Hey Angel

Hey Angel

By Jay Cameron with input from Angel

If you haven't guessed yet, my name is Angel. An Angel I am not. But you already should have figured that out.

At this point in my life, I'm obsessed with participating in just about any form of sex. I would tell you I am a hot sexy blonde, but the truth be known, I have changed the color of my hair more times than I can remember. My life started as a brunette, and when I woke up this morning, I had a redhead looking back at me from the bathroom mirror.

Before we get too far along, let me tell you I am a thirty-six-year-old hottie. You read that right. I am a hottie.... a hot wife.... a slut .... a sexually free spirit... a real mom with store-bought boobs, and a mom that loves the feel of a real man pressing his body against mine. But that's just the beginning, the feel of a man paying homage to my body is the most exciting, thrilling and stimulating thing any woman can experience.

I didn't know the danger of being caught cheating on one's husband could be so exhilarating and exciting. The endorphins seem to never stop firing. Now, I don't worry much about being caught. I think I want my husband to catch me with another man. Is my husband too dumb? Maybe, but I think he is too busy doing the same thing.

An interesting thing I discovered early on; after a while you don't care about being caught. You just want to see how much you can push the envelope. You want to feel a pair of lips pushing at your lips. An excited tongue working its magic on your clit. A strange man, whose goal is only to feel you surrender to his hard work.

My lovers want to please me more than my own husband. Their ego, their superiority to all other men has to be proven every time their dick sees the light of day. They want to know how far I will go to please them. I only want to go all the way. Especially when the main man in your life decides his life is more important than yours, or he forgets you even exist.

In the movies, the obedient wife is reading a book in bed, and the husband breaks the silence with the question. "Are you in the mood?"

That's when the fun begins. She puts the book aside and waits patiently for the assault. (Come on guys, you know it's an assault.) He gets his rocks off, she fakes an orgasm, and both admit they should do it more often. The wife wonders if it was worth the effort to stop reading her book. Both parties roll over and go to sleep.

It's important for you to also understand, I was a faithful wife to my husband and family for the first fourteen years of a sixteen-year marriage. I really thought I was doing all the right things in my marriage. I was convinced I had the perfect marriage, and my husband worshipped me and the pedestal I stood on. You know, the pedestal that runs from the stove to the washer-dryer to the grocery store. That's the same pedestal that reaches all the way to the bed. It's quite depressing when you realize the words "thank you" or "I love you" don't have a place in your husband's vocabulary. That pedestal gets smaller and smaller, and finally it doesn't exist at all.

Let me take you back to the beginning. I met my husband "the Asshole" during our final year at college. He was a baseball player, and my father was his coach. Dad invited him to dinner one evening, and that was all that was needed. We had sex on our first official date a week later, in his car. I was knocked-up and married two months after that.

If you have any doubts about how the first several years of our marriage went.... don't. He was the best dad a son, and later a daughter could ever want. He had a good job and provided a comfortable life for me, my children, along with various dogs, cats and fish. In fact, he didn't get the name "Asshole" till recently.

We were very active in our community. I was the wife on all the committees. He was the guy that kept the cooler filled with beer and insisted on hosting poker night at least once a month.

Like I said before, the first fourteen years were great. But one day I opened my eyes and saw the real world I was living in.

It wasn't morning when I woke up to see the truth. It was an afternoon when I discovered my husband was "the Asshole."

I had just returned from the grocery store on Friday afternoon and was lugging three full bags of groceries into the kitchen. My daughter was where she was supposed to be, sitting at the bar doing her homework.

Not seeing my son, I ask his sister.... "where's JR?"

For some reason she didn't want to say, but with the power of a mother, I was able to get her to tell me the whereabouts of her brother. "He's in the treehouse."

"Has he already done his homework?"

She looked away. "Mommy, he's been in a fight."

"What?... where is he?"

Still not wanting to look at me.... "I told you.... he's in the treehouse." There was a pause, "mom, he's been in a fight, and he doesn't want to talk to you because he's afraid."

