If you haven't read chapter one of this story, I would suggest that you do so before reading this sequel. This tale is a work of fiction. If you are under eighteen or do not wish to read sexually explicit material, exit now. All rights reserved.
Before proceeding, I feel that I must address an issue raised by some of the feedback to chapter one. Most of the feedback was positive or contained constructive criticism, but some readers were extremely distressed by the fact that the story revolved around an adulterous wife. A few were more than extremely distressed; they were foaming at the mouth, and their responses verged on the hysterical. One of the responses was quite vitriolic. Folks, this story is just fantasy, not real life, and I really don't think that it will undermine the fabric of our society. If you do not wish to read about an adulterous wife, exit now. Go far away from this story; go at your own chosen speed. As for me, I enjoy fantasy tales about cheating wives, and I intend to continue to write them. For the purposes of these stories, I'm not the least bit concerned about the morality or the consequences of adultery. I deal in lust, friend. For those who concur, fear not. Neither rain, nor snow, nor heat, nor gloom of night, nor anonymous feedback shall stay this author from the delivery of stories of wicked, sinful, taboo, steamy, adulterous sex.
One other thing. If one thinks about it, one should realize that almost none of the thousands of stories posted at this site are original in nature. They are merely variations on a few common sexual themes. In my humble opinion, what sets the good stories apart from the mediocre or poor ones are the nuances, the authors' style and command of language, the authors' ability to verbally paint vivid, erotic mental images, and, yes, good grammar. If the reader wants great literature, this site is not the place to find it. None of us here is a Shakespeare, Hemingway, Faulkner, Joyce, Heller, et al. This is simply a place for a little erotic stimulation.
Now, having vented, I feel better. On with the wickedness!
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Denise drove home from the country club in a daze. She broke into tears numerous times, and it was a wonder that she arrived safely. After parking her car in the garage, she ran into her bedroom, shed her tennis outfit, and practically dived into the bathroom tub where she soaked in a sea of bubbles.
Denise was deeply conflicted. She was bitterly ashamed of her adulterous conduct with Bill, the club masseur. She cursed herself repeatedly for being such a weak, wanton slut and for betraying her loving husband. She cried inwardly, "Oh, Tom, what have I done? What have I done?" Yet at the same time, images of the steamy, erotic sex that she enjoyed with Bill intruded into her mourning over the loss of her virtue. Her loins trembled in little spasms at the memory of her glorious orgasms with Bill and his delicious cock. On the one hand, she feared the powerful control that he exercised over her; but on the other, she craved it. Sex with Tom had always been gentle and loving, never forceful and frenetic. She loved Tom deeply, but sex with him had never been as fulfilling as the wild, steamy bone jarring fucking with Bill. Denise couldn't get it out of her mind.
When Tom arrived at home that evening, he was exhausted after working under stress for twelve long hours. Denise was waiting, a vision of loveliness, and she greeted him with a long, passionate kiss. She was wearing one of his favorite summer dresses, and her hair and makeup were perfection. They often ate their evening meal on the dinette table in the kitchen, but tonight the dining room table was set for two in elegant simplicity, with candles and flowers and their best silverware.
"Whoah!" Tom exclaimed. "What did I do to deserve this? Did I win the lottery?"
Denise laughed sexily, "Yes, and I'm the prize! No, Honey, I just felt like having a special evening with my husband." She flushed as she simultaneously thought, "I'm your cheating, slut prize of a wife, and I feel so guilty." Aloud, she said, "Go take a shower; get out of your suit, and relax. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."
Denise busied herself in the kitchen while Tom followed her instructions. When he returned dressed in casual slacks and a polo shirt, she admired him lovingly. He fixed drinks for them, and they talked about their respective days while she finished preparing his favorite meal. He tensely described his bitch of a day, but he gradually relaxed and basked in the attention Denise was heaping upon him. At dinner, and only when he asked her about her tennis match with Veronica, Denise told him about her cramp. She blushed as she related how the masseur kneaded the knot out of her calf. "Ouch," Tom said sympathetically. "That must have been excruciating. It's a good thing you were at the club, and the masseur was handy."
Denise blushed again, cringed at her infidelity, but couldn't help thinking, "You've no idea how handy he was." Then, "Stop it you slut!" When she and Tom retired for the evening, they made love. The tender sex was good, long and passionate, and Denise reached a satisfying climax. Exhausted, Tom rolled over and was asleep immediately. As Denise lay in the dark while he slept, she began to squirm with the wicked yet sensual thought that Tom's seed was mixed in her with the remaining traces of Bill's cum. She slipped a finger into herself, withdrew it, and tasted the results of her probe. Denise trembled with guilt and excitement. Yes, excitement. Denise was high on the thrill of forbidden sex. Finally, she fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, Sanity seemingly had returned to Denise's mind and body, and she determined that she wouldn't succumb again to her lustful desires. Before Tom rushed off to work, she invited herself to lunch with him downtown. Tom was pleased. He loved to show off his sexy wife to his colleagues at the office. After he was gone, Denise busied herself about the house with her chores. Just as she was about to call and cancel the appointment with Bill, the phone rang. It was Tom.
"Honey, I've got to catch a flight to Tallahassee. Someone screwed up and neglected to calendar a filing deadline for an appeal to the First District Court of Appeal. Today's the deadline. I've got to go there and file the appeal before five. Otherwise, we're out of court, and the firm's ass is in a sling. I'll be back late tonight on the eight o'clock flight. I'll call you when I hit the ground. Sorry about lunch. Love you. Bye."
Denise hardly had time to respond with more than an "I love you, too," before Tom was gone. She finished her chores and restlessly wandered from room to room. Her mind wandered to her sexual adventures of the day before. Her loins began to throb. She finally plopped down on the bed in the master bedroom and tried to keep her mind from wandering to the club and sex with Bill, but it was no use. Her pussy began to lubricate with the thought of his hard prick and the things it did to her. She reached down, pushed the crotch of her panties aside, and inserted two fingers inside her wet depths. "Oh, damn," she thought as she envisioned Bill and his hard cock waiting for her at the club, and she fingered herself to a small but thrilling orgasm. Her resolve to be a faithful wife was shattered, gone with the wind. Unthinking, she arose and hurried to the shower.
