It was An Accident

I swear it was an accident. There was nothing I could have done. I simply slipped. I was on my knees putting George's coca cola on the table next to him and I lost my balance. One hand arm of the sofa, the other came to rest on the handsome eighteen year old's jeans, on his cock. I was so aware of it, it looked so big in his jeans. I don't know which of us was more surprised but I certainly was. The heat of it, the hardness and the size. I was shocked. But I had to admit I could have removed my hand sooner than I did. When I recovered from the shock I took it away, of course, but the memory of it stayed, lodged far too deeply, seared in my memory. I apologised and stood up blushing but we both knew it had been done. I felt him watching me for the rest of the time he was there. As he left the house, leaving his aunt and uncle, our neighbours, outside at the barbecue, his eyes told me he would remember.

That night, as Charles slept an alcohol induced sleep, I throbbed between my legs, felt the hot slipperiness. I didn't sleep well and when I dozed off my dreams were filled with lusting. I knew it was silly, wrong.

I have to say Charles didn't have as big a sex drive as me. I had been a slow starter but when I began it was with a passion. Charles had satisfied me when we married and later too, and he did satisfy me reasonably at the times when we did it now. He lived for his work and that was satisfaction for him. His needs were easily met and any problem dealt with simply by making him cum quickly and acting. It sometimes felt wrong to let my husband think he's satisfying me when he's not, but it was easier and caused no added friction. It was just that I was aware of my need far too often. Without a partner who needed it as much as me I simply resorted to satisfying myself each day to ensure my hunger was filled. At least that way there were no complications in, what was after all, a very pleasant, safe life. I certainly didn't want the complication of an affair and all its problems when I could deal with it myself.

On Monday morning I rose with Charles and we chatted until he went to work. I didn't work, I didn't need to, Charles earned quite enough to ensure I needn't. As I sat sipping my coffee I listened to the sound of the car disappear down the drive, my free hand slid inside my thick towelling dressing gown and squeezed my nipple. I squeezed hard and arched my back, wondering how long it would be before I gave in to myself. There were times I played with my tits gently, just now I needed it hard. I squeezed my entire breast and needed to put my cup down so I could enjoy it more. I unfastened the belt and let the towelling fall free from my shoulders, baring myself as if to a lover. My fingers traced the softness of my inner thighs as I teased myself and opened my knees wider and wider.

I thought of the hard erect cock in the jeans. I ached for one just now. My pussy felt pleasantly swollen between my legs even before I touched it. I wanted to feel that fullness, of being stuffed, of having someone's body pushing inside my own. It was silly, he was only just an eighteen year old student and I was ten years older and married. I stopped myself with an effort and drank my cooling coffee, teasing myself with restraint. I got up and put everything into the dishwasher and as I was half way upstairs to shower the front door bell went. Presuming it was the postman, I wrapped my gown around me and answered it.

It was George! I immediately became tongue tied. I wasn't often taken by surprise but I certainly was then, seeing him standing there. I couldn't think why he was there. I couldn't think. He towered above me in the porch, shutting out the drive from view.

"Hello" he said and made to come in. I stepped aside, my brain not functioning. He closed the door and suddenly I was against the wall and his hand was inside my gown on my pussy, holding it in his hand, pressing! My eyes opened wide, my throat constricted, my hands held his forearm in a natural response but that was all. I never thought to fight, to really stop him, to scream. His body was against me in my space. I could smell the scent of him. Suddenly, spontaneously my hips bucked up against his hand. I looked up at him in shock.

"You touched me there yesterday." I stared at him open mouthed, nodded. I had. My breathing was in tatters. I tried to control it. Control something. I grunted. Closed my eyes.

"You see what happens when you touch somebody there?" I nodded again.

My hips wouldn't keep still, jerked back and forth, wouldn't do as they should. I had to stop him. I had never been unfaithful. I had always been able to stop situations developing. His other hand slid against my face, his thumb came to my mouth, parted my lips. I turned my head just a little and it slid inside. I sucked it. Why was I sucking it? His hand pressed against my naked pussy, I could feel his fingers between my lips. A thumb in my mouth and fingers at my sex! I felt caught. I thrashed about for a moment as he grinned and watched me. He would feel my wetness, my heat. My breath came in little gasps.