"Why would JR be afraid to tell me what's wrong?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I was out the door and climbing hand over hand to get to my son in the kid's treehouse.

As I got to the top and was able to pull myself onto the wooden hideaway for our kids, I noticed my son with a piece of toilet paper in his nose. As any mom would do, I panicked! A quick look and I could tell he had a broken nose.

"We have to get you to the Emergency room right away."

"It'll be okay mom, believe me I'm just fine."

"No, you're not.... get moving. You don't want to be the only boy in school with a nose that goes in two directions."

His face filled with shock and seconds later he went down the ladder and headed to the garage. His mom had to take a little more time.

When the car turned onto the street from the driveway was the first time I asked, "what happened?" That's when I noticed the knuckles on both hands were scraped and slightly swollen. Now, I had to rethink my line of questioning. "JR what the hell is going on with you? You don't fight with other kids. This looks like you tangled with a bunch of guys. What's going on that I need to know?"

"It's nothing mom.... really not important."

Like I'm going to settle for that shit. "We're going to get you fixed up and then you are going to tell me everything.... I do mean everything." And then I hit him with the coup de gras. "Then you can tell your father."

That brought out the first sign of emotion. His head turned to me so fast a piece of toilet paper popped out of his nose. "No mom.... we can't let dad know anything."

"Well, you're going to have a lot of fun trying to hide two black eyes and bandaged hands from your father for the next few days."

"Mom, please...... don't make me. I can't tell you what happened." He began crying.

"Let's get you fixed up first... then we can talk." I turned my attention back to the street and soon I was watching tears run down his face from a Nurse Practitioner straightening his nose.

Once he was discharged, he looked like he had been in a fight... and lost. His eyes were already black and blue, and his knuckles were covered in a handful of Disney character Band-Aids. This was going to be rough trying to keep it from his father.

Once we were back in the car, I didn't start the engine. I waited till he was seated, buckled in and then I turned to my son and said, "What happened? ... and if you think you are going to get away with some lie or some cockamamy bull; forget it. We are not moving till you tell me the whole story."

"Mom I can't.... If I tell you, all of this would have been for nothing," holding his hands up for me to see.

The conversation in that car went back and forth till I was finally convinced my son was not going to let me in on the facts of the fight. I picked up my phone and said, "Hey Siri... call husband." That was all it took.

"No....no....no... Mom, please don't call dad."

"Why not? he's going to find out anyway."

The look on my son's face told the whole story. "Dad's the reason for the fight."

I could see the defeat on his face, and the tears welling up in his eyes. There was something very serious about what he was about to say. I sat back in my seat and waited.

"Mom, I got into a fight with Frankie Schmitt when he said dad was having an affair with his mom."

"I can't believe that. Your father wouldn't do such a thing to us."

"Mom, he had a video on his phone."

I don't care how hard you try, there is no way in the world to describe how I felt at that moment. Hit by a bus, run over by a truck, shot in the chest, a witch ripping your heart out while it was still beating; I couldn't breathe.

Frankie's mother was a single mom raising three children. I guess she decided my husband was the one to take care of her needs.

How would I ever understand... I just couldn't. I had been the perfect, loyal, dedicated and loving wife and mother. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to his children?

Here I am, sitting in my car with my battered and bruised son, finding out my husband is an asshole. What do I do to protect my children? They come before mom.

Speaking of mom, I had to vent my anger and my feelings to someone, and there was only my mother I could trust to understand. With her, a twenty-three-hour drive away, I guess it would have to be by phone.

At first, I found I didn't know how to begin. Being a loving mom all her life she picked up on a problem right away. It took a while, but I explained what I had learned from JR, the video, and how things had changed. I told her the nights and evenings were the worst, but when I got up in the morning, I could see how wonderful my kids were and how fortunate we all were. But then the sun would go down and life turned into a pile of crap.

She had gone through something similar in her life and she said she was never as happy as the day her divorce from my father was final. She made me feel better but didn't give me any advice as to what I should do about my situation. When I ended the call, I was in the same place as when I started.

