The Artist 12

My heart was beating faster; it was difficult to conceal my anticipation. I was dressing to meet my lover and I was doing it in front of my unknowing husband. That was adding to my excitement. The thrill of the affair, the anticipation of feeling my lover's lips on me and his cock penetrating me practically had me cumming as I prepared myself for our assignation.

It was all I could do to put on the plain white panties and bra. I really wanted to wear the deliciously naughty lingerie I bought at Victoria's Secret the other day but there was no way I could have explained to Harvey why I would wear them to work.

Fifteen years after I married Harvey Shelton I had returned to the work force. I had a part time job in a small art gallery in the Soho area of New York City. I had worked there briefly when I had graduated from college with a degree in art history. Now I was back working Tuesday and Wednesdays from nine to four.

Our children are adolescents, a twelve year old daughter and fourteen year old son, and I really don't have to be home for them now. Harvey is the principle of our nearby high school and is readily available should any emergency arise. It is because I have so much free time that I took the job this past summer.

I was a receptionist. I sat at a small desk and I directed whoever came in to the gallery to whatever party on the staff could best serve their interests. I was there only a month or so when Eric came in. He was a handsome young man, mid twenties I estimated, exhibiting a boyish charm that caught my interest. His muscular physique and deep blue eyes stirred something deep within me. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.

I watched him as he wandered around the gallery, partly because that was part of my job and but mostly because I was taken with his almost feline grace and his physical attraction. His full chest and slim waist were set off by the tight tee shirt he wore; it was actually possible to see the outline of his pectorals and the bumps of his nipples. His smile, when he caught me staring at him, was as bright as direct sunlight and it caused me to blush like a school girl.

Maybe he noticed my embarrassment and his smile broadened as he approached me. "My God," I said to myself, "he is gorgeous. He looks like a young Viking."

He was a Viking, for when he introduced himself; he had a Scandinavian name, Eric Hanson. He was an artist, one of the many who rented space in one of the old loft buildings in the area. He was trying to sell some of his work or at least place some for exhibit on consignment. The person who was in charge of that part of the business was not in at the time.

I don't know why, but I told him that the few paintings he had with him were not enough of a sample for us to commit us to represent him. He pleaded with me to come and look at what he had in his studio. There was too much, and some of it too large, to bring in for us to see. I would have to come to his studio to see more of his work. Even though this was not a part of my job description I readily acquiesced to his invitation. Not admitting to myself why I wanted to get to know him better, I told him I would see him there after the end of my work day.

I called Harvey at his office. My side of the conversation went like this.

"Hi honey, you and the kids are on your own tonight for dinner.

No, nothing at work.

No, No, a couple of new boutiques opened nearby and they are having Grand Opening Sales. I might be spending some of your hard earned money.

No, I won't stay in the city too late. Don't worry I'll be careful. I love you. Bye."

I hung up the phone and I sat there wondering why I lied to my husband. I had never done that before. Why did I not tell him I was going to an artist's loft to look at his paintings?

What was I trying to hide?

I realized why when Eric answered my knock on his door. He was bare chested, wearing only a pair of spandex gym shorts that delineated every muscle in his thick thighs and the large bulge at the top where they came together. I was rendered speechless as he greeted me.

"Irene," he said, "I was afraid you wouldn't show up. I wasn't sure you were really serious about seeing what I had to offer."

I just stood there.

"Come in, come in. Excuse my informal attire, I have no air conditioning and it is so hot in here."

I still couldn't move. He held out his hand and I took it. He drew me in through the door and closed it behind me.

"You really didn't come here to look at my work, did you Irene?"

I didn't answer him.

"You can't see very well what I have to offer with all this hair in your way."

He reached out a brushed back a lock of my hair that had fallen across my eye. I shivered and let out a soft moan.

"I saw you watching me as I walked through the gallery today. We both know you didn't come here to look at my paintings. You're a beautiful woman Irene. You're a bit older than I usually like but you exude a sensuality that attracts me and these are world class."

As he had been speaking his hands had been unbuttoning my summer blouse and now they were caressing my large, soft, bra clad breasts.

