Anatomy of an Affair

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A wife faces the consequences of her cheating.
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Hey Friends,

The following story had an unusual genesis. It is based on a real event that happened to my wife and me years ago. We were going through a bit of a rough patch in our marriage, and I was looking to liven things up in the sex department. I decided that making one of our long-time fantasies a reality just might be the fun we needed. I borrowed a friends truck and picked my wife up from her office one day and took her to a parking garage down the street. She looked so hot that day. She had purposely dressed sluttier than she ever would have for work and was wearing a low cut top and short skirt. Pretty much everything that happens in the truck in the first part of this story is taken verbatim from that encounter. I made her call me by a fake name and pretend that she was having dirty affair sex in that cab and she really got into it. I still remember looking through the back window of the truck, which thankfully was heavily tinted, and seeing some people walking to their cars about thirty yards away while my wife was having a screaming orgasm and yelling out, "I'm a dirty whore!" , and "Fuck me, John!(not my real name) over and over. It was the single hottest thing we had ever done. Sadly, we never repeated that moment. I guess it wouldn't have been as awesome a second time. Anyway, this is a fictionalized account of what happened with some additional details to make a better story. If your wondering I interviewed my wife and had her tell me in detail what she was thinking and feeling during our sex in the truck so that portion is as realistic as I could make it. Enjoy!

*****

My name is Regina Caroline Miller, but everyone calls me Carol. I haven't answered to my first name since I was in middle school. It was an attempt by my parents to bridge the gap between my Dad and my Mom's family. See, my Dad is a super sweet guy, but he wasn't on anyone's list of top-tier boys to marry into the affluent southern family my Mom was born into. Since my Mom was a bit of a free spirit, meaning she didn't give two squirts of piss what her family thought, she married him anyway. This marriage led to plenty of animosity between my Dad and the rest of Mom's relatives, hence my first name. It was my Great-Grandmothers name, and as far as I'm concerned the bitch could have kept it, but nobody asked me.

I am thirty-four years old and a mid-level manager in a public relations firm, Sutter and Kline, it's not a bad job, beats digging a ditch. I stand five-feet five inches tall and weigh one-hundred and eighteen pounds. The scale in my bathroom says one-hundred twenty-two but that thing is a cheap ass piece of Walmart garbage and it lies like a rug. I weigh one-hundred and eighteen, thank you very much. I have curly red hair just like my mothers that until recently was shoulder length but now sits well down to the middle of my back. I started growing it out several months ago, but that is an element of my story I will get to a little later. I know your dying to find out why.

I have fair skin, but no freckles so forget any Raggedy Ann images of me you might have been having. My eyes are a dark shade of brown like a deer, and I have a small nose and a little boat-shaped mouth. I'm never going to be mistaken for Marilyn Monroe in the chest department, but my girls and I get along just fine. They are small, but perky and sit high on my chest. I'm kind of proud of them even if they aren't voluptuous. I've gotten more than a few compliments over the years especially about my perfectly symmetrical half-dollar sized light pink aureoles and sweet eraser point nipples.

If you like ladies who shave between their legs prepare yourself for disappointment. I have no interest in looking like a twelve-year-old prepubescent girl so you and your Lolita fantasies can take a hike. I do keep the hair reined in and my bikini line tight, but otherwise I have a thick bush of red-hair on my Venus mound.

I have been in four serious relationships counting my current marriage, and in all that time I have never cheated on a partner, until now.

It started out innocently of course. I wasn't looking to have an affair. Frankly, I didn't have a reason for one. I was happily married, and by all outward appearances, everything in my life was wonderful. Even now I'm wondering exactly how I got to where I am. Perhaps a little history would help explain things.

My early years weren't exactly full of wild romance. I was a late bloomer and didn't have a single date in high school. There wasn't much demand for a skinny red-head with braces and short hair. It wasn't until my freshman year of college when the braces came off, I gained a few pounds, and grew out my hair that things changed.

