Melanies Memoirs A Married Slut 05

5. The Store:

I'm Melanie. I'm a 30 year old, married slut who cheats on her husband almost daily, if not even more often than that, because he can't come close to satisfying me and I can't possibly get enough cock anyway. This is another entry in my memoirs.

At the time I'm writing this, I've got about eight to ten guys who I count as "boyfriends" -- guys I fuck somewhat regularly. I decided to write down how I got here -- the doting, boring suburban housewife to the cheating, cock-loving little bitch that I know I am -- because I know how impressed many guys are with me. I've done some really, ridiculously naughty things. Really depraved, outrageous things. Two years ago, before all this started, I barely even had fantasies about some of the things I've done.

I can't get enough attention from hung, sexy men (and hot ladies too!). I want every reader of this to crave me, as much as I crave the men in my life. Don't you want me? My petite 125 pound frame, my long dark hair and slender, triangular face, my hot small ass, my gorgeous C-cup tits. I'm here for you, baby, are you man enough to please me, hmm?

So go on, grab your dick (or jam your fingers in your twat), read on and I hope you get off as hard as I have!

* * * *

(I think this happened late this past February, or maybe very early March, about three months ago.)

There was one event, just a few months ago, when I realized I was completely out of control at cheating behind my husband's back with multiple sex partners.

By this past February, about four months ago, my life was BUSY. I went from the bored, good suburban housewife to the little married tramp who couldn't get enough sex. I was fucking myself regularly with fingers and toys, getting off on cybersex, phone sex and video sex (iPhone and Skype) with hot men from the Internet. I had a half-dozen men I liked to meet for sex, and I tried not to make it too regular with any of them or else I was going to end up in the dreaded "Relationship," note the capital "R" there. There was Roger, my first fuck, a handyman; then men from online, like Mark, Justin and Max; and my new fuck buddy, the 23 year old blonde Blayne who enjoyed girl/girl sex with me.

But hampering my sexuality was my schedule. I had to wait for my husband to leave in the morning, and I had to be home around dinner time. Couldn't go out at night, hardly on weekends. It's tough to find attractive, sexy men who are available for sex between 9 am to 5 pm! I mean, guys who aren't working those hours tend not to be very attractive (way too old, way too young, or losers). Guys like Roger or from online can take off of work, but it ends up being one or two hours of hot, sweaty sex, little time for seducing, foreplay, or pillow talk.

If there was one thing I wanted, I figured, it was a guy who was into me, but not too much so that he was getting romantic; someone who lived close, like 5 or 10 minutes away whom I could bang anytime I wanted; and someone who didn't mind me fucking other people. Did they have men like that? I'd never met one. Oh, and he had to have his own apartment, I was getting tired of sex in the backseats of minivan (been there, done that) or a smelly, cheap motel.

Funny how life works out. Truth really is stranger than fiction.

It was about four months ago, around my 30th birthday. That day, my husband and I had long-existing plans for a dinner engagement with his dad's business partner, his bitchy trophy wife, and some other couple my husband knew. This was a Big Deal to my husband, you know. A Thursday evening event downtown, one of those things a wife has to do to support her husband, even though there was nothing in it for me.

No, I didn't have sex with anyone at the dinner event, that's not what I mean. It was a memorable day for a different reason.

I had to get my hair done, I went shopping for new shoes, I even needed to get more conservative underwear so it wouldn't appear obvious through my evening dress that I had a strong thong on. My husband rarely saw me in them, even though my dresser was stuffed with them. Not that he'd ever look.

The timing of events was important. It was like 3:30 in the afternoon, my husband would be home at 5:30 and we were going to leave by 6 at the latest. I had my hair done nicely, I was driving home when I realized we probably should eat before we leave, because after cocktails and the long service at a fancy restaurant, it would be hours until I had real food in me. So I stopped by the grocery store, just to hunt for something my husband and I could eat quickly.