I never moved, I never said anything, but my breathing gave me away. It became ragged and rapid and that, along with the stiffness of my nipples, told him all he needed to know.

"Reach behind you Irene, open your bra. Take it off and let me see the real beauty of your tits."

My hands went behind my back and did what they have done thousands of times before, they released the hooks and I shrugged off my bra. I didn't do it for myself, I didn't do it for my husband. I did it for a man I had just met today. I did it because he told me to do it.

He fondled them and played with them. Then he rolled my nipples between his fingers and stretched them. All the while I never moved. I never put up an iota of resistance. I just let my eyes close and my head fall back as I luxuriated in his manipulations.

"I love the feel of your tits, Irene; they're so big and soft. I've got something you want to feel, it's big but not so soft. You want to feel it don't you Irene? It's big and hard now, go on touch it, you know you want to."

I couldn't move, I wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. This was going where I didn't want it to go. Or did I? His hand came up and brought my hand to his crotch. I felt his ball sack through the spandex and the two testicles inside and then the long thick tube extending up across his belly.

"This is what you want to feel, isn't it Irene? This is what you wanted to see. This is why you came here, isn't it, Irene?"

I didn't answer him but my hand did. It slowly stroked the spandex covered cock. Finally, I was able to utter a sound, "Noooooooo." I whispered. My traitorous hand continued its caress.

"Yes it is Irene; we both know you want to see it. Go on, kneel down and peel down my shorts. Peel them down and hold it in your hands."

I knelt before him, my bare breasts swaying and bobbling on my chest. My adventurous hands peeled down his shorts and there it was in front of my face. It was magnificent. My hands reached out and caressed it, stroked it and teased it. I was mesmerized, I was in a trance.

"This is what you want, isn't it Irene?"

I couldn't answer; my conscience was catching up to me.

"Answer me Irene, or go home."

"Yessssss." I hissed.

"Not good enough." he insisted.

"Yes, I want it." My barriers were falling.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

I hesitated, I struggled, I capitulated. I said, "I want you to fuck me."

I wish I could say it was good. It wasn't just good, it was incredible. I came moments after he penetrated me and again and again before I finally felt him cum in me. I was in orgasmic heaven. I had never experienced a climax that was in the same world as what he gave me.

He didn't make love to me, he fucked me. He took what he wanted from me and I gave it to him willingly. He used me like I had never been used before. He turned me this way and that and he made me cum harder and longer than I had ever experienced.

When I left him to catch the 8:52 train home my feeling were in a jumble.

What had I done? I just had sex with a man that I hardly knew. More and better sex, in a shorter time, than I ever had with my husband. And my husband, what about Harvey? What about my children? I just put my marriage in jeopardy. Was it love or lust? What difference did it make, it was wrong.

I sat there on the train throughout the forty minute ride, these questions and many more running through my mind. I felt guilty when I thought of my husband, the man that I had loved for so many years, the man I still loved. I didn't want to give him up; I still loved him and my children. I didn't want change that. I would show them I still loved them and I would be extra affectionate and solicitous when attending to them.

And Eric? My pussy still tingled. Guilt or not, I knew I wanted more of what he gave me this afternoon. I knew I shouldn't see him again, I knew this was forbidden pleasure but I couldn't resist the joy of it. The illicit thrill, the sheer delight of the orgasms he gave me. Oh God, I wanted to touch myself right there on the train to see if I could repeat it before the memory faded. What has he awakened in me?

It was almost ten o'clock when I walked into the house, almost our usual bedtime. Harvey was just preparing to go to bed.

"Take your time undressing lover," I said to him, "and don't bother putting on your pajamas. I'm gong to make love to you until you beg for mercy."

"Wow," he exclaimed, "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing yet baby, but as soon as I get out of the shower, hopefully it will be you."

Normally, in our love making, I am the recipient of his ardor, but tonight, I was the aggressor. I licked him, I sucked him, I teased him, and I brought him to the edge of his orgasm and then backed off. My lips, my tits and my pussy rubbed every part of his body that they could reach until he could stand it no longer and he came spraying his cum all over my body. He watched amazed as I caught the last few bursts in my mouth and swallowed them.

