Author's note: The following fictional story starts out the way so many infidelity stories do, but it will not end that way. All characters are over 21. Enjoy!
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My wife Jane tiptoed into the dark bedroom. It was late. I feigned sleep as I heard her turn the shower on, and then she padded softly past me to toss her sweaty and cum-soaked clothes into our hamper and grab a clean nightshirt.
In the darkness, silhouetted by the light from our bathroom, even at 35 she still looked incredibly sexy to me, long legs, perfect breasts, a swimmer's physique. Maybe it was the fact that we hadn't had sex in a long time, but seeing her there, I desperately wanted her.
Silently, I stood up behind her as she bent over the dresser looking for panties, and then she stood up and turned, almost jumping out of her skin from seeing me there.
"Jesus! Monty, you startled me!" She stammered, "What are you still doing up?"
I held still for a moment. I let her wonder what I knew, even as I could smell his spunk and sweat on her breath. I ran my hand up the back of her head, gripped a fistful of hair, and held her face to mine. Still holding her hair, I whispered angrily, "I saw everything. You sucked his cock, he shot a big sticky load all over your tits, then another hot load deep into your whore pussy, didn't he?"
She was about to say something, but I didn't need to hear her denials, regrets, or apologies. I'd seen what happened, how eagerly she gave herself to him. I'd take advantage of her guilt.
Roughly, I turned her, bending her over the bed, kicking her legs apart, and positioning my cock at her wet, dripping tunnel, almost daring her to protest. I'd been rock hard for a while now, almost painfully so, because of what I saw. With no foreplay or teasing, I drove my cock into her wet, sloppy tunnel and started fucking her, pounding her whore cunt as hard as I could. She was already primed by that young stud sleeping downstairs on my couch. Now she would feel what her husband could do to her wanton body. I fucked her hard and fast; each time I detected her approaching orgasm, I'd change up slightly to deny her that release, building and building the sexual tension in her body until she was at her limit.
She tried to muffle her moans and then her passionate wailing, and then, as her climax hit, an involuntary scream as her orgasm ripped through her body. I never stopped. I had been waiting a long time for this, and I was going to take full advantage of this opportunity to have sex with her. Her body shook as she came, yet I pounded my cock into her still, maintaining her state of euphoria until my own climax took me. I felt my cock swell to a hardness I hadn't felt in years, then explode inside her like a crashing wave. I felt my muscles contracting as I shot each powerful stream of semen into my wife, filling her up where her boy toy had just been. Then, exhausted, I collapsed on top of her, and after a moment, rolled off to lie next to her.
Panting like teenagers, covered in sweat, we just lay there silently for a moment.
"Shit! The shower is still on!" She jumped up, and I joined her in the steamy bathroom. As she bent over to adjust the water, I took her head into my hands and rubbed my dripping wet cock over her face and lips, smearing her boyfriend's cum and mine all over her, until she opened her mouth. I fucked her mouth with my semi-hard dick, forcing it as deep into her mouth as I could.
"Can you taste your boyfriend's cum on my cock?" I taunted her, "Do you love the taste of my cum too? Tell me how good it tastes!" But all she could manage was a garbled "Mmm mm." I let her suck me for a few more minutes, then helped her up.
I followed her into the shower, and for a few minutes, we simply washed each other in the hot steam and rushing water. She washed her hair, and I soaped her back. A moment of tenderness and peace--calm before the storm.
We finished, dried each other off, and climbed into bed, lying side by side in silence. I guess each of us was uneasy about breaking the silence.
We lay there together, unmoving, for a few long minutes; neither of us could sleep. Finally, I asked, "Why did you fuck him?"
She started, "I don't know; it just kind of happened..."
I stopped her. "I caught you cheating; don't start lying now too. You've been flirting with him since he came over this afternoon. You may as well have planned tonight--it worked out so well for you."
"Except the part where you spied on me," she accused.
I turned to her and said, "I was in bed, and I heard a noise, so I came back to check on you, and then when I saw what was happening. I watched you from the stairs. I saw you tease him, flirt, flash your tits, suck his dick, kiss him, and everything. It's done; you planned to cheat and then did. Now, tell me what the fuck you were thinking," I rumbled, somehow maintaining the outward appearance of calm.
She took a deep breath. "I guess I noticed his penis one day while he was helping with yard work. It was bouncing under his sweatpants, big, long, thick, and heavy. You know, we've always treated him like a son; he's been so sweet, so much a part of our lives. Then, seeing how he'd grown, watching his cock bouncing like that, I started thinking of him as a sexual thing, so innocent, but full of promise. I couldn't get it out of my mind! He never had much luck with girls. I guess I told myself I was, I don't know, coaching him in a way. Last night, the coaching became flirting, then more."
"So when I fell asleep on the recliner, you saw your chance?" I prodded.
"No, not like that," she told me, shaking her head. "It was genuinely a little harmless flirting, just for fun. Luke seemed to enjoy it and flirted back. It became a game of chicken, seeing how far we could go."
She sighed. "It got sexual pretty quickly. I was so enamored of him--he seemed to be genuinely turned on by my teasing, and that itself was arousing to me, and I felt so sexy."
That last statement hurt me. She was the one who shut down our sex life, claimed her drive was not there and refused to seek counseling or medical help. I was trapped in a sexless marriage, one that might have been fixable, but she refused, at least for me.
"Then I needed to see his penis. I glanced at it semi-hard, flopping around in his sweatpants like a salami, long and so thick. I became obsessed with seeing it, making it hard, seeing how big it was."
"Then sucking it, then fucking it with your whore cunt." I finished for her.
"Well, at least he pays attention to me!" She blamed me. I felt we were falling into our usual routine, and I had no stomach for it tonight.
"I certainly don't want to fight about that again. It turns out all you needed to feel sexy again was a virile young man with a big cock." I was peeved.
"Maybe," she admitted. I sighed. This was the closest we'd come to discussing sex in years, and it was about how she was suddenly aroused by another man.