Summer Brea

Celeste had never thought of herself as the type of woman who would cheat on her husband. A friend of hers had told her about a month ago of an illicit affair she’d been having with her neighbor and Celeste had been slightly disgusted, but at the same time intrigued. It seemed like such a cliché – the lonely wife with the inattentive husband, cheating on him right under his nose. Barbara, her friend, had confessed to her one day over coffee, describing her deception with the same elation she usually reserved for designer bargains she’d found shopping or, when her kids had been young, their first steps or the muttering of a new word. But now, she couldn’t wait to divulge her secret, which she seemed completely unashamed to admit to Celeste.

Celeste had listened to her friend intently, like a teenage girl listening to her more experienced friend describe what she had done with the captain of the football team behind the bleachers. Celeste had watched Barbara’s lips moving and realized that her disgust was not due to her friend’s immorality, but rather she was jealous. Jealous of her friend’s newfound double-life and her happiness.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Michael anymore. She did. But the sexual desire was long gone from their relationship - at least on her end. Every once in a while he’d roll over in bed and try to start something and she let out a sleepy grumble and roll away pretending to be asleep. Or sometimes while she was washing dishes or cooking in the kitchen, he’d come up behind her and try to slide his hands up her blouse. She’d squirm away from him and give him the excuse that Danny, their son, was in the next room. “What if he walked in?” she’d say in a tone that a mother uses to scold her child for doing something wrong. He’d grumble and wander off to the living room to plop himself down on the couch in frustration.

He’d become like a piece of furniture to her. An old piece of furniture that had once been her favorite, but now age and wear had made it an eyesore. But she was afraid to get rid of it, to get rid of him. He was her high school sweetheart, her husband of twenty-one years, the father of her son. She could not imagine her life without him - he’d been there so long. Michael had been her first and - except for a one-time fling with a lifeguard she’d met at one summer when she was 19 while they were on a break - her only.

She wasn’t looking for an affair - Evan had been completely unexpected. She’d met him by accident at a bookstore. On a whim, Celeste had decided to make a stop on her way home from work to pick up something new to read. She’d been reading one romance novel after another, devouring at least 2 a week. She’d read the dirtiest ones she could find, developing a bit of an addiction it seemed.

She’d been carrying a stack of paperbacks towards the register when she lost her grip on them and they tumbled to the floor at Evan’s feet. He bent down to help her retrieve her books and Celeste had looked up into his warm eyes. She stared a bit too long at the 20-something-year-old man and he smiled. Realizing what she had done, Celeste blushed a bit and focused on the pile of books at her feet. He began looking at the titles and covers of the books she’d chosen and Celeste watched for his reaction as she distractedly reached for a nearby book. He held in his hand a book with a woman in a flimsy, translucent nightgown draped over the arm of a man with huge, hairless pectorals and long blond hair. He chuckled and looked up at her again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to resume an air of seriousness.

He continued to collect her books and once he was done, stood up. Celeste followed having only managed to pick up two books herself.

“You know, you shouldn’t read this stuff. It’s not healthy,” he said, only partially joking with her. Celeste was consumed by his messy, raven-colored hair, his deep-chocolate brown eyes, the distinct curve of his upper lip, his solid jaw, not to mention his thin, well-toned physique. His light grey t-shirt was worn to perfection, as were his fitted denim jeans, which she was certain would present his young, firm ass quite nicely if she could only get a look at him from behind. He mistook her inspection of him for her taking his comment seriously.

“I’m joking!” he said. “But you know, if this is what you want, you should live it. Reading about it isn’t going to get you anywhere,” he said with a grin.

‘Is he flirting with me?’ Celeste wondered. Impossible. Why would such a good-looking young man who, she was embarrassed to admit, was probably young enough to be her son, be interested in her? Not to say she wasn’t attractive. She was. Very much so. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves around her face, always perfectly tousled. She still had flawless, porcelain skin and the most piercing hazel eyes. And her body was still in good shape even after giving birth to Danny. Her looks certainly belied her 42 years.

She blushed again and smiled back at the young man. He shifted the books he was holding to his left hand and reached out his right.

