Jennifer's Longing

Warning: This is the story of someone who is unfaithful. It is in the "Loving Wives" category because there isn't an "Unfaithful" category. If you are not interested in a cheating wife story, don't read it. If you wish to spend time thinking about how wrong it is to be in the "Loving Wives" category, frankly, take it up with the people who run this place. And don't take it up with me.

I'm telling you this as a service – I want to spare you the grief. Frankly, I think this objection is kind of silly. The term "Loving Wives" doesn't say who it is these wives are loving. Or, we could look at it as a kind of ironic term. The fact is many of the stories are about unfaithful wives and you should either just accept this fact (and not read my story), or take it up with the people who run this place.

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Scene 1

I suspect you have heard this before – the story of a sexy young woman who is happily married who lusts after some handsome stud and eventually succumbs to her own desires.

Well it happened to me. And what's interesting (at least to me) is that before these events happened, I'd have bet money that I'd always be faithful. That's the thing about it.

You see, sexual desire is, I've found, at least 50% psychological. When a certain idea hits you, it stays up there and builds and builds whether you want it to or not, just like that dandelion in your grass.

I married the fourth guy that got me into bed. I was pursued (because I'm attractive) by many, but when I dated, I dated seriously – always working toward long term relationships.

While I was always open to sex with my boyfriends, and things sexual in general, I never engaged in casual sex – not even once. I never got picked up at a bar. I never had any kind of one night stand. Frankly, I've never found that idea sexy. Sex was something intimate – to be had with someone you have feelings for.

I'm tall, slim, and have long black hair. I'm only 25 and don't mind dressing sexy for my man. Like I said, I'm open about sex and sexuality. But I don't go around dressing sexy for other men. I've never wanted the attention from anyone other than the guy I was with. I'm not saying I mind being checked out. I'm just saying it wasn't a goal. My man has always been man enough for me. And I want to make something absolutely clear: I've had absolutely no complaints about my sex life with my husband.

I realize that what happened to me was a psychological phenomenon. I became fixated – fixated on an idea. And I couldn't move on. I was stuck on that idea.

It started at a party. A group of girls were talking over the music in the corner of the room. I was one of the group. Stacy told Mary that her new boyfriend looked cute. I didn't even know which guy was hers, as they were several guys there that I didn't know.

Mary just giggled and said "He's alright I guess. He's just big where it counts."

We all laughed at that. But, as if being hit by lightning, I felt immediately turned on – even though there was no guy in my mind or view. It was the idea of a guy being "big where it counts."

Linda in the group then joked, "So size matters, eh?" This was followed by more laughter. Mary just responded, "It has its advantages."

At this point a few guys joined us, wondering what we were laughing about. Someone said, "Men. What else?"

The conversation continued. But the words had been imprinted on my brain – "Size Matters."

The party went on. It wasn't until about an hour later that I managed to figure out who Mary's new boyfriend was. They were together with his hand resting on her butt. He was, as Stacy had claimed, cute. Really cute.

I tried to be discreet, but I couldn't stop myself from looking at the front of his jeans. And there I saw his bulge. The bulge. Actually, I realized immediately that he was big and that I'd never experienced anything like it with my four guys.

I guess I just never had thought about it before. I don't really know why it had such an effect on me. But I was really so turned on! I was actually flustered! Its not like I hadn't heard the term 'well hung' before. The difference was this was the first time I'd personalized the idea – I hadn't experienced a well hung guy – this was about me, personally.

The party eventually ended. I knew I'd never cheat. And I knew that even if I were single, I'd never mess with another girl's guy. But the rest of that evening I don't know how many times I caught myself looking at the front of this guy's pants.

And on the drive home with my husband it was this image that was stuck in my mind.

Scene Two

Its Saturday morning, some 6 months later. Hubby is cutting the grass. I race upstairs to the bedroom and sit in the middle of the bed with my back against the head. I hike my little skirt up and rush my hands into my bikini panties. I've been thinking about Mary's boyfriend's pants bulge and I can't take it anymore. I need some relief. I press one index finger against my clitoris. I plunge a couple of fingers from my other hand into my pussy. Five minutes later I rock my own world and need to wash my hands.