I was not the person I had been a year earlier, as I walked into the store. I hadn't gone to the gym that particular day, but I was dressed for it, wearing a pull-over sweatshirt above tight Lycra Capri pants (meaning, they went halfway down my calves). With the large sweatshirt my butt was mostly covered, but when I wasn't paying attention, I suspect my small ass would be on display in the skin-tight black pants. In addition, I was an entirely sexual creature by that time in my life, constantly horny. Constantly. That particular day I hadn't had actual cock in me for like six days at that point, I think I had fucked Roger or one of the guys from online the Friday of the previous week. I had had an orgasm early in the day from cybersex online, but that was it. By late afternoon, I was dying to get home and fuck myself before my husband came home. I was in fact trying to get home by 4, so I would have 90 minutes to play online and even get in a good phonefuck if one of my online boyfriends was available.

Standing there in the deli section, looking over prepared foods and sides, I sensed a male presence behind me, close to me but not violating my personal space. I turned around, and a handsome, 40-something year old was standing there, wearing an open-collar dress shirt and nicely pressed slacks. His dark hair was cut close, he had a small piercing on one nostril (a small gold ring), he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and his form was fit and athletic. The kind of guy who gets my attention. His green eyes were glued to the sight of my small ass in my Lycra pants, and he wasn't apologetic about it.

I wasn't expecting that, and I didn't know what to think. I wasn't offended; I was constantly horny, and the attention to my sexy butt reaffirmed my femininity. I giggled softly, making light of attention. "I'll just be a minute," I told him, as if he was mad at me being in line ahead of him.

The guy shrugged. "Take all your time," he said sincerely, quietly, affably, "I don't mind waiting here, not at all."

I figured he was talking about looking at my hot ass, and the slut in me actually liked his answer, although it was probably more foreword than polite manners would have allowed. I was waiting for the girl behind the counter, who was busy wrapping something with her back to us, so we just stood there. That's when I felt the guy moving to my side, and I looked up at him. He was about six foot, so a good 10 inches taller than me. I smiled at him, unsure what he was intending.

He popped on me the most provocative opening line any guy had ever said to me in person.

"I'm not sure which I'd want to put in first into that hot ass of yours, my tongue or my seven inch dick."

My breath was taken away from me, shocked anyone could say that to me. I turned to face him, looking up at him. But I wasn't mad, my vagina instantly wettened in a thong inside my tight Lycra pants, and I gazed at him with amazement any guy could say that to me. What gall! I had reason to smack him, or even call the cops if I wanted.

Damn, that was some confidence. Plus, with the unshaven chin, the firm body, the nice clothing, even the small nose piercing ... this guy was pretty hot.

He saw me reaction was not entirely negative, so he didn't wait for me to say anything. "Look, of course I see that huge wedding ring on your hand," he explained without blushing, but with a suave, disarming demeanor, "but I also see your gorgeous butt in those tight pants, and I think to myself, you don't mind that other men stare at you and fantasize about you. In fact--" He looked hard at me, leaning over me now, proud of himself that he had my attention. "In fact, you probably wish your husband had more balls like guys like me, someone who thinks good sex doesn't end until all of your holes are stretched out and you can't put your knees together." With a finishing flair, he raised an eyebrow at me. "Am I right?"

I had to repress a desire to laugh, but at the same time, my pussy loved his words. What kind of prick would walk up to a married woman and say THAT?

One that would say, "Fuck that!" Just like me!

See, he must have known I would be receptive to it. I don't know how, but this guy knew. He knew. I was impressed, and I wasn't going to make him feel bad for it. In fact, as I saw him staring at my eyes, I was actually turned on.

"Or," I said playfully, both trying to encourage him as well as give me a reason to get on with my day, "maybe I wore this because I went to the gym, and I wasn't trying to get any attention?"

The guy wasn't buying it, he shook his head and snickered at me. "Naw, your hair is perfect, you didn't just work out, and you aren't going to the gym because you're buying warm food you need to get home." His smirk wasn't condescending, but he was getting past my excuse. "So, I think you just like having your hot ass in that tight outfit. Not that there's anything wrong with it -- you do have a gorgeous butt, it should be in tight outfits." He shrugged at the thought. "It should be on a display somewhere, for all guys to admire."

I couldn't believe he was saying this, I mean, there were guys online who aren't as direct as this. And he was doing it with a complete stranger, in a grocery store. But, as I blinked at him, I didn't respond fast enough, giving him a chance to keep talking. He said, "You haven't slapped me yet, so my guess is, you know you have a hot butt, you love that I love it, and you wonder if I'm worthy of a chance to stretch it out."