"Open your dressing gown. Quickly. Show me your tits." Still impaled, my hands moved immediately, pulling the sides apart, showing him my tits, pushing my jutting nipples to him. My front was bare. I shouldn't be like this. He could see me. He shouldn't be seeing me like this! Shouldn't touch me like this! "Take it off." Again my hands moved without conscious thought. It fell down the wall behind me. I was naked, his fingers in me, fucking me. My knees bent and spread. I was so wet. I was cumming, oh my god I was cumming! It was forced from me. I never expected it, never had orgasmed so quickly in my life! My body bucking wildly against his hand, shoulders against the wall. My mouth making noises around his thumb. I was so ashamed. My hips were ready for more. I was so wet. His fingers and thumb came from me, wetly held my arm.

"Bedroom." He ordered gently.

"Yes." I finally managed to gasp, moving forward, legs not fully under control and thighs wet. On the stairs his hand between my naked legs again. I crumpled on the carpet, fingers fucking me, grunting, until they left me again. We were moving again. The bed still dishevelled. My marital bed. I was in front of him, undressing him. Rubbing my face against his chest. Rubbing against him, grinding my sex against him. Pressing my face against his cock, feeling it's hardness, it heat, his maleness, as his jeans came down. I pulled them off, his shoes gone.

He just put me on the bed, on my knees. He was behind me. My tits squashed into the bed, butt thrust up. Oh God he filled me. He felt so big, filling me so fully. He just took me. Oh God it was good. He kept pounding me like a bitch. Oh God it was good. He came and I did again. I thought he had finished with me but he had my face to his cock. I had to suck it. Covered in his cum and my cum. Felt disgustingly slutty. He hardened fully again in my mouth. So quickly hard again. Felt some kind of pride. He fucked me again. I was like a rag doll as my body just thrashed about under him. I came again and again. I was lost. I had never orgasmed so much.

When he left I was still on the bed in a daze, exhausted. What had happened. Was it rape? Hardly. But I couldn't explain what or why. No, I knew how. My body throbbed and ached and was sore but I had a big grin on my face. I'd never cum more than once before. I'd never been unfaithful before. I'd let him fuck me on our bed. Oh God. In our bedroom. I was leaking his juices all over the bed. I felt shame, and more.

I lay there for a while before cleaning myself in the shower and stripping the bed.

The next morning, I didn't know whether he was coming again sometime. I decided to go out, get away. Charles hadn't noticed a thing. Either with me or the bedroom. I felt so guilty. Thankfully that night he hadn't wanted sex. I put cream on my sore pussy in the middle of the night. I showered, even before Charles, and dressed quickly making sure I was out of my dressing gown. That seemed to surprise Charles more than anything. He even asked if I was going somewhere.

After Charles had left I didn't know what to do with myself. I was jittery. Each time I decided to go out I put it off for a while. I changed three times. I was about to go out when the doorbell rang. I was wearing jeans and a big sweater.

I had to make him come inside quickly, I didn't want everyone to see him at the door. I was out of breath again. He laughed at my clothes. Knew why I was wearing them without me saying anything, embarrassing me. I wanted him to go. I wanted to be left alone. I did. I did really.

His eyes held mine and quietly told me to take them off, there in the hallway. It was like a game of strength that I lost. I didn't have a chance. Leaning against the wall, he waited patiently until I was completely naked again for him. My knickers had a wet mark. My face was blazing. He was making me do this, forcing me. He shook his head, not allowing me to cover myself with my hands. His eyes like an elevator as he looked up and down my body. He was really just a boy, a big boy, with a big cock. But he was big, strong and athletic, and he was certainly very male. I shouldn't be naked like this. He had made me.

"Nice. You have a nice sexy body." I wanted to thank him. I felt ridiculously grateful.

Gently he led me into the kitchen by my arm, feeling small beside him. I went with him quietly, docile, so aware of my naked body, my tits moving. He led me to the table, moved a chair, gently bent me face down on the table, my bottom pushed high. Spread my buttocks a little, posing me for his eyes. His hands moved. I heard his zip.

"Are you wet enough?" It wasn't a question of whether I wanted to be taken.

"I don't know." I croaked. I was. He slid in beautifully. His girth stretching me, filling me again. Over and over. Not harshly but not gentle. I was grunting onto the table top. Could feel the sweat on my body. His hands grasped my tits as we both neared a climax.