I had found this was the only way to get my mind off of Mary's boyfriend's cock. (His name was Derek, but I only thought of him as Mary's boyfriend.)

I've run in to him, with Mary on his arm several times. Each time leaves me feeling like a drooling idiot. The last time I was sorely tempted, when no one was looking, to just reach out and grab him by the front of his pants. I just wanted to feel it.

I know I'm fixating on it. But knowing I'm fixating doesn't stop me from fixating.

Scene 3

I'm at work. I'm just back from lunch with a friend. We were chatting and gossiping when she asks me if I've heard that Mary has broken up with her guy.

My first reaction was to give a wicked smile. My second reaction was to panic. How would I ever see him again? I don't even know his name? And its not like I can go asking people – I'm married after all – and besides, though I want him, I know I won't be unfaithful.

I asked her if she knew what happened. My friend just said, "Mary always complained he was too busy looking at himself in the mirror." I wanted to, but didn't press any further.

So there I am at work. My fixation is now in overdrive. I start thinking about what I should do. On the one hand I don't want to ever be unfaithful. On the other, I don't want to never see him again.

I call Mary. We weren't particularly close friends. But I call to see if she's okay. I'm hoping I'll get some clue about where her ex is.

Mary, it turns out, is okay. She jokes about how you get tired after a while of a guy whose only good quality is that he's good in the sack. She complains that he'd rather spend his weekends at the gym than with her, so she put an end to things.

I joked with her that I work out too, and then made my move. I asked her where he works out. She told me and we moved on in the conversation. She didn't clue in at all that it was an odd thing for me to ask.

We finished the conversation. I needed immediate relief. I got up went to the bathroom and put my fingers to work.

Scene 4

Its Saturday morning. I've told my husband I'm going for a work out, some shopping then meeting a friend for lunch. He stays in bed and informs me he'll be cutting the grass today. I'm wearing my tightest form-fitting jeans which end just below my belly button, and a tight t shirt which ends just above. Instead of going to my gym, I go to the gym of Mary's ex. I'm feeling really naughty because here I am lusting after this guy all this time, and I've just realized I don't know his name. Not a clue.

I realize I'm obsessing about him. After all, here I am going to his gym, but I fully realize there's a very good chance he won't be there. I don't even have a membership for this gym.

When I arrived there, I ask for a tour of the facilities. Perhaps I'll run into him this way. Alas, in spite of the tour, no such luck. I stall and ask a lot of questions, but he doesn't appear.

They want me to sign up for a membership, but I decline. I can't tell them I had different motives.

I walked a couple of blocks and then thought that perhaps I should have gotten a membership after all – perhaps something on a monthly basis. Maybe, I was thinking, I'm giving up too easy.

It begins to sink in that deep down inside, I've reached the point where I am now walking down the road towards wanting to be an unfaithful wife.

I start to walk back. I begin to have my first conscious debate with myself as to whether or not I would be unfaithful if I somehow manage to meet this stud. I realize that every action I'm taking is opening myself up to this possibility.

A pang of guilt hits. But then I realize that for the past number of months I've been totally fixating on another man's penis, and that I don't see a way to stop thinking about it. And then I start to think that really and truly, the only way to end this obsessive fixation is to indulge it just once. You know, it's quite possible I won't like it. It's quite possible I'll find the guy a jerk. But going through with it, just once, is what I'll need to end it – and this one fling will allow me to get back to my normal self.

I'm now back at the entrance to the gym. I hesitate on going in. I'm feeling a little ashamed. There is no sign of this guy. I don't know when or if he'll ever be working out here. I don't even know his name. And here I am willing to spend some money on a gym that's not convenient for me just in the hopes that we will meet, hook up, and mate once and only once.

I'm ashamed that my fixation has taken me to this. Gym bag in hand I build up my resolve, and turn away from the gym. For the first time, I feel like I'm beginning to get the better of my fixation. I feel silly. I can't be joining a gym that I'd rarely be able to use. My common sense finally won the day.

Scene 5.

