Living With Lust

Maggie was unusually subdued when she returned home from the five day conference she attended every year. When I asked her if anything was the matter she simply said she was tired – too many long days and late nights – and went for a long soak in the bath. When she came down again, dressed in a jogging suit, I offered her a glass of wine with the meal that I had prepared.

'I shouldn't,' she sighed, accepting the glass, 'I drank far too much this last week.'

By the end of the meal we'd finished the bottle and she was looking and sounding more relaxed.

'So tell me about the conference,' I said encouragingly.

'Ah, it was, you know, just a conference,' she shrugged dismissively, but didn't sound altogether convincing.

'Okay, but what about the other delegates? Usually you hook up with some new ones as well those you've met before and have a good time. Don't tell me there was none of that?'

'No, of course not. As you say, I met some of the regulars as well as some new people and, like I said, I drank way too much.'

The way she said it, it almost sounded like she was making an excuse. Certainly she sounded defensive. But she didn't offer any more and I didn't push it. Instead I quickly tidied up and then smiled down at her where she sat on the sofa.

'Anyway, I'm glad you're back. I missed you and I'm hoping you missed me, too.'

'Of course I did,' she said, way too quickly.

'Then let's go to bed and we can show each other just how much we missed each other.'

'Okay,' she agreed hesitantly, 'but I'm really tired. I don't think I want to, you know. . .'

I waited until we were in bed and pulled her close. She made a half-hearted attempt to resist before giving in and snuggling up closely.

'I love you, you know,' she told me, urgently.

'I know,' I said soothingly. 'But I'm beginning to think there's something you're not telling me.'

'What do you mean?'

'I think something happened at the conference.'

'Like what?' she demanded, trying, but not quite managing, to sound indignant.

'I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, you got yourself laid at that conference,' I said carefully.

There was a sharp intake of breath, but nothing else.

'You're not denying it,' I said gently.

'I can't,' she said in small, tearful voice. 'Charlie, I'm sorry. I never meant it to happen.'

I wrapped my arms around her.

'I'm sure you didn't. But, to be honest, I'm surprised something like this hasn't happened sooner.'

'What do you mean?' she sniffed, sounding puzzled.

'Let's face it Maggie, you're an attractive, sexy woman who's been married – and faithful – for fifteen years. That's more than enough time to get a little bored with what has to be, no matter what we might tell each other, rather predictable sex. So in the right circumstances – away from home, lots of booze, new and interesting and flattering men. . . Let's just say if the position was reversed I know I would be tempted.'

'Is that what you think? That our sex life has become boring and predictable?'

'Perhaps I wouldn't go that far – and I would have to say that there hasn't been a time when I didn't enjoy it – but I do think it's become a little stale.'

'That's probably true, on occasion,' she conceded, after a moment or two of consideration, 'but it hasn't meant you've been unfaithful.'

'True, but with your travelling about, you have more opportunity than I do. Maybe if our positions were reversed . . . '

'You don't sound particularly angry,' she said hesitantly – and more than a little hopefully.

'Like I said, I can understand and I don't know if I would have resisted had I been in your position. I think I'm more relieved than angry. Relieved that, even though you had a fling, you still came back.'

'Of course I came back,' she said, sounding a little stronger. 'Despite the evidence to the contrary, I still love you.'

'Hmm. The trouble is, people don't always come back. Any number of women – and men, for that matter – believing they were in love with their partners, had casual sex with someone, enjoyed it more than they expected and thought it was the start of a new and beautiful relationship. Unfortunately, by the time the novelty wears off, it's often too late and bridges have been burnt.'

'God, no!' she sounded appalled at the idea. 'I know it sounds corny, but all it was, was sex – and not very good sex at that. And, I have to say, I wish it had never happened. So I wouldn't even describe it as a fling.'

'More of a one-night-stand?' I suggested.

'I suppose so, although that makes me sound rather hard – and shallow.'

'Do you think you would have regretted it if the sex had been mind-blowing?'

'Of course I would. I told you, it was an impulse thing, which I started regretting as soon as my orgasm ended.'

'So you did cum?'

'Yes, I did,' she admitted frankly, 'probably more from the novelty of the situation than because he was a good lover.'

'And I presume he did, too?'

'Yes he did.'

'Okay, tell me about it. How did it all happen?'

'You really want to know? All the sordid details?'

