Dr Whites Code Of Sluts Ch 02 Pt 03

(This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author's consent. For fans of my stories, they know what kinds of things to expect. This story deals with similar themes as the stories by wannabeboytoy, seducedHylas, and Dark Betrayal, namely cheating, betrayal, and heartbreak. If stuff like that isn't your cup of tea, then you probably shouldn't bother reading it. I do not condone any of these actions in real life. This is just a story. Enjoy.)

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Ryan was understandably lost in thought as he took his wife home from the party, replaying the events of the night over and over again. Luckily for him, Elizabeth had been so zonked out after the party that he was able to get her home and into bed without incident, allowing him to shower, throw his clothes in the wash, and erase all evidence of what he'd done.

But he couldn't erase the memories...

Needless to say, things were a bit awkward for Ryan over the next few days. He couldn't shake the memories of what he'd done, what he'd willingly taken part in. It felt too insane to be real. The whole point of him being so eager to attend this party was to stand up to his wife's boss after all the awful things she'd put Elizabeth through. Instead, he let his wife get completely drunk to the point of having to let her sleep it off. And once she was out of the way, he proceeded to let her boss grind up on him to the point where everyone could see them, only to then let her lure him into her office. Once there, it wasn't long till he was having insane, nasty, unprotected sex with her, going to town on her hot body and cumming in her cunt, in her ass, and capping it off by painting her tits with his sperm.

It was madness! How could it all have gotten so out of control so quickly? Was she simply that hot? Were her boobs so big and round and perfect that it kinda broke his brain? He couldn't explain why he'd let himself get pulled so deeply under her spell, even after he knew what she was doing. It was all just so out of character for him. He was the guy who was always was happy to keep his head down not make waves, to not do anything too crazy. And yet, he was now the guy who betrayed his wife with a woman she hated and had really reckless, crazy sex with her. It was such a pronounced aberration in his decidedly uncrazy, uneventful existence that he couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd lived a happy life with no complaints, never doing wrong, maintaining a sunny outlook on things. But he'd never felt more alive than he did while fucking that smoking hot Asian slut, going to the limits with her and experiencing a level of pleasure that he didn't know possible. Everything else suddenly paled in comparison to that crazy night.

He again wondered if living such a deliberately unexciting, humble existence almost left him more primed for something as insane as what he took part in with Stacy, floating in space until he came across something so powerful that he had no other choice but to succumb to it, not knowing any better, not knowing how to guard against such a thing. It was the brightest, most exciting thing he'd ever experienced, and his existence from that point on was orbiting that bright shining moment like a planet orbiting its sun, bathing in its light and energy.

He kept reliving that night, remembering every moment in great detail, the whole thing burned into his mind. Every second of it was so profound and so exciting that he would never be able to forget it or look past it. At one point in the middle of the action, he'd vowed to move on without even thinking about what happened again. Ha! The idea of that was laughable. He wondered if he'd forever be tortured by that dark evening of sinful betrayal. Would it define his life more than all the good he'd done? Would it overshadow his marriage, leave a stronger mark than all the happy moments he shared with his wife, forever casting his bond with his wife in its shadow? In the immediate aftermath of that crazy night, it was already starting to feel that way.

Things were definitely weird over the next few days. Ryan was lost in his head, replaying what had happened time and time again, feeling like a shell of himself, hollowed out by regret and shame. Shame for what he'd done, and shame for the... effect... replaying those memories had on him.

For her part, Elizabeth was deeply embarrassed by her own behavior that night, ashamed at letting her husband see her descend into fall-down drunkenness. She felt so stupid for behaving that way in front of him, leading her to be a bit distant over the next couple days after the party. She was so mortified. And since he was so ashamed for the whole 'cheating on his wife with her busty, slutty, gorgeous Asian boss' thing, he wasn't exactly being talkative either. She took this as him being let down by her behavior, which only added to her humiliation. Obviously, compared to what he'd done, it was small beans. Sure, he was annoyed with her for inadvertently allowing him the freedom to cheat, but it was his own actions that were keeping him distant. And even though she didn't know the true root of that distance, she was still kicking herself for her part of that fateful night. Someone with her history, she knew she couldn't afford to blow this with Ryan. He was so great! Elizabeth loved him so much! She couldn't lose him. She could not go through that again. She couldn't let herself be consumed by her own self-consciousness for the rest of her life.

