else.

  I accepted my wife could have feelings for two men, but she was going to have to live with the consequences.

  “I need to have that option, Robin.” There was no other woman on the horizon, no woman I seriously wanted to sleep with, other than my wife, but she didn't know that.

  “Why don't you just ask me for a divorce then? I wouldn't blame you.”

  “I don't want a divorce.”

  “Peter, the thought of you sticking it to another woman drives me crazy.”

  “Yes, I believe it does. Welcome to my pain.”

  “You seem to enjoy watching me fuck Scott.”

  “Watching you fuck Scott is not the same as watching you having a relationship. I've accepted these circumstances we're in, and now you have to accept I might want to sleep with other women. I promise you, I won't fall in love.” I regretted the words as soon as they passed my lips. I didn't mean to hurt Robin, despite the fact she was tearing me up inside. “I'm sorry I said that.”

  “No, you're right, Peter. I deserved that.”

  What I was really sorry about was the my lie. We had promised each other total honesty, but I was holding out on her. I didn't want to date or fuck other women, not really, but I couldn't tell her that. It would give her too much power over me and I was having serious trust issues with her at the moment. Maybe later, but for now, I wanted Robin to think I might be out on a date of my own every time she was with Scott.

  I may have been calm on the outside, but inside I was a boiling hot mess of emotions. I found myself wanting to raise my voice, to yell in her face, to demand she stop seeing Scott. I wanted to tell her to come back home with me, to forget Vegas happened and pretend it was just a bad, bad dream. But I couldn't do that. I didn't want to make any demands of Robin, I loved her too much for that. I wasn't going to control her; she had to make her own choices.

  I almost missed our exit while I was stewing in my dark emotions.

  We continued our discussion on the drive to the extended stay hotel Robin booked. By the time we arrived, Robin and I had reached an amicable agreement. She would continue to explore her feelings for Scott, while I would be free to date and sleep with other women when we were apart. She just didn't want to know about it, as long as I was honest with her when she did ask.

  Robin checked in while I called the rental car company in Cottonwood that was providing my ride back to Phoenix. They said they would be dropping a car off at the hotel, later that day. Robin came back from the manager's office with the keys to her room just as I was hanging up. I grabbed a box and followed her. I continued unloading her stuff as my wife excused herself to take a call. She didn't say who it was, but I could guess.

  I missed most of the conversation while I unpacked, but I did catch a few snippets.

  “I called the agent last Saturday. She said she'll be able to show us the site the first of next week. Yeah, on Monday. If everything works out, the contractor can see us on Tuesday.”

  It sounded mostly like business details so I tuned it out.

  I was bringing in the last of the Robin's stuff and was surprised to find she wasn't in the kitchen where I had left her. Her day planner was still on the counter, her notes and calendar spread out. I was about to call out to her when I heard her voice coming from the bathroom off the suite's bedroom. She was trying to whisper, but not doing a very good job of it.

  “I miss you, too,” she said in a soft voice.

  I should have knocked to let her know I was there. That would have been the honest thing to do, but she was obviously trying to hide her conversation, and that wasn't being very honest on her part. So I stood silently at the partially closed bathroom door and eavesdropped on my wife's conversation with her lover. This is what our marriage had become.

  “What do you mean, tonight? –But I thought – Yeah, I do. But I told Peter, he was planning to spend the night. – No, I don't think he'll like that. – No, Vegas was different – Okay,
I'll ask him.”

  Robin's voice kept getting louder and she didn't seem to be trying to hide anything anymore.

  “You'll ask me what?” I said.

  A quick gasp of surprise escaped my wife's lips. “Peter, are you spying on me?”

  I pushed open the bathroom door all the way. Robin was sitting on the counter, her legs dangling in front of her. One hand held her phone to her ear, the fingers of the other were running through her short brown hair. Her shiny gold wedding band sparkled as it was caught by sunlight cascading through the dusty window. She looked too sexy sitting there, talking to her lover.

  I was just starting to get used to her new looks. Before Vegas, she had beautiful long hair that fell well past her collar. Now it was short. It was nice and sexy, in a way, but not the same.

  Despite the new hair, the new job, and a new lover, Robin was still the same woman I had fallen in love with over six years ago. The woman who shared my appreciation of fine wine, Marx brothers' movies and miniature golf. I figured I'd eventually get used to sharing her affections with another man, just like I was getting use to her new hairstyle. At least I hoped I would.

  “Are you trying to hide something from me?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, drawing out the word.

  “Well then, I guess I wasn't spying on you. No secrets between us, remember.”

  We stood there a moment, gazing into each other's eyes, both of us questing, searching for how much the other knew. Neither of us wanted to speak first. I knew she had something to tell me, something I wouldn't like. I just hoped she had enough faith in me to know I could handle it.

  “Yeah, I know, you're still there,” Robin said into the phone.

  Our moment was broken; reality, in the guise of Scott, had intruded.

  “Yeah, I'll tell him, but I'm pretty sure the answer will be no. - Yeah, yeah, I'll ask.”

  “Ask me what?” I said.

  Robin put her hand up to silence me. Such a simple gesture, but in this circumstance like a punch to the gut. My wife telling me to quiet down so she could hear what her lover had to say. A month ago, I would have laughed it off. After catching her in the arms of her lover, I would have slapped her hand away and demanded her attention. I was beyond that now.