WARNING
THIS IS A CHEATING WIFE STORY, IF YOU DON'T LIKE THESE STORIES STOP NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE
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Michele's journey, looking back, was difficult for her to comprehend, how had she travelled this road in her life? It wasn't what she had planned; it was like it was all happening to someone else. She married Jeff when she was 22 and they had two children by the time she was 26. Her marriage was good, Jeff had a good job, they had no financial difficulties and her two sons were doing well at school. What more could she want?
Sex! Well she hadn't thought too much about it, her and Jeff had fairly regular sex and she never thought there was anything missing although they didn't have sex as much as they did when they were younger. They were both now 36 so she reckoned it was only normal, but she was starting to have concerns, not about her marriage but about herself.
She had been brought up in a Christian middle-class family with middle-class values. Michele had never questioned them; in fact she embraced them and always believed in teaching her children right from wrong.
So why, why had she done what she did on that Saturday afternoon that started everything? It just wasn't her but she knew it had changed her life and changed her perception of herself.
Jeff and the boys had decided to go to the local football match. Sometimes Michele went along with them but decided to stay and surf the net, looking for some new clothes. With winter approaching she definitely needed a new coat. She found the coat she wanted and placed her order, then sat on the sofa to watch television.
Rugby had never really interested Michele so she switched to other channels but found nothing of much interest and eventually retuned to the channel carrying the rugby match. She watched as the rugby-playing hunks crashed into one another, stocky-built giants grabbed and upended each other. She found herself really enjoying these sexy men battling for the oval-shaped ball. Were there no rules to this game?
There was something sensuous about them, they were supremely fit with their upper bodies toned to withstand the crunching tackles that seemed to come from everywhere and their legs, like the rest of their physiques, were muscular and so manly.
Occasionally, as the players were unceremoniously dumped on the soaking wet pitch their shorts clung to their tight, sexy arses and a few of them clearly had something else hung between their legs that they could be proud of too. Michele became quite aroused. She was thinking things that made her feel quite ashamed. When replay slow-motion actions were shown she moved nearer to the TV.
It dawned on her that she could easily rewind when a particularly interesting piece of play took place, which meant interesting to Michele, she could then freeze the frames to hold the view.
In one perfect frame a brute of a man with a flock of fair-hair was on his hands and knees, bent over with his head being ground into the soggy turf, his backside in the air while his balls hung in his shorts. Michelle got such a good shot she could almost count them.
In another frame a young dark-haired player dropped on his back following a particularly vicious tackle in which he was lifted clear of the ground and unceremoniously dumped while clinging onto the ball. He laid there clearly injured writhing in pain, but much to her shame Michele was not interested in his pain, she was too busy freezing the frame at a point when his strong, sturdy thighs fell apart. She had a perfect view of the shape of a gorgeously thick, lengthy cock with the outline of a pair of balls dangling beneath it.
Michele held the frame on the screen as she knelt in front of it feasting her eyes right between his thighs. Then it happened.
Sliding her skirt up her thighs she compulsively slid her hand inside her little, pink panties.
Michele had never masturbated and although sex with Jeff was not as regular as in the early years of their marriage she nevertheless was not sex-starved; so what was she doing, what was she thinking about?
She was thinking about the gorgeous man on her television screen and his exciting dick.
No other man had ever interested her in that way before, wasn't she happily married to Jeff, her husband? These were things she only thought about later. For now her fingers had reached the top of her slit and as she bit hard on her bottom lip her attention was focused on another man's genitals, his cock, his balls, the cheeks of his perfectly shaped arse and the bristly, black hairs at the very tops of his thighs.
Slowly her pussy got wetter and wetter, her hand was on her pubic-bone, she searched her pussy lips until her little slit opened wider.
Michele was small and petite and could imagine herself in the arms of his tall, muscular man.
Spreading her labia she found her clit. Anyone looking at her from behind would see her skirt halfway up the backs her thighs and her cute, little arse fucking and stabbing at the two wet fingers that had now found their way into her cunt-hole having pushed their way through the curly, red mot of pubic hair surrounding her twat.
With her eyes totally focused on those white rugby shorts, her pussy began to tingle wickedly, contractions wracked her body and cum juices trickled through her fingers into the gusset of her pretty, little pink knickers. She had orgasmed.
She straightened her clothes, switched off the TV and acted as natural as possible when Jeff and boys returned. She felt just as guilty as if she had actually committed adultery with that rugby player. Could Jeff tell?
For the next few days she couldn't get it out of her mind, what she had done right there in their living room where the family watched television every night. She recalled that she had not locked the doors and how ashamed she would have been if someone, maybe Jeff or the boys, had walked in and caught her.
How could she get so aroused by another man? She had never looked at anyone else and certainly not in the way she had looked at the rugby player. She had watched rugby on TV before and never been turned on by it, why now? She dismissed it as a one-off.
Sex with Jeff strangely became better. Michele found herself instigating it more. She needed to have sex with Jeff to obliterate what she had done and to erase the memory but the rugby player was now ever present in their bed -- the marital bed.
Jeff's cock became his cock, the balls hitting her petite, little arse became those she had seen through those white shorts, her mind drifted away from Jeff, she could feel those fabulous muscles she had seen on the TV screen, as if they were real, pressing against her body. With her thighs spread across the bed, much wider than she normally did, she had massive orgasms submitting to her fantasy man.
Jeff loved it and remarked on the sudden transformation of their sex lives and Michele felt the same for different reasons.
After a few weeks she was surfing the net while Jeff was at work and the boys at school. She shocked herself by typing into her browser phrases like "big cocks", "sex stories", "sex pictures" or sex videos".