After speaking with my mom, I swung by the house to pick up a few clothes for the weekend, and off we went to our summer house in the forest just ten miles up the side of a hill in the forest. I had called my husband, and with all the composure I could gather, I let him know the kids and I wouldn't be home this weekend. To which he responded by saying he was going to be tied up with work. I hung up on his ass because I knew who was going to be tying him up... Frankie's mom.

It took a couple days, but I came to the conclusion I had a pretty good life. The kids were doing very well in school. My husband wouldn't be getting any more pussy from me, so I did have plenty of time to finish whatever book I wanted to read. All I had to say was. "Sorry honey, I'm not in the mood tonight, or I just got my face treatment on, can we do this some other time." My favorite was. "I think I'm getting a UTI (urinary tract infection)."

Let's face it... the Asshole is getting his pecker taken care of by someone that wanted it more than I. Why should I be the only one not getting pumped up? It was going to take some time, but I would not get even.... I would get ahead.

In the meantime, my son got me a copy of his dad having sex with Frankie's' mom. I snuck into JR's room that night and deleted his copy from his phone; after all, I'm a mom. I also didn't want his dad to know I knew what he was doing. Sadly, it didn't take a detective to find out Frankie's mom wasn't the only one getting the Asshole's attention.

The first time I stepped into the cheating wife waters was kind of strange. A couple of the gals I hung out with wanted to go to Vegas for a weekend. I thought that was the perfect chance to see what I could expect on the open market.

Now there is something you need to know. If you want to give that pussy away, you better look good. I don't mean just good... you better look Penthouse good. There are just too many Miss Universes hanging around to take any dick that has a buck or two to spend. In Vegas, they have to get to those bucks before their target blows it all at the craps tables.

I had one thing in mind, and that was to get my cheating virginity out of the way ASAP.

The first few hours were dedicated to my friends, and before long they were off looking for their own fun.

I sat down at a Twenty-One table and lost my first two hundred dollars before I could get my kitty comfortable on the stool. That's when a very handsome slightly older gentleman stopped and took up residence on the stool next to me. The dealer laid out the next hand. Noticing my indecision, my neighbor whispered that I might want to double-down. I did (after he explained what double-down meant) and I won. After that we became fast friends. It seems the thrill of winning is an aphrodisiac. He would give me advice and I would let him peek down the front of my dress; the one with no bra obscuring his view. His hand would touch my arm, and I would once in a while return the gesture when he helped me with another winner. Once he put his hand on my shoulder. I just laughed with him as we both hit a blackjack.

Again, I was confused. I couldn't understand how they could call it a "Blackjack" and there wasn't a single black jack on the table. All the cards that were turned up were red. Don't play dumb woman, take the win and yell "Yahoo."

I didn't realize it at the time, but this flirting thing is pretty easy, and I was getting pretty good at it.

It wasn't long and I was up three hundred dollars, and he was up a little over two thousand. What's the rule? The winner buys the drinks. We already had our free drinks in hand so let's just skip the phony introductions and go straight to my room.

All the way up in the elevator I could feel his hand on my ass, massaging one cheek then the other. When the old couple that had been with us in that mirrored box stepped off six floors below ours, I was in his arms.

There was no shame, no doubt and most of all, no hesitation. My new friend had no name. Oh, he told me at the craps table, but I couldn't remember, and I didn't care. When I finally got the key card to open the door, he seemed to throw me into the room. The only light was the sparkling neon lights from the famous Las Vegas Strip. His hands gently pulled the red straps from my shoulders and my dress floated to the floor at my feet. That's when my body went to its' knees and did all it could to free the object that would control me for the rest of the night.

There was no need to rub my body over his. He was ready. He filled my hands with his wholeness... He filled my mouth.... He pressed his manhood between my breasts.... His tongue made love to my body in ways I could barely remember. He made me cum. I came over, and over, and over again. I didn't have to fake a single orgasm. And when I felt the fire from his body fill my mouth, I was in heaven. This was a night I will never forget. It would also be a night I would never regret.

