My First Cheat 2

How I Cheated

As in how I cheated.

Twice, I cheated on my husband Martin. By the time it was a parasite gnawing and eating away at me internally. Caitlin my friend assured me it would wear off. It sure did, there was less remorse the second time. Bugging me more was the guilt of having lied to Martin or rather kept him in the dark. Never did he ask.

Not finger-pointing doesn't befit me. It smacks of my principles, for one. Martin did harbor these fantasies of my having sex with other guys, yes, which I played a tremendous part in fueling. Well, it was his kink. He would derive this sexual arousal from simply seeing me act out, practically, his deepest urges; he knew it wasn't real. But the thrill of the imagined betrayal grew too real, too intense. And I got lost in it.

At length, I took a plunge, slept with a building contractor with encouragement from Martin's Geoffrey, he renovated our entertainment area, a hunk of a man. I find after that that I do like it: the thrills of not knowing who or what you're into and the excitation associated with doing naughty things. I agreed to explore Lifestyle with Martin, and well now, we are swingers; it is quite a journey so far.

Martin encouraged me to wear more revealing outfits. One day we went to the Mall and he bought me some sexy clothes. He also treated me to a makeover at a day spa. They did my hair and makeup and even waxed my pussy, completely bald. When I saw myself in the mirror I felt like a new person. A naughty, wild person. He liked what he saw. Later that afternoon, I posed for him in our bedroom, wearing one of the new outfits: a short dress that hardly covered my ass and a push-up bra that made my breasts appear as though they were about to spill out. Paul our neighbour was with Martin downstairs when I walked in. I noticed his eyes wander all over my body and his remarks loaded with innuendo.

Paul is sexy, well build. His head is shaved and his beard is perfectly trimmed. He's got the kind of body that comes from manual labor, not hours in the gym. His eyes are a piercing blue and his smile, oh, it's like a warm knife through butter. The kind that makes you want to melt into it.

Martin took the lead, setting the scene for our evening of debauchery. He fantasized about Paul seducing me and fucking me. Sharing me with the neighbor was a proposition that had never been addressed but was undeniably hot as he watched me, getting off on the scenario. And so was I.

All these events send my libido through the roof. The thought of being watched and desired by not only Martin but also by Paul was exhilarating. I started to fantasize about Paul fucking me hard. I felt like a naughty little slut, and it turned me on like never before.

A few days later, I went for my morning run on one of the several hiking trails, feeling the cool air kiss my barely-covered skin, the tight fabric of my sports bra and shorts hugging my body like a second skin. It was overcast-the kind of day when the sun played peekaboo with the clouds, casting a soft, sensual light over the lush greenery. The fact that his eyes were on me heaved little stabs in my sexual arousal as I pounded down the jogging path. From time to time,

Sudden rain came pouring down, big droplets cascading off my skin, soaking through my clothes till they adhered like the second skin to the contouring of my body curves as I struggled to try open the electrical lock of the backyard gate. And the power failures mean it does not work. I just stood there, frustrated, cold, and wet, my hand punching in the code on the keypad over and over again, as if this time it would light up magically. The rain was relentless, turning the ground into mud beneath my sneakers.

That is when I heard it, the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching from behind me. I turned and there was Paul, striding towards me like some knight in shining armor on his white horse to my rescue, but instead on foot, in shorts and no shirt, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. He offered me refuge from the storm in his house. My heart was racing as I accepted, not from the cold or rain, but from the electric charge that crackled in the air between us.

We ran into the rain towards his place, the water cascading down his chest, delineating the lines of his muscular frame. Indoors, the warmth of his house was a striking contrast to the chilly rain outside. He handed me a towel and his bathrobe, his eyes eating away my wet, clinging attire. I couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he looked at me hungrily, as if I were some kind of dessert he had not tasted yet.

He led me to the bathroom to dry off and change into the robe he had provided. The plush fabric wrapped around my body, the heat of it warming my cold skin as I shed my drenched clothes. My nipples pebbled with the cold.

I could hear him moving around in the living room-the sound of cabinets opening and closing, the clinking of glasses. I took a deep breath, trying to cool the storm of my desire, but it did not work. A kaleidoscope of images of what could happen between us proved to be incredibly heady. And when finally I emerged from the bathroom, the picture presented before my eyes of him waiting for me with a mug of steaming creamy homemade hot Chocolate made my hart run even faster.

He handed me the mug, his fingers brushing against mine and sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. The sweet scent of chocolate wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of rain and earth that clung to him from the outside. His eyes trailed down my body, and I wondered what he was thinking.

"God you're sexy when you're all wet," Paul purred, the thickness in his voice a testament to the leap in his arousal at my bedraggled and quivering self. The action of sipping sent some warmth coursing throughout the cold limbs as a reaction, making my face even hotter with embarrassment while he watched, literally devouring me whole through his gaze.

