Obsession

My sister Marta had stopped by to have coffee with me and shoot the shit. Then, from out of nowhere she told me about what had happened the night before following a party she had been to.

"You're joking, right?"

"No Ellie, I'm not joking."

"But I thought that you loved Mark."

"I do Ellie, I do. This doesn't have anything to do with love. Besides, he doesn't know and it isn't as if I'm going to do it all the time. It has only happened three times in the last six months."

"But that's three times you have cheated on him."

"No it isn't. I didn't cheat on him. All three times it happened because I was drunk and taken advantage of."

"You're splitting hairs Marta. You knew it happened and you still let him do it anyway."

"What, I'm supposed to say no when my husband wants to make love to me?"

"We aren't talking about making love Marta. There is a big difference between making love and letting Mark go down on you after another man has fucked you."

"Get real Ellie. If I said no when he wanted to go down on me he would just climb on and stick his pole in me. He'd know in a heartbeat that he wasn't the first one to go there that night. If I let him eat me he thinks I'm wet because he's getting me off."

"It still isn't right Marta."

"Maybe not, but I'll tell you something that it is. It is a kick Ellie, and I've had the biggest orgasms of my life when Mark eats me after someone else has fucked me. It felt deliciously wicked and perverted and you have no idea how strong an orgasm it gives you. Don't be throwing stones at me until you see for yourself. Do it one time Ellie, just one time and then you come and tell me that you wouldn't like to do it again."

After she'd gone I sat at the table and wondered why, especially since Marta and I were so close - close enough for her to tell me about her sex life - I had sat at the table and played the hypocrite. See what it's like before throwing stones she had said and I had smiled to myself as I remembered the first time it had happened to me. That's right, I said the first time - not the only, but the first.

+++++++++++

My husband Barry had worked for the DEF Corporation for a little over five years and in that time he had gone from an entry level management trainee to the Vice President of Marketing. His boss threw Barry a promotion party at his home and while I'm not a party person that party was more or less a command performance for me. While not necessarily fair, the wives of men at Barry's level were considered part of the package and were expected to attend social functions on the arms of their husbands, look good, be gracious, fawn over the boss and be an asset.

At Barry's suggestion I had dressed for the occasion in a simple black cocktail dress, heels and a single strand of pearls. I was also wearing two pieces of imagination that someone called underwear. I had come out of the shower and Barry had handed me a box and when I opened it I found two pieces of black lace that Barry assured me were a bra and panties.

"Wear these tonight. Just the thought of you in them will make me want to leave as early as possible so we can come home and really celebrate my promotion."

Always ready for that kind of celebration I donned the skimpy things, dressed and off we went to the party. I knew, and I'm pretty sure that Barry also knew, that leaving the party was a pipe dream. As the guest of honor Barry would have to be there until the last dog was hung.

As I mentioned, I'm not really a party person. It isn't that I don't like parties, it is simply that I have a low tolerance for alcohol. Two drinks and I'm ready to lie down and take a nap. No problem, just walk around with a glass of soda water or ginger ale, right? Doesn't work that way. I'm supposed to be gracious. So when Barry's boss or an important client says:

"Here Ellie, let me freshen your drink, vodka tonic, right?"

I smile sweetly and take it from them. Now just because I have a low tolerance for alcohol doesn't mean that I don't like it, it just means that I can't handle it. So, when the person important to Barry's career hands me a drink and stays to talk I have to take an occasional sip during the conversation to appear to be normal. As soon as the person walks away I dump the drink into the closest potted plant. The problem is that there are so many "important people" and as a result there are so many 'little sips' that I always end up drinking too much. When I've had too much I don't get falling down drunk or loud and noisy, I just get sleepy and need to go and lie down. That's what happened at Barry's promotion party. I got to feeling sleepy and Barry's boss noticed and said:

"Something wrong Ellie?"

Not willing to admit that I couldn't hold my liquor I just said, "I don't know. All of a sudden I feel woozy."

"Why don't you go on up to the guest bedroom and lie down until you feel better."

"I don't..."

"Nonsense Ellie, go on up and I'll let Barry know."

I gave him a weak smile and then I went and did what he had suggested.

I vaguely heard a noise which I later figured was the bedroom door opening and closing. I felt my dress being pushed up and then a hand slid up my nylon clad leg until it reached my pussy and then a finger traced the crevasse created by the lips of my pussy. How wonderfully depraved I thought. We couldn't leave early and Barry couldn't wait until we got home so he was going to play in his bosses' house while thirty guests were downstairs. In my half asleep, half-awake condition I opened my legs to give him better access and when a finger slid into my pussy I sighed and opened them even wider. Two fingers slid in and I moaned and then the fingers left my love hole and I felt my panties being pulled down. I closed my legs and lifted my hips so the lacy piece of nothing could be removed. Hands took hold of my ankles and my legs were spread and my knees moved up to my chest and I waited for Barry's penetration.