“Evan,” was all he said as a warm smile curled on his bow-shaped lips.

Celeste shook his hand and replied, “I’m Celeste.” She was sure she must have the goofiest smile plastered on her face and her cheeks were probably on the verge of stop sign red.

“I was about to go have a cup of coffee and read a magazine so that I wouldn’t look completely pathetic sitting by myself… but if you’d join, me I wouldn’t have to.”

His smile was irresistible and she felt the same way she had when Michael had first approached her at a friend’s party when she was 16. Her chest was warm and her nerves seemed to be standing on end.

“Umm…” Celeste began to wonder if having coffee with this man was stepping over the line.

“I promise I won’t make any more comments about your literary choices,” he teased.

Celeste was beginning to feel a bit more at ease with Evan, even if she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation, and she allowed a big smile to appear on her face.

Evan was still sensing some reluctance. “You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I’m really just looking for someone to fill the chair. Really. I can’t bear to drink another cup of coffee on my own. I’m embarrassed to think what the staff must think of me, coming in here all the time on my own and sitting for hours.”

“Sure, I’ll have a cup of coffee with you,” Celeste conceded, adding, “But just one.” What harm could one cup of coffee with a friendly stranger be? One young, attractive, charming stranger.

And so it began. At first Celeste began stopping at the bookstore regularly in the hopes of bumping into Evan. After a few “accidental” encounters, they began to arrange to meet for coffee. Evan suggested alternatives to her romance novels, loaning her his dog-eared copy of Henry and June. She’d read from it every chance she got. Poring over its pages over lunch at work. Reading it late into the night in bed while Michael snored beside her. She imagined Evan reading the same pages, his long fingers peeling back each page, his fingertips trailing across the paper. The thought made Celeste feel flushed, her inner thighs burned and a twinge of excitement sparked between her legs.

After finishing the book, Celeste turned to click off the bedside lamp, turning her and Michael’s bedroom from a warm golden glow to pitch black. She lay on her back in bed, staring into the darkness, unable to fall asleep. Michael’s snoring had subsided thankfully and the room was silent except for the gentle rustle of the crisp cotton sheets as Michael shifted his feet under the covers.

Celeste allowed her hand to slip beneath the sheets and seek out the source of her insomnia. She needed to feed her hunger and her body wouldn’t rest until she was satisfied. She had learned to please herself in complete silence while Michael slept. Any audible sound she might make could be construed as an interest in sex with her husband and inevitably, Michael would then ruin her chances of achieving orgasm for the night.

Her hand moved under the waistband of her satiny pajama pants, beyond the lacy elastic of her white cotton panties. Her middle finger rolled over the sensitive pink nub and her body reacted appreciatively. She stole a glance at Michael to make sure he was still fast asleep and once she was convinced, she continued, sliding her finger along her slit to her moistening hole. She dipped her middle finger into the warm wetness and traced the slick finger back and forth along her pussy until she was slippery from front to back. She began to alternate between rubbing her engorged bud and delving her fingers deep inside herself – first one, then two, and finally three fingers exploring her dark wet hole.

She’d masturbated time and time again, especially in the past year or so when she and Michael’s lovemaking sessions had become few and far between. But this time was different. Normally, it had just been a physical act without much in the way of fantasizing. But now, she found herself imagining Evan causing the sensations she was feeling. Her lust had a face and that made her orgasms even greater. She imagined his fingers running along the length of her body, seeking out her neck, her breasts, her ass, and of course the same crevices that her own fingers were exploring. She imagined what it would feel like to have him inside of her. His rigid cock buried deep within her. His hot mouth breathing against her neck. His broad chest pressed against her breasts. His legs entangled with her own.

Celeste verged on orgasm and her breathing became short and fast and loud. Michael grumbled beside her and rolled over. He threw his arm across her stomach just as her orgasm exploded within her. Her body spasmed and went limp. Celeste rolled away from her husband so that his only his hand was still resting on her and eventually that too slipped off of her arm so that she was curled up at the edge of the bed, satisfied and out of her husband’s reach.