"Ooooooh," he groaned, "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

"I'm still me honey, I just wanted to let you know how much I love you. I just wanted to make sure you will keep me around."

"Don't you worry, I won't let you go." he said, "My only worry is that if you keep this up, you may kill me first."

"No, I won't kill you," I declared and I snuggled up against him, "I love you too much."

I fell asleep in my husband's arms........ And I dreamt about Eric.

He was never out of my thoughts throughout the weekend or Tuesday morning when I returned to work. All day Tuesday and Wednesday I watched the door of the gallery and he never came in. I had no way to contact him, he didn't have a phone. I squirmed in my seat, I walked around the gallery, and I needed to see him. I needed him. I had sampled my drug, I needed it again. I needed my fix, I needed him again.

When I got home from work Wednesday evening I told Harvey that the gallery needed me to work on Thursday. Of course he put up no protest. Dear, dependable, trusting, Harvey. I loved him but I left in the morning at my usual time.

At nine in the morning I knocked on Eric's door. Nothing happened. I knocked again, harder, and then again a third time and the door opened. There stood Eric, a sleepy Adonis, in jockey briefs, slowly scratching his crotch.

"Unh," he grunted, "Hi Irene," he said as he walked away scratching his ass. His greeting was as if my being there was the most natural thing in the world. He turned and leaving me standing in the hallway, observing the view. "Come on in," he called over his shoulder; He dropped his briefs and kicked them aside while he walked.

"Oh God, even his ass is beautiful," I thought as I stepped inside. I closed the door and stood there mutely. Then I gasped as he reached what looked like a janitors tub and pissed in it, all the time talking over his shoulder to me.

"The toilet and shower for the tenants on this floor are down at the end of the hall and I don't have a robe to wear on the way there." He turned on the faucet above the tub, rinsed off his face and then taking a bottle from the shelf above the tub, and rinsed his mouth with some of its contents.

Then he turned to me and leaned back, naked, his behind was against the tub. He said to me, "This is why you are here, isn't it Irene?"

I still hadn't uttered a word, but yes, that was the reason I was there. It was right in front of me and I stared at it. It was flaccid, it was limp, and it was framed in blonde hair. It was beautiful, and I wanted it. It was his cock.

"But it's of no use to you like it is, is it Irene? It's of no use to a horny little suburban housewife if it's hanging there all limp and droopy, is it? You know how to make it useful for you Irene. Go ahead, do what you know how, to make it the way you want it."

I let out a soft moan as I sank to my knees, fully clothed, in front of a naked man a dozen years younger that I was and I caressed his balls. I kissed them and stroked his cock and I exalted as his cock grew and his balls swelled from my attention. I sucked on his cock and it tasted delicious. I was the cause of his arousal; it made me proud that this magnificent man wanted me.

"You have me nice and hard Irene, now what do you want me to do with it?"

'What is this?' I thought, 'Am I always going to ask him to do it?' But I had no pride left, so I answered, "I want you to fuck me."

"But I can't, you're wearing all those clothes." he replied. So I stripped as fast as I could. Jeans, blouse, bland undies, everything went onto a pile on the floor and he bent me naked over the tub, the tub he had pissed in.

My hands were on the opposite rim, supporting my torso. I could smell the mouthwash and the urine that still remained in the tub until he entered me. When he penetrated me from behind all my other senses shut down. The only thing in the world that mattered was the feeling in my pussy. My first orgasm was earth shattering. Whatever I saw, was exquisite. Whatever I smelled, was mouth watering. Whatever he wanted from me was what I wanted to give to him. I had no pride left; I had no will of my own left when I was with him.

He fucked me for six hours straight, from nine o'clock when I arrived, to three in the afternoon. Something my husband had never done or thought he could ever do. Eric fucked me in every position I had ever experienced before and some I never knew existed. He fucked me in ways and in places I had refused to do with Harvey and I exalted in every way he used me, until finally, I begged him to stop.

"Please," I pleaded, "please stop, I'm exhausted. I love everything you did to me and I want to do it again and again but I can't take anymore today. I promise I'll come back but I have to get home at my regular time if we are to repeat this. My husband thinks I'm at work today. I have to clean up. I'm covered with your cum and mine. Where's your shower?"

