Her Other Life

The reality was very different.

He kissed me deeply while ripping my clothes off. Then he just pushed me to my knees and thrust his cock into my mouth. When I sensed his end was near, I tried to pull away. He had other plans. He grabbed the back of my head and stopped me escaping, while he unloaded in my mouth with a mighty roar. When the shuddering stopped, he collapsed back on the bed, taking me with him. Gagging, I grabbed my discarded skirt and spat into it. I saw the look of disappointment flit across his face. I was going to blast him, but as we lay on the bed, he kissed the top of my head and thanked me repeatedly. It seemed his wife never let him do that. It was a pity I hadn't swallowed, but that would come in time. No, it won't, I thought to myself. I calmed down, almost feeling proud.

He went down on me, and I have to admit, the guy had talent. After a while, I felt my climax building. At just the right time he stopped and mounted me. I scolded him as he didn't have a condom on. He ripped one open and rolled it on. Then he mounted me again. That was more like it. I started to really get into it. John was about an inch longer than Dave and a little thicker. Not enough of a difference to mean much physically, but enough that it was distinctly different. Even with his style of just sticking it in and banging away, it was very pleasurable. Then, the realisation that it wasn't Dave struck me and I suddenly lost all interest as guilt overcame me. I tried to tell him to stop but he kissed me; so I tried to push him away. That was never going to happen. In the end, I just lay there until he finished.

John rolled off, apologising profusely. He explained I was so beautiful he just couldn't control himself. I lay there, the glow from his compliments temporarily battling back my guilt, while John started snoring.

In hindsight, it was most unsatisfying. While he obviously adored me, there was no love involved. Sure, he'd pressed my buttons at a primal level; the near rape had proven he was very attracted to me. On a physical level, it was a washout. I hadn't come close to cumming while he was inside me. Sure, there was the tension, but in the aftermath, I couldn't even remember what it felt like. The guilt blocked it out. Do the exercise yourself. An hour after your next orgasm, describe it. You may be able to describe the size, but actual details? Feelings must be the most ephemeral things on earth. Overall, the experience was so far from what I'd anticipated I couldn't help being disappointed.

I think I fell asleep exhausted about 3:00a.m. I'd thought guilt would be an issue but had convinced myself that guilt, and fear of consequences, were one and the same. Therefore, my rationale was that, because the chances of being caught were nil, then the guilt would be minor. That was before my betrayal. After the event, the guilt was nearly crippling. What had I done to my sweet, innocent Dave? And for what? Some third-rate sex. I fell asleep knowing I would never do this ever again.

Have you spotted the flaw yet? Guilt is a feeling too and thus as ephemeral as the rest. John and I slept late so nothing happened in the morning. Between clients that day, I told him of my decision. It felt good. I was back in control. The trouble was John was on the verge of tears when I told him. He laid it on thick about me seducing him to break his marriage vows. A lifetime of regret for less than an hour of pleasure. By the end of the day he looked as pathetic as a wet puppy.

To cut a long story short, we went to dinner that night, I drank a lot to quiet the screaming demons of guilt, then took John to my room. After he'd shut the hell up thanking me for this second chance, I warned him if I didn't get a little sexual consideration this time, it would be the last.

I've desperately tried to find an analogy to explain my actions. In hindsight, extramarital sex is a little like a smoking addiction. The first time I gave up smoking, I lasted a week. After seven days, I thought, 'that was easy. So easy, in fact, I can give it up any time I like. Therefore, I can buy a pack today, knowing I can give up any time I like.' Yes, evil logic.

I used the same convoluted logic that night. I'd been premeditatedly unfaithful to my husband. The guilt would be the same whether I did it once or twice. If I did it once and felt guilty for some lousy sex, then the guilt would be for nothing. But, if the sex on the second night was good, then at least it would all have been to some purpose. Yes, in hindsight, I know how utterly stupid that is.

