Her Other Life

I came to the realisation that without the stolen kisses, occasional gropes when he passed me, and the flirting, my job was actually quite dull. On the plus side, the other girls in the office had finally accepted me and I was making some good friends. I jumped online at every opportunity and read cuckolding stories, but they'd lost much of their magic now I was monogamous again. At home, just about every time Dave grabbed me and demanded his conjugal rights, I closed my eyes and thought of John. That still made it very special. Most of all, of course, I missed the ego boost that came with being pursued by the magnificent specimen that was John and being in a position of total control in deciding if he was going to score or not. In summary, I'd ended the affair because of the fear of being caught and shame at how it was affecting my marriage. Not on my terms.

It was the second Monday after my resolution that I cracked. It was mid-afternoon, just after I'd read a particularly hot story, I quietly locked my outer door and opened the door to John's office. He was on the phone. I only listened long enough to establish he was talking to one of his friends about golf, before sliding under his desk. His face took on a huge smile as he leaned back in his chair. I unzipped him and took him in my mouth. His face took on a look of bliss, as I looked up at him. Remarkably, he kept a fairly good conversation going for the five minutes it took. The only way I knew his end was near was when his grip tightened on my hair. He turned and pressed the microphone end of the handset into his shoulder as he groaned loudly and unloaded. Judging by the amount that came out, he still wasn't getting much at home. His eyes crossed in ecstasy again as I made a big show of tilting my head back and swallowing. He gave me a huge smile as I extricated myself from under the desk.

As quietly as I'd locked it, I unlocked my outer office door and walked through the secretary pool towards the lady's bathroom. My new best friend, Peta, looked up and smiled. I smiled back. I thrilled at the secret that only John and I knew. In front of the mirror, I noticed a small amount of cum had leaked out of one corner of my lips. Well, it was a huge load. I gargled some water, fixed my make-up, then went into a cubicle, and, well, relieved some pressure. As soon as I re-entered my office, John came out, pressed me against the wall and said one word, "Thursday?" I nodded and he passionately kissed me. All in all, it was an extraordinary experience.

The glow definitely faded when Dave got home though. I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when he walked up behind me and hugged me. I tensed and had to close my eyes when he spun me around for a kiss. That way I could avoid his eyes. He let go and started chatting normally. A small thrill went through me. I'd gotten away with it again.

From then on, I was back to being the centre of John's attention. Once again, I felt complete. Thursday, I decided to mix up my alibis. I invented a girl's night out with my new workmates. After a nice meal, John and I retired to a motel. He again nagged me to skip the meal, pointing out that would give us more motel time, but I stuck to my guns. The same can't be said about swallowing though. I should have known that after the episode under his desk, John would expect me to swallow every time. I tried to get out of it but he just kept whining that he was risking all for vanilla sex and would have to re-evaluate our relationship. Like a weak fool, I swallowed. Three quarters of an hour later, I again found myself under John with cum again leaking out of me. I hadn't cum because I'd spent the time looking for signs that John still respected me. I asked him straight. He convinced me he did. To prove it he offered not to force me to swallow again. The compromise he offered was he would pull out and blow on my face. Relieved at the win, I showered with my special scentless soap, kissed him, then left.

As was my new habit, I pulled over just before I got home and put on new undies. I slipped a couple of folded tissues in the gusset. Steeling myself for the inevitable guilt on arriving home, I drove the rest of the way. Dave was watching TV when I walked in. I went straight to the kitchen to avoid looking at him and put the kettle on. He snuck up behind me and nuzzled my neck. One hand grabbed a breast and the other started sliding my skirt up. If I'd let him continue, he would have made an uncomfortable discovery. I spun out of his arms, saying I had to pee, raced to the bathroom, and dumped the tissues. Now I had a decision to make and it wasn't a comfortable one. Damn Dave. Why did he have to pick tonight to want to couple with me? As hot as the thought of having sex with two men in one evening was, and as much as I longed for the sexual relief my husband inevitably gave me, I knew I couldn't risk it. What if Dave wanted to go down on me? He knew I loved it and never, ever refused it. Dave took the news that I thought my period was starting early with the good grace I expected of him. I'd gotten out of another sticky situation and that boosted my confidence. He fell asleep with me in his arms. I lay there feeling as horny as hell. In my mind, I imagined Dave was a willing cuckold and was showing me his love after I'd come home from my lover. Five minutes after his breathing slowed, I carefully extricated myself from his arms and used my fingers to generate my own relief.

