Cheating

"OK, honey, see you then," Tara says sweetly.

She eases the grip her left shoulder and the left side of her face have on the cordless phone and it falls harmlessly onto the bed. My hands grope for the phone, then I hold it up, squint to look at the keypad display and hit the "off" button.

Yes, it was his cell phone number.

"That was him," she says looking down at me, a smile spreading across her face.

A playful smile. A mischievous smile.

"No shit," I respond, tossing the phone aside.

Her hands haven't left my chest, where they prop up her body. Her pussy flexes around my cock, which is sunken well up inside her. The muscles of her walls expand and contract and she giggles. My stalk had stayed buried in her silky snatch the whole time she was on the phone with him.

"He won't be home for at least an hour," she whispers and bends down, kissing me, long and hard on the lips.

He doesn't know I'm fucking his wife.

Why should he?

His wife is always at home. She's never away.

She never gives him a reason to be suspicious.

He's a hard-working guy, trying to live the American Dream. Just now he was checking in with her, just to see how her day was going. How nice.

I wanted to grab the phone and said: "Her day's going pretty fucking good. Why don't you listen for the next few minutes?"

The levity comforts me as Tara sucks on my tongue.

Tara's tongue lashes mine and our saliva moves between our mouths. The uptick in passion increases my pulse and breathing. Hers as well. A surge of heat and moisture courses through her cunt. My cock lurches toward erection inside her tunnel. The familiar surge of blood brings it to life and a bit of seminal fluid oozes from the tip to mingle with her vaginal secretions.

The pre-cum really isn't needed. She's already well-lubricated.

Tara's fun doesn't take her anywhere. She never has to leave home.

Cheating for her is a home game.

I don't have to go far either.

I live next door.

If I had to, I could jump out of her bed and be in my house in 30 seconds. I sometimes even carry my cordless phone with me while I'm in her house, if I'm expecting an important call.

Tara impales herself on my cock for a moment and stops her movements, then lifts and tilts her head. I know that she's listening for her sleeping baby down the hallway. One cry from the nearly year-old girl in the crib at the other end of the second-floor would end our lovemaking.

Tara returns to the slow grinding motion she had started shortly before the phone rang a few minutes ago. Before he interrupted us.

The sound of the telephone startled me and my shaft had somewhat deflated during her brief conversation with her husband, but Tara's renewed movements bring renewed life back to the one-eyed beast.

I look into Tara's green eyes until she closes them and slowly rides my stiffening stalk.

He works days.

I work nights.

She doesn't work.

It's a great formula for adultery.

They've got two kids who go off to school in the morning and a baby that naps a lot. Tara knows to call or just come over and knock on the door, usually under some pretense -- in case a member of my family is home.

It's a great set up for us.

When I see her husband, I smile and wave.

"How ya doin', Scot?"

"Yeah the weather's great."

"Oh, yeah. I saw the game."

"Hey, you're looking good. Workin' out?"

Might as well schmooze the poor bastard.

Tara's a green-eyed beauty with long dirty-blond hair permed into curls.

Her mouth is soft. Her taste is sweet. Her hair teases my chest.

The toll of having three children has done little to her body. Her breasts are plump and full. She's kept on a few pounds, but then who hasn't? The weight hasn't diminished her figure. Most women are more desirable after having children. I love women after they've had a few kids. Their bodies are ripe. They are more capable of pleasure.

Tara's told me that on the few nights that she gives in to her husband, she often thinks about me fucking her. I've jerked off more than once visualizing Tara's eyes closed and her mind on me while her husband pounds away at her.

I've encouraged her to let him fuck her on nights after we've made love during the day.

"You'd like that?' she said in surprise the first time I suggested it. "That's pretty fucked up, Jon."

That's what she said, but after the conversation, she was awful horny. That time, she orgasmed twice, then jumped off my cock and sucked it, swallowing the salty load of semen that I fired into her throat.

Sometimes people don't mean what they say, even about sex.

I don't analyze her. I just love her and make love to her.

Love?

No, I don't think so.

Cheating.

It's so wicked, so delicious.

I laugh to myself and give in to my lust, grabbing her hips and pushing up against her down thrust, sinking my shaft deep into her steaming, slippery hole.

"Ohhh, yes," she moans.

I'm sure the noise escaping my lips was similar.

From this position at the headboard of the bed Tara shares with her husband, I look out the window of their master suite and see the front of my house.

My car's there. I keep a wary eye on the window, just in case someone comes home.

Tara and I are very careful. We make sure our spouses are away for awhile before we get together. Usually it is when they are at work, and busy. Lately that's been about once a week.

We've laid for hours in bed some days.

Usually in her bed. Sometimes in mine. We've christened each with adultery.

She's told me that when she sees my wife, she sometimes gets jealous.

I have to confess, I'm jealous, too.

But there's nothing we're going to do about our jealousy and our feelings, except live double lives.

There's no point in anything else. Why wreck our status quo and trade our spouses in for each other when we can have it the way we want it now? We can cheat and get away with it.

Besides, we'll probably get sick of each other some day.

Some day.

Maybe.

How could I get sick of her?

How could I get sick of this?

