Jennifers Obsession Infidelity

It had been a rough night; she'd tossed and turned the whole way through – she'd had very little sleep. She knew it was spiraling out of control but was at a loss to do anything about it. Perhaps I need help, professional help, she thought to herself. Beep! Beep! The BMW behind hooted its horn. She looked up at the lights, they were on go. She quickly gathered herself and set about her journey, waving to the driver behind as if to signal a 'sorry'.

It wasn't long before she'd arrived at her destination, and she wasn't feeling any better. Her appointment was for 9 o'clock and it was five to, but Mr. King's car wasn't on the drive which was unusual, he normally parked out front. Right, sort yourself out Jennifer, she thought to herself, as she leaned back into her seat and looked up to the unusually clear, blue sky. Perhaps it was a sort of prayer, although she wasn't really sure if she believed in a God, but she'd been getting quite desperate lately. She closed her eyes for a moment. Get a grip Jen, get a grip! she thought.

It was almost nine. Focused and ready to go, she swung open the door of her sporty Volkswagen Golf, leapt out, and headed off towards the little oak door of Mr. King's farmhouse. She glanced back several times as she went, admiring the colour of her car. She just loved the colour black. As she reached up for the heavy-looking iron door knocker, the door swung open. A Springer spaniel bounded at her with tail wagging furiously. Mr. King peeled the spaniel from Jennifer, dragged him indoors, and quickly slipped through the door, expertly shutting the dog in as he did so. Mr. King was the only American she knew. He'd always loved the United Kingdom; perhaps it was the word 'King - dom', made him feel at home. Whatever the reasons, he loved it here, and his work allowed for him to live wherever he liked - he was some sort of writer.

''And how is Mr. King on this beautiful morning?" Jennifer enquired as she set about a series of well-rehearsed stretching exercises. Following her lead, "really looking forward to this run, I was starting to wonder if I'd become a part of that goddamn computer," Mr. King replied. Jennifer smiled, his accent tickled her.

As she went through a number of toe-touches, she was sure Mr. King was sneaking the occasional glance at her cleavage. She felt her nipples harden a little but wasn't sure if it was the cold, spring morning, or the sense of being desired. Snap out of it Jennifer, you're in control, she repeated over and over in her mind but still not really believing it - her nipples were definitely still a little harder.

With the stretching out of the way they set off on their usual run around Mr. King's land, with Jennifer checking the position of her sports bra-top, just in case something was hanging out and that's why Mr. King was looking. It was okay.

It was a brisk pace, but the cold, crisp air demanded it. By the time they'd reached the wood both their bodies were fully functioning. Their muscles engorged with rich, red blood, their hearts full of vigor and life, their lungs full of fresh, country air - they were like the springtime forest itself, rich and alive.

"Come on Mr. King, push it," Jennifer ordered, stepping up the pace and snaking through the trees like a downhill slalom skier. Mr. King didn't respond but made every effort to stay with her. How on earth can they run with all that tackle swinging about down there? she thought, as she settled in to her run, women are perfect for all that leg movement, but men? She pictured Mr. King running naked through the wood and smiled to herself. She suddenly became aware of how sensitive her nipples had become to the lycra that constantly rubbed up and down against them as she ran. She could feel them getting hotter, and hotter, and harder, and harder. She glanced over her shoulder, to check on Mr. King. She couldn't help sneaking a peek at his crotch. Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of something quite weighty-looking swinging about in his shorts. She snatched her head back, bowing it down in shame and biting her bottom lip as she ran. I can see it now, she thought, imagining him to be one of those lucky guys with a thick, long, over-sized cock.

She'd worked up quite a sweat by now, she could tell by the way her crotch felt, all warm and moist. Just thinking about it turned her pussy into a wet, swollen mound. Sometimes it felt like it might just explode - she'd always enjoyed running. She ran a little harder and the pace wasn't the only thing that was heating up. Her nipples had become so erect they started to ache now. She glanced down at her bouncing breasts, imagining a man's hands on them, squeezing them, and tugging at her nipples with his teeth. Oh it felt good, so good in fact she wanted to see her nipples. The thought of cold, forest air, gushing over her hot, hard nipples came to her. Her mound got wetter, and started to give her a sort of tickling feeling. She glanced around the wood like a shoplifter about to steal. Mr. King had lost quite a bit of ground. She bit hard on her bottom lip, and heaved her bra-top up. Her large, well-formed breasts feel out into the open air. The cold air on her bare chest gave her a rush, and God, it felt naughty. She stood tall as she ran, her breasts swinging and bouncing wildly, with nipples occasionally almost going into her mouth. She felt so free, so horny. Her pussy moistened some more. All she could think of right now was slipping a finger inside the swelling mound between her legs. It felt as if her pussy could get fucked all day long, and it still wouldn't be enough. She came to an abrupt halt and gently, with one finger, stroked the lycra covering her crotch. Her eyes fluttered.