The next day, I told John about almost being caught and told him he would have to go back to using condoms. He pointed out the smell of condoms was almost as distinctive as the smell of cum. Consciously, I didn't realise at the time that he'd backed off a little in his affections. Subconsciously, I must have because during our next session, 'working late', he hadn't brought any condoms and I dropped my demands. Changing undies that night turned out to be a wasted effort. Dave wasn't home when I got there. I waited up until he returned. He explained he knew I'd be late and had taken the opportunity to go out with his friends. By this time, it had been three hours since I'd left John and regular checks of my undies proved I'd stopped leaking. So I didn't fight too hard when Dave carried me to the bedroom. I got around any lingering taste problems by rolling him over and mounting him straight away. It was one of the hottest sessions we'd ever had and well worth the risk.

With overnight trips still on hold, I pre-warned Dave of another girl's night with my new work friends the following week. That almost ended in disaster when I ran a little late to leaving home. As I rushed down the path, Peta was walking towards our front door. She'd come for an unannounced visit. It was a problem because she was supposed to be one of the girls I was going out with. She looked a little annoyed I was going out but said she would visit with Dave anyway. I couldn't possibly leave them alone. The chances of discovery were almost certain. So, I went back inside. Thinking quickly, I decided to tell Dave that Peta had some personal issues and wanted some alone time with friends, which made me change my mind. I also texted John while I was in the bathroom. Why did none of the stories I'd read say how stressful affairs could be?

The evening became a little more bizarre a half hour later when Paula from my old group arrived. She gave me an annoyed look as well. That confused me momentarily. It took me a little while to work it out. Dave had arranged for them both to come while I was out to organise my birthday party. I realised it was very lucky I hadn't had a chance to give Dave my bullshit reason for Peta being here. He would have spotted the lie immediately. I again gave serious consideration to breaking up with John once again. The near misses were unbelievably stressful.

But I didn't.

John insisted I 'work' on Saturday again. Same deal as usual; lunch followed by motel. John kept his promise and at the end of our traditional blowjob to start the session, he pulled out and unloaded on my face. I'd never done that before and found it demeaning. Still, anything was better than having to swallow cum. When he recovered enough to mount me, I had to remind him to be more considerate as he'd lapsed into his old habits of being a little selfish. I expected when I returned home that the guilt I felt would lessen and the thrill I got from successfully hiding my activities would grow. It didn't. Instead, I was just paranoid coming home that I'd made a slip that would lead to discovery. For example, one day it was very lucky I examined my appearance closely before leaving the motel. I almost missed the small, matted clump of hair where John's cum had hit and dried. It cost me half an hour while I carefully washed and dried that section of hair.

Dave wasn't home, thank Christ, when I got there. I became increasingly sick of the guilt and the secrecy for a diminishing return. It's quite bizarre, thinking back on it, but I was kind of proud of my efforts at concealment and not having anyone to brag to about it was a little frustrating. Then I had a brilliant idea. I could tell Wendy about it. Taking the walkabout phone and sitting where I could see Dave return, I rang her. She was thrilled at my news and we compared notes about our lovers. I was a little jealous she had a husband that knew and accepted her lover, but she agreed that telling my Dave would be a very bad move. I rang off when I saw Dave arriving about an hour later.

I felt bad that the Saturday meetings with John were cutting into my weekends with Dave, so from then until our overnight trips resumed, I stuck to 'working late' during the week. The guilt never did diminish.