John did learn his lesson. That night he took his time sensuously undressing me, kissing me all over, and firing me up until the tension was unbearable. He licked me to several orgasms until I had to beg him to stop. Again, he tried to enter me without a condom. As drunk as I was, I stopped him. He grumbled that his wife always made him use condoms and what was the point of risking his marriage for restricted sex like he got at home? It became a brief battle of wills. In the end, my horniness won out over my will. Fifteen minutes later, he rolled off me and I basked in the glow of two more orgasms. I grabbed my discarded shirt and put it under my butt to soak up the ooze leaking out of me. This time, I remembered the tension beforehand, matched it with the afterglow, and went to sleep a very happy woman.

We made love again the next morning and it was good. So good in fact, we decided to tell our respective spouses we had to stay over another night. The decision was easy; the reality hard. By contacting my 'other world', I was reminded that soon I would have to face it. I already knew that was gonna hurt. To make it easier on myself, I sent Dave a text at a time I knew he couldn't answer the phone. I then turned my cell off so if he responded it wouldn't interrupt John's and my session that afternoon. I would tell Dave I'd turned it off for a meeting and forgotten to turn it on again.

We finished client calls about 1:00p.m., then collected some food from a deli and went to one of the local reserves for a picnic. We ate, we walked, and we held hands; pretending to be young lovers on a first date again. Finding a copse of trees, we made out like teenagers, before making love among the pine needles. It was wonderful. After showering and getting changed, we went down for a romantic dinner. Then we made love again.

It was about midnight, I suppose, when I got off the bed I was sharing with a snoring John. Cum was leaking out of me and I needed a towel. Modern hotel rooms don't always have clocks, this one certainly didn't, so I turned my phone on to check the time. I was about to turn it off again, when a message came through. I debated leaving it till the morning. I really wished I had. It was Dave's response to my news of the delayed return. "Too bad. Going out for my birthday with friends. Ring me any time after 6. Dave." The guilt hit me like a sledgehammer. Not only had I been unfaithful, but I'd been so distracted with my plotting and scheming, that I'd forgotten Dave's big day. I wrote him a long text, apologising profusely but didn't send it. I didn't want uncomfortable questions on why I'd been up so late. I ended up in the shower, scrubbing and scouring, before returning to bed and sobbing for the rest of the night. John didn't stir once.

I was a real mess in the morning and angrily turned John down for what he proposed. The pendulum had swung again and all the pleasure was forgotten while guilt reigned supreme. We didn't talk on the trip home. I thought I'd be able to sleep, but worry robbed me of that. I did, however, lie back with my eyes closed to avoid the inevitable conversation with John. Internally and externally, I knew I was a mess. I could only hope Dave wouldn't be at home when I arrived.

No such luck. Dave met me at the door. It was Saturday, after all. I was so terrified, I almost fainted when I saw him. I just knew he'd see what I'd done instantly. The darling man thought I was sick. Well, I knew I looked it. He hustled me to bed, where I stayed all weekend, pretending to sleep. My husband even made me chicken soup Saturday night and breakfast Sunday. When he came up to clear away the plates, I pretended to be asleep again. Dave whispered to me he was going out. He thought I was asleep so he didn't say where or when he'd be back.

I'm ashamed to say it now, but am forcing myself to be brutally honest, but sometime that day, alone in bed, an evil thought invaded my mind. I knew, deep down, I felt proud of myself for concealing my guilt but that wasn't the evil part. That was the moistening between my legs when I thought of coming back from three nights with my lover and having my husband serve me. I'd read cuckolding stories before and never seen the point. Now, parts of my anatomy did. Before I realised it, I was masturbating, and, let's just say, I didn't hate it.

Suffice to say, by Monday morning, I'd decided to continue seeing John. It's important now for me to understand why. This can't happen again. I think it was a combination of many factors. I'd survived the most guilt I would ever feel, unscathed. I knew I risked losing John's attention, and the attendant ego boost, if I stopped. I'd already been unfaithful once, it would be the same if I kept going. John was right. At a risk to our marriages, we'd done something regrettable. Keeping going sort of justified the risks and self-condemnation we felt. All justifiable reasons. In the cold light of hindsight though, I really think it came down to a simple battle between the guilt I felt and the addictive thrill I increasingly experienced from cuckolding Dave. Now, of course, I feel the guilt but can't remember the thrill.

