The Affair

I’m so bad about this. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. It’s him. He’s just so… passionate. Erotic. He’s kinky. He’s lust personified. I’ll be lying in bed with my husband and thinking about him, about how I wish his hands were on me instead. Right now I’m walking down the street, away from my husband’s and my apartment. I’m on my way to the grocery store around the corner to use the payphone to call him. I told my husband I was going to the grocery store, so I’m not lying. I just left out the main factor.

I dial his home number. I don’t know how I know he’s there, but I know. The same way he knows it’s me on the phone.

“Hi baby,” he coos. “Hiding from your husband?”

“Oh shut up,” I hiss. I feel terrible about this affair, but I just need what only he can offer. “Are you busy?” I ask. I hope he’s not. I need him so badly. I need to feel his cock in me. My mouth. My pussy. My ass. Whereever.

“No, I’m not,” he says. I tell him I’m on my way over, Ill be there in five minutes. It’s probably not a good idea to be living so close to the guy I’m cheating on my husband with, but it wasn’t exactly planned this way.

We met on the city bus, me on my way to work, him on his. We locked eyes for a split second and the sparks, no, the fireworks flew. Hell, that’s not even right. It was like an atomic bomb went off between us. My body clenched at the sight of his smile. He sat next to me and asked if I had a few spare minutes before work. I did. God I’m glad I did. We got off at the next stop and found the nearest secluded spot-an alley between two office buildings. We rushed each other, kissing and tugging at clothes. He bit my shoulder and I almost lost it. I love being bitten, which is something my husband has never understood and refuses to try. I pulled at his lower lip with my teeth and just hearing him moan made me all the wetter.

I grabbed his slacks and unbuttoned them quicker than I have ever done anything in my life. I wrapped my hand around his cock and gasped. He felt immaculate.

I can’t fit this in me,

I thought.

I’ll rip

. He spun me around and pressed me up against the brick wall. He was so aggressive, something else my husband refuses. He pulled my skirt up over my hips and slid two fingers into me around my panties. I almost came right then.

“Getting fucked by a stranger,” he whispered. “One of your fantasies, I bet. You’re so wet.” He slid his fingers in and out, in and out. I was panting with anticipation.

“Please,” I begged.

“Please what?”

“Please… I need….”

“Go on,” he urged me. He wanted to hear me say it.

“I need your cock,” I finally managed. I’m normally too shy to say a word like ‘cock.’

He slipped his fingers out and rammed me so hard I was up on my toes even in my heels. His hands wrapped around my hips and pulled me onto him every time he pushed forward. I came in less than a minute, biting my lip to keep from screaming and letting someone catch us. He kept going though. I came twice more before he fell over that edge with me. Since then I haven’t been able to stop seeing him.

I’m now at the door to his apartment. He opens it before I have a chance to knock. I step in, and as soon as he closes the door, he shoves me up against it. “Tell me why you come to me,” he commands. He’s biting my neck and shoulders, licking my ear lobe and groping my breasts through my shirt.

“You know why,” I tell him.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it, damn it,” he practically growls. I hesitate, my shyness and trepidation at speaking those dirty words coming back to haunt me. He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls.

“Because,” I stammer, “you’ll do what he won’t. You’ll fuck me like he won’t.”

He makes quick work of unbuttoning my shirt before taking it off and draping it over a chair. I shove my hands into his hair and pull his mouth to mine. I feel like being rough today, I want to fuck, not just have sex, and definitely not make love. He seems to sense this and he takes my hands out of his hair and slams them against the door at my sides, pinning me down.

“Do not move,” he tells me. He dips his head and kisses along the swell of my breast as his hands unbutton and unzip my jeans. I kick the heap of denim away from me, and he steps back. It drives me crazy, the way he looks at me. Like he’s appraising a piece of art or something. But at the same time, I love it. My husband doesn’t look at me like this, like I’m something not just to cherish, but to swallow whole.