The sound of rapidly advancing footsteps approached from behind. Jennifer did an about turn, her bare breasts swinging and bouncing as she did so. Mr. King stumbled to a clumsy stop just in front of her. "Your....ummm..." he muttered, pointing to his chest and then to hers. She stepped up close to him, staring him in the eye. He hadn't taken his eyes off her fleshy curves. She snatched a hold of the waistband of his shorts, and pulled it towards her. Mr. King didn't object. She peered down inside. A fast-growing erection was rising to greet her. A bead of sweat fell from her brow onto her chest. Mr. King watched it closely as it trickled its way down her voluptuous breast, heading towards an almost throbbing nipple. He had an urge to intercept it with his tongue, and then to swallow up her hard nipple in his mouth.

Jennifer reached inside his shorts with her other hand, like a child dipping into a bag of sweets. She gripped his cock, squeezing it and wanking it at the same time. Within seconds it was hard as a bone. Smiling, she looked him in the eye again, with her right breast vibrating back and forth slightly from her enthusiastic hand movement. Mouth agape, his gaze finally rose from her chest to her eyes. Jennifer's smile broadened and had taken on a devilish appearance. Quick as a flash, she dropped to her knees and had yanked his shorts down to his ankles in one fell swoop, and all without releasing her grip on his cock. She took a second or so nuzzling into a comfortable position for her knees, the old leaves of last year crunched and rustled as she did so. She looked up at Mr. King, having to peer through several strands of brunette hair that had fallen free from her tie-back. He looked down at her to see her striking blue eyes sparkling back at him.

They looked so fresh, so innocent, he thought, but the proximity of her mouth to his erection told him otherwise. Her full, blood-red lips narrowed as she smiled before her face disappeared from view leaving Mr. King to see only the top of her head. He felt the tip of his cock touch her lips, then the tip of her tongue popped out to greet him, followed by a hot wet feeling, that tickled somewhat, as she slid his shaft deep into her mouth. She felt his legs shiver a little as she swallowed him. As she reached the hilt he thrust his pelvis in a vain attempt to get that little bit more into her. His face had become a picture of sensual satisfaction, she noticed as she glanced up whilst retreating off his length.

As the tip of his cock left her lips it sprang up with considerable force, almost vertical, before coming to rest at about an eighty degree angle. She quickly set to work with her tongue, lapping at his cock repeatedly like a camel to water. His hands had come to rest on her head as he started to adopt a rhythmical thrusting of his pelvis, as if he were fucking. She slapped his cock against her lips, her tongue, back at her lips, back in her mouth, wanked at it, licked it, back on her lips again. He thrusted with more urgency and his head tilted back. She couldn't see his face now but imagined him to have his eyes closed with his mouth partially open to let some pleasure out, just in case he exploded. She was right! Then as suddenly as she went down on him, she rose to her feet, letting his cock loose as she did so. He looked at her as if she'd just stolen his wallet or something, although he was still thrusting his pelvis somewhat.

Looking at his cock, she started to knead her breasts and tweak her nipples with her one hand. "Keep that cock hard, you're going to fuck my pussy so hard it's going to hurt," she ordered, whilst using her free hand to peel off her black, lycra leggings. She bent forward to pull one trouser leg over her trainer, briefly taking him in the mouth again as if by accident. He groaned. She stood up straight, spread her legs to about shoulder width, placed one hand on her neatly-trimmed pussy, and spread her lips a little to expose her pinky-red inner lips. "Get down on your knees," she said, sternly. King did as she said, like an obedient dog. He placed each of his hands onto her firm buttocks, and without looking up at her, buried his head deep into her pussy and forced his tongue up inside her as far as it would go.

