The Ring Corrupts Ch. 14 - Margaret

It was late morning and I was driving to see Paul Blackwood, the man whose job position with Landberry mining I'd inherited. I was due to fly to Africa that evening, and had to obtain all the information Paul held on our mining operation and contacts in Ghana. As I drove I reflected on the previous evening with Tara and how it had ended.

"She knew I wanted to fuck Adele," I thought, my anger rising when I recalled how she'd confronted me that very morning.

Tara hadn't come right out at accused me, but she might as well have.

"Fuck her!" I thought, dismissing her in the same manner I found I could now move on from one woman to the next, with no remorse, let alone compassion.

----------------------------------

"Hi Rob," Paul greeted me curtly, upon answering his front door.

"Hi Paul," I said, entering the hallway. "Everything alright with you?"

"No, not really," he replied, in a flat manner. "Come on through."

"Rob's here darling," Paul announced, as we entered the kitchen where his wife was arranging some flowers.

"Hi Rob," Margaret Blackwood said, turning toward me.

It was the first time I'd seen Margaret since we'd slept together in my hotel room in Ghana, six months earlier. Despite her loose, button-up blue dress, I could tell she was noticeably pregnant. I'd been told of this, so wasn't taken-a-back.

"Sorry Rob," Paul continued. "I've been delayed this morning and haven't located all the documents you need. They'll be upstairs; I'll just go fetch them. Why don't you wait here and have a coffee with Margaret."

"Sure!" I agreed.

Despite not really wanting to spend any time with Margaret, I felt I had no choice. I pulled out a kitchen table chair and sat down, crossing my legs.

"You well Margaret?" I politely began.

"You see how Paul is toward you today?" she replied, ignoring my question.

"Yeah, a bit brusque, but that's just him I guess. Lot on his mind."

"There's only one thing on his mind Robert."

"What's that?"

"The fact that you got me pregnant."

My jaw dropped at this statement. Finding it hard to believe what she'd just blurted out, I found myself lost for words. Margaret merely turned and continued arranging her flowers. Finally, I found my voice.

"I didn't get you pregnant. Why would he think that?"

"Because you and I slept together in that Accra Hotel. You came inside of me... multiple times, and shortly after I was with child."

"Well, yes..." I agreed, lowering my voice, "...we did sleep together in Accra, but that doesn't mean your baby isn't Paul's. Why would he think otherwise?"

"Because I told him it was yours."

"Why would you tell him that?

"Because something happened to me that day. I don't know what it is or was, but following that time with you I've had this insatiable appetite for..." she hesitated.

"For sex," I said, finishing the sentence for her.

"Yeah for sex. Morning noon and night. I was demanding of Paul like never before, so he knew something wasn't right. Then I missed two periods, did a test, and found out what I'd been dreading."

"Found you were pregnant with his child."

"It's not his child."

"Why not?"

"He had a vasectomy following our last born, years ago," she said, causing me to be glad I was sitting.

"So when you got all horny after Africa, you went with someone else."

"No I didn't. I wanted too... multiple times... but I never did. I've only been with one man since I married my husband... you!"

"Well I'm afraid you're wrong. It can't be me. I fire blanks. Penny and I had our two girls by way of IVF. A sperm donor is their father."

"Well maybe you need to get tested again, because this child I'm carrying is yours, and I told Paul that."

"Oh fuck! What'd you do that for. He's probably up there loading his gun right now."

"He doesn't have a gun. He's not like that. He's a pacifist and has gone up there deliberately, so I can tell you this. You needed to know."

"No I didn't need to know anything," I continued, now becoming irritated by what this woman was saying.

"You've made my life a misery Robert, and I hate you for that. Even after I got pregnant, I remained very easily aroused. It's only in the past month or so that it's started to wane. God, am I thankful for that."

Despite doubting the story about how she became pregnant, Margaret complaining of feeling constantly in need of sex rang true. I'd heard the same from both Emily and Paula.

"You say your sex drive has begun to wane?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Yes, thank goodness. I'm six months pregnant and could do without that," she said, moving to sit at the kitchen table. "I feel I'm almost back to normal, apart from carrying your baby."

"Fuck Margaret! Can you stop saying that. It's starting to piss me off."

"Too bad!" she snapped. "Paul and I will keep your child and raise it as our own, but when I heard you were returning to Africa, I wanted you to know how you'd wrecked our lives."

