Why She Cheated

As a rule, I didn't mess with married women. Well, the ones wearing their rings, that is, the ones that were obviously married and didn't even try to hide it. If a woman is in a hotel bar with her ring on, one of four things is probably going on: she wants to have a drink in peace; she's waiting for her husband, either to go somewhere else or as part of some weird sex game I don't want to be involved in; she's too dumb to hide her ring, and therefore there's a chance her husband is going to show up with a shotgun while I'm on top of her; or she's looking to attract the kind of guy that's actively looking to fuck married women, i.e., not me.

I say "rule," but it was more of a guideline. It used to be a hard and fast moral imperative: I wouldn't fuck married women because it's Not Right. Even before I was married, I wouldn't have, and certainly not when I was still with Anya. But afterwards... well, then it was more a method of self-preservation than anything even vaguely noble.

So, while I preferred to spend the evenings with single women when I was on the road, the woman who had the presence of mind to at least attempt to hide her infidelity was still fair game, because she probably wasn't going to get me in trouble. And married pussy is as good as any other kind; better sometimes.

Maybe even "guideline" is going too far. What's below that? "General inclination?" Whatever. Because when Marlene Sanders approached me in the bar of my hotel on a Tuesday night, wedding ring fully on display, I was given only the slightest pause.

As she entered the bar with that diamond warning beacon on her finger, I'll admit I was disappointed. Marlene was an absolute knockout: slim, great tits, an ass I wanted to bury my face in, long legs and long blonde hair, and absolutely breathtaking sky blue eyes. She was wearing a black minidress and pumps, along with tastefully minimalistic makeup. I pegged her at early thirties, about my age.

I was tempted to ignore my misgivings as she leaned on the bar and ordered her drink. The pickings were slim, too, increasing the pressure I felt to take my shot, general inclination or no. But I still held fast, at least until she came over and sat down next to me, glass full of something dark in one hand.

"Marlene."

"Jack. What are you drinking?"

She smiled. "Coke. I didn't come here to get drunk."

The next question to ask, 'what did you come here for,' was too obvious, so I skipped ahead. "Conversation and company?"

Marlene chuckled. Even her chuckle was sexy, a low, throaty thing that made me wonder what other kinds of noises she made when she was having a particularly good time. "Something like that. Is that what you're here for?"

"Something like that. Seems I'm in luck; I can scarcely imagine more pleasant company."

She smiled and took the next step in the dance. "Are you here on business?"

With a nod, I answered, "Sales. You?"

"No, no. Just a bit of a diversion for me." She took a sip. "How long are you in town?"

"I'll be gone tomorrow, I'm afraid."

"Pity." Her hand, I'm sure quite unintentionally, came to rest on my knee. "I would have liked to show you the sights."

I snorted slightly. I didn't mean to, but her advances were just so blatant. "Well, there's still tonight. Anything fun to do here in the evenings?"

My amusement seemed infectious; Marlene grinned like the cat that got the cream. "I'm sure I could think of a few things."

We were upstairs within minutes, her nibbling on my ear and breathing absolutely filthy inducements into it, and me fumbling with the key to my room while fighting off the urge to take her right there on the hallway carpet. I'm pretty sure she'd have let me, too, by the suggestions she was making.

The door finally-- finally!-- opened, and we fell into the room together, Marlene pushing me against a wall, and frantically tugging on my belt while I pawed at her delightfully firm ass. We lost clothes left and right: a belt to one side, high heels kicked in another direction, my shirt on the floor, her dress-- and my god, what a view beneath it-- tossed over her head and onto a lamp.

Then her bra came off, and the tits I had thought merely great when she was fully dressed were upgraded in my estimation to magnificent, with long, hard dark pink nipples that I had to immediately latch my mouth to. Hers was a body that deserved to be worshiped; I might not be the first to prostrate myself at that altar, but I sure as hell would endeavor to be the most zealous. My supplication was rewarded with a chorus of moans and gasps from her.

My hands found that incredible ass again, and I picked her up; a giggle slipped in amongst the other sounds coming from Marlene's blood red lips. She held tight to me, legs wrapped around my waist, one hand tangled in my hair and the other gripping onto my shoulders, as I carried her from the entryway, through the suite, and to the bed. She didn't release her grip as I laid her down on it, nor did my mouth leave her lovely breasts.