- - -

Celeste wrapped her fingers around the brightly-colored mug of cappuccino and brought it carefully to her lips. Evan had been staring at her for at least 5 minutes straight and she was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. That morning she’d decided to wear a fuschia top that had a neckline that scooped low enough to reveal some cleavage, a black knee-length skirt that was slit up the side, and a pair of black strappy, high-heeled sandals that revealed her crimson-painted toenails. She figured that if she couldn’t have his hands on her body, at least she could have his eyes. But he wasn’t staring at her breasts or her legs - he was staring intently at her face while she tried her best to avoid eye contact.

Evan leaned over as she began to bring the mug away from her mouth and whispered into her ear, “What are we doing here?” Celeste choked a bit on her sip of cappuccino.

“What do you mean?” she responded as she brushed her fingertips over her lips to make sure there wasn’t any trace of foam clinging to her upper lip. She could just imagine something completely embarrassing like that happening to her at this moment. She raised her eyes to look at him and he leaned back in his chair.

She sat there waiting for him to either confirm or deny her fantasy – that this 27-year-old wanted her, not just as a coffee-drinking companion, but someone to fuck. No strings, no commitments, no cooking him dinner or listening to him belch or fighting over bills. Just wild animal fucking. She wanted to hear him say it, but at the same time she was scared as hell that he would.

“You know what I mean.” She detected desperation in his voice. The same desperation she’d heard in Michael’s voice so many years ago during one of his many failed attempts to get her to agree to go all the way with him. She had finally given in when she was satisfied that he’d pleaded enough.

She looked at him like a deer in headlights. This was it. She had to decide. Could she go any longer without an orgasm induced by someone other than herself? Was she willing to risk her marriage, her family, her safe life in the suburbs? Yes, she was.

“I want you! God, I’d take you right here of I didn’t think we’d get arrested,” Evan said lowly as he leaned over the table and put his hand on Celeste’s. His hand on hers made her feel hot suddenly, as if a flame had been ignited within her, directly between her breasts and quickly emanating outward.

She leaned over the table towards him, letting her hair fall forward, shielding her face from those around them. Softly, she replied, “I want you too.” She could barely believe she was saying it out loud, confirming her infidelity. She quickly darted her eyes to the people at the neighboring tables to make sure she didn’t know them.

“So let’s get out of here. My apartment’s right near here.”

Evan stood up and Celeste looked up at him, still somewhat hesitant. He held out his hand and she took it. Evan was leading her out of the café towards the bookstore’s exit, dodging human obstacles as well as tables and chairs. Celeste’s face felt flushed. Her eyes began scanning the faces around her wondering if they were watching her, knowing what she was about to do and finding her to be despicable. Despite the speed with which they were darting through the store, no one seemed to pay any attention. People continued to sip their lattes and thumb through potential purchases completely unaware of the sin she was soon to commit.

Evan pushed the glass door open, dashing for the parking lot. Celeste had bumped into a girl on her way out and when she turned back to apologize she saw that it was Sara, her son Danny’s girlfriend. The two women locked eyes on one another for a split second, but Evan had pulled Celeste away before either of them could process what had just happened (or what might happen), let alone manage to speak to each other.

A faint sense of panic quickly evaporated as soon as Celeste and Evan had reached Evan’s car. It was small and beaten up. Black-coffee-brown with a few dents and dings. She was sure the car must’ve been older than Evan was. He fumbled with his keys and finally managed to get the passenger side door open for her. She dropped into the cracked leather bucket seat while Evan swooped around to the driver’s side and got in. With a little coaxing, the engine started and they were driving towards Evan’s apartment.

Celeste could feel herself getting wet, a damp spot developing on the black lace panties she’d slipped on to complete her outfit. She hadn’t expected anyone to see them, but she was glad now that she had chosen them over one of the many boring cotton pairs that littered her lingerie – no, ‘underwear’ would be a better way to describe it - drawer.

She watched Evan’s strong, tanned fist wrapped around the stick shift and every time he switched gears, she quivered. Evan drove quickly, speeding up at yellow light after yellow light and going through stop signs. Eventually though, they hit a red light. Evan’s hand immediately jumped from the stick shift to Celeste’s bare left knee, sliding his palm up over her thigh and pushing her skirt up in the process. His skin on hers felt better than she’d ever imagined. His firm, somewhat rough hands moving over the soft, smooth skin of her inner thigh, his pinky just barely grazing her lace-covered clit.