The next near disaster happened a couple of weeks later. I was 'working late' and we'd only been at the restaurant across town from my place about half an hour. Our meals hadn't even arrived. As usual, I hadn't had anything to drink. It made my defences weak and increased the chances of John getting through them if he wanted something I didn't. He was still nagging me about anal. I was just returning from the bathroom, when I glanced at the maitre d's desk. There was Dave checking in. Terrified, I retreated back to the bathroom. Luckily, I'd brought my phone so I rang John. When Dave was being led to a table, I snuck out. I'd travelled with John this time, so I had to wait until he could pay and escape as well. It was terrifying, even John was rattled. Dave catching us could have led to his wife finding out about our affair.

He recovered quickly, though, and stunned me by suggesting that as Dave wasn't home, we could use my bed. The thought of that obviously really excited him. I wondered why but turned him down flat. He then suggested a motel but I was nowhere near in the mood for that so asked him to take me back to my car in the office carpark. He didn't let me get away scot free though. He absolutely insisted I blow him in his car once we reached work. As I had no way to clean up, I reluctantly swallowed. Yuck! It was one of the least romantic things I'd ever done.

From then on, restaurants were out. That marked a major drop in the quality of my experience with John. By going to a restaurant first, I could at least pretend I was in control and sit there deciding if John was going to score or not. I lost that when we just met at a motel. I stalled John for the next two weeks. He responded by slowly withdrawing his attention at work.

In fact, the next time was unusual enough to rekindle the magic a little. With the financial year over, it was my job to organise the office party where bonuses would be handed out. I'd typed them all up and knew there wasn't one for me. I'd only been there a few months, after all. Everyone left work early to get changed for the party that started at 7:30p.m. John had suggested I bring a change of clothes to work so I didn't have to go home. The reason why became clear when he whisked me off to a room at the classiest hotel in town. The venue of the party. Once there, he ripped my clothes off and just did me. He obviously missed me which was extremely flattering.

At 7:30, I was showered and met Dave at the party. After the entrees, John handed out the bonus envelopes. I was very surprised when he called my name last. I was staggered when I opened the envelope and saw the amount. It was twice as much as the other girls got. I almost swooned at the implications of that. Here I was, sitting next to my husband, with John's cum still leaking out, holding a big fat bonus cheque. It made me feel like a high class hooker. I loved it. If Dave hadn't been there, I would have taken John back upstairs and given him my ass there and then.

Sadly, the night went downhill from there. I had to keep an eagle eye on John. Whenever he spoke to Dave, a condescending smile lit his face. If he wasn't careful, he'd give us away. Then there was separating Dave from the hordes of single women that constantly surrounded him, some of them being altogether too familiar with him on the dance floor. He did look good in his suit though, so I couldn't blame them. At one point, I saw he and Peta on the dance floor. She was practically rubbing her crotch up and down his leg. I stormed over, but as I approached them, he was in the process of forcing her away, reminding the drunk girl he was married. I had one dance with John, but he held me at arm's length as his wife was there. In the end, I drank way too much and Dave had to assist me to our discounted room at the hotel, where I promptly passed out. I remember nothing until Dave getting back into bed, around dawn, roused me. I ended up spending Saturday hung over. Dave went fishing Sunday and I spent an hour in bed, twice masturbating to memories of Friday. My guilt was getting worse rather than lessening though, so even that made me feel bad. Dave had been his strong, supportive self on Friday and here I was, his wife, masturbating to memories of how my lover had made me feel like a hooker. I felt so bad, that when Dave came home, I begged off sex with him again that night.

With the new fiscal year came the resumption of the sales trips. Just in time too. The Wednesday after the party, I rang Dave during the day to say I'd be working late. He asked the question that should have been obvious to me. If my reason for working late over the last month or so had been for the end of financial year workload, why now? I know I stuttered when I made some excuse and promised not to be too late. Luckily, with restaurants out beforehand, the session was shorter than before. Unfortunately, with no romance, it was unsatisfying.

I found myself pondering. When the excitement of new sex started wearing off with Dave, he'd responded by becoming more loving and inventive. Now the novelty was wearing off with John, he responded by becoming less considerate and more demanding. Dave had made up for our lack of experience at the start by learning what I liked. John didn't bother. We hardly even kissed now.

