The Sweet Taste of Adultery

It was about 2 a.m. on Friday night and I was enjoying a view from the second story window of our darkened bedroom. On the street below, a pickup truck was parked under the streetlight, illuminating a very erotic scene. A man and a woman were holding hands and chatting, now and then exchanging prolonged kisses. His fly was open and his flaccid member was visible; her skirt was up around her waist displaying her shapely legs and plump thighs. The lady, an attractive brunette, was wearing stockings and garterbelt, but evidently no panties. The man was well built, a little on the heavy side; a virile middle aged type. She began to stroke his penis with her fingertips as he swept her into an embrace, ardently kissing her as he put his hand down into the cleavage of her partially unbuttoned blouse.

She permitted this and kissed her partner passionately. I watched this tenderness with a throbbing hard-on, really enjoying it! As he reached down to insert his middle finger between her thighs, she playfully slapped his hand away. Noticing that a garterbelt clip had come loose, she fastened it to her nylon top while her boyfriend grinned and said something that made her giggle. She pulled her panties out of her purse and slipping them on, arched her hips as she tugged them into place. Helpfully, her date buttoned her blouse up for her, taking advantage to tweak her nipples gently.

The woman pulled down her skirt, then checked her hair and lipstick in the vanity mirror. She said something to her companion and he nodded with a smile, zipping up his pants. They exchanged a quick peck on the lips as she got out of the truck and walked up to the front door, her heels clicking on the sidewalk and her keys jingling as she fished them out of her purse. The truck pulled away, its red taillights disappearing into the darkness. The man driving it was Buddy, and the woman was my wife. They had just enjoyed their regular monthly "Friday night date."

My 4 1/2 inch boner was throbbing and I tingled with the anticipation of Pat's arrival as she inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. She smiled and gave me a quick kiss as she walked towards the bathroom, her heels clicking and her luscious backside wiggling slightly. I followed her, anxious to hear about her date. I knelt and lowered the commode seat as she lifted her skirt, then pulled down her panties for her, gazing at her lovely thighs and pubic wedge, licking my lips as my wife sat on the toilet. (Someday I want to get my wife a bidet so that she can direct a stream of water upward to cleanse her vagina and I can put my face near her belly so as to get it sprayed as she washes her cunt.

Or, she can sit back further and piss directly into my face as I rest my chin on the bowl and adoringly gaze at her love slit. In fact, I would like to use her bidet as if it were a washbasin, and it would be useful to wash off her spendings and those of her lover!) As she squirted into the bowl, I noticed that the crotch of her panties seemed to be dry, and there were no flecks of semen on her stockings or sweet white thighs. Perhaps they had gone to a motel and she had showered.

She smiled as she sensed my puzzlement. "Did you let him fuck you, darling?" I whispered.

"Of course!" Pat said saucily, with a grin. I had not detected any cock odor between her legs either.

"Why?" she teased, "were you looking for "evidence?" My wife knew I loved "evidence," and that I loved to lap it up. I handed her a folded square of paper, and she daintily wiped her labia, dropping the paper into the bowl. Pat stood up and bent down to pull up her panties. "May I kiss your cunt, Mistress?" I pleaded.

"What do you want to do that for?" she demanded as she held her frilly red drawers at mid-thigh level, thrusting out her mound expectantly. I respectfully kissed Patricia's mont of Venus and licked her pussy lips, still not finding proof that she had had intercourse with Buddy.

"Sniff my panty crotch," she ordered, sitting down on the toilet seat again. I bowed low before her as I put my head into her panties and inhaled deeply. It just smelled like horny woman, but there were no stains in the crotch.

Pat told me to remove her step-ins, which were down around her ankles, and while I did, she dug the toe of her shoe into my balls and prodded. She eased her hips forward, her creamy white thighs visible above the nylon tops, spreading wide, her bush giving off the fragrance of femininity and perfume. Her usually pale pink slit was rosy red and her pussy lips were loose indicating that either a finger or a stiff prick had been inside her, but there was no dried semen on my wife's thighs or stockings. She was really enjoying my perplexity, but impatient with my delay.