Margaret's anger being directed squarely at me and harping on about her pregnancy now saw my own anger rise. Prior to my wearing the ring that wouldn't have happened. I'd always been a fairly placid, caring sort of a guy. Not now. Since returning the ring to my finger I was easily antagonized, and quick to anger. At that minute Paul came through the door, presenting me with a wad of papers.

"That's a summary of all the meetings I've had with politicians and businessmen, with information on each. However, you're going to need the information on the tribes, and I don't have it here.

"Where is it?" I asked, somewhat irritated.

"It's at the office. I'll need to go and get it."

"No you don't," I said, standing and getting my phone out. "I can get Emily to call by. Get you PA to seek it out."

"I no longer have a PA. She's been reassigned. It'll be quickest if I go get them. You wait here. I'll be forty-five minutes, still plenty of time to catch your evening flight to London."

"I'll come with you," I offered, having no wish to be left with Margaret, in her current frame of mind.

"No!" he insisted. "You wait here. Get him a sandwich darling," he said, kissing his wife, who had remained silent since his return. "Forty-five minutes."

With that Paul departed. I sat back down, not at all happy about this developmeent.

"You want a sandwich?" she enquired.

"No I don't want a sandwich," I snapped. "What the fucks this all about Margaret?"

"Well I'm making it anyway, and you don't have to swear like that Robert."

"Yeah well... is it any surprise? First you tell me Paul thinks I'm the father of the child you're carrying. Then he departs, leaving the two of us together. As I said; what the fucks all that about?"

She drew a deep breath.

"It's a test. He's testing me," she said quietly.

I dwelt on what she was saying for a few seconds.

"Testing you?" I looked to clarify.

"Yes. I strayed that one time and will I give in to temptation again? That's what he's asking."

A silence lingered as I looked up toward her. I don't know what she was thinking, but I began to feel the influence of the ring course through me. First she'd made me angry and now she'd laid down a challenge. I smiled at the poor woman, uncrossed my legs and deliberately spread them wide. My cock began to harden.

"And will you fold?" I enquired.

"Not a chance in hell. I'm fixing you this sandwich, whether you want it or not. That's all."

"I didn't force you in that hotel room Margaret. From what I recall you were as eager as I was," I reminded her, which drew another prolonged silence ensue, before she replied.

"You did something. I don't know what it was. I never felt like that before or since. I've felt... horny since then, and Paul did his best, but that craving has never been fulfilled like it was that day."

"Hmmm," I mused. "It sounds like you're beginning to have some fond recollections of that day Marge."

"Don't call me Marge," she demanded.

Now I'd become very interested in middle-aged Margaret once again. She turned it into a competition of sorts, a competition I felt a strong need to win.

"Margaret, I want you to think back to that day in the Hotel in Accra. That day when you were transfixed on my cock. When it sunk into you, it felt the best cock you'd ever taken. Am I right? So much better than Paul's and those randy boyfriends from your past?"

At that point she moved close, to place the sandwich she'd made on the table. I reached out and grabbed her wrist, wrapping fingers, including the ring, around it. Initially, she registered surprise and then tried to wrench her arm away from my grip. I held her there, watching, until I saw the anger drain out of her.

"Let me go... please," she demanded weakly. "Oh no, please no. Not again."

"You just can't help yourself Margaret," I taunted, seeing that familiar look cross her face.

"It's not fair. The feelings had begun to wane... I'm six months pregnant... I don't want this."

"Alright," I said releasing her wrist and sitting back in the chair, legs still splayed wide. "We'll sit and wait for Paul to get back."

Margaret closed her eyes and brought hands to her face. She gently shook her head.

"Unless of course you're feeling like there's something we could do, to make good use of this short window your considerate husband has allowed us," I declared.

"I... I, I'm not sure."

"I think you are sure Margaret, so relax and go with what you're feeling," I told her, offering my hand. "Why don't you come over here."

She didn't move, still trying to deny what she was feeling. It was fruitless. She'd been touched by the ring and as such was feeling an overwhelming desire to copulate. With a long sigh she took my hand and allowed me to gently pull her close.

"Remember that day in the Hotel room," I crooned, starting to unbutton her pretty blue maternity dress.

"No... please, we can't," she pleaded, but made no effort to prevent me.