"You enjoyed it yesterday."

I wanted to say No. No. But I said "Yes." Then "Yes! Yes!" Crying it out. "Oh God fuck me! Fuck me hard! Please!" Begging. I was dirty and pleading and desperate as he forced me over the edge. My body spasmed around his cock, my only point of reference. He waited till I had calmed, then pulled out.

"Stay."

My head on the table, resting. I heard drawers being opened and closed. Wondered what he was doing but couldn't see. Suddenly my buttocks stung. And again. He hit each one three times. No one had done that before! He laid a plastic spatula next to my face. His cock entered me again.

"Good sluts are always available or naked. Understand?"

"Uhh. Yes. Yes."

He began really fucking me then and the pain disappeared into the heat in my buttocks and it made me even hornier. He was doing it exactly what I needed. I just hadn't known. I wanted to be good for him. The sounds from my pussy would have been really embarrassing but I was well past caring. I came again! I was turned over. My legs wrapped desperately around his still dressed torso. I felt such a slut. I was amazed at his ability make me orgasm. I just didn't want it to stop. I dripped semen from my pussy onto the floor as I knelt and sucked our juices from his wonderful cock again.

He went quickly after I had cleaned him. I noticed this time I was less guilty, still very ashamed by my totally slutty reaction, but not as guilty. Maybe it was because of the soreness of my buttocks which I knew I had to hide from Charles, but it would be gone by then.

Again he was totally non the wiser even though he did comment that I seemed to look a bit pleased with myself that evening. I was half relieved, half annoyed that he couldn't tell, not even considering I could have been fucked out of my skull by someone. I felt guilty too at his pleasantness and complements about the meal. As I lay against him watching TV I only thought about what had happened. The spanking by the spatula had really surprised me. That I accepted it surprised me even more. I'd never been spanked. Nobody had ever tried to take control of me. He was a boy and he was in control. I don't know how it happened. I knew I needed to think through my clothing a little more for when he came round.

On the third day I waited for him wearing only a sexy lingerie. I had debated whether I should, argued endlessly with myself. I watched the front door waiting. Dressed like a slut, waiting to be used, wanting it. Suddenly he was there, but behind me.

"How...? How did you get in?"

"You have keys with my Aunt and Uncle. For emergencies."

"Yes. Yes." I nodded. "You took them?"

"Yes. I copied them. I have my own now." I looked at him wide eyed as the idea that he could come into the house anytime sunk in. I couldn't even get the locks changed. How would I explain that to Charles?

He came up to me. His big body so near. His hand felt my breasts. His desire overwhelming me.

"I am sorry they're not bigger." Why was I being defensive?

"Big enough. Have I complained?"

"No... but... I don't know... what you like..."

"Do you want me to fuck you again?"

"Yes. Oh god yes." What would he have done if I had the strength to say no? But I hadn't. My body knew what it wanted.

George called round every day that week, fucked me each time until he was satisfied and I could take no more. Each time there was something that made me wrong footed somehow, rushed, very needy. He didn't stay long but that wasn't necessary. He came, he took me and he left. It wasn't a romantic relationship. He wanted to fuck me. I was his fuck toy. I certainly never stopped him. I needed him to fuck me. I might have thought of him as my fuck toy but I had no control over anything. He didn't appear to want much else from me other than that. He didn't want an emotional affair, thankfully, which might well have been a big complication for me, being married, but he expected to be able to have me when he wanted during the day. He wanted it easy and I was. The fact I was married didn't seem a problem to him.

I was shocked by my behaviour and acceptance but I quickly realised it was what I wanted. i had a nice safe relationship with Charles, he provided well, was pleasant and caring, I just needed the sex. Which George was giving me in spades with a little dangerous excitement. He didn't hide the fact he wanted me either, which was nice, albeit in a purely sexual way. I wasn't a teenager any more, I was realistic, knew myself, knew infidelity happened. But I had never had someone who took the control from me, it certainly wasn't the type of thing I would do. It just seemed so strange that I accepted being like a passenger, doing what I was told to do, going along with everything. Enjoying the journey.

By the end of the week he had given me a phone number to text him of any appointments I had and he would sometimes call me to say he was on his way or give me a time to be ready. He liked me being ready for him, for his use.