God, he was good. I was hooked on every word, as nasty and improper as it was, I loved hearing it, every bit of it. "Well, maybe," I shrugged, my non-denial saying so much to him, "how WOULD you prove you're worthy?"

The guy leaned into my ear, and whispered words that would change my day. "Come out to my car with me, and you can just go home to your boring life, if you don't like what you see in my pants."

Fuck, he was picking me up! And not being modest about it whatsoever. What a prick he was!

I loved him already, of course I was going back to his car.

"Don't think I'm agreeing to anything," I scolded in my most bitchy voice, "but I wanna see what gives you such confidence." The wheels in my head were moving quickly, I was trying not to seem like the slut I really was. "You're at risk of being laughed at, y'know, buddy?"

The pervert chuckled. "I'll take that risk, honey -- but you're at risk of wanting me to fuck your hot ass."

Seriously, people this conversation happened in the deli line at the grocery store. I'm not making that up. No one could make up shit like this!

So, the married slut with the hot ass in Lycra pants went out to his car in the parking lot, not getting anything for dinner. He drove a 7 Series BMW, a really pricey car. Another guy with money. See? It's my type. It's a big, four-door sedan with tinted windows. He climbed into the back seat, motioning for me to get in the front passenger seat. "Just enjoy the view," he said just before his head disappeared into the back of the car. It was complete non-threatening; I mean, he could have overpowered me, but he was just horny. He would be in the back seat, I had nothing to fear. I frankly wasn't even afraid, I was turned on.

Standing in the parking lot with no one watching us, and my pussy aching to see what this hot pervert was packing, I opened the fancy car and slipped into the luxurious leather seat, peering into the back seat. I kept the door slightly ajar, but like I said, he was no threat. In the middle of the backseat, leaning back, he snickered at my attention. "I think a woman like you wants something like this." With that, he unfastened his pants, and I realized he wasn't wearing any underwear. Instead, I was staring at a very handsome, throbbing 7 inch penis that had a firm purple helmet, a fat sack of balls, and ribs and ridges that would feel great squeezing into a tight pussy.

I'd seen bigger and better, so I shrugged. "That's pretty okay," snickered the slutty woman in his car, trying to play with his mind while buying a few moments to keep looking at the dick. "You think I'm gonna leave my husband for THAT, thought?" I caught myself, saying before he did, "Or, just cheat on him, at least?"

The guys stroked his meat, getting harder from me looking at it, as his eyes gazed at the sweatshirt I was wearing. "I bet you got big tits, don't you," he grunted, "besides a perfect ass?" He then looked in my face, and his voice was entirely sincere and friendly, not perverted for a moment. "C'mon, let me just get a peek at your titties, can you show them to me, then you can go if you want?"

I paused, knowing this wasn't a good idea, but it was no different from the men I met online. Alright, it was different in context, but not in terms of showing off my tits. I was proud of them, he wanted to see them, it was harmless. Kid's stuff, like we were in grade school showing off after classes. "Fine, that's all though," I told him, rolling my sweatshirt up into a ball under my armpits. I was wearing a sports bra under it, a white and black one, firmly covering my C-cups. The guy was staring at me, not salivating but hardly breathing, as I fished my fingers under the tight band of the sports bra and yanked it up and over my titties. A moment later, both of my nude hooters were on display for him, my pink areolas and nipples looking ready for close attention.

"Shit, they're great," he said of my breasts, "what are they, C? D?"

I nodded. "C, yeah, 32C." I was about to cover them up again, but liked him looking at them. I knew I was being accosted by a pervert, but he was a handsome one, and I actually felt like I was in control. Plus, I was now really, really horny. "You wanna see my ass too, honey?"

Now I actually had him surprised, he blinked at me, unsure he was hearing it. But he liked it. "I'm sure I would -- how, here in the car? Or--"

Those 90 minutes I was going to use for phonesex? I had another idea, one that would be more fun.

"No." My voice was sharp and shrill, telling him the way it would be. "I'll come to your place now, but only if you promise to use that cock and your tongue on my ass -- and my other holes!"

Yes, I was going there. I was letting myself get picked up for sex with a complete stranger. It felt FANTASTIC. I mean, saying those words, knowing he'd do it? I felt alive, vibrant, feminine. It was all the time online and with my lovers coming to a head. I could get it from hot strangers whenever I wanted it, and even when I wasn't looking for it.