"You couldn't wait to have me in you. You stripped, lay back on the bed, pulled down your panties, and offered yourself fully. Now you're going to do so again. Pull your dress apart," I demanded, arriving at the final button.

"I'm feeling a little weak now," she said, acting as requested, bringing into view her considerable belly and breasts, hidden beneath an ugly maternity bra.

"Hmmm, look at the size of those tits," I crudely offered, reaching up to firmly squeeze one through her bra. "They've grown... and this belly, wow... you are well on the way."

I ran my ring hand off her breast, down and around her swollen stomach. We both felt it.

"Oh my gosh," Margaret exclaimed.

"Yeah, I felt that," I agreed. "That's some kicking going on there."

"That's the first time it's kicked. I've never felt anything like that with my other children. Even when I was further along."

"Maybe it means he'll be a star footballer."

"Maybe it means he knows his father's touch," she shot back at me, causing my anger to briefly spike again.

"You gotta stop saying shit like that Margaret," I said, running my hand down to her panty line. "If you don't stop saying it, you won't feel my cock inside you, and you want to feel that right now, don't you?"

I put thumbs under her panty line and drew them down her legs. Her heightened arousal assailed my nostrils. I placed fingers on her plump, fleshy lips.

"You're on heat, I can smell it, and you've shaved down there. You used to have a hairy cunt and now you're bald."

"I waxed in order to get Paul more interested," she clarified, ignoring my deliberate crudity. "I'd read married woman often got a Brazilian when... when romance was waning."

Not yet able to get her to ask for it, I beckoned her lower and she bent her face to mine. She made no effort to avoid meeting my lips, offering her tongue and bringing a hand to the back of my head. I recalled she'd been a nice kisser during our first liaison and this time was no different. I was happy to allow the kiss to linger. I began to run the ring liberally across her pussy lips, soon feeling them slick with her juices. Her bud swelled and her breathing became heavier. I broke the kiss.

"You want to fuck now, Margaret?"

"Yes," she admitted, so quietly you could barely hear it.

"What was that?"

"Yes, fuck you!"

"Ahhh, such a sweet way of asking," I taunted. "Here, come stand between me and the table."

Margaret immediately moved to do so. I turned her to face the table, loosened my trousers, pushing them and boxers below my knees.

"What are we doing?" she asked, like the innocent middle aged matron she was.

"I'm a considerate man, so we're going to fuck in a manner that's comfortable for you. Now spread your feet and look down between your legs," I ordered, lifting her dress and pushing my legs between hers. "You see my cock?"

"Oh gosh!" she exclaimed, looking down, to spy my rod standing tall and hard.

"Yeah, you like the look of that don't you. 'Magnificent' I think was the word you used that day in Africa. Go on touch it," I offered, which saw her bring fingers to it.

As if in a trance Margaret began to lightly stroke it. Matters were proceeding even better than I'd thought. Enjoying her touch, I allowed her to continue, until it was time to move on.

"Ok, take hold, lower yourself and put it in."

Resting one arm on the table for support, she reached between us and took a firm grip.

"I've never done it this way."

"I know, but you're gonna like it. Remember how it felt the last time. Just hold it steady and slowly work yourself on."

With her nude lips already slick with her own juices, Margaret easily maneuvered my cockhead to her opening and slipped it just inside her warm pussy. The tight embrace felt good and we both began to let out little exclamations as she gradually worked me deeper. Despite her condition, the notion of fucking this reluctant maid had me bone hard and delighting in her efforts. To provide more encouragement I ran the ring up under her loose garment to her ugly bra and unclipped it. Once accomplished I pushed both hands under to grasp her hanging breasts, just as she managed to fully impale herself.

"Touch yourself and you'll cum," I told her, and she dropped a hand to her bald pussy.

That was all it took. We hadn't even started moving. The ring manipulating her breasts, my cock perfectly filling her pussy and the pads of her fingers brushing her swollen clit, saw poor Margaret Blackwood let out a mournful groan, and orgasm at her kitchen table.

I allowed her to ride it out, enjoying the feel of her pussy pulsing on my cock. I dropped hands down to her hips and waited, until speaking.

"That was nice wasn't it Marge. You needed that. I can't believe you waited six months and didn't look me up."

"I thought about it," she now admitted, beginning to cautiously lift and drop.

