The Sexual Adventures Of Maxwell Ch 02

Chapter 2: In Which Our Hero Must Face the Consequences of his Actions

The house was quiet and dark when he entered. As he suspected, Emily had gone to bed. When he saw her in their bed, curled up and small, he felt like shit. He hadn't really much considered the consequences of his actions until now, but now, in the early morning darkness of his bedroom, his drunken tryst with Danielle paled in comparison to what his marriage with Emily meant. And he had damaged that, for what? For what amounted to a meaningless night of bad drunken sex? Max shook his head in disbelief at his own behavior, wandering how he was going to explain this to Emily. What could he possibly say to her?

He sighed and went to take a shower. As he stood there, letting the hot water run on his body, he heard the shower door open and Emily slipped in with him.

"Hey stranger," she said. She ran her hands over his body, down his chest, down his stomach to his cock. Despite himself, he felt a stirring. Danielle might be a few years younger, but Emily was hot. 34D, flat stomach, 36 inch hips; she was a firm, athletic, 28 year old brunette with hazel eyes and a heart-shaped face.

They kissed and he reached down to grip her firm round ass, pulling her body against his. They stood like that, in the water for a moment, then she pulled away.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

Max looked into her eyes, full of concern, hurt, and disbelief already. And hope, that he knew he would have to dash. He shook his head and shrugged meaninglessly. "Can we talk about it tonight?" he asked.

Emily smiled uncertainly. "Sure, Max," she said.

They didn't say much more that morning and Max spent the day at work, worried and tired, unable to concentrate. And that night, they talked. Max didn't remember exactly what he said, but he told her the truth, about Steve, about Danielle. Everything. He knew what he had done, what sort of betrayal it had been and he didn't want to lie. Whatever the consequences, he felt he owed it to this woman to tell her the truth.

Emily was hurt. She cried. She yelled a little. She was inconsolable, but she didn't ask him to leave, though he did offer. Max slept on the couch that night, though. And the next. They barely talked and every time he saw her, Emily's eyes were red and puffy. Max couldn't eat or sleep either. He was worried that his marriage was over; he felt he deserved for his marriage to be over.

When he got home Friday, he expected more of the same, but Emily surprised him. When he got home, she was waiting in the living room, sitting on the couch. She asked him to sit and with some trepidation, he complied. This was it, he figured. Divorce.

But he was wrong. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't satisfied?" Emily asked.

Max shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know that I even really knew, actually. Until it sort of happened. Tuesday night...I didn't plan it. I didn't plan any of it."

"I know, Max, but you hurt me. A lot. You betrayed me and our relationship and for a while, I didn't know what to do about that, but I've been thinking a lot. About what I want. And I decided. Here," she handed him a print out.

It was from a dating site and showed the profile of Anthony Rogers, a black body builder.

"What this?" Max asked.

Emily shrugged. "You had your night. I want mine. Tonight. At 8:30, Anthony will arrive to take me on a date."

"Okay..." Max frowned.

"It's not up to you. If you want this marriage to work," she said.

And so it was that Max watched his wife drive away with Anthony. At first, he was distraught. But as the night wore on, his thoughts began to change, until by 1:00 and he was sure what Emily and Anthony were doing, he felt himself getting excited.

And that was how Max happened to be lying naked on his bed, jerking his cock, thinking of Anthony fucking his wife. In his imagination, they entered a bedroom, Anthony's bedroom, hand in hand, Emily leading. She was wearing a little black strapless dress and red thong panties. Anthony was dressed in gabardine slacks and a sports coat over a fashionable shirt. They were kissing, Emily pulling him down on top of her by his tie.

And then, they were undressing each other, his hands slipping under her dress into her panties; she was gasping, arching her back, rubbing her body against him as he slipped a finger into her pussy. Emily was biting her lip, suppressing a moan of pure pleasure as Anthony worked his finger in and out. She put her arms around his back and pulled him closer, lifting herself from the bed, so for a second she was pinioned on his finger, then he laid her down and stepped back, leading her hand to the bulge in his pants. She massaged his cock, feeling the length and breadth of it, so much larger than Max's 6 inches, her eyes widening as she imagined this cock inside her, of what it would be like to be fucked by Anthony.

