by Ben Boswell
One night, I told Dave I had a crush on Greg, and was sexually attracted to him. I didn't really give my husband much choice. I basically let him know I'd be cheating on him, and in informing him I was making him complicit.
He was hurt. Crushed even. I saw the blood drain from his face. And then he made me feel even worse. He didn't scream. He didn't slap me. He just, I guess, gave me permission. He loved me enough to let me break his heart.
If I'd been empathetic, I would have immediately apologized and assured him it was just a stupid infatuation, and that I would avoid Greg from here on out. If I'd been self-aware, I would have realized how selfish I was being. But, again, I was neither.
CHAPTER THREE
The night it happened we'd just finished a huge proposal at work. Our boss, Jack, put out word that we'd be having a little celebration in the late afternoon. Greg had only a week left in the office. It was now or never.
I was so worked up I could barely see straight. I went to the gym at lunchtime and did a brutal hour on the Stairmaster, until sweat stung my eyes and my thighs burned in pain. Then in the shower, I shaved my legs and then on impulse shaved my beaver as well. And then I masturbated. Twice. It barely took the edge off. I dressed again, leaving my bra and panties in my locker.
My skin felt raw, as if my whole body were sunburned. The fabric of my dress almost oppressive, rubbing over my sensitive skin and hard, erect nipples, teasing my shaved, swollen snatch. I just wanted to tear my clothes off, stride naked through the office, throw myself at Greg. I did nearly that.
At the party, I guzzled three glasses of champagne, the whole time my eyes were glued to Greg. Finally, he came over.
"You look like you're having fun," he said, raising his glass to me.
I drained yet another glass. "Too much fun," I giggled.
Our eyes met. I was ready to explode. I gasped out, "I'm going to need a ride home."
He gave me a wink. "I'd be delighted."
I went and called Dave and let him know I was bringing Greg home. I asked him to stay at the house. Because of how I'd constructed my rationales, it was important for him to be there.
We got in Greg's car. His elegant, perfect luxury sedan. I reveled in every detail. His cologne was intoxicating. His hands, perfectly manicured, handled the steering wheel expertly. Not a hair out of place. Even though I was almost too excited to speak, he made small talk, casual, funny, and light. He never asked about Dave; I guess he didn't want to jinx things and just figured he'd play it by ear.
I remember thinking I wouldn't be able to last until we made it home. I thought about leaning over and giving him road head. I fantasized about him reaching between my legs, feeling my wetness, and pulling over to take me right there in his car by the side of the road.
But Greg was unflappable. He pulled into our driveway and stepped out of the car. He began to come around to other side to let me out, but I was too quick, too eager, bounding out of the passenger seat and leading him by the hand to the front door.
I introduced them, Greg flashing his usual confident grin, Dave looking confused and somewhat forlorn. About what you'd expect from both given the circumstance. When I look back on it, I want to stab myself in the eye with a fork. What a cruel, cruel moment. Forcing my husband to greet his wife's imminent lover. But again, I'm taking myself out of the story, making excuses. At the time, I didn't recognize any of that. I was drunk, horny, and happy. I had the two men in my life with me together in the same place, the love of my life and the lust of the present. At that moment, they seemed to complement each other, though of course, that was only true in the sense that they each met one of my selfish needs.
I got us all drinks and then led my men upstairs. I walked Dave over to a chair in the bedroom and tried to enunciate my feelings, but I probably did nothing other than confuse him. Something about loving him, not having any secrets, and keeping me safe. He must have thought I had lost my mind.
And then I approached Greg and began to unwrap him like a Christmas present. He was as gorgeous naked as fully dressed. He had a broad, powerful torso. I ran my fingers through his thick chest hair, stopping to kiss his nipples. He let out a barely audible groan, the first time I’d punctured his cool. I felt giddy.
I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, admiring his strong thighs. I then pulled down his boxers and was greeted by his gorgeous cock.
It was only beginning to stiffen, but it was already much larger than Dave's. Until that moment, I would have sworn up and down that this sort of thing made no different. How pathetic was it that I was impressed by his size? Pathetic, but undeniable. I felt my pussy flutter, my thighs becoming sticky with my excitement.