"Thank you, you're sexy, too," I blurted out before I could stop myself. A flush crept up my neck, and his eyes gleamed with amusement and something darker. Then, in an instant, he closed the gap between us, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. The heat from his palm felt like a brand, and my pulse quickened.

He started stroking my cheek with the back of his hand; his thumb skated over my bottom lip. The tension between us thickened, a desire-charged atmosphere created by what had gone unsaid between us for days now. "You know, I've noticed you've been looking particularly. appealing, lately," he said, dropping his voice an octave. I didn't object to him touching me. I leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

That was the signal he needed-that gave him my silent consent. He slid his hand along the line of my neck down to my collarbone and then slid his hand inside the gap in my robe. His fingertips brushed the skin beneath the robe. A soft gasp escaped my lips as he cupped my breast, the heat of his hand stark against my cool flesh. I felt my nipples tighten in response, poking against the soft fabric. His eyes never left mine, searching for any sign of hesitation or rejection. But all I felt was an overwhelming desire to give in to the moment.

Paul leaned in closer, his hot breath against my skin, his demanding and insistent lips kissing me. The taste of him was new, as if my body had waited for this moment. My mug of hot chocolate slipped from my grasp, forgotten on the table as sweet liquid pooled onto the wood. His hands roamed my body under the robe, tracing every curve and hollow; I moaned into his mouth, my own hands tangling in the fabric of his shorts.

It was but a second since the robe had slipped from my body, and he stared down at my nakedness. His eyes darkened to lust and feasted upon me. My heart was hammering in my chest, but it was not with fear or regret; pure, unadulterated excitement coursed through my veins. Outside, the rain continued to fall, a mournful background to our passionate embrace.

Paul's hands became more insistent, kneading my breasts, his thumbs flicking my erect nipples. My hands found their way into his shorts, clenching his hard cock, feeling the pulse of his desire for me. He groaned into my ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and gruff.

He lifted me up with ease, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my wet, bare skin sliding against his, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. His mouth moved to my neck, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of hot kisses along my collarbone as he carried me to his bedroom. The room was a bit in darkness, its curtains drawn against the storm outside to cocoon an intimate illicit encounter. His pants fell to the floor as his rock-hard cock stood thick, testament of his desires.

He gently laid me onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine, as he moved closer to me. The sight of him naked and aroused was enough to send another wave of lust crashing over me. Outside, the rain seemed to mirror the tumultuousness within, a symphony of nature's own making, echoing the passion to come.

Paul's hand slid down my body, his calloused fingertips tracing the line of my spine, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin. His other hand found my pussy, his fingers sliding through my wetness that had me arching up into his touch. "You're so wet," he muttered, his voice a dark promise of pleasures to come. "You want this, don't you?"

My mind screamed "No!" while my mouth said "Yes!" in silent whispers of pleasure. His finger's tip found my clit, and I moaned, unable to stop the response that bubbled from deep within me. He chuckled, a low, sexual sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, the confidence of his voice giving way to earnest stroking, his thumb circling my clit in a maddeningly slow, teasing rhythm that had me squirming and begging for more.

He slid down my body, his mouth following the trail his hand had blazed. He kissed and nibbled his way down my torso. His tongue flicked over my belly button, which made me squirm. When he reached my pussy, he paused, his hot breath dancing along my sensitive flesh. "You're so sweet," he murmured, his mouth descending onto me in the next second, tongue darting deep inside to taste me as if I were some heady wine. I could feel my orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter with each stroke of his tongue, each suck of his lips.

Martin's voice, in my head, pleaded with me to let loose-to enjoy this moment, as I did. I moaned, my hands reached for the sheets as Paul's mouth worked wonders. Outside, the storm outside was mirroring the tempest in me, my body writhing beneath his expert touch. And I came, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure washed over me.

With a growl, Paul positioned himself above me, his cock nudging my entrance, his face gleaming with my juices. "Taste your self on me," he said, and I leaned forward avidly, licking my own sweetness from his lips as our tongues tangled in a kiss that was as rough as the storm outside was. His cock slid inside me, filling me completely. I gasped, my nails digging into his back as he finally began to move, his hips thrusting in rhythm with the pounding of rain against the windows.

The sound of the rain grew louder, a symphony of pleasure as he claimed me, my body responding to his every move. He felt different compared to Martin, his strokes more primal, more commanding. And yet, I reveled in it-my body singing with every thrust. The guilt was there, a tiny flame in the corner of my mind, but it was quickly snuffed out by the overwhelming need for release.

His eyes had held mine through every hard thrust, through every whispered promise, and his eyes never left mine now. I could feel him building toward his climax, the ragged catch of his breath, the stroke of his cock urgent. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper still, urging him on. The scent of our mingled lust filled the air, a heady perfume that only served to heighten my arousal.

The rain slapped against the windowpanes, a cacophony of nature's own symphony, a backdrop to our illicit coupling. I was a creature gone wild, caught in mating, driven by instinct, raw, and wanting more. Our bodies moved against each other in perfect concert: the slap of skin to skin, the wet sounds of passion echoing across the room. I had never felt so alive, never consumed by lust.