She undressed him then. Playfully, unbuttoning his shirt with her teeth, smiling, filled with lust. Anthony looked down at her, running his hands through her hair. And then she was spreading her white hands over the large and chiseled expanse of his chest, running her fingers through his chest hair, kissing and nibbling his nipples, smelling his skin. Then she unzipped his pants and with a mischievous grin, slipped her hand inside. She grabbed Anthony's cock, stroking it through his boxers, then slipped into his underwear and felt his cock in the flesh. She groaned and began pulling at his belt with her teeth, trying to unbuckle his pants. Laughing lightly, Anthony reached down and helped her out and then his pants were down at his ankles.

Emily knelt, then, between his legs and pulling his cock free of his boxers, stroked its full length for a moment. Anthony was only half-hard and already his cock was 7 inches long and more than a handful for Emily. She smiled up at him as she stuck her tongue out and teased the slit, then swirled her tongue around the head. Then she opened her mouth and slipped the head in, kissing it deeply, sucking it in. And she opened her mouth wider, his cock slipping in further and further. And then she was sucking his cock, her hands gripping his buttocks as he began to thrust into her mouth.

Max groaned, his cock harder than ever as he writhed on his bed imagining this huge black cock in his wife's mouth. His sex life had been so boring and now Emily was about to be boned by this cock, this huge cock. He looked down at his little cock, leaking pre-cum everywhere and groaned again.

And in his mind, Emily was sucking Anthony's huge cock. Max could see, clearly, the large, hairy veined flesh, the color of chocolate, pushing into her mouth, her red slutty lipstick smeared, her jaw open wide. She gripped Anthony's balls, feeling them clenching as she sucked him. And then his cock popped out, covered in her spit, a line of spittle extending out of her mouth to the tip.

Anthony undressed her now, unzipping her dress and slipping it down her body. Emily covered her breasts with her arm, blushing coyly, unconvincingly. He stood naked and admired her body, his cock fully erect in front of him, then she slid a hand down to her panties and slipped them down until they fell at her feet and she stepped out of them, her hand over her pussy. Then Anthony stepped forward, his cock pushing into her belly, as he kissed her, folding her into his arms. He kissed down her body, uncovering her breasts and covering them with his mouth, cupping them in his hands, massaging her hardened nipples.

She was moaning and sighing in ecstasy, so that by the time his hand reached her pussy, she was wet and ready. He fingered her, but she grabbed his head and pushed him down.

"Eat my cunt, baby," she moaned. And he did. He laid her back on her back on the bed and kissed her pussy, slipping his tongue into her. She wrapped her legs around his head and forced his face deeper. And he went in, dove into her pussy, grinding in. She was shrieking now, suffocating him as he ate her pussy. He reached up and grabbed her breasts, his face buried in her.

Max was groaning. He came then, large gobs of cum shooting over his chest, hitting him in the face. One hit his lip and instinctively, he licked it as his body jerked and spasmed. He'd never tasted his cum before, but the salty taste wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be. Emily complained about sucking his cock—he couldn't remember the last time she had. He lay back, breathing hard, his cock wilting and finished his fantasy as Anthony slipped his cock into Emily's pussy.

He wasn't gentle, but slammed the full 9 inches to the balls immediately. Emily gasped and kept yelling "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God" again and again as he slammed his full length into her. They fucked for a while, Max knew. He couldn't imagine Anthony but as an incredible lover, pounding his wife's pussy deeper, harder, better than he could. Then spouts of cum shooting over her face, lacing her face with sticky goo. He felt ashamed, lying there with cum drying on his belly, about how inadequate he was. His wife was off getting the fuck of her life.

Max lay on his side and curled into a ball in self-disgust. He fell asleep that way. He didn't hear his wife's car drive up, or the door slam as she closed it. Or her keys in the lock of the front door.

Emily set her purse down on the end table, sat and removed her heels, then picked them up and walked barefoot into the bedroom. She looked at her husband for a moment, naked there in the center of the bed, then turned and walked to the bathroom, flicked the light on and closed the door.