I locked eyes with Greg and began to massage his balls and stroke his shaft. Feeling his prick, growing and swelling in my hands, was delightful. I took him in my mouth with some difficulty. He was already so big. And as he swelled further I realized he was more than I could handle orally. I continued to stroke him for a few more minutes, relishing the feel of his powerful tool, knowing that soon it would be inside me.
I stood up and we kissed, passionately, wetly, my hand still stroking his cock, his hands now roaming over my body freely. Despite all the flirting and the sexual tension, this was the first time we'd touched, and it was electric.
He lifted my dress above my head and let out a low whistle, declaring me "magnificent." I blushed like a schoolgirl. He led me over to the bed, and I scoot up, on my back awaiting him. He started to go down on me, but I couldn't wait. I was too hot, too hungry.
"Put it in me," I begged.
He climbed up between my legs and rubbed the head of his cock against my very wet, very swollen slit. I almost came right then. And then he was inside me. Just the tip, but it was already almost too much. I could feel my vagina clinging to his cock head, feeling very stretched out. He thrust inside me, and I could feel every inch, every bump, ridge, and vein of his cock as he entered me. It was too much, I felt lightheaded, my body was convulsing. I grabbed onto his firm ass and held on for dear life. My orgasm left me dry-mouthed, dizzy, and drained.
And then he started thrusting inside me. Long, deliciously slow strokes that quickly rekindled my passion. He rolled us over and I rode him, taking pleasure as much from his strong hands as from his big cock as he rubbed my breasts and gripped my ass firmly. I came a second time, an almost unprecedented event for me, and then he was on top of me again.
All that had come before was obviously just a warm up for him because now he really got down to business, fucking me deep and fast. He was relentless and tireless. Dave is a wonderful lover. He's passionate, tender, and gentle. When he's close, he'll thrust fast and hard for a few moments before finishing. But Greg was a new experience for me. I'd always thought those pornos were an act. No one, I thought, fucks that hard and long in real life. And anyway, how could anyone, particularly a woman, enjoy it? But Greg proved me wrong.
I'd been making love to Dave for thirteen years, but this was the first time in my life I was truly being fucked. And I loved it. Loved every bit of it. I loved his strength and his power. Loved the way our bodies slapped together, the way his balls hit my asshole. I loved how athletic it was, both of us panting, our hearts racing.
I came again, hard, gasping for breath. I grabbed his ass and pulled him into me harder and faster still until finally with a grunt he buried himself inside me and filled me with his sperm. Even that was delicious. Dave says that when I come hard he can feel my pussy pulsing on his cock. Well, with Greg, I felt, for the first time, the reverse. I felt his cock swell, and then pulse rapidly as he spurted.
Greg pulled out gently and rolled over on his back. I lay next to him, both of us trying to catch our breath. My hand drifted down to my pussy, and I explored myself with my fingers, marveling at how wet I was, how puffy my lips were. I put a finger inside me and felt how stretched out I was. For a moment, I wondered if Greg had altered my anatomy forever. But like magic, m
y pussy soon recovered its elasticity and tightened around my finger.
I looked up and Dave was gone. And for the first time, I had a real pang of guilt. Not just that he’d fled, but that I hadn’t noticed until now.
But denial is powerful, and I almost immediately pivoted to a rationalization that would haunt me and drive my behavior for the next several hours and days. If I'd fucked up, I'd already fucked up. Nothing I could do would make things worse, so I might as well enjoy it.
Looking over at Greg's long, lean, muscular body, his chiseled features, and his long, thick cock, I realized I wanted more. As good as the last hour had been, it wasn't enough to sate me after the months of flirting and fantasizing.
Greg apparently felt the same way because his hand slid between my legs and began playing with my pussy. He was unexpectedly gentle, just lightly caressing my swollen labia until he was sure I wasn't too sore. Then his finger found my clit and he teased the hood carefully, his finger circling it with just the right amount of pressure to get me excited again without overwhelming me. My hand slid down and seized his wet, slimy cock, and as I stroked him he rapidly hardened again.
