Yes, I'd cheated on my husband.
Mike had given me permission, all be it reluctantly, to fuck other guys but he'd insisted on a few conditions. The first was that I never fucked anyone that we knew or who lived near us. The next was that, in order to avoid any kind of emotional attachment, I wasn't to fuck anyone twice and, finally, I had to tell Mike everything and not keep any secrets and, now, just a few weeks after I'd agreed to Mike's conditions, I'd broken them all in one evening so, yes, I had cheated on Mike.
Did I feel guilty or remorseful? Not a bit, I felt absolutely exhilerated.
I justified myself by telling myself that I'd arranged for Billy to visit me days earlier and, because I had no way of getting in touch with him, it wasn't my fault that he turned up on my doorstep after Mike had gone to work and I told myself it would be unforgivably rude if I didnt answer the door and offer him a drink before sending him on his way but, if I'm honest, I was in a state of high excitement all day as I waited for Billy's knock.
I also rationalized that, since Mike had fucked me without protection, I might actually be pregnant and telling him that I'd also fucked Billy just a few days later might lead to an awkward conversation even though Billy and I had used condoms. So I told myself that it was best for all concerned if I said nothing.
Even though I'd taken precautions to cover my tracks, I was a bag of nerves when Mike returned home in the morning and, in my mind, I absolutely reeked of sex and so did the entire house but Mike didn't seem to notice anything so I suppose it was all in my mind but, what I didn't want to admit to myself was that keeping my tryst with Billy a secret was so exciting that I felt dizzy.
As usual, our children stayed with Mike's mum on saturday but neither of us mentioned going out that evening. We hadn't discussed the fact that Mike had cum inside me so I had no idea what he was thinking but my head was absolutely buzzing with the possible consequences. We were only just recovering from the effects of Maggie Thatcher's attacks on the working classes and having another child would definitely stretch our finances to and possibly beyond our limit but, at a primal level, I really wanted another child.
We stayed home, had a nice meal, watched some tv, went to bed and made love but we still didn't mention the elephant in the room once.
I was on tenterhooks throughout the week and, when my period arrived, I wasn't sure how I felt. On the one hand, I heaved a sigh of relief but, on the other, I felt bitterly disappointed as if I'd actually lost a child, in fact, I felt so down that I think I actually went into mourning for a while. At some level, I knew that I was being foolish but that didn't make it any better.
I was in a state of depression for the best part of another week before I gave myself a good talking to and decided that there was only one way to cheer myself up so, that saturday, I dolled myself up and led Mike around town in search of Billy. Well, I was searching for Billy but I'm sure Mike caught on when I walked into the first three pubs, looked around the bar and left without buying a drink.
I didn't need to look around the next bar because no sooner had we stepped inside than Billy came rushing over grinning like a cheshire cat. We shared two rounds of drinks before I suggested that the drinks were cheaper back at our house and we were on our way.
As we approached the house, I remembered how it had gone the last time that I'd brought Billy home with me so, this time, I followed Mike into the living room and poured drinks whilst he put on some music and he and Billy started in on another wandering and boring conversation. After two drinks, I decided that I'd played the devoted wife and perfect hostess long enough so I rose to my feet and, looking down at Billy, I asked "Coming?" and Billy immediately rose to his feet, gave Mike an apologetic shrug and hurried after me up the stairs.
If there's a Guinness world record for getting your clothes off, I'm sure that we would have broken it and, within seconds, I was on my back and Billy was on top of me, sliding his wonderful cock into my saturated cunt. My groan as he entered me almost rattled the windows and, for a brief moment, I wondered if Mike was listening outside the bedroom door before all thought was swept away by the incredible sensations flooding my body.
If I think about it rationally, there was nothing remarkable about Billy's prick; it was very similar to Mike's apart from the curve but Billy fucked me with an intensity that Mike hadn't for many, many years. Billy would hold back his own climax again and again, driving me to countless orgasms until I was begging him to cum and then, when he finally came, it would only take half an hour or so before he was ready to go again.
In a lot of ways, Mike was very similar because, like Billy, he was more concerned with my enjoyment than his own but, after so many years together, Mike knew me and my body so well that he could gently tease and caress orgasms from me. I suppose what I'm saying is that Mike made love to me whilst Billy fucked me. Both experiences were wonderful in their own way but fucking Billy was thrilling because it was naughty and wrong especially with Mike in the same house and especially listening outside the bedroom door.
We fell into, what was for me a wonderful routine with Billy fucking me most saturdays and usually once or twice during the week and me no longer trying to hide it from Mike. Mike would fuck me every friday and sunday and, during one memorable week Billy 'visited' me on monday, tuesday, wednesday and thursday so that I was fucked by either one of them for ten consecutive days.
I've often read people saying that having extramarital sex made their marriage stronger and more loving and I find that hard to believe but what I can say is that fucking Billy definitely saved my marriage.
With Mike working night shifts, I was spending four nights a week on my own sat in front of a television with two children asleep upstairs and no adult company. I might as well have been a single mum or locked up in prison and, as I sat there bored to tears, I couldn't help thinking about Mike being surrounded by workmates, laughing and chatting whilst I only had myself to talk to and I was really starting to resent it. I was snappy and argued with Mike over the most trivial of things and I knew that, if things didn't change, I'd end up leaving Mike or attacking him.
I knew, deep down that I was being unfair for thinking that way because I knew that Mike was only working unsocial hours to pay the bills and that he'd much rather be at home with me but I also knew that he'd become good friends with many of his colleagues whilst I was sat at home on my own and my resentment just grew and grew. I was starved of adult conversation and company and I'm sure that, if Billy hadn't come along, I would have eventually lost my mind. That may sound melodramatic but just try being on your own night after night.
Anyway, with Billy there to keep me company and fill the gaps so to speak ( intended pun ) I was so much happier, so much more relaxed and so much more fucked.
I was really content but then, one saturday night, just a few months after first 'meeting' Billy, something bad happened; It was about two o'clock in the morning when I slipped out of bed and tip toed naked into the spare room. From the light on the landing, I could see Mike lying on his side facing me and, from his gentle snores, I could tell that he was fast asleep so I sat on the bed beside him and whispered "Mike, Mike, are you awake?" He didn't respond so I gently shook his shoulder and repeated "Mike, are you awake?"