She asked him about what happened after she passed out at the party. And obviously, he lied to her. She admitted that she didn't love seeing Stacy being so familiar with him, which is why she drank herself into oblivion. And while he certainly understood this in retrospect, it was hard to feel relieved by this considering her concerns were totally justified. He explained that he kept his distance from her once Elizabeth was out of commission, stating that he was also getting uncomfortable with her friendliness, lying well enough to not give his wife the slightest hint at how far things had actually gone between them. And while her doubts and fears about losing another man to one of her bullies are what had led her to the point of being haunted by the thought of her husband cheating on her with that evil bitch, she deep down didn't believe that anything would actually happen between them. So, when her husband claimed innocence, she believed him. Because she trusted him. Because she loved him.

Ryan got away with it.

But he knew this was only a temporary solution. Both he and his wife were off for the week of Christmas. But when Elizabeth had to go back to work... that was the real test. Would Stacy let slip what they'd done? With how gleefully wicked she was, he wouldn't put it past her. Would Kendall say something, or anyone else that could have overheard? He didn't know. There was a ticking time bomb that could blow up his marriage, and he didn't know when or if it'd blow. On some level, his marriage was on borrowed time. Elizabeth didn't know it, and her nice, friendly, loving demeanor around him only added to his regret. She didn't know what he'd done to her. She didn't know how deeply he'd betrayed her. She didn't know the truth that was circling around her, poised to ruin her life.

He'd fucked up big time.

This week-long vacation was supposed to be relaxing, except it was anything but. From the start, it was an eternity, each passing second a slow march to the moment of truth where his fate would be decided. He put up a good enough front, but he could barely shake his guilt. Not only for what he'd done, but his wayward mind. Whenever Stacy's image flitted across his mind, or when he remembered the events of that evening, or when she came up in conversation... his cock would stiffen. His brain would go nuts. His body would ready itself, so attuned with her from their night together that even the thought of her caused his body to ready itself for sex, the dirtiest thoughts of her and her hot body floating across his mind.

It was just... they'd gone through something together, him and Stacy. They'd taken each other to their limits, their bodies working in lewd unison to allow him to experience things he didn't know possible. It was an experience so potent and profound even in its nastiness that he felt some sort of strange, fucked-up bond with her. She was pure evil, a creature of sinful wickedness, and they'd gotten to know each other on such a raw physical level that despite his best efforts, their souls had intermingled. A bond had been forged on what felt like a deeper level than even the one he'd shared with Elizabeth.

He'd lived his life so true and so on the straight and narrow that he always thought the logical endpoint would be finding someone just as sweet and good-natured to spend the rest of his life with. Instead, he'd met someone on the opposite end of the spectrum, an evil, slutty sex-goddess, and the connection he'd forged with her felt more profound and real. He'd spent years doing things the right way with a good-hearted woman, like he was supposed to. He spent time with the woman he loved, making love with her, enjoying the glow of domestic bliss. And he always thought that was enough. But after spending one night pleasuring a woman who was pure evil and experiencing how much more thrilling and exciting that was... he just couldn't move past it.

He'd even found himself so enamored by that night he'd spent with her that he was starting to excuse Stacy's bad behavior in his mind. By all accounts, she was an evil cutthroat bitch at the office, but she was clearly hyper-intelligent and successful, so perhaps she simply demanded the best of her workers. As a woman in a male-dominated field, she had to not show the slightest bit of weakness. And because she was so blessed in so many ways, her intelligence, her work ethic, her good looks and hot body, it was no wonder she thought so highly of herself. It was no wonder she had trouble empathizing with women lesser than her. Women less successful than her. Women less beautiful than her. Women who didn't have nearly as hot a body as her.