When he was erect, and I was bucking my hip excitedly, he rolled me on top of him and filled me again. It was a delicious feeling. My pussy was tender, but not raw, and when he entered me, it was a perfect mix of soreness and pleasure. I can only liken it to that sore, satisfying feeling you get after a good run.
I don't want to make it seem like the sex was extraordinary. It was very, very good. But when Dave later worried that it was the best sex of my life, I could honestly assure him it wasn't. But then again, it wasn't not the best sex of my life either. I mean, I don't know about other people, but I can't rank order my orgasms. There is bad sex, good sex, and great sex. Beyond that, the distinctions seem meaningless. Greg gave me some great sex, but it wasn't any better or any greater than I'd had with Dave on numerous occasions.
Which isn't to say there weren't some things that I really liked. His cock, of course, was wonderful to experience. And I've already mentioned his body, his strength, and his stamina. But I also loved how and where he touched me. He was rougher than Dave, but in a good way. Dave is so in love with me that he sometimes treats me like a delicate flower. Greg was more willing to fondle me, roll me over, assert his control, take what he wanted. He was more dominant sexually, which was nice as a change though I am not sure it is what I'd want on an everyday basis.
I also liked the way he played with my butt. Whether out of respect or squeamishness Dave has never tried to initiate any ass play, and I never suggested it either. I never realized I'd like it. But the first time I rode Greg, he poked around back there, his fingertip tickling my anus. When I rode him the second time, he took it a step farther. Gravity and his big cock churning up inside me dislodged the copious amount of semen he'd already deposited, quickly turning our renewed love making into sloppy seconds. Greg took advantage of it by coating his finger with a generous amount of our mingled fluids and then confidently pressing his entire middle finger into my bottom.
It was a like a bolt of lightning. I came so hard I nearly blacked out. I collapsed onto his chest, unable to catch my breath as he hammered me hard from below, his thick cock stretching my cunt even as his finger pumped vigorously into my ass. God, it felt so raunchy and so hot.
After a while, he flipped us over again and pulled me to the edge of the mattress. He got to his feet beside the bed and reentered me. Gripping my thighs firmly, he pounded my pussy brutally. He was gasping and grunting, sweat now running down his face. If I hadn't been so sloppy wet, I'm sure it would have been painful, but it was a little like being on a rollercoaster or a bumpy plane ride. All I could do was lie there and take it. After several more minutes of that he finished again, and once again treated me to that delicious feeling of his cock throbbing inside me. I'd definitely have to ask my girlfriends if they had ever experience that or if it was a Greg special.
We both ended up back on the bed, in a cuddle, exchanging little compliments and catching our breath.
"Red, that was really wonderful."
I giggled. Having been only with Dave, I was always a little insecure about my sexual skills. Being complimented by a man who'd obviously been around the block many times was a nice little ego boost.
"Yes, you made this evening very special for me," I replied.
"Your husband walked out."
"I know," I said sadly. "I'll need to make it up to him."
"I thought you guys had it worked out. It sure seemed that way."
"Please, let's not talk about it," I said with finality.
I rested my head on his chest for a few more minutes and then went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit before showing Greg to the door.
I observed myself in the mirror. God, I looked a mess, my hair disheveled, lipstick smeared, marks on my breasts and ass from Greg's rough handling. I looked, in short, like a freshly fucked, wanton slut.
Greg came into the bathroom and stood behind me.
"God, you're a sexy woman," he gushed.
He began to caress me. His hands touching my sides, and then running across my belly. He cupped my breasts and then slid his hand down between my legs.
"I'm sorry you're shaved," his whispered. "I would have loved to see if the carpet matches the drapes."
"It does," I giggled. He did that to me. Turned me into a giggling simpleton. And yet, in that moment, it didn’t bother me. For the first time, I wondered whether I might not enjoy it, being his woman, not an ornament, per se, but perhaps, at least sometimes in his orbit. Trading independence for security, equality for passion. A betrayal of my mother to be sure, but maybe not the worst thing in to the world for it.