The things she found both shocked her and turned her on at the same time. The images and videos of men with enormous cocks fucking compliant women did not impress her that much, but the sex stories she found, especially those by other women describing graphically every detail of the sex scenes turned her on massively. Most male authors did not write in a way that interested her, in the way women authors did, but there were a few men that definitely interested her, and sometimes she would email them to say so.
Often she fingered her cunt until it was sore. She became more and more addicted to the pornography she was reading. It was taking over her life and she couldn't wait to be alone and logon to read the latest erotic stories.
The one guy that really turned her on called himself 'The Artist'. His stories were a real turn on for her and she got so much pleasure masturbating while reading his stories when she was on her own with the doors well and truly locked.
One woman author, who called herself QueenTut, wrote the most amazing stories which she claimed to be true. In the stories she cheated on her husband and got a big kick out it, especially letting other men cum inside her. Then she would have sex with her husband with all that cum inside her pussy.
After reading one the stories written by QueenTut she was so utterly turned on that she went upstairs to bed. She lay on top of the bedclothes, unzipped her skirt and pushed it down over her hips, her knickers followed her skirt and she kicked them both off. The rugby player was suddenly there, back in her bedroom, back in her bed.
Michele was transported in her mind, in her wild fantasy, into a place where everything seemed real.
"Open your legs." The voice was husky, commanding and masterful, just as she imagined it would be.
Her thighs were forced open exposing her cunt. Deeper into her trance she could feel a hard, rampant, muscular cock right inside her, her small frame was writhing against her fantasy man, he was fucking her and it felt so good.
She heard herself screaming for more as erotic words from the stories she had read led from one fantasy to the next.
"I'm going to swamp your fucking quim with bullock-porridge." A description she had read in an internet story that excited immensely.
"Oh god, yes, yes please." She shouted in her ecstasy.
Deep in her head she heard every word he said to her as if it was really happening; she could feel those strong, thighs pounding against hers.
She heard the gruff voice in her head again, "I'm going to fucking cum, spread your thighs sweetheart. I'm going to plaster your eggs."
Michele almost involuntarily spread her thighs and lifted her buttocks as the imaginary sperm seemed so real racing into her.
Her body jerked, she yowled with pleasure at the sheer force of her orgasm and for the first time in her life her cunt started squirting. She covered her little twat with her hand but she squirted right through her fingers onto the quilt beneath her.
Her body relaxed slowly and she open her eyes, the trance was over, the mist had lifted and her rugby player was gone.
Michele had never cum so fucking hard before and the squirting from her pussy had scared her. She had never done that before. She had read about it in some of the stories but now she knew she was also capable of it when sufficiently aroused.
Hurriedly she stripped the cover from the quilt and washed it replacing it before Jeff came home.
Michele sat and took stock. Had she become a slut, a slapper or a bitch?
"NO," she shouted to her self affirmatively, "I am a woman, a female, I have sexual needs like any other women. I will not be denied them and I will not be oppressed by words invented by men to suppress my normal feminine desires." She was liberated.
When Jeff arrived she felt so guilty, had she cheated on him, would she like it if he was doing the same? No way. So yes, she was cheating and liberated.
The next time she met her fantasy, rugby-player lover she gave him the name Jim and for weeks she had wild sex with him whenever she felt the urge. Jim never let her down he fucked her in the morning when Jeff went to work, he fucked her in the afternoon before Jeff came home and on one occasion he screwed her cute, little quim while Jeff laid at the side of her snoring.
Her boring life was over, she had two perfect lovers, her marriage and sex with her husband was enhanced and intense, sex with her rugby player was her delicious secret, but was her journey complete? She just wasn't sure.
Her imagination became wilder and wilder and on another occasion when Jeff was covering her pussy with his mouth she fucked wildly and was just able to suppress the urge to shout "Come on Jeff, clean up my pussy," just as QueenTut did in one of her stories.
Michele was struggling with her wild urges, with her addiction to her sexy thoughts and the secret life she felt she was leading. Jim seemed ever more real and Jeff ever more unreal. Her lover, her fantasy lover, seemed to spend all day with her while her husband played an ever decreasing role in her life.
For years Jeff had got out of bed in the morning and gone to work, in that regard he was a great husband but her life had become more and more boring. She had been left to see to the children , do the housework, no one to talk to all day, then when Jeff came home they just sat around watching the same TV programmes night after night and on Saturdays he was off to watch his football and, although Michele went with him, football bored her to tears. When she thought about it, her life had become stupefying.
Now as soon as Jeff was out of the house her life began. She had emailed The Artist to tell him how much she had been turned on by his latest story. She used the name "Bored-and-Sexy". She hadn't really expected a reply until a few days later when she opened her emails to find one from him.
He thanked her for her kind remarks about his story and told her she was obviously a very sexy woman. She sent an email back, saying she found all his stories very hot and that he definitely turned her on.
They continued to exchange emails everyday and the emails became much raunchier and she eventually told him that her name was Michele.
Rather than emailing they naturally started to chat online. Michele would be online at two in the afternoon chatting with Mark who was in his office at work. They could chat for an hour before her sons got home from shool.
"What's your name honey?" he asked, I can't call you Bored-and-Sexy can I?"
"My name is Michelle-Bored-and-Sexy." She responded. "What's your name?"
"Mark." He replied. "I think Michele is a very sexy name."
"So Michelle, what colour knickers are you wearing today?"
Michele giggled but felt horny being asked about her knickers.
"They are white with little blue flowers."
"Don't you ever wear a thong?" Mark asked, smiling as he typed.