"Yeah, I'll bet you did. Fancy putting yourself through that when you could have come calling at any time, for more pleasure like this," I told her. "Lift higher, but keep me in there."

With feet firmly planted on the floor and taking her weight on the table, Margaret raised her pelvis. Now in position, I was able to fuck her. Slowly at first, but soon speeding up. It felt good for me, but clearly fantastic for Margaret, as I noted her experiencing consecutive orgasms. After a few minutes of this it became tiring, so I pulled her down hard to sit full on my cock. She moved this way and that, continuing to stimulate the both of us. Then I repeated the same routine, until I felt the cream rising out of my balls. I made no effort to hold back, unloading fully up inside of her.

Even after I'd cum and she sat fully on my legs, head resting on her arms, I felt her pussy pulse on my cock, as another small orgasm arrived. I laughed out loud.

"Geeze Margaret. You're insatiable. Hop off me now," I told her, bumping my hips to have her rise. "It looks like you've failed the test your husband set you. Failed it miserably I'd say."

"You're being mean," she shot back, while standing, her dress falling back down. "I hadn't intended too, but there's something you do, and I don't know what it is. Something about your touch that just sets me on fire. I think any woman would have failed such a test."

"You know what, I think you're right about that," I said, standing, stripping and taking her by the hand. "C'mon let's go."

"What now?" she asked, as, fully naked, I led her upstairs and down the hallway.

"I want to fuck you on your bed."

"Oh no, no! We can't do that. That's not fair on Paul."

"Fuck Paul, he's weird. What sort of a guy leaves his wife home with the man he believes impregnated her? What did he expect?" I said, stopping and pushing her back against the wall.

I roughly pulled her unbuttoned dress down her arms and off, then did the same with her bra, leaving her as naked as I was. I threw the items aside.

"He expected me to show some restraint," she said mournfully.

"Well you didn't, and now I want to fuck you in his bed," I said, running my ring hand liberally across belly and breasts.

She didn't answer, but I saw the lust return to her eyes, overwhelming any ambivalence about our desecrating the marital bed. I took her hand again and led her along.

"Is this it?" I questioned, leading her into what appeared to be the master bedroom.

"Yes, but... please Robert, not in here it's not right. There are other bedrooms."

"Oh poor Marge thinks it's not right," I mimicked, stopping and pushing the ring down to her pussy.

"Are you sure? I think you'd fuck me just about anywhere right now."

"Yes... No... oh I don't know. I'm so confused. I need to sit down."

"Confused and horny," I said, standing before her, after she sat. "Make me hard."

"You are hard," she said, looking up at me, aware what I was asking of her.

"Well make me even harder," I demanded.

Margaret looked to my cock, standing about three-quarters hard. Transfixed, she brought both hands to begin stroking it. I knew she was delaying, but didn't press her.

"That's it. Feels good doesn't it? Put it between your tits and give it a little rubbing that way."

This was more to Margaret's liking. She didn't hesitate, immediately placing my cock between her soft billowy globes. Without further instruction she pressed them in to surround it and began to move them up and down. It felt good.

"Oh yeah, you've done this before haven't you?" I crooned, looking down at her movements

"Yes."

"Hmmm, yes that's real nice. See, you've got me leaking a little. Lick it off."

"Oh no, I don't do that," she said, releasing me.

"There's a lot of shit you say you don't do, and then you end up doing it. Now get on and run your tongue all over that lovely mushroom," I ordered, placing a hand behind her head and directing it to my cockhead.

"It smells of me," she complained.

"I'll bet it does. You came enough times on it, down there on your kitchen," I replied, running my cock along her tight lips. "C'mon... c'mon, open up."

Slowly she opened her mouth wider, until eventually, my cockhead passed between her lips. She quickly jammed fingers high-up around my shaft, to prevent me pushing in deeper. Again I laughed at these actions.

"Alright, you can be the boss. All I ask is you use keep your teeth clear and use that tongue to get my cockhead nice and shiny."

Sitting right at the edge of her bed, a very pregnant Margaret Blackwood proceed to deliver her first blowjob. She was next to hopeless, and at one point came off, looked up, and again complained about the taste. Saying nothing I indicated she get back on.

Knowing it was the first cock this woman had taken in her mouth was arousing. I began to let out deep growls, pushing her hand lower so she took more in. However, after she caught me a couple of times with her teeth, I tired of this, releasing her head. She pulled back and looked up to me.