Filled with new-found resolve, I turn away again from the gym, happy with myself. I decide to go shopping, as I've told my hubby that I'll be out for a while, and it would be really strange if suddenly I'm back home so early.

And then I see him. And he sees me. So much for my new-found resolve. We greet like long-lost friends. He put his hands on my arms and he gave me a peck on my cheek and asks me if I work out at his gym too. I told him its great to see him again, that I was just checking the gym out because a friend told me about it, that I had heard about his break up with Mary.

In response he told me he hopes I join the club because it would be great to work out together, he didn't think he'd see me again, it wasn't meant to be with Mary as things weren't working out, and then added that now he could tell me how great I look without worrying about what Mary would think.

I knew right then that I would bed this man.

I asked him if he was going to work out now and he said he was. He asked me to join him for a work out and then have lunch after. He made it clear he was checking me out.

I, however, needed to get this over with. I told him that the gym just wasn't convenient enough for me, but then added that I was free now and free up until about 2 p.m. because hubby was out golfing with some buddies. (What a liar I am!)

He took the bait. He said we should hang out for a bit, and then have lunch. I quickly agreed. He asked me to wait while he deposited his gym bag in his locker – as he'd work out later in the day.

Standing outside the gym I realized that I still didn't know his name. He really was just a sex object for me. I hadn't asked him to clarify "hanging out", but I knew that if he meant sex, I was ready to break my marital vows.

I reminded myself that I had dressed for the occasion and I gave myself a glance over to make sure I was dressed for success.

He was quick. As we started to walk he briefly put his hand on my back and then slid it down to my butt. It was a brief touch and I wanted more. But I didn't have the courage to be aggressive.

I didn't know where we were walking. We engaged in small talk. He offered that golfing wasn't his bag, and there was no way he'd be smacking a little ball on grass for half a day, if he had a "hot chick" like me back home.

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to talk his way into my pants. And even though we'd only been walking for a few minutes, he clearly knew he had a chance.

So I agreed with him. And I told him there was no way I'm staying at home while he's out at play. He smiled at this response.

A minute later we were in front of a small low rise apartment building. Without him telling, I knew this was where he lived. He confirmed this a moment later. I showed no hesitation as he led me in.

He opened the door for me and I walked in. As I passed him, his hand planted itself on my ass and he hooked a finger in the back pocket of my jeans. As the door closed he pulled me into him and kissed me on the mouth. I kissed back.

My lips parted to accept his tongue. I put my hands on his waist as he pinned me against the door. His hands roamed my body. I had been fantasizing about his cock for so long I couldn't wait any longer. I moved my right hand to the front of his pants and grabbed at his bulge. I wanted it bad.

My lust overwhelmed me. I not only wanted to be satisfied by this man, I wanted to satisfy him as well. I desired his sperm. I wanted to feel him coming in me. I wanted to give myself to this man. Whatever feelings I had for my husband, had, for now, been completely vanquished. I needed to mate with this stud.

Our mouths remained interlocked as I continued to massage his bulge. I broke off the kiss to tell him how big he felt. I wanted him to know of my lust for him. He told me to undo his pants so that I could see what a treat I was in for.

I did as I was told. I dropped to my knees and reached for his zipper. I unzipped his fly while palming his hard-on. I then unbuttoned his jeans and his cock immediate turned his underwear into a tent. He really did have a big cock. I'm not going to tell you it was 2 feet long or some other exaggerated length. All I know it was long and thick and I wanted it.

I began to tug on his underwear, pulling it down over his cockhead. And then there it was – the object of my desire – the cock I've been fixating on for all these months; the cock I've been masturbating while I daydream about it; the cock I've been imagining when my husband fucked me.

There was a drop of fluid on the tip. I licked it, and then took him in my mouth. He put his hands firmly on the back of my head to make sure it stayed on his cock. I steadied myself by wrapping my left arm around his leg, and with my right hand I reached up and began to pull on his balls.

I was completely lost in lust. This man, whose name I still didn't know, owned me. He owned my body. He owned my mind. He had taken me, without even trying, from my husband.

As my head bobbed up and down his cock I could taste leaked pre-cum. He was chanting, "Yeah, suck it" at regular intervals.