His hand found my clit, making me gasp. He leaned down and kissed my neck. And as good as all that felt, the sexiest part was watching it in the mirror, seeing the reflection of this hunk of a man caressing me and touching me all over.
He pressed up against me and I could feel his erection. "Oh God, you're hard again."
"That's what you do to me," he replied. Why did that please me so?
He pushed me forward so that my hands were on the sink, and then he rubbed his big tool up and down my slit. He entered me slowly. I grunted. He'd fucked me raw, and taking him inside me was actually uncomfortable. He sensed that, I guess, because he took it nice and slow. But even that was too much.
"Oh baby, we need to stop. You wore it out," I finally whined.
He stopped thrusting, but left his cock inside me for now.
"You sure?"
I wasn’t. Still, I gulped, "yes."
"I could put it here," he suggested, his fingertip pressing into my ass.
For half a second the thought excited me, and then I thought better of it. His finger had already left me feeling full. His huge tool would certainly tear me apart. Still… I was tempted, as much by curiosity at how it would feel as by the desire to submit to him.
"Let me kiss it," I offered, and I spun around and dropped to my knees.
He was too big to take into my mouth, but I kissed and licked the head like an ice cream cone. With one hand I massaged his balls, with the other I stroked his shaft.
"Look up at me when you do that," he requested. I did.
"God, you are so sexy," he said again. "I want to finish in your mouth."
I'd never done that. I just didn't like the idea of it. Semen is disgusting, slimy, salty, warm. And it always seems demeaning. But it just felt right as a coda to the night, a once in a lifetime act to cap a once in a lifetime evening. Plus, he'd already finished twice. How much could he have left? I gave him a little nod and continued working on his cock.
"That's it, Red, milk it," he grunted, our eyes locked.
I felt his cock swell, this time in my hand. I opened my mouth. It pulsed and a thick stream of hot cum filled my mouth. Any thought of spitting it out disappeared as he spurted again. I swallowed just to keep up. Another spurt and another follo
wed. I couldn't swallow fast enough. When he finished, my mouth was coated with his jism, it was in my throat, and dripping from my lips.
"Now that is a beautiful sight," he exclaimed.
I could only laugh. I wiped myself off.
"Now, you have to go, that's all you're getting," I said happily.
"It was more than I could have hoped for," he replied gallantly.
He dressed and I put on a bathrobe. I walked him to the front door. Greg gave me a last passionate kiss goodnight. I watched him drive away.
CHAPTER FOUR
I noticed that Dave was in his den, door shut. That was fine for now. I went back upstairs and stripped the bed and remade it. I opened the windows to air out the room, which probably smelled of sex and sweat, though I couldn't tell since it was my sweat and sex. Then I took a shower.
For a while I stood there, enjoying the feel of the water on my naked body, my hands slowly exploring myself, visualizing what Greg had done to me. As I touched my breasts, I thought of how Greg had pinched my nipples as I rode him. When my hand slid over my stomach it brought back the memory of him doing the same thing before the bathroom mirror. When I found my clit, I remembered him teasing me gently, renewing my excitement after the first fuck. I slid my finger down between my legs, feeling my tender pussy, recalling how he'd pulled me to the edge of the bed and hammered me like a machine. Then as I traced further back, I touched my anus, bringing back the searing memory of him shoving his finger up my butt even as he pounded my pussy. I came again, a shuddering, gasping orgasm as powerful as any I'd experienced earlier in the evening.
When I recovered, I washed every inch of my body, wiping away any traces of Greg. I douched. I brushed my teeth. Gargled mouthwash. I didn't want anything that would remind Dave of Greg when I went to him. I dried myself and wrapped myself in my bathrobe.
I knocked and entered his office. Dave looked at me sadly. He was crushed. I felt awful. Not so much for what I had done, which I had thoroughly enjoyed, but rather for having hurt him. But I decided to be strong. I'd already been so unfair to him that I couldn't bear to let my feelings through. Whining about how bad I felt would make it about me, and really what I needed to do was reassure my husband as best as I could.