I think he didn't totally believe me at first, but when I leaned over from the backseat and sucked his nice penis a few moments, he was on board with the plan. He did live close, turns out he was separated and had a small apartment while his wife continued to live in their big house. I followed him in my car, not nervous at all but anxious to get laid before the big events of the evening. My biggest concern? That my nice hairdo would get fucked up.

The guy had a decent apartment, even though a small one. Furnished by a guy on a small budget, where the size of the TV was more important than comfortable furniture. As we stepped inside and he locked the door behind me, I whipped around to smile at him, grinning up at his face nearly a foot taller than me. In a melodious, excited voice I sang, "I'm Melanie, and yes I'm married, and yes I love men who make me feel good. What's your name, baby?"

He grinned, stepping up to me, directly in front of me, his hands reaching for both of my breasts underneath my sweatshirt before answering. "Michael," hissed his reply, "not that you really care."

I allowed him to remove my sweatshirt, then I found myself staring at his big hands on my boobs inside my sports bra, which he quickly doffed too. Now I was topless, being fondled by a complete stranger, having to meet me husband in, what? I peeked at the time on his microwave. It was 3:50, I had to be home in about 90 minutes, if not sooner to leave by 6 pm for the Big Event. Better that Michael was so direct and not one to drag things out; if we were going to fuck, we better do it soon.

"Mmm," admired the horny stud as he felt my mammary glands in his palms, rolling his thumbs around my firm nipples, feeling the weight of my tits. "You really do have great tits, Melanie. Now -- can I see that ass of yours?"

"Ohhh, yeah, baby," I purred, the ultimate slut in me taking over. I loved his attention, loved that a guy who literally just saw my ass standing there was now going to fuck me. I was a fantasy maker, wasn't I? I turned my naked back to him, slipping my thumbs inside the waistband of my Lycra pants, and peeled them down, revealing my g-string thong. I saw him gazing at me, then I saw him move forward and put both hands on my buttocks before I'd even stepped out of my pants. That left me still wearing them, down at my ankles, while the stranger was groping my fleshy asscheeks.

"Fuck yeah, that's a hot butt," muttered the horny stud to himself, "a hot married butt." He was unzipping again, whipping out his erection, and a moment later he was banging his dick against my buttcheeks, splattering some precum on my skin. "Would your hot married butt like some cock, or some tongue, stuffed in it right now?"

The slut in front of him snickered. I stepped away from him to kick off my Lycra pants, leaving me in just the black g-string thong. "Mmm, actually, I'd like some cock in my pussy right now, if you don't mind?" To show him how horny I was, I instantly peeled off the thong to reveal my shaved vagina, glistening wet, and I tossed him the thong so he could smell how it was already soiled with my juices. "I don't have a lotta time, my husband will be home in a while, and I gotta make us dinner and get ready for a -- for some party tonight -- but I'm fuckin' horny, and I want you to fuck me, baby!" I stared into his eyes, emphasizing the point. "You don't mind fucking a horny married woman, do you Michael? I love your cock, I want you to make me feel good."

Michael was taking my hand, so we could go find the bed and have sex. "I know you'll make me feel good, I hope to put a smile on your face that'll last your whole boring night," he giggled.

I led Michael to the only bedroom in the apartment. Nude, I climbed onto it, spreading my slender legs, offering my body to him. He disrobed and joined me, crawling next to me, not on top of me. We started to kiss, while my hand wrapped around his boner while his fingers started to paw at my pussy. Shit I was wet, he was able to start finger-fucking me with one very stiff digit, while my small hand slowly jerked his throbbing penis. His kisses were wet, hungry, sliding tongue all over the inside of my mouth, around my teeth and gums, like he was surgically exploring my entire mouth.

Grunting, both horny, I pulled him on top of me and guided his cock to my twat. "I'm a slut," I grunted, admitting the obvious, then reminding him of my schedule, "fuck me baby, I gotta see my husband in an hour."

Michael grinned upon hearing that, the fact that I was married and cheating was turning him on. "Oooh, the married slut needs someone else's cock huh?" He leaned over me, his arms straight down so his torso floated above my body, moving his hard penis to my squishy vagina. "Your husband doesn't give you everything you need, huh?"