Her breathing was getting heavier. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Part of her wanted him to just pull over the car so that she could mount Evan right there. The light changed and they were speeding again towards his apartment.

Finally they pulled into a small parking lot adjacent to a rather shabby-looking, 6-floor apartment building. The color and texture of the building’s exterior reminded Celeste of vanilla frosting and the mint green hallways of pistachio ice cream. Evan led her up the stairs one flight and down another hallway. They stopped at the last door and Evan once again fumbled with his set of keys.

He slipped one key in the top lock and then another in the bottom. As the door opened, he turned and wrapped his arm around Celeste’s waist, pulling her towards him and into the apartment. He pressed her hard against the wall inside and threw the door shut behind them, fidgeting with the two locks as he began to kiss her.

His kisses were stronger, more passionate than she could ever remember Michael’s being. And he used his tongue. His thick, wet tongue probing her mouth and seeking out her own tongue. It had been so long, she worried that she might have forgotten how to french kiss. Kisses with Michael were usually quick, dry pecks. That, or the occasional attempt to suffocate her with his sloppy tongue.

He pressed his groin hard against her and she could feel his stiff cock through his jeans. His hands were moving all over her body now – over her breasts, stomach, hips, ass. He began pulling her top up over her head and she lifted her arms to help him. Before the shirt was off completely, she could feel his hot mouth with those perfectly bow-shaped lips on the tops of her breasts. Once the top had been tossed aside, his hands were free to unclasp the black lace bra that matched her panties and then cup both breasts in his hands, bringing them back up to his mouth, kissing and sucking and licking her now hard-as-pencil-eraser nipples.

Celeste began to peel off Evan’s pumpkin-colored t-shirt, interrupting him from feasting on her breasts. She marveled at the well-toned and tanned chest that had been lurking beneath those worn-out t-shirts he always wore. She traced her fingertips over the firm pecs and defined abs to just a bit below the waist of his jeans.

He leaned over then and began a trail of kisses down her stomach to the waist of her skirt. He got down on his knees, kissing her belly, as his fingers unzipped the skirt from behind. He placed his hands on her hips and slid the skirt down to the floor. Celeste carefully stepped out of the skirt and flung it aside with her shoe-covered toe and then kicked off her shoes one at a time.

Her black-lace-covered pussy was now revealed and was waiting eagerly right at Evan’s eye-level. With his hands gripping her hips, Evan began to suck and gently bite Celeste’s inner thighs. The sensation made her weak in the knees and she placed her hands on Evan’s head not only to encourage him to continue, but also to help her stay on her feet.

He slid his right thumb beneath the crotch of her panties and began rubbing her clit as he stared up at her with a look that suggested he wanted nothing more than to please her. She threw her head back and pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her, above her head as Evan’s thumb began to move faster and harder against the sensitive, and now engorged, little bud. Celeste’s body was tensing up and she could feel the first wave of orgasm peaking, ready to come crashing down. Evan slowly dipped three fingers into the wet hole just inches from his thumb and pressed his fingertips against the dark, velvety front wall of her pussy, bringing her quickly over the edge. A million tiny explosions went off throughout her body, each one setting off the next like dominoes.

He had never taken his eyes off of hers and he smiled to see such a distorted look of pleasure on her face. He pulled down her panties and, as she had done with her skirt, she flung them aside. She stood there, completely naked. His hands returned to her hips and he slid his tongue along her slit with one long, slow lick. She looked down at him, amazed that as she was only just coming down from her first orgasm, he was already at work to bring her to her second. His beautiful brown eyes were still staring up at her as he smiled, lifted her right leg over his shoulder and buried his mouth between her legs. He slowly lapped at her pussy, allowing the full width of his tongue to slide over her. He shifted her hips so that he could gain access to the source of the juices that were now dripping down her inner thighs. Low moans were slipping out over Celeste’s lips and each one encouraged Evan to continue in order to induce the next.