His name was William Wembly Jr., and he was as big a nerd as that name implies. I liked him though. He was tall and blond haired, not bad looking at all really, just a little thin. He was also very polite and took me on my first date to dinner at a little Italian restaurant. We took things slow, and it wasn't until four months after we met that things got physical. I lost my virginity on a rainy December night with a tie on the doorknob to keep his roommate at bay why William Wembly Jr. did his best to blow my mind. To be honest, he didn't have to try very hard, with my lack of experience the bar wasn't set very high anyway. I'm pretty sure I came, well, at least I made enough noise that he thought I did and that should count.

We dated for almost two years but ultimately I started to get a little bored with William after a while, and I broke up with him. I did this because I had a new target in mind. His name was Trevor Shane, and not only did he have the interesting affectation of two first names but he was a guitarist in a local rock band. I know, can you get more unoriginal than a college girl who leaves the good guy to jump to the guitar playing bad boy. Trevor was a wild ride in more ways than one. He gave me my first screaming orgasm and also taught me to play the opening to "Stairway to Heaven" so I thought he was amazing at the time. The relationship quickly lost its luster when I caught him in bed with my roommate, Mary Chambers. I couldn't entirely blame him, Mary was super cute, had breasts like a prize stripper and love to flirt. Still, I took it rather poorly at the time and moped almost all the way to graduation.

I was determined to stay away from the long-term stuff after that and mostly just dated casually for the next four or five years. It was right after my twenty-sixth birthday that I started working for Ted Nash. He was both well built and charming, leading me to fall head over heels for him. I get that dating your boss is a first-rate bad idea, but at the time I couldn't help myself around him. We had to keep things quiet of course, but we managed to maintain a discreet, passionate affair for the better part of the next three years. Things finally fell apart when he got transferred to a new office in California. I was more or less expecting a proposal by then and imagine my surprise when one was not forthcoming. Apparently, Ted decided it would be more fun to explore the vast array of new pussy available to him in California without the burden of a significant other in tow.

The let down from being abandoned by my lover of three years was softened by the arrival of nice guy number two, Tim Webster. Tim was an accountant in the finance department. A decent guy in every respect including looks, I had not paid much attention to him in the past. He asked me out on a date about six months after Ted bounced and I went more out of a sense of boredom than anything else. I was surprised to find that Tim was really easy to talk too and quite funny. I enjoyed the date far more than I expected to and that led to another which led to another after that. Before I knew it, we had been dating for the better part of a year. It was nice to have a relationship I didn't have to hide from everyone and Tim was both attentive and pretty good in bed.

He asked me to marry him fourteen months to the day after our first date. I was twenty-nine at the time, and I think I yelled my affirmative answer before his knee even touched the ground. The wedding was nice, and my parents were thrilled with Tim, everything seemed perfect. I guess maybe that was the problem. Everything was perfect. For the next five years, Tim and I did all the things that young married couples were supposed to do. We traveled and enjoyed each others company. We saved money and bought our first home. Eventually, we started to talk about starting a family, and I went off the pill in anticipation of getting things going in that direction.

It was not long after that I first noticed a bit of dissatisfaction on my part. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong, but I started to feel discontent with the whole thing. It was like things were too perfect if that makes any sense at all. I mean I know women who would have killed to be in my shoes, with an attentive husband, plenty of money and a beautiful life.

Into this situation came John Raymond Collins, or J-Rod as the guys in the office sometimes called him. A former college football player he was six-foot-five and close to two-hundred and forty pounds of solid muscle. In spite of his intimidating size, he was soft-spoken and very nice to everyone. John was brought in as a consultant on a campaign we were doing for an athletic shoe company. He was a big hit around the office with his bright smile and easy-going demeanor. It didn't take long before half the female population of the office was following him around like a bunch of puppy dogs. He dated a few of the lucky ones in the secretarial pool but nothing that looked to get serious.

