The following story contains creampie, watersports and cuckold themes, if its not for you then please choose another story (no offence taken). Still here - good! I hope you enjoy - I did!
The wives tale:
First of all, I do love my husband, and I'm not a bad person (least I don't think so but as that's a judgment call I'll let you make up your own mind). My husband (Ian) is a cuckold, he loves it (and me) I get what I need both sexually (from my boyfriends) and emotionally (from my husband). This is how it began:
We had been married for a little over 7 years. We had married after a whirlwind romance (14 weeks to be precise) and were very happy. Sex, even in the early days, had been 'brief' but, at least, regular. By the third year even the quantity was dropping. First it was weekends only, then once a week, once a month. By the time we had been married 5 years it was birthdays and Christmas only!
We married young. Ian was 21 I was a mere 19. By 25, at the peak of my sexual being, sorry but a quick, sticky, fumble every 3 months interspersed with regular masturbation just wasn't doing it for me. I needed to feel like a real woman, I needed the intimacy of lovemaking, I needed either a divorce or a lover! I chose the lover.
It was just Sex (God I must sound like a man!), but it was -- at least that's what I would tell myself. I had an itch that needed scratching -- that's all. No emotional attachment just occasional GOOD sex.
A guy at work (also married so discretion was assured) had made it clear he was interested. Until now I had always rebuffed his jokey advances, we both knew the 'jokes' were a socially acceptable cover for his advances. I began flirting with him, knocking him back verbally whilst making it clear he should continue.
Before long we were lovers, daytime illicit sex only. The sneaking around, having 'our little secret' only intensified the sensation. The sex was amazing we were fucking everywhere and at every opportunity. Daytime only -- safer that way. To be honest the guilt I felt was more for his wife than my husband. We always practised safe sex, and I would shower before bed so the chances of being caught were minimised. At least that was until the Christmas party. We worked in separate departments, separate nights out, we shouldn't have met, but we did.
Fuelled by passion, and alcohol, the inevitable happened, David offered to drive me home. Around 2 blocks from my home he pulled over and we had the best sex yet. It was animal, rough savage sex. Clothes were torn off, my wet panties yanked to the side as he forced himself in and fucked me hard - no condom. I came several times before he unloaded into me. I felt every squirt, every drop, his cock pulsing as it emptied. It was amazing.
I got out and walked the last stretch, a chance to regain my composure, and ensure my clothes were appropriate before reaching home. The fresh air coupled with a post orgasmic high helped to sober me up (at least a little). It also made me realise just how tired I was, it had been a long week, it was 2am and I was knackered!
It was then I knew I had a problem. Go home have a coffee (sober up some more) shower go to bed or just go to bed and hope Ian wasn't horny. Option 1 was bound to raise suspicion, option 2 was a gamble. He's been home alone all night, almost certainly on his PC porn sites (that I'm not supposed to know about), had a wank and was now sound asleep. The odds were in my favour.