Acts of Infidelity - Mel and Chris

Our one penetration, however energetic would leave its mark on my chest, face and vulva but I was reasonably confident the worst would have worn off by the time I had driven to the airport and back. After all, I had nearly six hours before bedtime.

This would not be the case after a second or third session in bed with Neil. I knew from experience that my vulva would still be swollen and pink for at least a full day after so many copulations, something my husband could not fail to notice.

Dates were likely to be difficult to arrange over the next few weeks so I knew Neil was not going to be satisfied with only one fuck that afternoon. To try and satisfy him and quite uncharacteristically for me, as I rose to my knees on the mattress, still in my lingerie, I suggested we enjoy a long, slow mutually satisfying period of oral sex.

Actually what I said was "I want to suck your cock!"

Neil looked at least as shocked as he was pleased to hear those words. I was shocked too; in fact I can't remember ever having said them before either to him or to my husband. He recovered his composure quickly though, rolling onto his back, smiling even more broadly and saying:

"Be my guest!"

Though I love to receive oral sex, I had only limited experience in giving it. Still I did my best but it did not start as well as I had intended. Taking Neil's flaccid penis in my hand was not an issue; it was covered in a drying combination of my juices and his semen but it began to firm up immediately. The problem came when I lowered my head to lick his smooth, rounded end and took it between my lips.

After twenty-plus years of marriage, I was familiar with the smooth, slightly sweet or slightly sour flavour of semen and had expected to find it on Neil's cock. What I had not expected was to find in abundance the sour, bitter taste of my own vaginal juices, churned to a foam by repeated rapid thrusts then thickened by time as we dozed.

The stale aroma filled my nose as the earthy, organic taste filled my mouth, for a moment making me gag.

"Are you okay Mel?" my lover asked anxiously, pulling back my long hair to reveal my face.

I looked along his flat tummy into his eyes and nodded as sexily as I could, then steeled myself and resumed my work, running my fingers up and down his sticky shaft and taking his head into my mouth over and over again, each time running my tongue over its smooth end and around the ridge beneath.

Neil sighed aloud then moaned with pleasure. I began to dip my head faster, my fingers gripping the base of his shaft tighter too. He responded well, moaning louder, stroking my hair, head and shoulders, spurring me on to greater efforts.

I had licked and sucked Neil's cock for what seemed a long time when to my surprise, he gently but firmly pulled my head away from his groin, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet alongside, reaching out towards me with his hand.

Slightly bemused, I took it and was guided firmly onto my knees in front of him, my face level with his groin.

There was no doubting what he wanted me to do and I have to say that there was no hesitation in my mind as I began to do it.

There, in my stockings and heels, bare breasted and on my knees in front of my lover, I sucked Neil's cock as I imagine a cheap prostitute might do. I dipped my head forwards and backwards, I grasped his tight sack in my hand and ran his balls between my fingers as my tongue worked its eager way up, down and all around his rock-hard shaft.

Having licked most of my juices from his erect cock, my taste buds were numbed to what little of the rancid flavour of my juices remained and I did my job as professionally as I could. But this was clearly not enough for Neil; after a few minutes I felt his strong hands on either side of my head, holding me tightly.

Then, with a violence that took me by surprise, Neil began to fuck my face, his hands in my hair pulling me onto his cock with every thrust. I choked but he didn't stop; he didn't even slow down, thrusting into my mouth as hard as he had so recently thrust into my vagina.

Quickly learning to breathe through my nose, I managed not to faint but could do little other than let him have his way.

"Good girl! That's my little slut!"

For some reason, Neil's crude words made me more aroused rather than frightened. Though it is a word I was to hear shouted angrily many times over the next few weeks, right then no-one had ever called me a slut to my face before.

It felt earthy; it felt sexy; it felt as if this was how a lover should talk.

"Suck me Mel! Suck me you slut!"

With my face being fucked so vigorously, sucking was impossible but I did my best and was rewarded by the realisation that whether I liked it or not, this was not going to last much longer.

Neil was about to cum and showed no sign of pulling out of my mouth before doing so!

