Chelsea felt like a woman reborn. She was up early, long before Harold, running through the daily tasks ahead. She had a lot to do, with memories of the evening before popping into her mind. There was little else she could think of, not that she objected to the thoughts coming and going.
Her thoughts were interrupted, quite rudely in her opinion, by Harold. This had all started two nights before, when he placed his own needs far above her own in bed, and satisfied, fell fast asleep. Or rather, perhaps it was better to say that this has been years in the making. She could not recall the last time he gave her an orgasm, and he did not seem concerned in the slightest.
He stepped into the kitchen in a foul mood. "Everything alright?" she asked.
He shook his head, "Gerald has a head cold, so we're cancelling our bowling game tonight. I was really looking forward to it."
Chelsea smiled softly. She was looking forward to it even more than he was, because she had imagined all the sorts of things she would do to Alan, who was set to arrive shortly after Harold was to leave. She thought quickly, a wicked idea entered her mind.
"Well, that sounds like a good reason to have a nice, big, special dinner. How does a steak sound?"
Harold barely registered the words, "Yes, that will be fine. I'm heading out to pick up a few things for the week." He turned, still annoyed by the change in plans and unappreciative of his wife's gesture. She was used to his attitude, to expect things to be done for him, but now she would use it to her advantage.
Hearing the garage door open and close a few moments later, wicked thoughts ran through her mind. She went upstairs and put on black bodysuit, lacy and tight, hugging all of her curves. She had bought it to use for an anniversary with Harold, but he had no interest. She slipped into the lingerie and began snapping pictures, and before long was satisfied with a few.
Laying down on the bed, she sent them to Alan along with a short message: Harold won't be going out tonight, but I still want you to come over. We'll find a way to have some fun. Text me when you're here and I'll let you in the back.
She set the phone down and undid the snap of the body suit, running her fingers along her exposed clit. The phone dinged with a response soon after. His response read: You are SO beautiful! Ok, I'll let you know when I'm coming by. I can't wait to taste you again!
It was only a few words on the screen, and yet, they served to ignite a fire within her body like no other. She moved her fingers faster, and soon her body tensed up as the quick, unexpected orgasm washed over her.
Satisfied, at least as satisfied as she could be for the time being until Alan arrived, she set to work. After completing a few errands, she was back home, showered and dressed in the same bodysuit beneath another revealing sundress. She also put on a pair of heels. This was uncharacteristic of her, but she wanted the night to be special.
In the kitchen, she began preparing dinner for Harold. As if on cue, Harold returned, hungry, as always.
"I'm just getting started on dinner," she said. "Here, have a drink to unwind."
He sat in the large recliner, putting his feet up. The drink itself was nothing special, but she had made it twice as strong as normal. Then, she brought him another while he watched the game on the television, and then a third, followed by a small steak and some carrots on the side. He was well into it now, and did not mind the small portion. She sat down opposite him on the large sofa and watched as he went from tired and awake to more and more tired. She served him another drink, and then another.
That was all it took, he finished the last drink, happy now, and laid his head back to rest, right as Alan arrived, sending a message to her phone. Chelsea read the message, "Harold. Harold, my dear, would you like anything else?" Except for a deep sigh and a gentle snore, there was no reply.
Chelsea opened the door at the back of the house, giving Alan a strong embrace. He wasted no time, planting a kiss on her eager lips. Without a word, she guided him back to the living room.
Alan froze at the sight of Harold, thinking that this was it, a short-lived adventure that was about to end terribly, but Chelsea spurred him on, speaking confidently in a normal tone, "Don't worry about him, he's had a bit too much to drink tonight."
To prove her point, she stepped in front of Harold and slipped the straps off her summer dress, unzipped it from the back, and let it fall to the floor. He did not react, but Alan's breath caught in the back of his throat as she stood there in that bodysuit and heels.
She bent over to pick up the dress, and walked behind the recliner, running her fingers along Harold's shoulder, and then his neck. "Honey, can you hear me?" she cooed into his ear. "I hope you don't mind, I've invited Alan over, because he loves to eat me out, and I could really use a good fucking." she said, a bit of anger and revenge in her tone. Without receiving any reaction, she draped the sundress over his eyes, and turned back to Alan.
There had been several times in Alan's life where he felt confident in his sexual capabilities, and hearing the way in which Chelsea described what she wanted, what she needed, to her selfish, slumbering husband, made him feel unstoppable.
She could see the fire in his eyes as he put his arms around her waist and kissed her, hard. His tongue explored her mouth, and she felt weak in the knees. Up to this point, she had been driven by the memories of the night before, along with the many fantasies that had filled her mind throughout the day. There was one major difference however, as unlike the day before, they were both completely sober. She thought about this as Alan grasped her firmly, one hand behind her neck, his lips kissing and making his way down to her chest. Had a single bottle of wine and a few edibles been the root cause of her infidelity? No, no of course not. It was the years of forgotten anniversaries. The selfishness. The total contempt for her needs as a woman that made this feel so natural.
As if reading her mind, he guided her to sit on the sofa. He knelt on the ground between her thick legs, undid the snap of her bodysuit, and eagerly began licking at her clit. It was like a thunderstorm had hit her. She moaned, loudly, the sound amplified by the large living room area. Harold did not stir, nor would he.
Alan placed his arms beneath her legs and grabbed at her hips, ensuring he had a tight hold, pulling her into his mouth. He slowed down almost immediately. There was clearly no rush, nothing to stop them from enjoying themselves. He swirled his tongue around, loving every moment he tasted on her perfect clit.
Chelsea watched in a complete stupor. She could not believe the sight before her, a handsome young man, eagerly wanting to give her pleasure, using his mouth so expertly, while Harold sat only a few feet away, oblivious to how easily he had become a cucked man.
As he continued to work his magic tongue, she ran her hands through his hair. Her moans were complimented by the occasional snore from Harold, which made the pair laugh at first. From time to time, Alan would glance up to lock eyes with Chelsea. She smiled at him in between her soft moans.
Alan stood up halfway, kissing her deep. She could taste how turned on she was in his mouth, and it made her burn with desire. Standing up straight, Alan slipped off his shirt and the loose-fitting pair of shorts. He tossed both onto Harold, and they giggled as he was becoming a place to store their clothing. Chelsea marvelled at his rock hard manhood, but only for a moment as he resumed his position, kneeling between her legs to continue working his mouth, softly stroking himself with one free hand, his other hand again grasping firmly around her thigh.
Chelsea found it difficult to concentrate. She was writhing, only a bit, as her body became lost in bliss and pleasure. Alan moved his free hand up and down her wet, warm lips. Gently, he slid one finger inside, and then another. She moaned loudly now as his fingers moved in and out of her, while his tongue never stopped moving in its rhythmic way.