"I told you this morning," he said as he handed me a skimpy towel, "down at the end of the hall."

"But it's a public hall. Don't you have a robe?"

"I told you I don't have one. Just wrap the towel around your waist like I do."

"What if I meet someone in the hall?"

"Just smile and keep going. Artists live here, people expect that kind of behavior."

'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought as I padded down the hall in my bare feet, 'He's a poor, struggling artist living in a one room studio. He can't even afford a robe or even a second towel. He's as close to my son's age as he is to mine and we really have no future together. Why am I risking my marriage and my family for this? I have to give this up, this is madness! Yes it was madness, but it was divine madness.'

As I washed my body my fingers lingered on my nipples. It made me think of how he sucked them. When I washed between my thighs I touched my clit and I thought about how he stimulated it. I knew I had to do this again, besides I had promised him I would. One more time I promised myself, that's all I thought, one more time, hoping I could keep that promise.

Halfway back to the studio it happened, a man stepped from a doorway almost right in front of me. He stood stock still, staring at my naked breasts. 'What the hell,' I thought, as I pulled my shoulders back and thrust out my bosom when I walked past him, 'he might as well get a good look,' and I continued down the hall to Eric's door. I don't know what possessed me but just before I entered, I stripped the towel from around my waist and I wiggled my ass at him.

I was laughing at my newly acquired wanton boldness as I bent to retrieve my clothes from where I had tossed them on the floor. I didn't know it was there until I pulled on my bra and I felt it. It was on the underside of my left breast. A huge red hickey.

"Jesus, Eric, what have you done to me?

"Just marking you as my property."

"Your property? I don't belong to you; I have a husband, a family. You don't own me. Why did you do this to me?" I was crying as I completed dressing. "How can I explain this to my husband?"

"Your husband is not my problem." he shrugged, "and I marked you because I want you back. You're a great fuck Irene."

"But I promised I would be back."

"Yeah but now I'm sure."

"Well don't be so sure because I won't ever be back," I shouted as I slammed the door on my way out.

I calmed down as I rode the train on my way home; I had to face the first problem which was how to hide the evidence of my infidelity from Harvey until the hickey disappeared. The second problem, that of my infatuation, would have to wait. As it turned out, I didn't have to solve either one of them.

When we sat down to dinner my twelve year old daughter was all excited. "I made the only goal today in our soccer match. It made our team first in our league. I called you at work today Mom, to tell you all about it but you weren't there, so I had to wait until now. Everybody was so proud of me; they carried me in their shoulders."

I froze for a moment and then I glanced at Harvey; he just went on eating his soup. I was relieved that he had missed what she had said. My relief was misplaced, I found out later when we were preparing for bed. I had put on my night gown and was seated on the side of the bed; he was still standing in his tee shirt and boxers.

"How was work today? You usually don't work on Thursdays, was there anything unusual?"

"No, nothing unusual."

"Funny? After Sarah couldn't get you at work she called me with the good news of her goal. I thought she might have called the wrong number so I called you too. I found out that you were not only not there, but that you were not supposed to be there. So where were you Irene and why did you lie to me about being at work?"

I didn't answer him. I couldn't, I didn't know what to say.

"Why did you lie to me Irene?" he continued. "Why, I wonder? If you wanted to go shopping, you would tell me that wouldn't you. Oh, but that's what you told me last week and I believed you. You couldn't use that one again so soon, so you used work for your lie. But you got caught in your lie. Now again, why would you lie? Could it be that you have a lover?"

My paralysis enveloped me. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I just looked at him helplessly. I could see my marriage ending, I could see my disgrace.

"Do you have a lover Irene? Are you in love with someone else? Am I loosing you to another man?"

Then the unthinkable happened. His chin began to quiver and I saw a tear run down his cheek. "Don't you love me anymore Irene? Are you going to leave me?"

His whole manner had changed. The accuser was gone, replaced by a supplicant. My strong husband was suddenly begging me to assure him that I loved him and would not leave him! A tide of relief washed over my body and carried away my fear.