'I'm sure they weren't sordid but, yes, I do. Maybe I'll learn something.'

'Oh, Lord,' she said taking a deep breath and steeling herself. 'It started in the bar, after dinner. There were maybe a dozen of us, more or less fifty-fifty male and female. We'd already had a fair bit to drink before and during dinner and, although it's no excuse, I was feeling nicely tipsy. You know, the flirty, laugh-too-loud-at-nothing, everyone seems attractive, stage. Plus, I'd been away four days. When was the last time I've been without sex for that long? I know you said our sex life has become rather predictable – and I suppose you're right. But that doesn't mean I've stopped enjoying it, or that I don't get horny.

'The fact is, I was horny before the evening started and the booze and the company just made me feel more so! One of the guys, Jeff, was staying very close to me and paying me particular attention. He paid me the most outrageous compliments, made sure my glass was never empty and dragged me up to dance whenever I let him - which, as the evening wore on, became more and more frequent.'

I nodded my understanding. Maggie loved to dance at parties, especially after a few drinks. She was a good dancer and enjoyed putting on a show for me, before coming in close to rub herself against my inevitable erection. Not just me, either. I've lost count of the number of guys I've seen groping her ass during slow numbers – some of them with their hands under her skirt – and although she would return to me shaking her head at the nerve of the guys, I noticed she never did much to stop them, or walked off the dance floor.

'You know what I'm like,' she continued, as though she had read my mind. 'I like having a hard dick rubbing against me when I'm dancing – especially if it's yours. Jeff was no exception and, after slapping his hands from my ass three or four times I gave in and let him fondle it.

'All the time we were dancing he was nuzzling my ear, telling me how sexy I was and what a lucky guy you were. I was half pissed and feeling hornier by the minute, so I didn't try to stop him. Stupidly, I didn't stop him when he kissed me at the end of one of the songs, either. Trouble was, he was a good kisser and so I let him kiss me a few more times. I hardly noticed when he slid a hand up to cup one of my breasts, or, after he'd played with both of them and got my nipples good and hard, that he slid his hand down to my pussy, because it just felt so good and . . . and . . . at that particular moment, so right.

'It was only when he told me how wet I was and how he would love to taste me down there, that I realised what he'd been doing – what I'd let him do. I marched straight off the dance floor and headed for my room because I knew how close I was to letting him carry on. If I'm honest, I actually wanted him to go down on me – you know how I love it – because I was really aroused by then.

'Anyway, he must have been right behind me all the way because he followed me into the lift and, as we were going up, he grabbed me and kissed me again. Then he span me round to face the mirror and reached round me to cup a breast with one hand and my pussy with the other. It looked so damn sexy, like something out of a porn film and, as I say, I was already almost fully aroused, so when the lift stopped, I didn't tell him to go away. As a result, we both ended up in my room.'

She paused to take another deep breath. Her voice had steadily become lower and throatier as her story progressed and I didn't need to see her fingers drift across her breasts to quickly pinch her nipples to guess that describing the episode was proving an erotic experience for her. As it was for me. Listening to my wife of fifteen years describe how she came to be seduced, was, to my surprise, giving me quite a hard-on.

'Go on,' I urged.

'That was it,' she shrugged. 'We had sex.'

'Hang on, you said you walked away because you knew you were getting in too deep. He followed you without any encouragement from you, right?'

'Right,' she agreed quickly.

'So that still doesn't explain how you ended up having sex. I mean, we've been to parties where you've been groped by some of the men and I've done some groping of some of the women. I've danced with some – Lucy Taylor springs to mind – who weren't happy unless they felt my hard-on jammed against them and you've told me about some of the guys who've rubbed their dicks against you. But neither of us ended up fucking these people, so until you let this guy into your room, you hadn't done anything you hadn't done before.

'Now I mean it when I say I'm not going to shout and scream at you, because I can understand how it happened – and I'm just grateful it hasn't happened until now. But I am not stupid enough to think it would never happen and, now that it has, I simply want to know how he made the jump from heavy flirting to full sex. I mean, if you'd wanted to get rid of him without having sex, couldn't you have fobbed him off with a hand job or, if push came to shove, a blow job?'

'Probably,' she shrugged, accepting that much of the responsibility for what happened fell on her shoulders.

