Driving to work, Julie wondered what it would be like if this was her actual life. If she had a man who could fuck her half the night, drive her out of her mind and leave her incredibly satisfied. If her man was one to whom she wanted to give a blow job in the morning before sending him off to work.
In a couple days Gary would be back and she would be inspired to do little more than give him a polite kiss before leaving. What a contrast between that and this morning! Everything about Greg, his clothes, his body, the way he walked... it all conspired to make him irresistible.
The fact that he was leaving for work from her house was probably no small part of the thrill too. It was a brief chance to compare the fantasy to the reality. And besides, Julie couldn't seem to get enough of him. She loved the way it felt to satisfy him. That he was on his way to work in the morning only made it more erotic and pleasing. What better way for a woman to send a man off, right?
Julie talked Greg into coming back that night. It was against her better judgment, but she cooked dinner for him. It gave the night an awkward start. Greg was not interested in playing house with Julie and he was unable or unwilling to hide it. But after dinner, he ate Julie out and then fucked her on the dining room table and things quickly got back into their normal groove.
He pulled her off the table and pushed her to the floor on her elbows and knees. He got in behind her and resumed fucking her. His big, hard cock was so welcome inside her. Julie came after just a few minutes, writhing and spasming so violently in orgasm that she almost smacked her head on the tile floor.
After her screams subsided, Greg pulled her up onto her knees, spun her around and shoved his cock in her mouth. Moaning and grabbing her breasts in both hands, Julie opened her mouth and took Greg's cock inside. She bobbed eagerly on it, expecting him to cum.
But after a few minutes, he hauled Julie to her feet and guided her into the living room. There, he sat in the recliner... Gary's recliner. His cock stood straight up, beckoning Julie to come and impale herself on it.
She hesitated. This was another line being crossed, albeit an almost insignificant one at this point. Fucking another man in her husband's favorite chair was as bad as fucking him in their bed. In this case it was perhaps worse, since Julie and Gary had never had sex in that chair.
Greg smiled at Julie's hesitation. He must have realized.
"Come on," he said, his tone one that brooked no compromise. He waggled his long shaft at her, making her mouth water. Not sure if she just wanted to go down on Greg again or if she was resisting fucking him in Gary's chair—at least for now—Julie wasn't sure. But instead of climbing atop his towering member, Julie got on her knees between his legs.
Greg seemed content to let her suck him for a while.
"Yeah, come on, cocksucker," he said. "Show me how much you love it. What a slut you are for my cum." His words caused Julie to shudder. The heat and wetness in her pussy multiplying instantly. "Suck my cock while I sit your husband's chair." Julie moaned around his cock, his words driving her as crazy as his nine inch member. She sucked him hard and fast, her saliva dripping down him as she slurped his pole lustily.
A few minutes later, as Julie bobbed enthusiastically on him, he pulled her up.
"Come on. You sucked my cock in his chair. Time to fuck me in it," Greg told her. It was a foregone conclusion that she would, of course. But Greg's words served to heighten the intensity of the moment, a further illustration of how he could effortlessly get her to cross any boundary. There was a time not so long ago when Julie would never have believed herself capable of infidelity. And she certainly could have never envisioned something as brazen as straddling another man in her own house, let alone in Gary's favorite chair.
The way Greg made a point of fucking her there was not just an exercise in control over Julie. It was a way of saying, what kind of slut would do this to her husband? And that's what she was, wasn't she? Whenever Greg was around, Julie was nothing more than a nasty little slut. And it made her so damn hot!
Riding his cock, first facing him, then facing away, Julie had two staggering orgasms. If Greg's hands hadn't grabbed her hips and steadied her, the second one would surely have caused her to topple out of the chair.
From there they went into the bedroom, where Julie climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees. Greg took his familiar place behind her and pounded her to yet another near-consciousness-eclipsing climax. Panting and sweating into her pillow, Julie felt Greg tap her ass and, as if conditioned, she immediately turned around. She wrapped her lips around him and, after swallowing his ample offering, she held his cock in her mouth while she fingered herself to another wrenching orgasm.
They lay in bed afterward in each others' arms in a way that made Julie yearn for it to be real. As she lay in Greg's arms, swirling in the wake of her powerful orgasms, she could think of nothing more perfect. It was cruel to have it, feel it, experience it and still know that it wasn't something of substance. It was a magnificent sand castle that, despite its grandeur, was powerless in the face of the incoming tide.
The next three months were probably the greatest in Julie's life. She was able to see Greg two or three times almost every week. He would bring her to his apartment for a Saturday afternoon. Julie would have him over for a weeknight. Even if it was just a night where Gary was working late, Julie managed to find ways to be with Greg. She even reprised her performance in the parking lot at Cavanaugh's.
Things were going so smoothly, everything working out in her favor. She must have known that it couldn't last. If she did, she didn't admit it to herself. She continued to live her dual life, reaping the benefits of both.