It wasn't till the next morning that the events of the night before came into glorious focus. Did I feel guilty? Hell, no, I felt real orgasms for the first time in ages. Did I feel ashamed? Hell, no, I felt revitalized, relieved, released from my pain and most of all I felt reborn.

Later that morning I was supposed to meet up with my gal-pals at the pool. I looked at the clock on my phone and decided I had time for one more adventure before I went to the pool. I pushed the sheet covering Mr. Who's cock out of the way and spent the next five minutes sucking and licking that beautiful cock back to life. Then I set about the task of making it soft and cuddly again. A delicious way to start the day.

Before he left my room, I asked him his name, but I forgot it before I got out of the shower. What a first time being a cheating wife. If Asshole only knew he was my Cuckold now.

Before me and my gal-pals got back home, I had been hit-on three more times, but I decided early in my campaign I would not give myself away to just anyone. I wanted to feel a chemistry between myself and my new prospective lovers. Go figure... a swinging hot wife with a conscience. It was assuring to say or to think I had scruples, but I really didn't. There was just too much anger in my heart or was it the guilt that I may be the real reason for what had happened in my life.

My no-name friend in Vegas not only turned on the light, but he also illuminated the reality of who I was bright and clear. The one thing for certain, there was no going back.

I didn't wait long to find my next conquest. Before the middle of the next week, I had just dropped the kids off at school. When I pulled out of the line of parents depositing their kids, I decided to do some shopping and maybe some hunting.

This was all new to me. I didn't want to get involved with anyone that might know my husband, but still, I didn't want to miss a golden opportunity. So, the decision was made to skip a meeting of the block-party committee and do some scoping out of the local talent.

The day seemed like it was a bust, till I parked in a local drive-inn restaurant to get a burger and fries. As I was getting out of my car a strange colored late model car parked next to me. In the sunlight, the car looked blue, but the shaded half under a tree was more green than blue. All I said was, "That a cool color."

What did I know? I was just learning how to put myself out there. But it worked. I got a free burger and drink. When he stood up to throw our trash in the bin, I got a great look at one of the tightest butts I had ever seen. My next comment was, "Do you play football?" I have no idea why I asked that particular question. I guess it was just the first thing a woman wants to know when you see a nice tight ass.

He probably didn't hear me over the noise of the dining room, but when we got outside to the cars, he asked me if I wanted to take a ride in his weird colored car.

Slowly, with a contemplative look on my face, I paused and then finally spoke. "No, but I could follow you to your place."

This was just my second foray into the world of being a horny, vindictive bitch. It was more than a little exciting, but I thought I was going to have to drag my new lover through the whole process. When he opened the door, I looked over his shoulder to make certain I could make a quick exit if needed. That was not a problem. Once I stepped up to this young stud and put my hand on his shoulder. There was not only surprise in his eyes, but that turned quickly to lust.

"Have you ever fucked a married woman before?" I whispered, just as I reached my face to his.

This guy was a great kisser, and when my free hand grabbed his crotch, I was pleased to find he was already ready. I pushed him back onto the sofa and straddled his hard body and began rocking back and forth.

"You're gonna make me cum." He warned.

"Then, maybe I should slow down......do you think?"

"God, no......please don't stop...." He pleaded.

Sliding from his body to stand on my knees in front of him, I was eye level with a very large bulge in his denim pants. I couldn't get those pants off his ass quick enough. His cock came into view and my body sighed. His cock was at least two inches longer than my husband and more than an inch thicker. It was just too tempting. Before I could get my lips around the beautiful bulbus head, his balls let loose a machine gun barrage of cum all over my face. I was able to turn away to keep it out of my eyes, but when he ceased unloading, I was eager to clean the remnants from my face and hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.... I tried to stop."

But what I was concentrating on was not letting him deflate. "It's okay... It's okay."

He removed his shirt and gave it to me to clean the mess. The next thing I saw was his naked body running to the bathroom to get a couple towels.