Women like Elizabeth.

It was hard to deny it. Stacy, in every observable metric, was simply better than his wife. More successful. More gorgeous. A way superior, more desirable body. Better at sex...

She was a goddess.

And while that didn't justify her bad behavior and really rough treatment of his wife, he could almost understand it. A woman like her, a freaking goddess... it must be so challenging for her to deal with mere mortals without losing her mind with impatience. And while he loved Elizabeth, he certainly knew how nervous she could get when the pressure was on, and that led to mistakes. Mistakes that a goddess like Stacy just couldn't abide. It was understandable that someone like her would lash out. When he looked back and reviewed some of Elizabeth's horror stories about Stacy, or when she told a new one, he found himself starting to empathize with Stacy's side of the equation more than his wife's. As insane as it was to say, she was so fucking hot and so much better than her peers that it was almost hard for him to imagine her being wrong about much. He just couldn't help but imagine that, even in the stories Elizabeth told, which were totally biased in her favor... in retrospect he couldn't deny that she came across kinda like a loser in comparison to her goddess of a boss. Even during their vacation break, with his wife checking her work emails from home, and she told him a story about Stacy re-reviewing one of Elizabeth's projects for no apparent reason other than to ferret out a mistake, Ryan found himself thinking that she was probably right to do it.

And his cock stiffened at the thought of Stacy stamping out her superiority over his wife again. God... what a woman!

Ryan couldn't shake thoughts of her, and they were so potent that he almost didn't want to. The memories of their night together made him get hard for her quite often in those first few days after the party. At first, it felt like a deeper betrayal to be driven to bed with his wife fueled by a lust caused by Stacy, so he instead opted to jack off to thoughts of Elizabeth's hot boss rather than scooping up his wife and taking her to bed. And he was so supercharged by that encounter with Stacy that he was jacking off quite a lot, more than he had in years. He almost dreaded having sex with his wife again, not because he didn't want to, but because he feared how it would be in comparison to Stacy.

But such a thing was unavoidable. Two nights after the party, they had sex for the first time since his night with Stacy. He did his best to focus on the moment, focus on his wife and be a good husband for her, but the specter of that slut cast a shadow over everything. He'd always been happy with his sex life. He neither expected or demanded crazy sex from a girl like her, or really any girl. Women who actually did that stuff were the things of porno movies. It wasn't real. But how wrong he was. Because now... he'd experienced the good stuff. He'd experienced the other side. It was real, and it was amazing. And despite his best efforts, he couldn't ignore the contrast between the two women. And the judgement was almost immediately clear after reconnecting with his wife.

Elizabeth was really bad at sex.

He'd always enjoyed their gentle, loving missionary sex. Honest. But after fucking Stacy, he saw this for what it really was. Elizabeth just lied there and let him do his thing. She barely pushed back, she barely spoke, she barely did anything but let out small, soft mews of pleasure as she wrapped her limbs around him, preferring the closeness and intimacy over the pleasure. Stacy... she threw him down, rode him like a stallion, and took him to his absolute limits. She showed him what he could really do. She made him feel alive! In comparison, Elizabeth barely lifted a finger. Her level of effort was so minimal as to not be doing anything at all. She barely mustered any passion beyond low level lovemaking, while Stacy only practiced the art of hardcore fucking. And while he'd never objected before, after experiencing the other side, he knew which left its mark on him, and which felt terrible in comparison.

And while he finished the sex with his wife, having to let memories of Stacy flood his mind in order to finally get over the edge, the aftermath of what just happened almost gave him an existential crisis. While he still did love his wife's sweet, kind personality, and he found that a wonderful match in so many ways, the volatile bond formed between him and Stacy felt far more substantial. More exciting. Better. And after experiencing it, after temporarily grabbing onto that burning comet of lust and sin, everything else felt dull and boring. Could he live with this as the best he ever got, when he knew that something way better was out there for the taking?