He steps towards me again, and places both hands on my hips before running them up my torso, then down all the way to my ankles. He knows how to make me feel sexy, how to turn me on. He spins me around and pulls my hips out, pushing my upper body against the door. I’m trembling by now, he’s built so much sexual tension in me. He unhooks my bra and I let it just fall to the floor.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your ass?” he asks, running his finger tips over one cheek, just swirling it around on top of the cotton. He slides them down and holds them for me to step out of. “I’m keeping these,” he says, and I hear the soft whump as they land on his couch.

He runs his open palm up and down each side of my bottom. My back tenses of it’s own accord, and I do everything not to clench the muscles in my ass. I know what comes next.

“How bad have you been, sweetie?” he asks. He gives me a light pinch and I gasp. I can’t answer. I don’t know how to.

“Answer me,” he demands.

“B-bad…” I whisper. I get a light tap on my left cheek.

“Please,” I beg.

“Harder? Is that what you want? Then tell me how bad.”

“Very bad, terrible.” I’m still whispering. I almost feel embarrassed, begging for a spanking at my age.

“You know what I want to hear, baby,” he says soothingly. “Tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you what you need.”

“I’ve been a bad girl. I need to be punished,” I whimper. I’ve hardly finished the sentence before the first blow comes down. I gasp and lift my ass a little to meet the next one. I can hear him groan. This gets to him as badly as it gets to me.

I turn around and all but throw myself onto him. I pull his shirt over his head and throw it. It doesn’t even touch the ground before I have my hands at the zipper of his jeans. I’m frantic for him now, I need to feel him inside me. I bite at his bottom lip and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He returns the aggression, kissing back harder than I’m kissing him. I yank his pants down, pulling his boxers with them.

He kicks them away while holding my shoulders for balance, but when I try to stand up again he says, “No.” I know what he wants. I push his hands off of my shoulders and push his down onto the couch. He falls into a sitting position and I kneel between his legs.

“Now tell me what

you

want,” I say.

“Put my cock in your mouth,” he tells me, no hesitation in his voice. I almost blush from the bluntness of his request. I lick all around his shaft before taking his swollen head into my mouth. I push down as far as I can, swallowing to push his dick as far down my throat as I can.

I only suck him for a minute. I can’t wait anymore. I pull myself up and straddle his lap. I’m so wet, my juices are practically running down my thighs. I position myself right over top of his cock and push slowly down onto him, savoring every inch. I begin to rock back and forth, dropping my hips to take in as much of him as I can. His hands grip my hips, his fingertips digging into my flesh as he tries to guide me, to set a pace. I lean forward and lift one breast with my hand.

“Suck,” I tell him. He takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at my peachy bud. I push my nipple harder into his mouth and he moans.

I rock harder, faster against him. His hands slide around and grip my ass, and before I know what he’s doing, he lifts and lays me out on the coffee table. He kneels at the end and I can tell by the look on his face, I’m about to get the aggression I wanted.

He lifts my legs and hooks my knees over his shoulders. This is the perfect height for a coffee table. He pulls me down a couple of inches, so the very base of my ass is hanging off.

“You want to play rough?” he asks. His voice is hoarse with restraint. He begins to pound into me as hard as he can, pushing as deep as my body allows him to go. I can hear his thighs as they smack against me, skin slapping on skin. I’m gripping the sides of the table, barely able to breathe. I’m going to come any second now. I bite my lip as the first wave crashes through me.

“No, damn it, scream,” he growls. I scream. I scream for him to fuck me, I scream his name, I scream out for the world to hear that I’m coming. There are no inhibitions during an orgasm.

My pussy clenches around him and he gasps, then groans, then growls. He thrusts into me harder than ever, pushing at deep as possible before finally letting go. I slide off of the table and straddle his lap, squeezing his dick with my cunt and milking every drop of him. We lay our sweat-dripping foreheads together, panting, trying to catch our breath.

He kisses me, tenderly this time, and says, “Your husband doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

A voice from behind us at the door quietly says, “Yes. He does.”