"I enjoyed it too, darling," she answered, knowing it must never happen again, "but we must never tel! anyone about things we did."

"I understand," he winked at her in a childish way. "I'd never be that stupid."

He smiled at her as he closed the door, then he was gone.

Barbara thought about her husband and the happiness she'd found with him. She hadn't fucked anyone except Tom since their marriage, not till last night. She never desired to fuck anyone else till he started working some at night. She wouldn't have desired it even then if he hadn't left her pussy dripping with passion night after night. This whole goddamned thing was Tom's fault and she knew it, yet fucking her son was inexcusable. If she'd fucked some stranger it would've been a different matter; she could've at least forgiven herself.

She shivered as she thought about facing Tom when he came in from work. One look at her and he'd know what she'd done. She sat on the edge of the bed, then dropped her face into her hands. She began to whimper a little, then the whimpering became jerking sobs. In a few moments she was crying uncontrollably and her hands were filling with tears. What would she do if Tom saw the guilt on her face? How would he react when he realized she'd fucked John? Her marriage would be through! So would her happiness! So would her life! Yes! She'd rather die than let him find out what she'd done. She'd die anyway if he found out.

She walked over to the dresser drawer where Tom kept his pistol, then opened it slowly. She reached inside and withdrew the.38 special, then held it in her hands. She studied it through blurry eyes. Her dream had suddenly become a nightmare, a nightmare which must end her life. She cocked it and held it to her head, pressing the end of the barrel to her temple. She closed her eyes, her finger tightening upon the trigger. In a few moments there'd be no need for forgiveness; her life would be over and it'd be as though she never existed.