Suddenly I was electrified as his tongue found my clit. I hoped he had locked the door as I took my hands and grabbed behind my knees to hold myself open for him. His tongue teased me and then he started sucking on my clit and I moaned and hissed out:

"Oh yes, oh yes baby, you do that so well" in a low voice. Another minute or two and then I cried out, "In me baby, I need you in me. The real thing baby, give me the real thing."

He loomed over me in the dark room and I felt the head of his spear poke at my pussy and I dropped my legs so my feet could push on the bed as I shoved my pussy up at him. He thrust forward and I almost screamed with delight as he lanced into me. And then I was thrashing around, crying and moaning, "Oh yes baby, oh god yes. It feels so good baby, give it to me, give it to me" and then he said:

"God are you tight."

I moaned, "No baby, you just fill me so good" before it hit me that it wasn't Barry's voice. The realization that it wasn't Barry making love to me hit me almost exactly at the same time I had an orgasm and as I shook and cried I heard the man say, "Oh Jesus, I can't hold back any longer" and I felt him spurt into me. Once, twice, three times and then I felt him get off me and moments later the door opened and closed leaving me lying on the bed wondering what had just happened.

Had I been asleep and was it an erotic dream? I quickly sat up and reached down between my legs - no panties! I felt around the bed for them, but couldn't find them. I got up, found a light switch and turned on the light. My panties were lying on the floor next to the bed and as I reached down to pick them up I felt a trickle of warmth run down my leg. I touched a finger to it and then licked the finger. It was salty and tasted like the cum I had sucked out of Barry and a lot of the boyfriends that I'd had before I got married. It had been no erotic dream. A man not my husband had just fucked me and I had no clue as to who he might have been.

My first thought was, "Oh my God, what am I going to tell Barry? That was immediately followed by, "You will tell him nothing! You can't tell him anything. He would want to know why I hadn't started screaming "Rape!" and fought the guy off. I couldn't just say that, "I thought it was you" because the bottom line would always be that another man had fucked his wife and the thought of it would live with him forever. Next came, "Oh Jesus. Barry is going to want to make love to me tonight and I can't let him slide his cock into a cum filled hole because then he would know that someone else had been there first. I stuffed my panties into my clutch purse and went looking for a bathroom. I spent fifteen minutes trying to clean myself out, but without a douche bag I couldn't do a complete job of it. I was just going to have to plead a headache when we got home. I returned to the party and for the rest of the evening I looked at all the men there and wondered which one it could possibly have been, but I saw no indication or got a vibe from anyone of them.

On the ride home Barry was in a horny mood and he kept reaching over and putting his hand on my leg and telling me how much he was looking forward to getting my dress off me. "Just thinking of you in those lacy under things has had me on fire all night."

"Please honey, I'm just not feeling all that well right now."

"Don't worry baby, I know how to get you in the mood."

Barry wouldn't take no for an answer and it just wasn't my nature to say, "Damn it Barry, I said no" so I resigned myself to the fact that Barry was going to get sloppy seconds from me for the first time in his life. All I could hope for was that when he questioned my wetness he would buy the story that before I got my headache I'd spent most of the evening anticipating making love and the wetness was caused by my hornyness. It wasn't much, but it was the best I could come up with. Barry helped me undress and then he stepped back to look at me in my heels and lacy under things and I thanked god that my mystery lover had pulled my panties off instead of just pushing the crotch band aside. There was no way Barry could have missed the cum stains that would have been on that black lace. Barry and I exchanged some passionate kisses and I reached down and ran my hands along his length and had the idea that I would go to my knees and suck him off and that would insure that he never would find anything that could make him even remotely suspicious. I broke our kiss and went to my knees, but Barry stopped me.

"Not here, on the bed."

We moved to the bed, but before I could go after Barry's cock he said, "I want to do you first" and before I could stop him he had my legs spread and his mouth was on my pussy. I couldn't holler at him to stop and I couldn't roll away without causing him to become more curious that I wanted him so I closed my eyes and prayed that he wouldn't notice anything. He didn't, but I sure did! Barry had eaten me a gazillion times, but never, not ever, did I orgasm as fast or as hard as I did that time and as depraved as I knew it was I knew it was because of the idea that Barry was eating another man's leavings. As soon as Barry's tongue touched me my mind went back to the bedroom where a short three hours before a strange man had listened as I told him it felt so good and then had cried out, "Give it to me, give it to me."

I relived the experience as Barry ate me out and I didn't think once of Barry and what he was doing. I thought of my anonymous lover and what we had done. I came and I had the most intense orgasm of my life. I grabbed Barry's head and bucked up at him as I remembered every stroke my mystery lover pushed into me and, God forgive me, I was sorry that I'd flushed most of the man's cum out of me. The idea that Barry was slurping up another man's juices drove me wild. When Barry final pulled his mouth off me and mounted me I was so exhausted from my many orgasms that I barely responded to him and fortunately he didn't seem to notice.

