Marc's Single Life

Author's Note: My wife asked me to write a story for her about a man-whore corrupting otherwise good girls. I rewrote it and softened the main character so he's not so over the top and broke it up into five very short vignettes, touching on a few of my wife's kinks and some of mine over the course of the short series. Naturally, all characters are all over 18.

Part 1

I like my friends. They're as good for my ego as the women they urged me to brag about. Two of them are married and the third, though still single, has no game at all. He's not a bad looking guy but always the wingman who, try as he might, always goes home alone. We've all been good friends since college, but they live vicariously through me and always wanted to hear about my latest 'conquest.'

"You're not getting those details, dude. Grow up!" I rolled my eyes and tried to take the high road.

They seem to be under the impression I fall ass-backwards into women without trying. I'm just a normal 30 year old single guy who likes to have fun. But if that's how they see my life, I'm content to let them run with their own imaginations.

They're right about one thing at least. I don't exactly go out trolling for women, it's unseemly. I just find myself in situations where I meet someone, hit it off, and nature takes its course. Maybe I get it from my dad. He's definitely a ladies man and it doesn't hurt that I hit the genetic jackpot, inheriting the best of my parents' combined Nordic and Greek features. I should be thinking seriously about finding a nice girl to settle down with, but I'm living the good life and don't want to give that up. I have a good job that allows me to bank some good money with no responsibility and nobody to look out for but myself.

The conversation got me thinking about how Christine got things started for me. I had just moved into my own place after college and like all my friends, looking for my soulmate. Instead, I met Christine at my gym after months of distant admiration. She looked to be early 30's; it's hard to tell with fit women. God she was perfect - abs so flat you could see the ripples, a petite frame with wide hips and proportionate boobs. I knew she had money by her high end workout gear and the clean, new shoes she always wore. She was impressive all the way around; very few women venture into the weight room and even fewer use free weights. I was taken with her, and when I finally got a chance to talk to her she turned out to be as friendly as she was beautiful.

A few weeks later, we met up in the parking lot after our workouts and agreed to go for coffee; not at a coffee shop but to my place. This was too easy. Our hands were all over each other as soon as the door closed. Christine acted like her drought was longer than mine. We kissed our way to my bedroom with clothes dropping along the way. I'd finally gotten my hands on this body I'd worshiped from afar for so long. Christine pulled my face into her titties and I was happy to oblige. Softly kissing and caressing didn't do it for her; the more I pinched and used my teeth the more she responded. I sucked and pulled her nipples between my teeth, letting them snap back before attacking them again. The rougher I was with them the more she responded, wiggling and writhing beneath me. I've never been this physical with anyone before but she seemed to like it. I kissed my way up her legs and pulled her into me with my hands on those voluptuous hips. Kneeling upright, I pulled her upward making her shriek and giggle. Her legs were flailing around up toward the ceiling as I buried my face in her pussy, and she held onto my thighs to steady herself. I'm strong enough and she's petite enough that I could easily lift her up into my face in this vertical 69 before the head rush became too much for her.

Christine demanded I use a condom; of course. I hate it but that's the single life. The actual sex was as physical as the foreplay. Hearing her compliments on my physique stoked my ego and spurred me on. I was happy to let her ride me; all I had to do was lie back and enjoy the show, letting her bounce and grind on me until we both finished.

I thought this relationship was off to a good start as I watched her get dressed and put on her jewelry: her gold watch, hoop earrings and...a ring?

"Are you married?"

Christine told me not to worry; he was out of town and her kids were in school. Shit. Kids too. It all made sense now; walking out of the gym separately and wanting to come here instead of being seen in public together, the high-end life she obviously lived, the wide birthing hips. Her nipples were still orgasm buttons but nowhere near as sensitive as girls my age. Fuck.

Christine walked out the door and I was left alone with a guilty conscience. It wasn't intentional and I never would have brought her here if I knew she was married. Fuck. I'm that guy now. I already felt bad for having the best sex of my life with a married woman, but more than that I'd just been played like I was some conquest for a promiscuous suburban housewife.

Christine demanded discretion before she left my apartment. She said she'd been watching me and had to have me; and that she'd never stepped outside her marriage before. I wasn't buying it. A hundred dudes work out there; I wondered how many she'd been through but still, the fact she singled me out made me feel pretty special. God, I AM a conquest. Maybe I didn't have to change gyms after all. If Christine could handle us seeing each other around then I could too. Seeing her subtle, discreet nods around the weight room helped me keep our one-time encounter in perspective.

Once the shock wore off I realized that Christine had taught me the difference between sex and relationships; between love-making and fucking. Yeah, I'm not ready for a long term relationship yet; there's too much fun to have. I'm not going to go around chasing married women. I have my honor, and the bro-code forbids it. However, maybe I can widen my net and have some fun along the way.