I met John for the first time about three weeks after he arrived. I didn't get the impression that he was blown away by my appearance but I have to admit I was smitten with him from the beginning. I dropped by his office a few times in the ensuing month to talk over details of the campaign, and I noted that he was quite the thrill seeker with photos of him skydiving and rock climbing in his office.In time John seemed to become a bit more interested in me. I don't know, maybe he had gotten bored of the younger single girls, and he was looking for more of a challenge. Whatever the reason, he started flirting with me, occasionally commenting on my clothes or my hair. I found myself picking up on these comments and running with them.

For instance, he mentioned rather casually one day that he liked my fiery red hair and thought it would look good down. I usually wore my hair up at the office in a professional looking bun on the back of my head. Once John made that suggestion I started wearing it down every day and let it grow out figuring if he liked a little a whole bunch would be even better. In a few months, my shoulder length hair was hitting the middle of my back in a curly red waterfall.

Then he dropped a comment in the hallway one day that the lipstick I was wearing was a lovely shade for me. I hit the mall on my lunch hour that same day and tried to corner the market on "Rosewood" lipsticks. Before that meeting I had worn a dozen different shades, after that, I was officially addicted to just one.

The whole time this was going on I think my actions were at least partly subconscious on my part. I mean I knew the attraction was there but I never seriously considered acting on it. It just felt nice to have John pay attention to me primarily because he was so sought after by so many other girls who were certainly younger and hotter than me.

I kept thinking that the whole thing was harmless flirting right up until the time that it wasn't anymore. It was a typical day at the office, and I found out from our director that he wanted to do a team-building exercise that night after work. In a real throwback to the seventies, he wanted to take us all bowling at a venue down the street. I called my husband and left him a message that I wouldn't be home for dinner.

I had no idea that John was even invited but there he was when I walked into the place. An even bigger surprise came when we drew lots to see whose team we would be on and I ended up on John's squad. I knew nothing about bowling, but John was more than happy to instruct me on the finer points. Before I knew what was happening, I was out on the slick surface of the bowling alley with John standing behind me trying to show me what to do. He spent quite a bit of time instructing me on how to stand and hold the ball. Throughout this process, he had his large, strong hands all over me and each time he touched me it was like a little electric charge ran through me. I'm ashamed to admit it but by the third frame my nipples were as hard as a rock in my bra, and my panties were getting damp.

My cause was not helped by the fact that our director was paying for the drinks and a steady supply of them was coming to our table. I can't tell you how much I drank, but it was enough that I was having trouble getting the ball to go remotely straight through the third game.

The party went on a bit later than I think anyone intended but eventually, people started to drift out until only John and I and maybe three or four others were still there. I had walked to the bowling alley from our office which was about four blocks away. Originally, I had intended to walk back, but everyone I had come with was already gone. When I mentioned this to John, he wouldn't hear of me walking back alone at night to get my car. He offered me a ride back in his truck instead. I'll admit I didn't see anything wrong at the time with getting a ride back, so I followed John out to the parking garage.

His truck was the most massive vehicle of that kind I had ever seen. It had four doors and a long bed in the back. The windows were so darkly tinted they were almost opaque, and he had parked facing an interior wall. I stood at the passenger side door and wondered how I was going to get in this large vehicle that was so jacked up off the ground the bottom step was too tall for me to raise my leg up to it in my short skirt. I didn't have to think about it for very long because John suddenly loomed over me, pulled open the door and put his large hands around my waist placing me right up into the cab. I had to admit it was quite a thrill to feel his strength as he lifted me like a child. My husband wasn't a small guy at five-foot-eleven and maybe one-hundred and eighty pounds, but he was no behemoth like John.

The interior was as big as the outside, and it had bench seats like my Great-Grandfathers old truck I had ridden in as a kid. I was admiring the interior when John slid into the seat next to me and closed the door behind him. The smell of his cologne filled the small space, and he looked over at me with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"You know, Carol, I've meant to tell you all night. You look gorgeous in that outfit," he said in his deep voice.

"Thanks, John," was all I could manage.