He loved Elizabeth more than he'd ever loved anyone else, and despite everything, despite how thrilling and exciting he'd found his encounter with Stacy, his goal right then was still to make things work with his wife. Actually pursuing anything more with Stacy... no. Not gonna happen. Not only because of how dangerous he knew her to be, but his soul couldn't take doing such a thing to Elizabeth. She was so sweet and caring... she didn't deserve to be hurt. He could never do that to her... he could never imagine willingly doing such a thing. Stacy was the bright shining star he was being lured towards... he had to resist it's pull. He had to re-devote himself to Elizabeth.

His only problem with that was how to achieve it, how to expunge that slut from his mind, and how to somehow evade the fallout from his very loud, very public affair with his wife's slutty boss. The slow countdown to that point where his wife returned to work and could possibly face down that fallout was tortuously slow. It wasn't helped by the fact that they lived a quiet, humble existence, their apartment was often quiet as they read or cooked or worked on their hobbies. While that used to feel like home, now the lack of noise and thrills felt like agony. He was dying for some sort of distraction. Anything!

And he got it.

His first official vacation day, Monday, his phone pinged just after he woke up. Thinking it was his work already pestering him, he quickly glanced at his phone to check, only for his eyes to go wide at what he found.

It was a picture of Stacy.

Clearly, she'd taken a selfie just moments after their encounter at the party had finished, possibly when he was cleaning up. The picture showed Stacy, completely naked, on her knees, her face and tits covered with his cum, a wicked, confident grin on her sperm coated face. She captioned this with a few words...

'Hope you didn't forget about me.'

He was thunderstruck by this picture, the memories of that night flooding his mind all over again. He'd done that to her. He'd coated that sex-goddess with his fucking cum. And seeing her in this state again only brought him back to that moment, so consumed by lust that he was almost a different person, treating her like the whore she was. Without care or mercy. He'd kept up with her as well as any man could hope to, and as evidenced by the fact that she was reaching out to him, he'd more than met her approval. He was strangely excited by the idea that he'd earned her respect. She liked it just as much as he did. He was on her mind just as much as she was on his. So excited was he by hearing from her again, his fingers acted before he could think twice.

'I don't think I ever could forget about you.'

She sent back a smirking emoji at this, reminding him of that sexy smirk of hers...

That wasn't the last of it. Not even close. Over the next few days, she kept him on the hook, texting him out of the blue with sexy pictures. One taken early in the morning as she got ready for work, having just rolled out of bed, wearing only a white thong as she posed in front of a mirror. Her arm crossed over her tits, covering them up. She was looking at the mirror confidently, her hair mussed from sleep, not wearing any makeup but still looking insanely hot.

Another picture showed her turned away from the camera, wearing only a matching purple bra and thong, showcasing her juicy ass immaculately. Another was her far more clothed but just as sexy. It was taken on the fateful leather couch in her office, her phone held from above as she took the picture. It showed her tugging the hem of her blue top down, exposing a mile of her juicy cleavage, the sight making his mouth water. Beyond that first cum-splattered photo of hers, none of her other photos allowed him to see the goods. He had enough respect for her intelligence to suspect that this was done by design, withholding the sight from him, driving him crazy. And it did the job. Ryan ended up having to sneak away and jack off every time she sent him photos, the desire she incited in him that potent. And there were many more photos, and they kept him very busy.

But beyond that, they were just texting back and forth a lot. It started off as him pleading with her to stop sending all those pictures. These protests were weak at best, and not only did she keep sending juicy photos, he kept eagerly anticipating them despite knowing better. Sometimes, her texts themselves were flirtatious, other times they were conversational. He kept the conversations going as to not get on her bad side and incite her into giving away their secret. That being said, it was still distressing how easy it was to chat with her, texting about basketball and cars and all sorts of other things she knew he was into. But that major concern of her allowing their secret to get out was dominating his mind, and he had to bring it up. He knew they'd made a deal in the heat of the moment for her to not give away what they'd done, and he wanted to make sure she would live up to her word, texting her something along those lines. And sensing desperation immediately, she pounced.