Part 2
A Day of Firsts Continues
This is the story's second part, which references the first part, so if you haven't already, you should read it first.
Please read the tags. This story contains a wife who does things she should not do with people she is not married to. If that or any other tagged elements are not your thing, please find something that suits you better.
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It was unexpected, unbelievable, then irresponsible. It was the most spontaneously exciting thing I had ever done. There were feelings of gratification, guilt, and lingering fear. I let a stranger cum in me. I should have been more careful. I felt like I was at the point in my cycle where pregnancy wasn't likely, so at least there was that.
Driving along the windy two-lane blacktop, I reached down and slipped a hand into my shorts, extending my finger and stroking my outer lips. I let go of the wheel for a second to unbuckle my belt and undo a couple of buttons, allowing easier access. My steering hand now back in place, I resumed exploring myself with the other, dipping a finger into my cum-soaked box to lubricate it, then moving it to my clit. I rubbed in a back-and-forth, then circular motion, feeling the first tinges of delight. I was still five minutes from home.
I slid my finger again into my seed-slickened snatch, deeper this time, and withdrew it. Then I did something out of character, I placed it in my mouth and licked it clean, tasting John's cum mixed with my juices. The combination was salty, tangy, and slightly acidic. I had always spat my husband's cum out when I let him cum in my mouth. I am not sure why, the taste wasn't unpleasant at all. I think it had more to do with feeling like a whore, a slut. Swallowing was something bad girls did, but now I craved it. Continuing to play with myself, I drove on.
Reaching the house, I pulled into the driveway, climbed out of the car, and hurried into the house, swinging the door shut behind me. I dropped my keys in my purse on the granite counter and headed into the living room, shucking my clothing along the way. I sat on the couch, leaning back and spread my legs. I began mauling my pussy and tits, replaying the scenes from earlier in my head. It took less than a minute for me to reach the apex, jamming my fingers into my muff further and faster while pinching and massaging my nipples. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through my body as I peaked.
I slowly descended, letting a minute pass as I lay on the couch. I tried to catch my breath, a million thoughts spinning around. I stood up, walked over to retrieve my discarded clothes, and went into our first-floor master to shower.
The warm water felt good as it cascaded over me. A different feeling coursed through me; every touch and caress felt electric as I ran my soapy hands over my body. It was all I could do to deny myself another orgasm. There would be time for more self-stimulation later, I had the day to myself.
After finishing in the shower, I put on a two-piece bikini, taking time to admire my features. My confidence had been bolstered by the compliments John had thrown way during and after our earlier encounter. He was right; I looked good, damn good, I thought to myself. It was something my husband seemed to take for granted as the years went by.
I entered the kitchen, poured a glass of red wine, grabbed my iPad from the charging station, then headed to the back deck to bask in the sunshine and read. It was only 2:00 PM. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and the breeze was light. The boat engines in the distance occasionally broke the silence. I began reading my novel, mindlessly skimming the text; flashes of my recklessness came and went as the pages turned. To say my mind was preoccupied would be an understatement. Setting the book aside, I was resigned to working on my tan.
I had time for self-reflection as I lay there, the sun beating down on me. What had occurred with John was morally wrong, but I had needs that weren't being met. On one hand, I was married and had a life, a husband, and children. On the other hand, everything had become so routine, so vanilla, that I couldn't help but think that marriage was restraining me, that there was more out there. These two things couldn't co-exist.
Then, the doorbell rang. I grabbed my cover up and put it on as I walked to the front door. I wondered who it could be, I wasn't expecting anyone. Reaching the door, I grasped the knob and turned it. As the door opened, to my surprise, there stood John.
"Hi Pam," he said casually, as if we were old friends.
He turned to face me directly, making eye contact. I was shocked. John was the last person I expected to see on my doorstep.
"What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?" I said, perplexed.
"Well, you did say that you lived in one of the lake houses, and Rob saw the direction you left the gas station," he began. "We just drove this way until we saw your car in the driveway."
We? I looked around him to see an older white truck parked behind mine with two people inside.
"You brought people with you to my house?" I stammered in disbelief. "I don't understand. Are you crazy? I told you I was married. What do you want?"
"We'd like to talk to you about something," he explained. "Can we go inside before the neighbors see us? No one is home, right?"
"I'm not letting you into my house," I retorted sharply, signaling my displeasure. "You can tell me whatever you need to right here."
"Sure, OK then," John agreed. "I was just trying to save you from having to answer any questions if anyone saw us out here."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After several swipes and button presses, he turned the screen so I could see it. My heart sank. It was a video of John plunging his rod in and out of me on the gas station desk. I could hear the audio.
"Oh, yes, I want you to fuck me! Oh, that's it. Fuck me. Fuck me harder. God, your cock feels so good."
Judging from the angle and video quality, a security camera in the corner of the room captured our improprieties.
"You..... filmed us?" I stuttered, processing what I had just seen, still unable to believe it.
"Well, to be honest, the security cameras are always on. Mike, the owner, is the only person with access to the system. He was out in the garage while we were busy and decided to look at the footage after you left, and here we are."
I peered around John once again in the car. I could see what looked like Rob, the guy who pumped my gas, and another person I didn't recognize. I looked back at John.
"I can't fucking believe this," I said, shaking my head and looking down.
Several seconds passed as I contemplated the situation. I didn't have much of a choice.
"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, my tone somber, realizing the awkward position I was caught in.