'So what you're saying is, for whatever reasons, by the time you and he were snugly tucked away in your room, you wanted it as much as he did.'

'Damn you, Charlie!' she hissed fiercely, ending her pretence. 'All right. Yes, I wanted him to fuck me. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear? I was lonely, half-pissed and horny. He said all the right things and made all the right moves. He made me feel sexy and desirable – God, his tongue was practically hanging out at the thought of fucking me. I didn't invite him into my room but, when he was there I thought, "What the hell. I fancy a fuck and he can give me one."'

She paused for breath, her eyes flashing as she moved into defiant mode.

'And you know what made it so good? Huh? Half the fun was knowing I was being bad. I felt really wicked fucking a guy I hardly knew and I had one of the best orgasms that I'd had for a long time.'

'So that stuff about not really enjoying it and regretting it the moment the orgasm subsided. . . '

'Was bullshit? Yes it was. You can believe me when I said I definitely didn't go looking for it but, when it happened I made the most of it. We spent half the night fucking and then started again when we woke up in the morning.'

'You did?' I gulped.

'You wanted to hear the details? Well, how about these? In no particular order, I sucked his dick and his balls and swallowed when he came – and boy did he cum! He licked me to at least three orgasms and I lost count how many I had while he fucked me. Oh, yeah, when he asked if he could fuck my ass, I said yes. He did that twice.'

'Jesus, you bitch!'

I was on fire, inflamed with anger, jealousy and lust. It boiled over when I forced my hand between her thighs and discovered how wet she was.

'My God. I've never known you this wet!' I gasped. 'You're soaking! You really did love it, didn't you?'

She gave a harsh laugh and grabbed my dick.

'Being fucked by another man? Yes, I did. But I have to say, Charlie Greemwood, it's been a while since you've been this hard. I think you liked hearing how I cheated on you, didn't you? Unnhh! Oh, God, yes! Fuck me. Fuck your cheating wife.'

Her words had goaded me past the point of no return and I had taken her with a single thrust. Maggie is thirty-seven years old and I must have fucked her almost a thousand times in our fifteen years together but – and maybe never having had children has something to do with it – her cunt has stayed as tight as it was that first time. As such, I have always had to ensure she is good and ready and even then I have to ease in slowly. On this occasion however, I sank into her effortlessly and began fucking her hard and fast – much to her delight.

'You're perverted,' she panted, her words interspersed with a grunt of satisfaction each time my hips slammed against hers. 'You got a hard-on listening to me describe how I fucked another man.'

There was more of the same, driving us both ever closer to our orgasms until with a cry I emptied myself into the depths of her cunt and she echoed my cry and arched her back, striving for maximum penetration. It took us a few minutes to regain our breath and collect our thoughts.

'Who would have thought it?' she mused, her fingers fluttering over my softening, very sticky prick.

'Thought what?' I asked, lazily.

'That not only were you okay with me being unfaithful, but hearing about it turned you on.'

'I know,' I agreed ruefully. 'It surprised me too. Not the being okay bit, I explained that before, but finding your exploits arousing.'

'You know what you should do,' she said thoughtfully.

'Tell me.'

'You should have a bit on the side yourself and then tell me all about it.'

'Would that turn you on?'

'Not as much as watching you would but, yes, I think hearing about it would be quite exciting. Would you like to watch me?'

The twitch my prick gave meant I didn't need to answer.

'You would, wouldn't you?' she giggled. 'Shit, Charlie, if you got hard hearing about it, what would you be like actually witnessing it?'

'I'd probably have to join in.'

'Oooh! Really? I think I'd like that.'

'You know I can't believe we're having this conversation.'

'Neither can I,' she nodded happily.

'I mean, it's like a dam has just burst and suddenly we're finding out all new stuff about each other.'

'I think every girl fantasises about having two or more men at some stage in her life,' she said thoughtfully. 'But for most it always remains just a fantasy.'

'Whereas you'd like to make it a reality,' I stated, following her train of thought.

'As long as you were okay with it.'

'Which means we either find another couple to have fun with, or join a swingers' club.'

'Oh God!' she breathed excitedly. 'How wicked would that be?'

'Pretty wicked,' I grinned, aware that I was fully erect again.

'I want you again,' she said, 'only this time in my ass. Oh, and just for the record, I didn't let Jeff fuck me there – but if someone asks me in the future, who knows?'