At first, I tried not to be too rough; I wanted to fuck her, but I didn't want to fuck her life by sending her home with marks. But then she growled, "More!" and gently raked her fingernails down my back, and I stopped worrying. By the time I was done with her, she'd need a truckload of concealer to hide the aftermath of our passion. My suckling turned first to light nips, and then to harder ones, and Marlene loudly moaned, "Harder! I want him to know I've been fucked by a real man! Fuck me like a whore!".

I pulled away from her, a little sneer on my face. "Do you now? Wanna be my little married whore tonight?" Her eyes danced with a wild desire as she surged upwards to pull me back down, kissing me fiercely, then moved her hands to unbutton my pants. There was a little excited squeal then as I took her hands and pinned them to the bed. "Say it."

"Yes! Fuck, yes, split me open with your cock! I want you to make sure my husband knows I've had another man inside me!"

Okay, it was still a weird sex game, but he wasn't there, and we were. Even "general inclination" seemed to be well in the rearview now.

I didn't mean to, but I frowned. I didn't used to be this person. Marlene saw the hesitancy there, briefly, but seemed reassured when my mouth latched onto her throat, biting and sucking at it. "Yessss. Fucking take what you want!"

I chuckled into her neck. "I don't have to." A querulous little noise escaped her lips. "You're going to give it to me aren't you, slut?"

Marlene giggled at that, wrapping her legs around me and rubbing her panty-clad snatch against the throbbing erection straining at my zipper. I pressed myself hard against her, and she whined, "I need it! Please? Don't tease me anymore."

Reluctantly, I disentangled myself from her. I'd blown through any moral qualms I had, at least temporarily, but common sense dictated that I still be careful. I absolutely planned to fuck her until she told me to stop-- and possibly past that, depending on how she liked to play-- but there was no way in hell I was going to do it without a rubber.

She pouted as I stood up, but then grinned broadly with the realization this was merely a brief intermission for practicalities. One of Marlene's hands squeezed her breasts and pinched their lovely, perfect nipples, while the other slid into her soaking panties to pleasure herself until I could better assist with that task.

I smiled at her wantonness. "You're so beautiful, Marlene." Now, finally and for the first time, she was shy. It made her all the more lovely, that sudden and unexpected vulnerability. Marlene hesitated for just a moment; perhaps she was as nervous as I was, and perhaps for similar reasons. Maybe this wasn't who she used to be either.

"Don't stop, gorgeous. I want the sight of you seared into my memory just like this." The words sounded rehearsed as I said them, but they weren't. They were just a heartfelt outpouring of affectionate lust for the lovely woman that would share my bed for the next little while.

Her hands began to move again; the expression she bore was still a little abashed, but that lasted only as long as it took for me to begin unfastening my slacks. My gorgeous married whore bit her bottom lip as my dick came into view, and that little change in her expression made me feel like I was ten feet tall. The most primal parts of my brain screamed, "She's here and she's yours! Pin her down, take her, and make her bear your child!" But the more sensible bits of gray matter made me reach in the dresser drawer and pull out a pack of condoms. Sorry, caveman, not tonight.

As I rolled the thin latex sleeve onto my cock, Marlene's fingers moved to pull down her panties. My voice growled, "Don't," and she froze. I grinned evilly while grasping the last impediment to her ravishment, and she raised her hips eagerly, the twin of my smile on her face. The flimsy fabric came away with a ripping sound, and she laughed.

"A trophy?" Her voice was something tantalizingly between challenge and submission. The caveman in me still screamed at me to claim her, but she and I both knew who had claimed who in that bar. Marlene was helpless to my strength now, but I had been equally helpless to hers when she sat down next to me with a drink and a come hither smile.

Her eyes flashed with mixed concern and desire as I pushed the damp cloth to her lips, between her lips, into her mouth. "A trophy later, yes." Marlene's reply was a low, needful, wanton moan. "But for now, they belong here, don't they?" A vigorous nod of her head. There was no hesitation on her part; she wanted-- no, needed-- to be debased. Degraded. Used. And I'd do that for her. For me, too, if I was honest. One of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen laid before me, naked, gagged with her own underwear, and pleading with her eyes for me to take her. How could I refuse?