I felt the head of his cock swell alarmingly. His hands forced my head violently forward until his smooth end hit the back of my throat, momentarily choking me. Gagging, I fought for breath, pushing his hips away until my mouth could once again close on his shaft but by then it was too late.

"Oh my Godddd!"

For the first time in my life, I learned how it felt to have a man cum inside my mouth. A full-scale, copious ejaculation began in earnest, filling my throat and covering my tongue in warm, slimy goo.

It shocked me; apart from being unexpected, the enormous volume of semen that spurted from Neil's cock and the force with which it was ejaculated took me by surprise. I remember it vividly; a light, watery spray hit the back of my throat directly and made my choke. That was bad enough but before I could recover my breath, it was immediately followed by a less vigorous but far thicker and much more plentiful dose of the semen with which my vagina was by now very familiar indeed.

"Ngh! Ngh!"

Neil grunted as he came, his hands still gripping my head, his cock still thrusting in and out of my mouth but more slowly now that the heat of his climax was beginning to pass. I gasped and choked, feeling a trickle of fluid running down my chin.

Eventually the thrusting stopped and my head was released. I pulled back, Neil's cock still half-erect only inches from my watering eyes, my mouth full of his sperm-filled semen.

He looked down at me.

"Open your mouth," he hissed, his eyes still wide with lust.

I did as I was told, showing him the milky pool on my tongue.

"You're such a slut, aren't you, Mel?" he grinned.

I nodded, my mouth still open. In the position I was in, no other word would do.

"Swallow it!"

I looked up in surprise.

"Swallow it all, slut!"

There was only one thing to do. Keeping my eyes fixed on his, I closed my mouth and tried to swallow the slimy goo. I gagged then tried again with the same result but on the third attempt the whole slippery puddle slipped smoothly down my throat like a warm oyster.

"Open up!" Neil commanded.

I obeyed, showing him my empty mouth. I stuck out my tongue for good measure too

"You are amazing Melanie!"

Neil's face was one big, lustful grin as he took me by the hands and helped me to the bed again. He climbed alongside me and we hugged and cuddled and kissed for a long time.

***

Neil left the house at four o'clock. We had spent three whole hours together but nearly an hour of that had been spent talking and dozing in each other's arms in the bed I would soon share with my husband.

As he showered and dressed, I pulled on my bathrobe and wiped my face clean with a tissue then followed him downstairs to the front door. We kissed slowly and deeply before I let him out into the afternoon sunshine.

Alone in the house I realised I had more work to do than I had originally planned. Instead of our usual guest room encounter, Neil and I had fucked in Chris and my bed. I had put fresh sheets on that morning to welcome my husband home but now they were rumpled and semen stained and the room smelled of recent sex.

There was still time to get it all sorted and meet my husband's plane - if I got a move on.

Rushing upstairs I opened all the windows to let the air clear then began to strip the bed. The sheets and duvet cover really were messy; no way must my husband see them so I carried them down to the utility room, shoved them straight in the washing machine then started the programme.

Going back upstairs, I went to the linen cupboard to get new bedding. To my relief there was enough there but the duvet fought back hard and it took a good fifteen minutes to get the bed looking clean and neat again.

I breathed a sigh of relief, went into the en-suite and began to fill the tub with water and a goodly dose of bath foam. A long soak would help my post-coital aching muscles relax and wash the sticky residues of my infidelity from my body.

My body! I inspected myself in the mirror; the body I saw was definitely middle-aged but, if you ignored the stretch marks, was not in bad condition.

I checked my neck and boobs carefully for hickeys and bite marks but found none. My chest was flushed, my vulva was still distended and an angry pink colour but after a warm bath and four hours' drive to and from the airport, any residual redness could be put down to having sat down for so long.

I turned off the taps and slipped off my robe in preparation for what I intended would be a blissful soak.

Then I heard the front door opening downstairs.

Oh my God!

It was on a latch and could only be opened with a key. Only Chris, the girls and I had keys. The girls were in University so...

Oh Jesus! Chris must be home early!