I made a miraculous recovery Monday morning and worked a full week. To check if Dave was the slightest bit suspicious, I watched his behaviour carefully. I was a little alarmed he didn't make a move on me Monday or Tuesday. I knew from my research that men commonly stayed away from their wives sexually, if they suspected them. Thank goodness, Dave joined me in the shower Wednesday night, and, well, sexually assaulted me would be a good description. Yes, life was good.

I handled the children issue by not raising the subject of going off the pill like we'd agreed. Dave mentioned it once but didn't push it. I just told him we had plenty of time and I was loving my job.

The girls at work were gradually opening up to welcoming me into their social circle. It was around that time that Dave and I began to be invited to do things with one or more of them on the weekends and hardly a week went by when one of them didn't pop in to visit us after work. That spurred me to do what I knew I had to do anyway—make sure no one at work knew a damn thing about John's and my relationship. After a while, he stopped nagging me to bend over his desk. When I arrived at work, John usually came in to my office, closed the door, and we shared a kiss. That was it. We were even super careful about that, after one of the other girls opened the door just as we broke our clinch.

Coming up to the end of the financial year, John cut down on the out of town trips to concentrate on getting jobs finished and invoiced. That left us with the problem of how to get together. I figured I could 'work late' at least one night a week and possibly 'work' a half day every second weekend or so. I held John off that first week, having some making up to do with Dave.

I went out with the girls from my old work on Thursday night, for what turned out to be the last time. There were four married girls, two of who had lovers, and three single ones. That was the night the group imploded. Wendy's husband had found out about her affairs and it came out that Paula, one of the single ones, was the person who gave her away. This discovery was made about an hour into the evening and caused a split. The two cheaters at one table, the rest at another. I stayed with Wendy's group to pump her for information on how she was caught. Her affair wasn't common knowledge, even among our group. I only knew after overhearing a hushed conversation. As she was one of my main sources of information on how not to be caught, I thought it important.

After about an hour, something struck me as odd. Wendy didn't seem to be all that upset about being discovered. She told me the story. Her husband had initially kicked her out, but after two days, had begged her to come back. She'd agreed on the proviso she could continue seeing other men. Unbelievably, he'd given in. The reasons to continue my affair with John were just mounting up. Maybe, even if I were caught, it might not be the end of the world.

I was so fascinated by all this, I didn't notice the dirty looks I was getting from the other table. To an outsider, it might look like I was aligning myself with the cheaters. I was totally oblivious to this until the others left. Paula came up behind me and whispered in my ear, "I'm surprised at you." I recognised the danger—Paula, and one of the others on her table, socialised with Dave and I. Someone else to keep an eye on.

From that night on, my research switched from stories about discovery to ones about cuckolding. It was a new and exciting world. I have no idea why it had never interested me before. I rang Wendy several times just to talk about how she was going with two men openly in her life. It was hotter than reading about it, that's for sure.

The following Saturday, I 'helped' John with end of year stuff. He wanted to just check into a motel and go for it. I insisted he take me out for lunch first. A girl needs a little romance. It was after 2:00p.m., when we made it to the motel. We had a leisurely session, marred only by John nagging me for anal. Yuck. That hole is for pooping. He laid it on thick that his wife never allowed it. What was the point of having an affair that could devastate his marriage just to have the same old vanilla sex he got at home? I was strong and resisted his pressure. I was the one in control, after all.

I half woke in the disorientated daze common to afternoon naps. I could feel dried cum on the inside of my leg. That's why I'd stayed on the pill. That got me thinking about David, and I had to supress those thoughts. It was at those times my conscience troubled me the most. Like a cat to cream, my mind kept drawing back to Dave nagging me about starting a family. I tried to compare Dave and John, but they were in different leagues. Dave was smaller and harder but our loving was gentle. John was bigger and softer, but, after the first few times, had reverted to a rather selfish style of sex. Honestly, if it wasn't for the novelty of him and the ego thrill I got from being with him, it would be very unsatisfying.