His warm, wet mouth contrasted deeply to the sharp, icy breeze that was only seconds ago caressing her crotch, in more ways than one! She took a hold of his hands and dragged them up the front of her body and squeezed them over her bulging nipples. He continued to mouth her pussy, fucking it with his tongue. She looked up to the tops of the oak, beech, and birch that made the forest, where rays of sunlight burst through the canopy to illuminate a few select patches of the ground beneath - she was on one of those patches. It seemed like a scene from a religious work of art where she was some sort of angel illuminated by the sunbeam, with a humble mortal kneeling down before her, if he weren't licking and fucking her crotch with his tongue, that is.

She cupped her hands over his ears, holding his head quite firmly, and thrust her pussy hard into his face. She wiggled her hips a few times, feeling her wet pussy opening and closing as it rubbed over the hard features of his face, his nose occasionally pressing on her clitoris. She was ready to fuck! "Get up," she said hoarsely, stepping back from him. She eyed his still near vertical cock as he rose, unable to resist a quick tug at it. She licked her lips, did an about turn, and bent over. The sunlight reflected off her tanned buttocks, giving them a warm glow of orange-red. Its shape was that of a just ripe, juicy peach, only bigger, and with a hole in it that gave away the secret of its warm and wet, fleshy interior. That hole just had to be filled, he thought, licking the gathering moisture from his lips.

"Fuck my pussy, hard!" she groaned as she opened her legs a little to make space for his cock, rustling a few leaves in the process. He stepped up to her, his cock pressing into the length of the crease that separated her firm cheeks. He place his left hand on her left hip, his other hand at the base of his cock, and retreated a little whilst at the same time pushing his cock down to horizontal. Jennifer felt the tip of his beast touch her pussy lips, separating them a little. She reached a hand down to her crotch, and with her fingers, expertly held her pussy open to him at the same time as guiding him into her. He sensed the positioning was right, let go of his cock to place his other hand on her other hip, and slowly but firmly, thrust forward, entering her. He watched closely as his length disappeared into her, letting out a groan as he did so.

"You fucker," she cried, feeling his erection penetrate deep inside her. As he withdrew in readiness for another thrust, he could feel the cold of the outdoors on his wet cock. He thrust into her again, using his hands to pull her onto him at the same time, squeezing her hips tightly as he did so. The warmth of her inner flesh pleasured him. Oh, fuck this is good, he thought, trying to squeeze every last bit of cock into her. Jennifer turned to look over her shoulder, her pretty face stern. "I said, fuck my pussy hard, you bastard!" she snarled, still stern-looking, but also brimming with lust for his cock. She reached her arms out in front of her, to take hold of a young oak tree. She held it as if it was some sort of phallic object, and she was bowing down in worship to it. Although the real reason she was holding it was to steady herself in anticipation of the hard drilling she was going to get from behind.

He gently slid out of her, until just the tip of his cock remained in her, and rammed into her with everything he had. His cock vanished into her almost immediately, with his thighs smashing into her buttocks with such a slap several birds flew from their perches through fear for their safety. Jennifer herself almost lost her footing, and most certainly would have if it weren't for her grip on the young tree. Slap! He was at her again. "That's it, keep it coming," she whispered between groans, with her breasts heaving their way to her face and back again. Within seconds he'd found a rhythm. She joined him, forcing herself onto him as he thrust forward. Jennifer was getting it deep, moving one step closer to orgasm with each long, hard, fierce thrust. Suddenly he grabbed her ponytail (she always scraped her hair back and had it tied in a ponytail when she was training). He tugged hard at it with each thrust he put into her. She felt like she was being held down while he had his way with her. It turned her on. For some ironic reason it made her feel free to enjoy the fuck. Being held there made her feel as if she didn't have any choice in the matter, any guilt or shame she had, was lifted.

He really started to go at her; he was like a wild animal. He pounded at her harder and harder. The slap of his thighs against her cheeks got louder and louder. She could feel his throbbing cock getting in deeper and deeper. Her feet were almost leaving the ground with the impact of his cock driving into her. He tugged harder and harder at her hair. She was going anywhere, not that she wanted to, that is.