As I knelt on the bed between her splayed, toned legs, she held them open, giving me access to her in any way I chose. I'm sure I could have taken her ass then, and she'd have been just as pleased. But for now, for this first time, I knew what my target was. Until she had entered this room, until she had been stripped, until she made herself vulnerable to my strength, she had been another man's. And for just a moment longer, she would be. But only for a moment.

I slid the latex-clad head up and down her labia, pushing forward just the tiniest bit, pulling back a bit more as she tried to meet me. She made a little frustrated noise, and I chuckled. "Did you need something?" She whined around the cloth in her mouth, nodding again. "But you can't tell me, can you? Tch. Such a shame." Another whine, accompanied by a more frantic movement in her hips.

And then I impaled her, my cock taking Marlene from her husband, at least for now. But in truth, Marlene was giving herself to me, letting a stranger use her for his pleasure instead of the man she'd vowed her eternal fidelity to, and we both knew it. She was ready for me, and I slid easily into that hot, tight hole. The sensations around my dick were muted by the rubber, but others weren't: the smell of her arousal, the frantic clawing at my back as I laid atop her, her legs squeezing me as I plunged inside, the loud gasp of a need fulfilled echoing in my ear.

"Did I find it, my beautiful married whore? Did I find what you needed?" That drove my new lover almost to the edge by itself, and my words were rewarded with her motion; Marlene's beautiful, athletic body undulated under me, writhing with pleasure and shame as she climaxed. Her mouth was gagged, but that didn't prevent all sound from escaping her lips, and the muffled moans and whines were as much an inducement as her whispered words had been earlier, when she had so distracted me as I tried to open the door. More, even; her whispers were seductive, but her raw, greedy, animal sounds were primal.

We coupled passionately, my body pinning hers to the bed as I thrusted into her with gusto. It had been a month since I'd last been with a woman, but I made up for that lost time. And I'd never been with one as wild with abandon nor as sexy as Marlene; I felt a pang of regret that this couldn't be more, but we both knew what it was. And I knew I never wanted to be with another unfaithful wife; at least not one that was married to me.

Marlene screamed into her gag as she came the second time, and I honestly worried she might choke on it. But I wanted more of her ardor, and I grunted, "That's right, you fucking married whore! Come on another man's cock! Cheating fucking slut!" If I had thought she was manic before, I learned then that I had no idea. Her nails drew blood from my shoulders, and the way she spasmed around my dick almost did me in right there. But I wanted something different.

I plucked the cloth from her mouth, and she gasped for air. "Oh god! Oh, oh god, Jack! It's so fucking-- oh god, more, please!"

"I'm close! I want-- fuck, Marlene!"

"Anything!"

I took her at her word. My sweet married slut whimpered as I slid from her tight pussy, but when I clambered up the bed and knelt astride her belly she laughed with glee. Her fingers pulled the condom free. Her hands grasped at my shaft, sliding up and down it. And her wild laughter, her pleas for my cum, the almost worshipful look in her eyes: these finished what her exquisite cunt had started.

"Fffuck Marlene!" I grunted as streams of pearlescent white splattered across her breasts, onto her neck, up to her face. She squealed, delighted, as I marked her with my seed; the caveman in my brain might have been unhappy that I had not finished inside her, but the teenaged Jack that had watched far too many hours of porn was quite pleased with his handiwork.

It wasn't just her body that was coated, but her fingers, too. Her rings. My jism dripped from the empty symbols of her fidelity, and I wondered, fleetingly, if Anya had done this with her paramour. I frowned again without meaning to, but if Marlene noticed, she didn't say anything about it. Instead, her eyes stayed laser-focused on my cock as she kept stroking until I was fully emptied, til even the last, dribbling bits of my spend were gone from it.

Then she moaned, "Ooooh my god. That was... Mmmm." Her cum-covered lips smiled up at me. "Do me a favor?"

Out of breath, I panted, "Anything. Who do I have to kill?"

She just laughed again. "Take a picture of me? I" I raised an eyebrow. "You have your trophy. Now I want mine." Leaning over her to the bedside table, I grabbed my phone. She posed for several photos: arching her back to show her painted tits; her left hand, wedding ring covered in my jizz next to her slightly parted lips, tongue extended; kneeling on the ground, looking up, mouth wide with my cock just about to enter.

Once I'd texted them to her, she stretched and yawned. "Got one more in you tonight, sexy?"