"Open your mouth, and I'll give you some pussy," Patricia ordered. I respectfully kissed her mons veneris and felt the sweet flesh of her thighs and the caress of nylon as she squeezed my head between them. With her eyes half closed and her hips already thrusting up and down, put my tongue into her slick and wet pussy, and she held my head in place with one hand while the fingers of her other hand gently pressed and tweaked the nipples of her swelling titties. If Buddy had made a deposit into Pat's love crevice, I sure couldn't find it! I gently stroked the head of my hard undersized penis as my tongue paid homage to my wife, licking her clit exactly the way she likes it, alternating with deep lapping of her tasty and recently stretched cunt.

Patricia alternated sighs with spasmodic breathing as she squeezed and relaxed and squeezed her luscious thighs around my head. Her pubic wedge scoured my face like a pot cleaner and her pubic bone thumped up into my nose with careless abandon. I was her sexual convenience, and she was using my face--and my arousal was heightened by it! On the verge, she locked her ankles behind my head, digging her high heels into my back and squeezed her legs together in ecstasy, her cunt muscles contracting inexorably as Patricia spent in my face. After a very long moment, my wife relaxed her thighs and put her feet back on the floor, sighing deeply in relief. She had enjoyed a draining orgasm, added to however many Buddy had given her earlier in the evening. "Go get my purse," Pat demanded.

I brought her the handbag and knelt before my queen on the "throne." "Did you like lapping my cunt, cocksucker," she smiled craftily. "Yes, Ma'am," I responded, licking my lips, "except that I didn"t taste any of the cock you mentioned." "Would you like to?" she asked. Before I could answer, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small ziploc bag. I could see that it had a well filled used rubber. My wife opened the bag and daintily extracted the condom Buddy had used on her. She smiled as she pulled the latex downward filling the reservoir and displaying that her lover had squirted a rather copious load into it. I could smell the odor of her cunt and his cock simultaneously as she dangled it above my open mouth.

"Suck my leavings off it," Patricia commanded. She dipped the rubber into my mouth and I pulled pursed and moistened lips around it as she pulled it out. Will you pay a "forfeit," for your reward?" Patricia teased (she had been reading from my "hidden" filthy stories, which had some victorian femdom).

"Yes, Mistress!" I answered. "Then turn your head and tilt your cheek," she said. My wife gave me a resounding slap across the cheek--a dominatrix could not have done it with more expertise. "Open your mouth!" I complied and she put the rolled opening of the filmy latex between my jaws and pressing her thumb and fingers together, milked Buddy's abundant load onto my tongue. I savored it as I swallowed her boyfriend's milky jism.

"Taste good, slave?" she giggled. My hardon was pulsating to the maximum, but my lovely spouse took pity. She rubbed K-Y jelly on the insides of her magnificent thighs, and squeezed her legs together from ankles up, grasping the toilet tank cover and bending at the waist. I knelt and pressed my hotlips into Pat's cool white asscheeks furtively darting my tongue up her asshole. "you've been a good boy," she cooed, "so I'm going to let you fuck my thighs from the rear."

Her upturned plump buttocks were a pillow of pleasure as I stuck my dickie between her thighs in the skin patch above the nylon tops. Ten thrusts and a moan of delight and I shot my wad of love all over the upturned toilet lid and seat, ejecting some into the commode. My wife was considerate, and let me embrace her as my wad went into the toilet, and gave me a half a minute of afterglow.

Pulling up her panties, she said, "clean up the mess and come to bed!" I carefully put the rubber with Buddy on the inside and Pat on the outside, into an airtight jar for future contemplation and enjoyment I tidied up in about five minutes and got into bed with my exhausted wife. Patricia had a radiant "just laid" look and was slipping into delicious repose. She wiggled and ground her curvaceous bottom into my crotch as I held her in the spoon position. It had been a memorable Friday night.

I drifted off to sleep, my own sexual needs more than relieved by my wife, and envisioning Patricia, naked on her back in a motel room raising and parting her thighs in invitation as Buddy knelt on the edge of the bed offering my wife his mansized eight hard inches, as he prepared to mount her.