Peta was there when I got home but left shortly afterwards. I saw her to the door and reminded her Dave was my husband and spoken for. To ease the mood, I then threw out an off the cuff question. "How is the party planning going?" She smiled as she turned to go, so I knew my guess was right on the money.

John and I didn't meet the following week. I gave him some excuse but the truth was the amount of angst these late nights' cost was no longer worth the reward. I found myself at home thinking of excuses to give John the next day.

It was a different story the following week when we left on a three-day trip. The final day of which was entirely fake. Away from home, I didn't have to keep one eye on the clock or lie to my husband. I could defer the guilt and not have to worry about scrutinising myself before I got home. Of course, miles away from home, we could also go out for dinner and dancing before retiring for the evening. I still made sure John booked us two rooms. Read the stories I have, you'll know why.

The first night, I accepted dinner from John, then told him I was going to bed alone. I wanted to reinvigorate our relationship by trying to rekindle that feeling of pre-sex anticipation. I also wanted John to have to work a little harder and not take me for granted. He didn't fight me that much for my decision. We did spend the next night together though and the whole day after that.

Driving home the next afternoon, the guilt was crippling again. After John dropped me at the office, I called Wendy and we went out for dinner. The only purpose of this was to delay my getting home until Dave was asleep. That way I wouldn't have to face him. I knew from experience the guilt was short lived. I'd already warned him I might be very late. We parted at 10:30p.m., and I drove past our house noting all but the bedroom lights were out. I parked up the street, battling to stay awake after a couple of energetic nights, until half an hour after the last light went off. I snuck in the house and carefully crawled into bed.

We had a quiet weekend. It struck me that Paula no longer visited, and of my new work friends, only Peta still came around after the flurry of new friendships. My life had evolved, pretty much, to two activities. Work and worry. Wendy rang in tears Saturday evening. She'd come home to find her husband moved out and a note to say he was no longer willing to swallow his pride for the sake of their marriage. That shook me up as I'd used her as my rationale that my marriage wasn't automatically doomed if John and I were discovered. I fretted all Saturday night and on and off all of Sunday.

Therefore, it was easy to turn John down for the next two weeks until our next trip away. That was a quick two-nighter. After visiting clients all day the first day we went to our respective rooms to get ready for dinner. I was in the bathroom, putting my face on, when I heard the room door open. I yelled out, "There in a minute, John." When there was no reply, I walked into the bedroom naked to see Dave sitting smiling on the bed. To say I was a little shocked was like saying the Pope was a little catholic. I think he said something about how useful the find-a-phone function was on smart phones and maybe went on to explain what he was doing there. I wasn't listening, I was terrified he'd heard what I'd yelled, then seen me walk out in my birthday suit. He couldn't have heard, though, as he acted way too normally.

The stress of it all almost made me faint. Dave commented on how pale I was. I made an excuse to go back in the bathroom and sent a quick text to John—after vomiting in the toilet. As I returned to the main room, I heard John's incoming text signal sound from the corridor. I felt nauseous again. It was that close.

The next problem was the dress laid out on the bed. John had bought it for me that afternoon and it was in a style that no self-respecting wife would wear when away from her husband. It also clearly signalled I was preparing to go out. Thank fuck, the lingerie John had bought to go with it was still in the bag and not laid out. I thought about what other clothes were in the closet. They'd all been bought by John and none were appropriate. They were the sets I kept at the office. Those and two sets of work uniforms was all I had. As subtly as possible, I returned to the bedroom, pushed the lingerie bag off the bed and kicked it under it. While talking to Dave to distract him, I returned the dress on the bed to the closet and chose the most modest replacement. I put it on in the bathroom and looked at my reflection critically. It showed way too much cleavage. I did up an extra button but that just made it look silly. I took it off again before returning to the main room and begged off going to the hotel restaurant. My explanation that I was feeling sick wasn't a lie. I could feel reflux burning the top of my stomach.