Paul's cock was pumping in and out, stretching me, filling me in a way that Martin never had. His hands held my hips, pinning me in place while he drove into me with almost violent urgency. Instead, I felt a thrill of excitement, a rush of adrenaline that made my orgasm crest higher and higher. His muscular body tensed above me, the veins in his neck standing out as he fought for control. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice a raw, animalistic sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Cum for me.cum in my cunt.I need your sperm.claim me," I whispered, the words slipping from my lips unbidden, a plea that seemed to come from somewhere deep within me.

The storm outside became wilder, the flashes of lightning across the sky like strobes, sending eerie shadows dancing across the room, highlighting the tension in Paul's body, as he thrust into me, harder and faster. Every stroke sent shockwaves through me, making me squeeze around him, my pussy clasping greedily at his cock. The thunder growled, a bass note to the symphony of our passion.

With a final, guttural cry, Paul's body tensed and he came, his hot seed filling me up. The intensity of his climax set off my own. My body shook with the force of it, lost in a world narrowed to the feel of him inside me, the sound of our mingled gasps and the driving beat of rain outside. When it was finally over, we lay, our chests heaving as bodies slick with sweat, the remnants of our passion.

Paul's arms wrapped around me, pulling me right up against him as his lips kissed me softly-oh so reverently, it seemed. "You're incredible," he whispered, and in the tone of his voice, there was wonder. The smile on my lips rose at the weird mix of pride and satisfaction that enveloped me. It seemed I had crossed some barrier, a line drawn in sand that I'd stepped across without looking in the rearview mirror.

The storm outside had long since passed, leaving that soft drizzle of water to paint the windowpane with a soft, ethereal light. The world was clean-washed outside, contrasting with the mess of emotions and desire tangled in the sheets with us. I lay there, listening to the steady beat of Paul's heart and the soft patter of raindrops, feeling satisfied, yet disoriented.

"You okay?" he whispered against my neck, his warm breath dancing across skin. I nodded, unable to speak the jumble of feelings inside me. He tugged the blankets up to over us, his arms going around my waist to hold me close. His scent was musky, male-the smell of a man, immediate and real, making me feel safe in a way I had not felt in a long time.

We lay there for a moment, listening to the retreat of the rain, its sound growing distant. The house was quiet except for the sporadic drip of the gutters and soft breathing. The silence had been heavy with unasked questions and the heaviness of what we'd just done.

Paul broke it first, rolling onto his back and taking me with him, so that I was nestled into the crook of his arm, my head resting on his chest. "I've wanted you for so long," he said, his voice still thick with lust. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek, steady and strong.

I drew patterns on his chest with my fingertips, the smoothness of his skin a direct contrast to the coarse hair that covered his chest and stomach. "What do we do now?" I whispered, the realization of what we had done finally dawning on me.

Paul's hand stilled on my back, his chest rising and falling on a deep sigh. "We don't have to tell anyone," he said quietly. "This can be our secret." I looked up at him, his eyes searching my face for any signs of regret or doubt. But all I could feel was a strange sense of liberation, as if a part of me had been unlocked and set free.

We lay there for a while longer, the quiet of the house wrapping itself around us like a blanket. I felt a glow spread through me, the sense of fitting in, of being accepted, which I had not experienced for a very long time. Martin's fantasies had taken me up to this moment, but my own desires had tipped the scale. And as I lay there in the arms of another man, I felt the guilt building.

Paul's breathing slowed down. I looked at him, he was sleeping. The guilt began to creep back in, but the warmth of his embrace was too comforting to move. I got up, gathered my clothes and got back home.

The house was quiet. I put my wet clothes in the tumble dryer and took a hot shower. The warm water cascaded over me, but couldn't wash away my guilt that was seeping slowly back in. While the steam filled the bathroom, my thoughts swirled around, just like the water, going down the drain. What had I done? How could I have let myself go like that? But at the same time, I couldn't deny the thrill still coursing in my veins.

After I showered, I got dressed in one of the sexy outfits Martin had bought me: a tight black dress that hugged my curves and made my eyes pop. I applied my makeup with trembling hands, trying to look nice for him, trying to push away the guilt over my infidelity.

When he came home, he was in for a big surprise; I was dressed up and looking like a million bucks. "You look absolutely stunning," Martin said as he walked into the bedroom, his eyes devouring my body. I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing what I had done, but also a strange sense of excitement. I had never felt so desirable, so powerful. He leaned in and kissed me deep, his hands running over my curves, and I wondered if he could feel the difference in me.

We'd made love that night, Martin and I; our bodies moving to the now-familiar dance of any two people who have known each other over the years, yet somehow new, different. His touch gentle yet demanding, his kisses firing a blaze of unfulfilled longing across my skin. His voice-one long, gentle caress that ran along my spine and had my blood racing.

For Paul, that was simply the first and last time we fucked.

Next Story, My Second time I cheated.