He was still looking at me intensely, and I was feeling the tension in the air. He looked so handsome with his firm lips and broad jaw. I guess I wanted something to happen if I was honest with myself, but I was too scared to make the first move. All my life I had been the good girl and when faced with making a decision that only a bad girl would make I froze. John had no such inhibitions though, and as I sat shaking slightly on the seat, he suddenly slid across until his leg was touching mine. His right arm was on the headrest behind me, and he placed his left hand on top of my thigh. My heart was racing like a runaway train in my chest, and I started to shake even more. I knew that everything that was likely about to happen was wrong but that only seemed to turn me on even more.

"Is this o.k.?" John asked.

I didn't need a diagram to understand what he was asking, but I couldn't get my voice to work either, in the end, all I could do was give a nod. His head started toward mine, and I closed my eyes in anticipation. I managed to lick my lips at the last second before I felt his mouth close over mine. John's lips were precisely as I imagined, soft but firm. I could almost sense his strength and power as he kissed me. My arms seemed to come up of their own accord, and I slipped them around his thick neck as he slid his firm lips all over my creamy ones.

The kiss started gently with just a hint of rubbing and movement, but it gained steam quickly. It didn't take long before both of us were moving our heads from side to side, pressing our mouths tighter together. I opened my mouth a bit wider, giving him an invitation and he immediately lept at the apparent overture slipping his tongue into my mouth. A soft groan issued from within my throat as John started to French me with deep, hot kisses. I couldn't believe how excited I was getting. In my whole life, I don't ever recall getting aroused as fast as I did in the cab of that truck. My pussy was already a slick mess between my legs, and my nipples were so hard they almost hurt pushing against the fabric of my bra.

I don't know how long we were like that, making out like a couple of teenagers on a hot date. I do know I wanted more and John did not disappoint me. His hand lifted from my leg, and a second later I felt it on my right breast as he squeezed my small, tight mound through the fabric of my shirt. An even louder groan escaped from me, and I worried for a moment that someone might hear us, but I didn't want him to stop. He started to unbutton my pink blouse, slowly working his way down the front. I have to say I was impressed that he was doing it so quickly one-handed. When he hit bottom was the first time I felt a bit of guilt. With my shirt hanging half open exposing the lacy lavender bra I was wearing underneath I realized that nobody but my husband had seen me like this in years. For just a moment I wondered how hurt Tim would be if he could see me right now. That was probably as close as I got all night to trying to stop things, but just when I was starting to waver, John pulled down the cup of my bra and engulfed my bare breast in his hand.

I had no idea just how fired up I was until Johns' fingertips touched my hard nipple. I very nearly had an orgasm right there as a bolt of pleasure shot through me so hard I broke our kiss to bite my lower lip and audibly moan.

"Oh fuck! John," I called out intensely.

He quickly found my mouth again, kissing me with more of those deep tongue kisses while he played with my breast. I was swept away, my inhibitions crumbling as he toyed with my body. I felt him break the kiss and move to licking my exposed chest, running his tongue across the bumpy skin of my aureola before he sucked my tiny nipple into his mouth and bit at the turgid flesh. My voice cried out even louder than before as he sucked at my tit and I grabbed at the back of his head.

"Ah fuck! Fuck yes!" I cried out.

Things were progressing fast now. John pulled down the other cup and started to alternate between my aroused breasts licking and sucking them in turn while he slid his left hand up my skirt. I know he must have been at least a little turned on by how wet I was at this point. My underwear was soaking through, and I'm sure he felt how damp the cotton cloth was when his fingers reached it. My breath was starting to come in gasps. I wanted to fuck so bad I could hardly stand it.

John was softly rubbing my cunt through my underwear, but soft was the last thing I wanted right then. I spread my legs wider, and he took the hint moving my panties aside and sliding a finger into my slick pussy. He started to finger me, and I began moving on the seat making whimpering noises.

"Damn, Carol, you pussy is so wet and tight," he whispered in my ear.

"Ah shit, John. I'm so fucking ready for you," I replied my voice sounding thick and strange to my ears.

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