I can have my cake and eat it, too.

It's been about six months since I took a chance and tugged at her hand, pulling her close to me one day while we were outside talking. I was nervous as hell, but I did it anyway. She had asked me to look at some plants near her patio and deck, so of course, I walked over -- just to give her some advice, of course.

We'd lived next door to each other for years. Talking always came easy. I thought she looked so sexy while she was pregnant, then one day I told her so. She seemed to be startled at the comment. I figured she didn't tell her husband about my compliment.

Soon, that day six months ago, we ran out of plant talk and neighborly words, but we didn't seem to want to leave each other's company. It had happened before, but each time I thought it was just my imagination. There was that body language and that hesitancy.

Why would she be interested in me?

Women with smaller kids to chase around usually appear to have little interest in chasing men, sex and starting a relationship.

Well Tara did.

She told me later that she is bored. She wanted to get out and work, but her husband wouldn't let her.

Her body responded that day in her backyard after I tugged her to me. I was so nervous, I almost couldn't talk, but she looked into my eyes, then I kissed her. When her tongue met mine, I knew I wasn't going to get my face slapped or my crotch kicked.

We didn't have sex that day, but it didn't take long until we did. Sure, there was some guilt -- at first -- and misgivings but eventually we pushed those aside.

We've been meeting for awhile. Our escapades are just diversions. It's a side love interest to keep our lives interesting. At least that's what we've convinced ourselves about it.

"C'mon, Jon, give it to me," Tara says, loudly. "I need some help here."

I shake myself from the pleasant memories and give my full attention to the green-eyed beauty risking so much to please me.

I look over her shoulder to the mantle of the gas fireplace. Tara's there with Scot in a photograph. It's their wedding day 14 years ago. The image spurs me on. Suddenly, I have an intense desire to fuck her.

Our bodies intertwine, pumping, stabbing at each other. It's a haze of motion, groaning and pumping. I see my cock, slick with her leavings, as it slides in and out of her slippery hole.

Tara slams back onto it, then grinds for a few seconds. She rises up until the head is the only partly inside of her, then slams back onto it, impaling herself and again grinding for a few seconds.

Over an over.

Soon we are lost in the lust. We wouldn't stop even if our spouses walked in the room.

Fuck them. Let them watch.

Let them see us make love. Let them see us cum.

I'd like for him to watch while I fuck his wife.

Tara and I belong to each other. We've invested in this relationship. More has happened between us than most people.

I sit up, propping myself up on my hands which are behind my back on the bed.

Tara sits straight as well, throwing her arms over my shoulders. Her hands are on the back of my head. Her breasts brush against my face as she uses my engorged pole to stimulate her clitoris and vagina. Her head flails and her hair stings my chest and arms.

Tara's grinding quickens. I'm at the edge as well.

Tara's cunt bursts, and her canal's discharge floods my cock. Her pussy spasms and her abdomen convulses. Her body is in the throes of a full vaginal orgasm, from head to toe. Sweat drips off her face onto mine. The warm drops run down my cheeks and nose and onto my lips.

Tara's lips search for mine and her saliva unloads into my mouth. She seems to be forcing it out. It runs out the corners of my mouth and down my cheeks.

My cock explodes, injecting shot-after-shot of sizzling sauce into her steaming hole. My testicles pulse repeatedly, sending my seed rocketing into her, coating her tunnel, the one she vowed to keep only for her husband.

The convulsions in my balls go on and on as they empty of their precious fluid.

The writhing and grinding subsides much too soon.

Each of us is breathing heavily into the other's ear. I feel her cheek press against mine, then Tara's heaving breasts are on my chest as her body relaxes into mine.

After her breathing slows, she speaks.

"Oh, Jon, I love this so much," she says. "I love being with you."

I worry that she wants to say she loves me. I don't want to get emotionally involved.

"It doesn't get better than this, baby," I say, fumbling for words like I did that first day.

This break from our everyday routine to make love and feel alive is all I, we, can ever have. Isn't it? We can't let it be more than that.

"Jon?" she whispers in my ear.

"Yeah, baby," I respond breathlessly, worried about what she wants to say.

After a few seconds, she inhales deeply and audibly, and speaks again.

"Nothing."

In a minute, the climax is over. The heat has passed. It may be a few days until we're in each other's arms again.

She falls fully against my body and I drop back onto the bed. Her tits press on my chest. She warms me, kissing me lightly on the lips for a minute. I stroke her hair.

The sweat makes her skin cling to mine.

A rush of juices from the point of our union breaks the moment. We've sprung a leak onto the bed's comforter.

"Oh, shit," she says, pulling her head off my shoulder. "We can't have this."

We laugh and look down to where my softening cock slips out of her hole, followed by a rush of milky semen and the rest of the residue of our lovemaking.

I stroke her hair for a moment, wanting to tell her. Wanting to tell her … what?

"I guess I better get this in the wash machine," she says finally, pushing herself off me and pulling up the comforter.

I quickly roll away from her and off the bed as she stands. I reach for my clothes on a nearby chair.

I glance hesitantly out the window.

Down the hallway, the baby begins to cry.

Nap time is over.