After some ten minutes of this, and in spite of the pressure from his hold on my head, I withdrew my head from his cock, to briefly lick and suck on his big balls. I saw his magnificent cock as a sperm machine and I felt this intense desire to have his sperm in me – and now. I told him so.

He picked me up to my feet and guided me to his bed room. He sat on the edge of his bed and told me, "I want to see a married woman strip." I took off my shirt. And then slid of my jeans, as I watched him watch me.

"Nice," was his only comment.

He lay me on my back on his bed and we kissed again. I told him I needed him to fuck me really badly. He positioned himself between my legs and placed his big cock against my opening.

But rather than put it in, he just moved his cock back and forth against my clitoris. I groaned.

He told me, "Now I want to see a married woman beg for it." And beg I did. Deliberately slowly, he pressed it into me. I was so wet that a hard thrust would have been no problem, even with his girth.

We fucked for a half hour. It felt so.... Perfect. He was a total stud. I was so aware of his bigger cock and its tighter fit. It was so.... fulfilling. He was very athletic and was able to sustain quite the power fuck.

I whispered in his ear those things that lets a man know who I belonged to. They were the most unfaithful words ever spoken. I came three times in that half hour. I've never come three times in a day before – let alone thirty minutes.

And now it was his turn. I told him he was such a stud. I told him that I wanted his cum in me. He grunted and said, "I'm going to really plant you now." He picked up the pace really drilling me. I reached down with my left hand, over his ass and down to his swelling balls. I said, "I need your sperm now."

That was all it took. I felt him filling me. He grunted a few "yeahs". He had stretched me a little, so it felt kind of funny when he withdrew.

I could tell by the smug look on his face that he was thinking that he hadn't just fucked a girl – he had conquered her. I reveled in this testosterone driven man. I realized that I had been pretty much conquered before we even had sex. It was the idea of his cock that conquered me.

He asked me if it was better than with my husband. I said, "I think you know the answer stud." He said that wasn't good enough, he wanted to hear me say it. So I told him it was better than the best my husband could give me and that I've never needed to be fucked so badly in my life.

After some open mouth kissing, he got up to wash up. He returned a minute later, with a semi-hard cock, and dangled it near my mouth. He stood on the floor right by the bed and I moved over and began kissing his cock.

I fellated him. It was a long and slow blow job. I was more aware this time as to how wide my mouth had to open to accommodate him. After a while I flipped on my back and he moved close to my head and I began to lick his balls. From this position I was perfectly situated to suck on each ball while I massaged his shaft with my hand.

I continued sucking his balls until in a choked voice he said, "I'm close." Quickly, I rolled over onto my stomach again and took his cock head into my mouth. I was surprised he was able to stand so long. The guys I'd been with wouldn't have that kind of strength.

He grunted again and said, "Suck it.... Yeah .... Suck it... cumming." Four little blasts filled my mouth. I continued sucking on it and then licked down the shaft. I gently squeezed his cock and some sperm appeared at the tip. Making sure he saw it, I stuck my tongue out, and very slowly licked it up. He was impressed.

The day wasn't over. Twenty minutes later, I had coaxed another erection out of him and he fucked it into me once again. He kept going and going and told me that he wanted to make sure I wouldn't be able to fuck my husband that evening. He was so terribly ego driven. But for whatever reasons, it turned me on.

Afterward, I left his apartment and dragged my ravaged body to go back home to my husband. I still didn't know his name. He said he'd call me and I left it at that.

Interestingly, I felt no guilt. The fact was my life is so unbelievably good. I'm in a stable happy relationship with my husband. I'm a very sexy good-looking girl. And I had the ability and enough leisure time to bed this stud, without the hubby knowing.

I realize that I'm now an unfaithful wife. I realize that I'm now not a trustworthy person. But at the same time I'm not hurting anyone, and I now know that its possible to have sex so good that you'll do anything to get it. I now know that size does matter and I'm a lucky enough girl that I can get it. I realize the guy has an ego – but I'm going to stroke it – such a man deserves it. I don't want to marry the guy, I just want to be able to worship him as a stud among men. You see, from my perspective now, being faithful would be kind of stupid.