He wasn't sure when he first became suspicious. Probably it was the big delays in her SMS responses. Oh, they would often go hours between messages, but it was rare for her not to respond to a message from him within a few minutes, even when she was working. Her hours were sporadic, some days she didn't start till nearly noon and other days she was done by as early as 3:00. And it wasn't as though she was unavailable, since he knew she usually had her phone with her, whatever she was doing.
Other things that were slightly odd were her evasive statements about her day, while ducking any follow-up questions from him about what she had meant or what she had been doing. Then, there were the phone calls taken upstairs in their loft bedroom in muted tones. He rarely asked who she was talking with and didn't in these cases either. She spoke to her clients often, though usually not in hushed tones, it's true. But, since he didn't like it when she was always asking him about calls or texts, he made a point of not doing it to her. There were also the messages that started coming in a lot more frequently. Again, he didn't ask, only noting that that she jumped for her phone a lot more quickly than usual. She didn't really leave it lying around much either.
The real awareness, though, started seeping in while they were having sex. For one thing, while their frequency had been abating over the past couple of years, what with time and life and such, lately she had been much more amorous. She was also enjoying the dirty pillow talk a lot more than usual, bringing up various scenarios quickly and posing a lot of "what if?" questions, such as "How would you feel if I had had a man here this morning?" or "Imagine if I had already had sex today and you were my second cock?" and the like.
It's true they had discussed the possibility of her stepping out; and, because it was a fantasy of his and he wanted to encourage it, he had stated numerous times that she could handle it any way that she wanted, even going so far as to keep it hidden from him if that's what she was more comfortable with. After all, during some pillow sessions, she had admitted that part of the thrill of her indiscretions in previous relationships had been the sneaking around aspect of it.
She would dance out from answering him when he would ask if she had actually done so, saying things like, "What would you think if I had?"—always answering his questions with questions. Of course, it drove him crazy with desire and she knew it. She knew what he fantasized about and what got him going. She would continue, teasing him in the way she knew he loved, piling it on: "How does my pussy feel? Does it feel stretched out, like if I had taken a lover with a really big cock?" Always phrasing in the conditional, telling him how she would love it if that was really happening, making him admit that he would love it too, getting him to urge her to do it.
She would wind him way up and extract more and more out of him, asking him how far he would like her to go and what he would like to see happen, to the point where she would ask if he wanted to come home to find her freshly fucked and lying there full of her lover's come and what would he do about it and getting him to admit that he would do anything she asked him to and even clean up her used pussy like she wanted.
That was another giveaway: she had started getting him to go down on her a lot more than previously. In fact, it was something she had almost resisted early on in their relationship, not being comfortable with it for some reason. Now, she started pushing him down there and telling him to lick her while teasing him, asking him if he could tell how swollen she was, or if she tasted any different than usual.
Another thing was that many days when he got home after work she would be wearing her short silk kimono (that was perpetually falling open enough to reveal this bit or that, much to his delight) and looking as though she had not been out of bed for very long.
After a while of this, he was enjoying the game so much that he decided to make a point of not finding out anything. After all, the chase is the most fun. When she would ask him leading questions or make provocative statements, he would respond just as playfully, keeping it in the subjunctive realm so that when she teased him about whether what she was saying was actually happening, he would just say that, if she was actually doing the things she said, he would be loving every minute of it, whatever she might be doing if she was doing anything.
So, then it became a game between them. She started talking about it more factually, dropping the "what ifs" and just telling him that her lover had been there earlier and how sore she was from the fucking he'd given her with his big mushroom cock. He would just respond that she must be really satisfied and that he couldn't wait to go down on her and see for himself, which of course led to them going at it and her taunting him to taste where another man had been inside her earlier that day and would he like it if she had let him pump her little pussy full of his hot, creamy come. He would agree that she tasted fabulous and just go at her harder until she was bucking beneath him in orgasm.
Then one day he came home to her in her kimono, barely tied up. Her hair was a mess. She said that she had been very bad and that her lover had just left and that they had been fucking all afternoon and he had dumped a huge load in her pussy and it was running down her legs as they spoke and she wanted him to come upstairs and clean her up like he promised he would do.
...
She took me by the hand and led me upstairs. The bed was a mess with the covers strewn everywhere. She sat me on the edge of the bed and stood in front of me with her legs about a foot apart and slowly undid the sash of her robe and let the robe hang open and just stood there. I looked down, past her luscious tits, down to her pussy with her trimmed mound, down to where there was clearly something wet down along the inside of her thigh.
She put a hand between her legs and ran a finger up it and then slowly brought her hand up to her mouth, ran in around her lips and then slid it in and sucked it. Then she leaned forward and kissed me full on the mouth. The saltiness was unmistakable.
Still not saying a word, she pulled my arms up and then lifted my shirt over my head. Then, she knelt between my legs and undid my pants and pulled everything off until I was naked, with my legs open and a raging hard on bobbing in the air.
"Did you like that?" she asked. "...like tasting another man on my lips?"
"Mmhm," I said.
"You don't mind that I was a bad girl?"
I shook my head, enthralled. She was slowly playing with my cock with both hands, looking up at me with a devious smile.
"Want to hear what happened?" I just nodded. "Well, my lover called earlier and asked if I was busy. I kind of was but I said, 'For you, of course not,' like I always do when he calls." She let that hang in the air for a minute, forcing me to ask the question.