I must have drifted off again and awoke just as dusk was falling. We'd fallen asleep. I looked at the clock; 6:10. I'd agreed to go out with Dave and some of his work friends at seven. I had a quick shower, kissed John, and headed for the door. Outside, I noticed all four of my tyres were flat. Sitting next to my car was John's. All four of his tyres were flat as well. I debated calling Dave to explain I would probably be late, but couldn't run the risk he'd want to pick me up. I didn't want to explain why I was parked at a motel. I went back in the room and John called his auto club. I sweated until 6:45, when the guy turned up. I chewed my fingernails while the first tyre inflated, cursing the kids that pulled this prank. With hope, we watched for evidence that the tyres were holed, but the first one maintained pressure. The auto club guy took his time inflating the rest. It seemed the more I tried to hustle him, the slower he went.

He finally finished and all the tyres looked good. It was 7:04. I jumped in and started racing home. Now I could ring Dave. There was no answer on either the home phone or Dave's cell. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. This shit was taking years off my life. The house was empty and silent when I got there. I searched for a note from Dave. There wasn't one. I guess he was voicing his disapproval by not answering his cell either. I had no idea where he and his friends were going, so there was no point chasing around looking.

That was the first time I realised that John was affecting my marriage. After very little thought, I rang John and reluctantly told him we had to be over. He begged and pleaded, but I was adamant. It felt good, I was back to doing things on my terms. I immediately felt my blood pressure drop.

The next thing I was aware of was being jolted awake by a nightmare. I'd fallen asleep on the couch. In my dream, I'd told Dave I didn't want his children. The reason was because I'd lost respect for him. He was so naïve at not spotting my affair that, inevitably, it had affected my attitude to him. I dissolved into tears at my waking realisation that the reason he was blissfully ignorant, was that he loved and trusted me so much. I relocated to bed, still sobbing, but sure in the knowledge that breaking up with John was exactly the right thing to do.

Thinking back to that time, I now realise I was jealous of Dave, which made me feel sorry for myself. Why jealous? He obviously loved me far more than I loved him. His love was so deep, it made him naïve. Mine was so shallow, it allowed me to stray.

Amazingly, I went back to sleep. I half woke to the feeling of John between my legs, entering me. That made me wild. I yelled and pushed him away, only fully awakening when I heard Dave say, "Sorry, darling," from the darkness next to me. Sleep was a long time coming as I worried whether or not I'd yelled, "No, John," aloud.

Dave was up and gone by the time I roused on Sunday morning. I rang him and was relieved that he'd just gone around to his friend's house to help clear up the previous night's mess. I set myself a mission and decided to cook him a fantastic dinner before showing him what he meant to me. You know what I mean. Returning from the shops armed with all my ingredients, I was a little alarmed to see Paula's car parked next to Dave's. I was terrified when their conversation stopped abruptly as I walked in the house. What did Paula know? What had she told Dave? With pounding heart, I tried to make conversation, while at the same time trying to judge if either of their attitudes indicated I was busted. Everything seemed normal. You can't imagine the relief I felt when Paula said my husband mentioned that my 30^th birthday was only a couple of months away. By the time they announced that Dave was going to Paula's apartment to help her with some maintenance jobs, I'd worked it out. They were jointly planning a surprise party. I pretended to be ignorant.

That reminds me. My birthday is next week and it must be going to be a huge surprise party. Over the last seven weeks, since that Sunday, I've come home to one or another of the single girls from my old work group and twice to girls from my new work being at home. In all cases, it was obvious that I was interrupting something. Dave has also been late home much more than usual and has had to 'work' at least some of most weekends since then. He's also got in the habit of going somewhere out of my hearing when his cell rings sometimes and I notice it has a new password. I can't wait.

Anyway, Dave came home sweaty and tired after helping Paula. He enjoyed my meal but then promptly fell asleep on the couch. I was horny but tired so I let him sleep. Any lingering worries I had were dispelled when he woke me in the middle of the night. In the darkness, his style was so similar to John's that I could interchange them in my head. It was absolutely delicious and I came strongly.

That should have been the end of the story, but it wasn't. I realise now that my newfound resolve was doomed to inevitable failure. The memory of the guilt at standing Dave up on Saturday night was soon forgotten when I got to work Monday. John treated me as politely and professionally as I'd hoped he would when I first started working for him.