Sandy and Frank Ch. 21: Final

"We stopped for some ice cream on our way 'home' to 'our' room and prepared for our last night together, determined to make it fun, although neither said so. However, it was an emotional time and, inevitably, we became serious. We were quietly talking, reminiscing about the past year and a half, about in that relatively short period of time we had gone from just friends to real lovers. It was difficult to do, but I forced myself to spell out my feelings - that I loved him very much but that I was in love with you. I told him honestly that he was the only man other than you to whom I have ever said 'I love you.' He said that he already knew about my feelings about you and accepted that - he had said practically the same thing before about wishing he could marry me. He was clearly touched and happy about being only the second man in my life. It was a happy-sad, and very intimate, conversation.

"I don't recall what led up to it, but, maybe in an effort to lighten the atmosphere, Frank reached over me and began running his hand over my bottom. 'You really do have a nice little ass. Now it's got two uses - it's perfect for spanking and it's perfect for fucking!'

"I don't know what caused me to do it, but I said, 'Forget the spanking part! You can fuck it, but you have no reason to spank it!' As I said it I knew perfectly well what would happen, but I said it anyway. For some reason it appeared that, subconsciously, I wanted him to spank me. That, of course, is exactly what happened!

"His reply was prompt. 'So, my little mistress thinks that she can tell me when she should be spanked! I'll decide when and why, and, to prove that, now is the time.' We started a struggle which I, inevitably, lost, and, as expected, I found myself over his knees with my 'pretty little ass' posed to be assaulted. He ran his hand all over my hips, including between my buttocks. "Now, you can spare yourself from a much deserved spanking if you will state right now that I can spank my mistress anytime I think she deserves it!"

"I, of course replied, 'No! You can spank me only when I have done something wrong, not whenever you feel like it!'

"He replied, again as expected. 'I think that you deserve a spanking for not telling me that I can spank my lovely mistress whenever I think that she needs it!' He promptly brought his hand down and starting spanking me. It wasn't really painful, but it wasn't just a pity-pat either. It stung, but it really was a fun sting. You know that I'm certainly not a masochist - far from it - but while it hurt a bit, I enjoyed it as a part of the game. We began a back and forth complaint and demand cycle. 'Stop it, that's not fair!' Smack. 'Tell me that I can spank you when I think that you deserve it!' Smack. 'Ouch, that hurts. Stop it!' Smack. 'I'll stop it anytime you want! Smack! That back and forth went on for about ten smacks, until, I gave up. 'Ooh, that hurts. Ok, damn it, you can spank me anytime you think I need it!' 'That's not good enough!' Smack! 'You're mean! All right, I'm your mistress and you can spank me any time you want to! Is that good enough?'

"That, of course, was what he was waiting for and he began running his hand over my bottom. He lifted me up and cuddled me against him, saying, 'That's how a nice obedient mistress should act! Now your pretty little ass is all red.' I, of course, acted properly meek and chastised, 'That wasn't fair. Now my bottom is sore and now that you've spanked it you'll probably want to use it that other way!' He hugged me and kissed me and we were ready for fucking my red ass.

"That obviously was a game we were playing and we each handled our roles well, but it worked. I don't know why, but when he spanks me it always gets us both aroused. He's masterful and tames me and I'm submissive and available!"

"Yeah, that seems to be a common theme in many relationships, whether it's actually semi-play acting or serious. I'll have to remember that you like that!"

"Oh no, that won't work. Any thought of a master-mistress relationship, acting or real, vanished years ago if it ever existed between us. We've known each other too long!"

"Right, you were too bossy in high school! That's when you should have been tamed! Ok, what next?"

"Actually, we had talked about it Wednesday before we went to sleep and decided that we liked the ass-fucking position with me on my stomach better than the bent-over position. It's amazing how easy it was to get into me. My asshole just seemed to open up and welcome his cock and it felt good right from the start. We're going to have to try that to see if I am more open or if it was the situation on the cape that affected me. It's the cunt that's supposed to adjust to size, not the ass, but it certainly worked.

"Anyway, he didn't have to work it in, so he really started fucking me pretty hard right away. I still don't know why I liked it so much, but I did. It may have been just part of the whole going-away-together situation that made me enjoy it so much. Regardless, we both were really into it. There is one unquestioned fact about ass-fucking and that is that the woman is in the inferior position and is limited in her ability to move. Fortunately, as I said before, that didn't bother me - in fact, I liked it. Understand, I still greatly prefer using my cunt, but it was nice on the cape, particularly since my little white lie made it special got Frank.

"Just as had Tuesday night, the excitement built up rapidly and, as before, my climax was more of an ongoing thing rather than an explosion. Frank really plunged into to me at the end and we both really enjoyed it. Actually, the finish was probably the most satisfying of the three ass-fuckings, with Frank driving me down into the bed as if he wanted to flatten me. His excitement transferred to me and I came with him. It was a very good ending for our last night on the cape.

"Still, it's only a variation, to be used on occasion, with vaginal intercourse to be the main event. That is how we went on our last sex on the cape on Thursday morning. We woke up fairly early and he screwed me before we dressed and went out for breakfast. We came back and packed - which didn't take long - and just lay down and talked. It was very sentimental and, again, sad-happy. I had let him pay for everything, as he had insisted over my initial protests, and I was very effusive in thanking him for taking me on that wonderful going-away-together trip. I told him, honestly, that it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me. I know, regardless of what he said, that he really couldn't afford it, but I know that he really wanted to do it. I made sure that he knew that I appreciated it and him.