At the weekend my body let me know it was missing something. I had sex with Charles but never reached a point where I thought I might orgasm. I felt guilty and made sure Charles enjoyed it. I used my fingers again for the first time for a week. I wondered what he did, who he saw. I thought about what we would talk about if it ever came to conversation, though it hadn't yet. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to continue but then laughed at myself for being so untruthful. I realised it didn't matter, George would decide what he wanted.

One day he phoned to tell me to drive to his flat. He gave me directions and I drove. I never thought of not going, my body would have rebelled. I laughed at the honest thought. I found where he lived and rang the bell. Another boy answered the door! I didn't know what to say, felt silly, stuttered. The smell of bacon hung in the air.

Finally managing to get "George?" out of my mouth.

"Oh, you must be Pia, Mrs Martin?" He was smiling. He had a soft northern accent.

"Yes." My face fully red by this time.

"I'm Tom. You'd better come in then. He's in his room." I went through the door and looked blankly around. "There, that door." He pointed to a door next to the large kitchen and went back to his breakfast but still watching me. As I was half way across the kitchen he spoke again. "Oh, he said you were to leave all your clothes by the front door."

"What!?" I turned and looked at him wide eyed. Forgetting to breathe.

"He said..."

"Yes. Yes... I heard, but..." My eyes so wide in shock. "I cant just..."

I looked at him. I didn't know what to do. My mind had closed down. I saw him shrug his shoulders but still watching me as he sat eating his sandwich.

"Are you going to go?"

"No, I have things to do here." He seemed unaware of what I meant.

"But if I have to leave my clothes..."

He shrugged again, smiling.

After a few minutes I realised I could not stand there just looking back at Tom. I turned around, looked blankly at the wall. I had to do something. If I went in without stripping I would guess George wouldn't be happy. He would no doubt spank me again. Maybe I should just go. Though I couldn't hide. He had keys now. He could say things. I doubted if he would but he could. But he would be angry, perhaps stop seeing me. I hadn't realised how much I longed for him.

"Couldn't you... couldn't you just go to your room for a minute?"

He shook his head as he chewed. "No. George told me to check you did as you were told." He raised his eyebrows and he smiled lopsidedly. "Sorry."

I walked back to the front door very aware of Tom's eyes on me. Should I just shout at him to do what I wanted? Tom was similar in build to George and as good looking but his face looked more intellectual to George's rugby player. I guessed George wanted to show me off, show my body off. Maybe students were used to this. Tentatively I played with the bottom of my Tee shirt, then suddenly, feeling angry, lifted it over my head. But the anger didn't last. I stood there in my black bra and denim skirt and holding my tee facing the door. My breathing was fast and shallow. I closed my eyes in shame.

"You can use the hooks if you want."

"Thank you," I replied still holding it. My face had blushed fully as the anger left me and the shame took over, then something else as well. "Thank you."

Turning I hung up the tee beside the door and unfastened my bra. I was shaking. I was getting in deeper. Stripping in front of another boy. I took my bra away and let Tom's eyes feast on my tits. I tried desperately not to cover them out of pride. I didn't want Tom to think I was as ashamed as I was. And though not large I knew they were nice and firm. I should really have done the skirt before, as I stepped from it my tits swung obviously and I saw the nipples were hard. My black knickers didn't cover much. I could feel Tom's eyes sliding over me. And I was getting aroused! Taking them down and off my feet seemed to last a life time. I didn't know what to do with them once I had them in my hands. The shaking was really noticeable now. Tom stood up and came over to me as I stood naked. I wondered what he was going to do. My eyes were wide looking up at him.

"I'll take those." I moved my hand towards him and he removed the knickers. He smelt them! I could feel tears of shame fill my eyes but I managed to hold it, didn't sob. "George is right. You have a good body for your age." I wasn't old, just older than these boys. My throat had a huge ball in it and I couldn't reply, just nod. My stomach was clenching.

I knew I had been treated like eye candy, shown off to a friend, and because of that I could feel wetness between my legs and wondered how I could be excited by this treatment. It seemed so wrong, but my body was not responding like my mind. My mind knew the humiliation, but my body only the excitement. I was a married woman exposed to these boys, well young men. What would people think of me? What had I become? All too quickly too.