I pulled my robe back on in a hurry, ran through the bedroom to the landing and looked down into the hall. A single suitcase stood in the centre of the floor; Chris' suitcase. The front door was open; he must be at the taxi getting another piece of baggage.

I ran back into the bedroom and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T shirt then ran my fingers through my hair and, my heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead, went down the stairs as casually as I could manage to greet my husband as normally as I could.

As my bare feet reached the wooden floor, Chris came through the front door, placed a second bag alongside the first then looked up at me. His body language was strange but I was feeling too flustered and guilty to notice.

"Chris!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," he replied.

"But your flight isn't due for hours."

"I caught an earlier one," he told me.

"Why didn't you tell me," I protested. "I could have picked you up earlier."

"Could you?" he asked quietly. "You weren't too busy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you might be.. occupied so I made my own way home."

The twinkle in his eye that usually accompanied our first meeting on his return was not there. He did not come over to hug me or kiss me and, when I moved towards him, he backed away. With my unwashed body still bearing the evidence of Neil's fucking, this was initially something of a relief.

I did not notice the ominous atmosphere that was developing.

"Can I get you anything," I asked.

"Haven't you given me enough," Chris replied in an unpleasant voice.

"Sorry?" I asked, beginning to realise that something really was amiss.

Chris did not answer directly. Instead he looked at me with a hard expression on his face.

"I didn't want you to pick me up," he said slowly.

"Why not? I would have been happy to do it."

"Would you? I would have thought you'd be too busy."

I frowned, puzzled.

"Anyway, I didn't want you to," he went on. "I wanted you to be here when I got back. I wanted to surprise you."

The words could have been cheerful and romantic but for some reason sounded threatening.

"I thought I might catch you..."

"By surprise? You've certainly done that but why are you being so cold?"

Chris took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye.

"Two days ago I went to see the site Doctor," he said ominously. "I wasn't feeling great. I was uncomfortable. Something was wrong; I was concerned."

He laughed hollowly.

"It turns out I was right to be."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked anxiously. "Are you ill? Are you alright?"

"No Mel, I'm not alright, but I'll be better in a few weeks if I take these."

He slowly placed a small cardboard box on the hall table. I picked it up, quickly recognising the contents as antibiotics.

"What's the matter? Is it serious? Tell me!" I demanded.

"Oh, it's serious alright," he said with a false laugh, his voice so cold and emotionless I could hardly believe it was my husband talking.

"What is it!" I was getting angry now. "Tell me Chris!"

"Okay," he said. "It's simple Mel. I have acquired a sexually transmitted disease."

He was speaking as if explaining an easy maths homework problem to one of the kids for the tenth time.

"What?" I gasped in disbelief.

"I'll put it another way for you. I've got VD. I've got the clap!"

"Oh my God!"

"And there is only one person I could possibly have got it from."

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in.

"Me?" I gasped.

"Yes. You, Mel. There is no-one else in the world I could have caught it from."

A cold fear passed over and through me as he continued.

"You didn't give it to yourself so the only possible conclusion is that you've been having unprotected sex with someone else; someone who's infected."

I stood open-mouthed.

"You need to start talking Melanie!"

The shock of my infidelity being found out in this brutal way was like a hard physical blow. My mind was spinning; had I really heard those words? Could they really be true?

I felt sick!

If I was infected then it could only have come from Neil. Had the man whose semen was even then slowly seeping from my vagina really have given me an STD?

I had thought I was his only lover apart from his wife but why should I have been? If a man was happy to cheat on his wife then why had I imagined he would stick at one lover? Had I really been that blind or conceited?

In a perverse way I began to feel as if I had been betrayed as much as I had betrayed my husband.

There was only one possible course of action. I began to cry. Within moments I was crying as hard as I had in my entire adult life.

***

The events that happened next don't make my tale any more erotic but need to be told if this story is to play the role that it must if my marriage is to survive.

Confronted with such incontrovertible evidence, I had no choice but to confess everything and immediately. Through floods of tears and one trip to the toilet to be sick, I answered my husband's angry questions.