"Checkout was at 11:00 so we had to go, but we had sex again before we left. We were dressed, but he took his pants and shorts down, I took my panties off and he fucked me one last time before we left. Naturally, he confiscated my panties - which I signed with the date and location - so I had to open my suitcase and get another pair out so that cum wouldn't wreck my skirt and the car seat. I really regretted leaving that room because it was a place of great happiness. So, that was it. We drove home, we said goodbye in the car with both of us feeling a real loss. There were the final kisses on the porch, and he left. For me it was very difficult, but I was home and with you. He is going to Maine and has no one waiting for him, so leaving here and me is much worse. I really hated seeing him go off alone like that after such wonderful days together."

We talked a while after she finished describing her experiences on the cape. Any lingering sadness had dissipated and she took pleasure in recounting other things they had done. It was even more obvious that they had been very intimate and compatible while living together when by themselves. It's one thing to be alone in a car or room having sex or, even, sleeping overnight with someone, but another to be together for a longer time. The spring break experience was much longer than just an overnight, but they were with other people most of the time. Spending four days completely alone is a much better test of compatibility and they had passed that test. Grinning, I joked, "It went so well that maybe I'm lucky you came back instead of going to Maine."

She giggled at that, saying, "You might be right! Mrs. Frank Jackson or Sandra Jackson sounded nice, but he had to come back here to load up all his possessions and I knew that there wouldn't be room in the car for me - I couldn't go with him so I decided to stay with you. It's probably a good thing that he doesn't still have that old Roadmastrer! Besides, I have to finish my dissertation. Seriously, though, I loved the 'honeymoon' feeling, being alone, just the two of us. I really did enjoy being Mrs. Jackson, but I was always aware that I was playing a role. I was Sandra MacAndrew playing Sandra Jackson. It was fun but...you used the word 'fantasy,' and that was what it felt like. I enjoyed every minute and everything we did the whole four days, particularly the closeness - and certainly the sex - but it was just fun, intimate fun, but never a thought of it being more.

"The last eighteen months have been wonderful and I have done things that would have been absolutely inconceivable before that. I don't regret anything I've done and I certainly have grown - or degenerated - more in those eighteen months than any comparable period in my life!"

"No doubt about that and it shows what an impact a small decision which seems inconsequential can have. Remember way back when you were dressing to go to the pre-Christmas end-of-the-semester party, you were wearing that silky blouse and you asked me if you needed to wear bra because you were afraid that your nipples would show through? I said something like 'a hard nipple sticking out never hurt anyone.' You decided that it was ok and you went without a bra. What if I had said that it was too revealing? Frank wouldn't have seen your nipple poking out, wouldn't have been tempted to feel your tit. He would have brought you home, said goodnight and left my virtuous, untouched wife to come in and happily describe a mundane graduate student party!"

"My god, you're right! And I almost put a bra on! I have a hard time remembering what I was like, but I know I was happy and sex was good and enjoyable, but the idea of anyone else even touching me would have been traumatic. In fact it was traumatic when I felt Frank's hand on my tit! Of course, I never would have thought of it as my tit! It was a breast or, at most, a boob. It's amazing how I've changed sexually - vocabulary if nothing else. I still cringe mentally sometimes when I hear myself automatically use words like at fucking, ass or asshole. Now I've been fucked in every opening and I've committed adultery so often that I don't even think of it as a sin. I've even done it when I know others could see me doing it. By almost any normal standard I have been corrupted, debauched and perverted. I enjoy doing things because they are wicked. But I have no feeling of guilt. Of course, that's because you have been a supporter and facilitator of my debauchery.

"However, while my affair has been a major part of my life for the last eighteen months, my regular life has gone on. I taught my courses, completed my own coursework, passed my prelims and am finishing my dissertation. I'll soon have my PhD and I have a university teaching job which I will start this fall. So, my affair hasn't completed dominated my life and, most important, my marriage is stronger than ever! It was a wonderful eighteen months.

Epilogue

Sandy's affair with Frank was over in terms of day-to-day meetings and intimacy, but he had to come back to see his advisor about his dissertation - and to spend the night with her. In addition, Maine wasn't all that far away. These occasional rendezvous kept the fires going, if only intermittently. For the future there was the annual meeting of the Northeast Conference on the Teaching of Foreign Languages (NECFL) and the Modern Language Association (MLA) where discreet personal meetings can be held. As long as there were feelings between them, the affair continued - and nothing had changed in that regard.

Sandy finished her dissertation and its defense and by the start of the second semester, she was officially Dr. Sandra MacAndrew! Her school was ten miles away from mine (eight miles from our house) - what could be better?

Well, from my view, potentially making it better was Sandy hurrying into our study announcing: "Hi, honey. I just got the most wonderful news! Helen Evans just called and they're moving to Connecticut and have found a house in the Candlewood Lake area. Apparently a lot of pilots live there because they can catch the train and get to New York airports in a short time. Oh, that's so wonderful! I haven't seen her in five years and now she will be only an hour away! I can't believe it!"

Helen, of course, was Sandy's roommate from Spain, mentioned earlier. I was always intrigued by hearing about her eye-popping tits that looked like one of those fanciful figureheads on early sailing ships. They had been a cause of intriguing conversation for years - and now she would be living close to us. I perked up, but before I could say a word Sandy continued, "Yeah, I know what you're thinking about - her tits!"

"You hurt me! I'm only happy that your dear friend will be nearby! On the other hand, you've been very mean, denying me that very voluptuous young woman master's candidate as well as numerous promiscuous coeds who wanted good grades! I'd love to see those tits! From the way you describe her, Helen might make up for all of those coeds!'

"Ha! She's happily married to a glamorous airline pilot!" She paused, looked at me with an inscrutable expression, and shocked me with, "We'll see."

Things just got a bit brighter!