Warning: very minimal sex.
I pumped my hips up as Harvey drove his down, once again burying himself in me to the root. This time was taking longer. Not only was he working on his third orgasm, but, frankly, the friction we had experienced the first two times had diminished considerably from the use of my pussy and from the overabundance of fluids we had both produced. Lucky me, I didn't need the friction as long he made sufficient contact with my clitoris, and he did. I made sure of that.
This was not a contest and I had lost track of my orgasms, but there were enough that by the time he came, I would be satisfied.
He soon began making those silly man noises that let me know that if I wanted to get off with him, I had better make it happen soon. I reached a hand down between us and began rubbing two fingers over my slippery clit. It was sufficient. I enjoyed yet another orgasm. As I started to come down from the high, I recognized that he was moments away.
"In my mouth. My pussy is full enough!"
Ever the gentleman, he complied with my request. It was not copious. He had used up most of what he had stored the first two times. But I love the taste of cum and this was a lovely way to end an afternoon of pleasure.
We rested a few minutes and he got up to shower.
"Do you have to rush off?"
"Your husband will be home in a little while."
"No he won't. The game won't end before four and it often runs as late as four-thirty. It's at least forty-five minutes in traffic. He has never left an Eagles game early no matter how much they were winning by or how badly they were losing. It's a whole big production for him from tailgating three hours before the game to the final whistle."
"Well, I have nothing left anyway."
"Enjoy your shower; wouldn't want the wife finding any evidence."
I just laid there resting. Orgasms take a lot out of me. Of course they're wonderful, but the body does undergo some pretty violent contractions when they are really good. I would need a shower too and I would need to change the sheets but I had plenty of time. I needed to rest up so I would be ready to do some more of this tonight with my husband, if he was interested.
Harvey was a lot quicker in the shower than he ever was in bed and he dressed and headed down the stairs.
I heard his tires screech as he pulled away. That was stupid. Be unobtrusive. Don't draw any unnecessary attention from the neighbors. I would have to talk to him.
I heard the front door close. Maybe it wasn't him pulling away. He probably forgot something. I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs and then he appeared in my doorway – my husband.
"What are you doing home so early?"
"I think the more important question is what were you doing? Who was that guy who ran past me and tore out of here in his car?"
I didn't have a good answer to either question. "Why are you home so early, honey?"
"I got sick. Who was that guy you were just fucking?"
No use lying. There was really no question as to what I had been doing. "Baby, it was just sex. I love only you, but I need more than you can give me."
"That's an explanation?" He wasn't yelling. I would have preferred it. He yelled when he was angry. He spoke quietly when he was so far beyond angry he was on the edge of explosion. He is not usually a violent man, but I was afraid.
"He's nobody, nothing. He means nothing at all to me."
"Like me?"
"No, I love you with all my heart."
"I guess you don't have much of a heart."
"Don't say that baby. It didn't mean a thing."
"It did to me. I'll talk to you later. I'm so angry now I'm afraid I'll punch you hard enough to kill you." He turned and left. I heard the front door slam.
This was good. He would come back calm and I could explain so that he would understand. In the meantime, it was probably a good idea to get cleaned up and change the sheets. The mess on me or them might reignite his anger.
I stripped the bed and made it with fresh sheets. Then I took a nice hot shower. I didn't know how long I would have, but I wanted to be sure to remove all traces of our activity so I took the necessary time. I was surprised at how calm I was. This had the potential to turn out very badly, but I had thought of what I would do if I were ever caught and I think that preparation helped me do what I had to do now.
I put on a white blouse and black skirt that ended around eight inches above my knees. I put on panties but no bra. I wanted to look appealing without looking slutty. He might think that of me so I didn't want to enhance that perception with my attire.
I took down the sheets and started the washer. Then I poured myself a glass of wine to help calm me and waited for him in the living room. He took his sweet time. He was gone nearly an hour and a half.
"Do you have a better explanation? How long has this been going on? How many other guys are you fucking? Any of our friends?"
"Calm down, honey. I'll answer your questions but I can't answer them all at once."
"How long?"
"Around three years."
"We've only been married for five years."
"I know. I held out as long as I could."
"I'm deeply appreciative."
"No need for sarcasm." He was often sarcastic. I didn't know if I would be able to put up with that through a long marriage.
"Yes there is. How many guys?"
"Around a dozen. None of our friends."
"You're pretty fucking calm about this. You don't even care that you've been caught? You don't care how much you've hurt me?"
"Oh, I care. I'm really sorry you had to find out. I didn't want to hurt you."
"What did you think this would do?"
"I thought that after I got to explain to you, you would understand and be okay with it."
"You really think that? You think I'll be fine with being betrayed?"
"I didn't really betray you. It didn't mean a thing. You need to let me explain."
He stared at me with a look of incredulity. This might not be as easy as I had imagined. "Sure. Give it your best shot, slut."
"That's not nice thing to say."
"Well then, convince me it isn't appropriate."
"You know I have a much greater sex drive than you. Well, I tried everything I could think of for the first two years we were married to rev you up so I could be satisfied, but nothing worked. Just because two people are married doesn't mean they can be everything to each other, that they can do everything for each other. I need more sex to be fulfilled. You couldn't supply it so I had to go out to get it."
I wasn't rushing through this but he just sat there passively, not looking as if he had any plans to jump in. "Just because we are married doesn't mean that I don't have a right to be sexually satisfied. I can't supply everything you need either. That's why you go to the Eagles with Frank. He fills a need I can't."
"Just a fucking minute, you're equating going to a football game with another guy to you fucking whoever you want, whenever you want?"
"No. Of course not. I don't do it whenever I want. And I don't do it with just any guy. And I make sure I take care of you too."
"No. You're not taking care of me. You're taking care of you. I just happen to be the guy of the moment."
"Don't say that. I love you. It's completely different. But you can't take care of me. I have needs. If you couldn't make enough to support us, would you consider it a betrayal if I got food stamps so we could eat?"
"So you think you're entitled to indulge yourself in any area in which you don't think I'm taking care of you adequately?"
"No. But there are some things that are just too important to do without. If we needed money to pay the rent or to buy food, I'd get a job, I'd do something to make sure our needs were satisfied."
He was starting to get that quiet, angry look again. I had thought this would go better. "You're not satisfying our needs here. You've chosen to satisfy yours."
"Aren't my needs important? Don't you care about me?"
"Grace, you're talking about cheating on me."
"I'm talking about not having to give up an important part of my fulfillment as a woman just because I got married. What if you told me you didn't want me working? Would I have to give that up too?"
"It's not the same thing. Let me ask you this, if I could somehow put this behind me, if I could find a way to increase our lovemaking, would you put an end to this?"
"Well,"
"Well, what?" Now he was shouting.
I wanted to try to put this delicately. "I've discovered that I like to be more filled than you can do. I don't want to give that up completely."
"So you plan to keep on doing this no matter what I say, no matter what it does to our marriage?"
"I don't want to lose you. I love only you. But I need this."
"Doesn't this strike you as being supremely selfish?"
I was ready for this one. I knew he would try to play the selfish card. "What about you? You're saying you would be fine with me having an unfulfilled sex life for the rest of our marriage? How selfish is that?"
He sputtered. I knew this was a really good argument. "So anything you're not completely satisfied with, you just do what you want to make yourself happy?"
"Don't you want me to be happy? I would think that when you love someone you would want them to be happy."