I pointed at my cock, already stiffening again. "What do you think?"

Such a sweetly coy expression could only come from a truly filthy mind. "A lady never wants to presume."

"Is that what you are?" It was meant to be friendly and playful, not cruel, but I'd missed the mark.

A tiny grimace, quickly concealed. "Sometimes." She rallied gamely, trying to hide the bruise I'd left on her ego. "But not with you!" There was a sudden pain in my heart at the idea that I'd hurt her, that I'd accidentally gone out of bounds of the game we'd been playing.

I pulled her to me and kissed her softly and sweetly. "You're still a lady, even when you're being my whore." My beautiful lover's features softened, and I saw a glimpse of the real Marlene for the first time. Not the seductress that lured a stranger upstairs with hints of carnal delights, not the married whore that begged me to take her, not even the brief vulnerability when I told her she was beautiful as I undressed: the melancholy woman underneath who hadn't always been like this. She kissed me, another sweet, lingering kiss, then rested her head against my chest.

After a time, she murmured, "We need to get cleaned up. Do you mind if I go first?"

"Not at all."

I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about what had happened. What we had done, of course; it had been a stellar sexual encounter, easily one of my top ten. Top five, probably. But also how I'd shifted to be what she wanted, even as far back as the bar. About how much I had wanted to be that person, the kind of cad that would take an obviously married woman to bed as long as there were no repercussions.

Who had I become that I would so easily do that? To have gone, in only two years, from someone who detested adultery to an active, eager participant in the cuckolding of another man?

"Your turn." Marlene's voice startled me from my thoughts, and after another brief kiss, I went into the restroom and took care of my business. I could hear her voice in the bedroom as I finished. It sounded like half of a conversation. Talking on the phone to someone?

When the bathroom door opened, it became very clear that the person on the other end of the phone was exceedingly angry. His voice was almost as loud through the phone-- not on speaker-- as hers was where she sat on the bed only a few feet from me. She waited for him to stop shouting, then said, "I'll be in room 218." Not my room number; not even the same floor. "See you soon." And then, to the sound of more enraged yelling, she hung up. With a wan smile, Marlene said, "We've got a few hours before he gets here. Still up for another go?"

If this was a weird sex game, it was none I'd ever heard of. There are cuckolds out there, ones who are humiliated and revel in it; there are others that are humiliated and hate it but are too ashamed or afraid to do anything about it; and there were husbands who enjoyed reclaiming their wives after they'd been allowed to be with another man. But Marlene's husband didn't sound like any of those. He sounded like he wanted to kill her.

"Marlene?"

She tried to put on a brave smile. "It's okay. I know what I'm doing. I've done this before. He's over a hundred miles away--" She held up her phone and showed the locator app on it. "-- and this'll give an alarm when he gets within twenty-five. Plenty of time for us." That wicked grin was back, but it was clearly a mask this time, and one only barely held in place.

I sat on the bed and took her hands. "Marlene, what's going on?"

A hesitant smile then, a real one, a hopeful one, quickly replaced by the mask once more. "Oh, Jack, that's not your concern. Come on. We're here to have some fun together." She leaned in to kiss me, and I let her, but I also pulled her into my arms and held her. I embraced her like a lover; not like a man she was just there to fuck, but as someone who was concerned for her and cared for her.

Yeah, I had brought her up here to fuck the hell out of a wayward wife looking for a good time. But I had found myself genuinely liking Marlene. And there was something else there, behind her seductive bravado: a sadness that I couldn't ignore. I knew that I was broken, and I'd suspected she was, too, but I ignored it because I was getting what I wanted. What I thought I wanted, anyways; but what I wanted now was... well, yes, I wanted to fuck her again. My body was leaving no doubt about that.

But the same urge I'd had near the beginning had returned. It was the impulse that had me initially try to not mark her, to protect her from the consequences that would befall her outside this room due to what happened inside it. That protectiveness had come back full force with the understanding that this was neither simply an unhappy wife cheating with an anonymous stranger nor a game between her and her husband. This felt like something with deadly consequences.

"Jack, please, I..." The tears started to fall. "Don't-- I can't... You don't know me. That was... that was the point of you, of picking you. Please, I--" I kissed her again, and she melted against me. As she broke away and pressed her head to my shoulder, hiding her face, the shuddering sobs began.