He couldn't watch his cock penetrate her a moment longer. It was just too much, he was close to the finish line and God, he wanted it to go on, and on, and on. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and hammered her. Her hair was being pulled so tight now her head was as far back as it would go. Her breasts swung wildly under the assault. She could hear him grunting, animal-like. She thought her pussy might explode. One more thrust, and another. She screamed out as the bubble of pleasure that had built in her pussy eventually gave way, bursting forth like nerve impulses that reached every last bit of her body in an instant. She immediately went limp. If he hadn't had such a tight grip on her she would have crumpled in a heap like the leaves on the floor, lifeless.

He continued to pound her even harder. Within seconds she'd regained consciousness, although it was a sort of dreamy consciousness now. His grunts were louder and he seemed to be losing his rhythm. He's cumming, she thought, trying desperately to regain full control of herself. "I want it in the mouth," she pleaded. (She had to plead seeing as he was holding her rigid and helpless - she was at his mercy.) He almost threw her off his cock. She landed onto her knees, spinning around the moment she hit the floor. Time was of the essence. She grabbed his cock, held it to her open mouth, and wanked it with incredible speed. He looked down at her to see the tip of his pulsing cock bouncing off her tongue as she worked him, her tits bouncing under the fury. His lips pursed and his eyes fluttered. His body spasmed and the first troop of little soldiers marched across her tongue, over her upper lip, and spread out over her cheek. The pleasure he felt seemed to be contagious as Jennifer's pussy felt like it was being massaged by a thousand little fingers. She continued to tug at his now fully swollen cock. Just as another troop were about to march, Jennifer lunged at his cock and closed her mouth over it, and looked up at him. He caught a glimpse of her on him just before his eyes were forced shut under the weight of pleasure. She felt those thousand little fingers move inside her pussy now, forcing her body to wriggle. He clasped his hands tightly on her head and softly fucked her mouth as he finished off. She accidentally bit down on him a little as she came again - he didn't notice. His hands dropped to his side and his head tilted back as he let out a deep sigh. Jennifer flopped forward, his quickly softening cock slipping out of her mouth as she did so. Her head came to rest against his right thigh; his cock came to rest alongside her face. They both sighed in synchrony.

Seconds later she felt his hand gently stroking her head. She looked up at him. Some of the little soldiers on her face had smeared off on his thigh, whilst the remainder was quickly drying out in the cold breeze and trying desperately to hold on to several strands of her hair. He smiled. She gave his cock a friendly kiss. "So what now Jen?" he said. (He'd never called her 'Jen' before; it was always 'Jennifer'.) Suddenly, Jennifer held her head in shame, biting her lip. Oh no, what's he thinking now, she thought to herself, it was just one of those things, it isn't going to happen again. "Ah, I see, I get the message," Mr. King said, bending down to grab his shorts. It somehow seemed inappropriate now, for him to be standing there with his cock on full view in the presence of Jennifer. Jennifer seemed shocked. Had she thought those words or actually spoke them - her grip on what was real and what was not had been a little difficult to understand lately. Mr. King shuffled about uncomfortably for a moment before launching into a series of stretching exercises, although his usual vigor seemed to be missing. "Sorry Lionel, uh, Mr. King," Jennifer said quietly, restoring her clothing to how it was meant to be worn. There was no reply. He continued stretching, although Jennifer did catch him sneaking the occasional glance at the parts he didn't normally get to see. Who wouldn't, Jennifer was some woman. Jennifer set off like a hounded fox, snaking through the forest at quite a speed. Mr. King trailed faithfully behind - the experience just a memory now, a concept he was having great difficulty getting to grips with. Jennifer's thoughts raced between how she loved her husband, Andrew, and how she just can't help herself sometimes.

Sometimes I get an urge that just has to be satisfied and Andrew, bless him, can't be with me all the time. Vibrators and all that are great and I use them, often, but sometimes you just need a man, to do things to you, the real fucking thing. You just don't get that with those sex toys. What's a woman to do? It's not as if I ever get involved emotionally, it's just a physical thing. That's not infidelity, surely. The man could just be viewed as one of those sex toys I suppose, where's the harm in that. I don't think Andrew would see it quite like that, though. It's best not to say anything, that'd just be stupid. Yeah, I don't want him to get hurt, not over a silly little difference in how we interpret this sort of thing. It's petty, silly even. It's in the past now, anyway, so what does it matter now. There.