I woke up the next morning ashamed of myself for how I had reacted when Barry went down on me. He was the man I loved and yet I let him foul his mouth with another man's sperm and I had gloried in it. I had loved it, and god help me, I wanted to do it again. I spent the next three weeks constantly thinking about that night and getting myself so horny that I practically raped Barry every night when he came home from work. He commented on it and I passed it off as a hormonal change taking place in my body. During that three week period I looked into the face of every man I knew who had been at the party looking for some sign that might have told me who my mystery man was. I grabbed the phone every time it rang hoping to hear a voice say, "Would you like to meet me in another dark room?" At the end of the three weeks Barry called me from the office and told me he would be coming home late.

"Why? What's up?"

"I have a cocktail party that I have to go to."

"I'm not invited?"

"Of course you are, but I didn't mention it because you don't usually like to go to those things."

"I feel the need to get out of the house so if you don't mind I'll go with you."

The party was at the home of the VP of Sales and I dressed for the occasion in a dress that showed off all my best assets. I wore a pair of four-inch heels and a pair of crotchless pantyhose. Once at the party things moved along as they usually did, except that this time when offered a drink I faked sipping at it and dumped it as soon as I could. Two hours into the party I told Barry that I needed to lie down and he, expecting it, had already arranged with our host for me to use a spare bedroom. Once inside I pulled all the drapes and blinds and eliminated every source of light I could find and then took off my panties, got on the bed and waited. An hour went by and just about the time I had convinced myself that the first time was going to be the only time the door opened and quickly closed. I waited for a light to go on and to see that Barry had come to check on me, but it didn't happen. I felt a hand touch my leg and then I moaned and spread my legs.

"Hurry" I whispered, "Put it in me, I need it, hurry please hurry."

The mystery man's cock slid into my eager pussy and I clamped my legs around him, "Fuck me, fuck me hard and make me cum. Please baby, please fuck me hard and make me cum."

His hard strokes made me grunt on the in-stroke and I pushed my ass up at him as he pulled back. In less than a minute I had my first of seven orgasms before he spilled his seed in me. Without a word he got up and left and I got up and got a cloth out of my purse to put between my pussy and panties to both keep his cum in me and to keep my panties from becoming so stained that Barry would notice.

I returned to the party and spent an hour trying to find a sign that would tell me who it was who was enjoying my body. As at the first party I couldn't find a clue. After that hour I got Barry to leave and before we were even away from the curb I had his cock out of his trousers. A mile and a half of hand job and then I sucked his cock the rest of the way home. Once in the house we raced for the bedroom and stripped and then I said, "I sucked you and now it's your turn."

"Damn Ellie, you sure are wet."

"I know lover. I'm so goddamned horny that I could just scream" and scream I did as soon as Barry sucked up the first drop of my mystery man's cum. The orgasms were every bit as powerful as they had been the first time as I laid there and thought of the fucking I had gotten and the head I was getting. I was hooked! I just had to have more of my husband eating my pussy after another man had fucked me.

I started going to more parties with Barry and three months and seven parties went by with nothing happening. I was going crazy and so one afternoon I went out and picked up a guy at a bar and we went to a motel and fucked up a storm for four hours, but when Barry got home and I drug him into the bedroom nothing happened. Oh I did have my normal good time, but there were no Earth shattering orgasms. I picked up five more men during the next week, once two of them at the same time, but with the same result when I went home to Barry - enjoyable sex, but not the climaxes I was looking for.

Three more weeks went by and then Barry and I attended another party. I did my sleepy routine and that night my mysterious lover showed. In the darkened room he fucked me, but when he went to leave I pulled him back and sucked his cock until he was hard and then I let him fuck me again. That night at home I saw stars and rockets flashing across the skies as Barry ate me to one tremendous climax after another. I finally realized that it wasn't just Barry's sucking another man's cum out of me, but a combination of Barry's oral skills and my not knowing just who it was who was fucking me. Either one was enjoyable, but taken together the result was spectacular. The down side is that I crave the feeling, but it is a random occurrence; I never know when it will happen.

I have become a party person and I attend every party that Barry gets invited to. Since moving into our new house I've begun coming up with reasons to throw parties and over the last two years my mystery lover has enjoyed my body eighteen times, three times on my own bed. He never speaks and my verbal output is limited to the noises I make as he fucks me. I have stopped trying to find out who he is because I know that to find out would put an end to the feelings I experience.

I did experiment a couple of times. Once when he came into the room and began running his hand up my leg I rolled over and got up on my hands and knees.

"My ass lover, this time I want you in my ass."

That night there were no clanging bells, no stars or fireworks when Barry went down on me. The other time I drug Barry to bed and we made love instead of my letting him eat me. Again, my usual great time, but no bells or whistles. It has to be the mystery man's cum and Barry sucking it out of me that gives me the feeling I'm looking for.

I love Barry with all my heart and soul and I feel immense guilt and shame every morning after one of my sessions with my mystery man, but I can't stop trying to have those illicit meetings. I now understand the feelings of those who can't stay away from drugs or alcohol; my mystery fucker is as much an addiction to me as drugs are to a drug addict or whiskey is to an alcoholic. Like other addicts I tell myself that I can stop it whenever I want to. All I have to do is turn on the light or immediately get up and follow him out of the room and once I know who he is it would be over. But I can't do it any more than any other addict can. All I can do is look forward to the next time and pray that the next time will be soon.