Had I been having an affair? Yes I had.

Who was it with? Neil.

When did it start? I told him the truth between huge sobs.

Was it still going on? Yes, but I would stop it straight away.

When did he last fuck me? This afternoon.

When did he leave? Less than an hour ago.

Chris cursed his bad luck at having just missed us 'in flagrante delicto'.

Where did you fuck? Here in our house.

In our bed? Yes, in our bed.

How often had I fucked him? A couple of times a week. Usually more.

Had I used protection? I was back on the pill.

Had it not even occurred to me to use condoms? No.

Couldn't I tell I'd got the clap? I did not tell the truth; that I had thought the itching came from too much sex.

Did I realise I could have got HIV too? It hadn't crossed my mind.

What kind of stupid, cheating cunt was I?

I had no answer to that; I was too busy asking myself the same question.

He moved towards me briefly with his hands bunched into fists. For a moment I thought he was going to hit me but he controlled himself at the last minute and instead pressed his face close to my chest and neck. Then he kissed me hard on the lips, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth.

"I can smell him on you. I can taste him too," he growled. "You reek of semen and sex."

"Chris please..."

"You disgust me Melanie!"

He snarled then left the room, returning a moment later with a set of keys in his hand then walked out of the front door.

A moment after that, I heard his car roaring out of the driveway.

***

I did not see my husband for three days although he must have come home at least once because his clothes and other personal things were missing when I returned late the following afternoon.

The next day, the Doctor confirmed I did indeed have at least one sexually transmitted disease. A series of tests revealed it to be one of the more unpleasant but thankfully curable ones. Both my vagina and rectum were infected but at this stage the symptoms were mild and could be mistaken for soreness after excessive sex.

I'm not sure I can imagine anything more embarrassing than talking through this with a woman who looked little older than my daughter but that's what I had to do.

She knew I was married and asked about Chris. I explained what had happened.

She asked how many sexual partners I had been with in the last few months. I told her.

From the locations of infection, she knew immediately what Neil and I had been doing. At least I had not picked up HIV.

The young Doctor gave me a long, stern lecture on safe sex, telling me with a supercilious look on her face that the number of older people presenting with STDs was rising sharply. She wondered how it as that so many of her parent's generation could abandon sexual responsibility after so many years being stern with their children.

"The menopause means no babies, not no diseases, you know?" she said in a voice so patronising I could have slapped her.

Ludicrously, the thing I most wanted to say was that I was that I wasn't menopausal and was at least ten years too young to be from her parents' generation. Instead I simply accepted the prescription with lowered eyes and a deep feeling of shame. Then I fidgeted all the way home in the car, my vulva itching like never before.

I had called Neil as soon as Chris had left the house and left multiple messages on his phone. Even so, it was late that evening before he returned the call and I was able to explain what had happened.

"I was worried he would come round and attack you," I told him.

"I've been out," he replied. "But Alison's been in all day. She didn't see anyone."

"Maybe he's gone to his sister's. You'd better watch out."

"He's not stupid, Mel," Neil said trying to reassure me. "If we get into a fight it'll get out really quickly. He won't want the world to know any more than we do."

His calmness was suddenly too much for me.

"Why are we talking about him like this?" I screamed into the phone. "Don't you get it Neil? You've given me gonorrhea; you've infected me! How in God's name did that happen?"

It was a rhetorical question and we both knew it. There were only two possible answers; either his wife Alison had given it to him or he had another lover.

Guess which it was!

There was an element of justice in it I suppose. If Neil was prepared to cheat on his wife with me, why should I assume I was the only girl he was cheating with? Why did I think I was special? How could I have been so stupid?

My competitor for a share of Neil's impressively high libido turned out to be a girl in Sheffield. She was ten years younger than him; a party girl who clearly did not believe their relationship to be exclusive. Though not actually a prostitute, the age gap had to some extent been breached by a series of expensive presents.

It seemed more of a Sugar Daddy relationship than that of a kept mistress but the result was the same. He got his end away whenever his business took him North and she got to live rather better than she would otherwise have been able to afford.