Our Story

"Oh, yes, I know," she said, emphatically, and I remembered that she, too, had cheated on her ex.

"At any rate," she continued, "the two of you had the whole day together. You'd both called in sick to work. What else did you do?"

"We usually rested. Talked. Held each other. Caught up on each other's lives. We talked about our kids...you know. Eventually, we'd have sex again. Not as much build-up as the first time. I'd hold her, work my fingers into her, getting her wet, until she was squirming and then I'd just roll over and climb on.

"It would pretty much be a repeat of the first time, and of course I could last a little longer because I'd already come once. You know, we were only getting together every six weeks or so - so I think we each felt as if we just couldn't get enough of each other. Eventually she'd cum a couple of times, and by then I was ready, myself. I'd kick it up into overdrive and we'd just kiss and fuck until I came."

"So, how long would all this take?" Charlotte asked.

"Umm, well, it would be mid-morning by then," I replied.

"Really? What the hell would you do with the rest of your day?"

"We'd spend some more time talking, just holding each other and resting, and then we'd grab some lunch." I shrugged. "Sometimes we'd dress and go out, sometimes we'd order a pizza to be delivered to the room, and once or twice she packed lunches for us.

"In fact," I said, thinking back and smiling, "we once ordered pizza delivery and Patrice answered the door wearing nothing but my leather jacket - unzipped. That turned us on so much."

"You're lucky the two of you didn't get caught," Charlotte said, frowning.

"Maybe," I answered, shrugging. "We were generally really careful, but it seemed so hot that it was worth the risk at the time."

"The hotel staff never caught on to you two and what you were doing?"

"Oh, I'm sure they did. Occasionally, when Patrice calmed down after her orgasm, we'd hear a couple of maids go scurrying away from our door. But I'm sure we weren't the only ones who did that. Hotel staff must get used to it."

"Okay," she nodded, thoughtfully chewing, "what about after lunch? Were you two lovebirds back at it?"

"Yes," I nodded, "only this time it would be a bit more extreme. I mean, I'd already cum twice, and I wasn't a teenager."

"What do you mean, 'more extreme'?"

"Well, mostly anal, honestly, and dirty talk."

"Oh," Charlotte said, slowly. "She was into that, was she?"

"Yeah, you know, I think things had been pretty 'same-old, same-old' with her husband for their entire marriage. And obviously, if he thought oral sex was dirty, then anal was just off the rails for him.

"So, after lunch we'd each brush our teeth - don't laugh! - and then we'd just fall into bed making out again. I'd make sure she came, using my fingers on her, sucking on her nipples, kissing her. By the time she did, I'd usually be hard again, and she'd pull her legs up and put her hands behind her head and I'd climb on board. This time, after I'd gotten all good and wet from her pussy, I'd pull out and center myself on her anus. Then I'd just start to slowly push in."

"If she'd never done that before, didn't it hurt her?" Charlotte asked.

"It didn't seem to. Remember, she had really high pain tolerance, and I really would be gentle until she got used to it, but eventually I'd work up to a pretty hard and fast pace. She'd tell me how much better I was than her husband, how she was my whore, my cocksucking slut, that sort of thing.

"Well," I said, almost embarrassed, "that sort of talk really turns me on. After a couple of minutes I'd be cumming again, and it would be just as good as the first time. I'd collapse on top of her, then roll off and go to the bathroom and clean myself up. Then we'd just hold each other, cuddle, and talk. At that point we each knew that our day together was almost over."

"Still, three times in one day. Bravo, you," Charlotte said, between bites of her steak and baked potato.

"Well," I replied. "We weren't actually done yet."

"What?" she said, setting her fork down. "You...? I mean...more?" The expression on her face was halfway between shock and outright disbelief.

"Yeah," I said. "When we knew we only had about 30 minutes before we had to leave, we'd give each other one last orgasm. I mean, I wasn't up for actual intercourse at this point, but I'd hold her close and use my fingers, tell her how much I loved her, bending over to lightly bite her nipples. She'd usually cum in a few minutes, still shaking through a 'total-body' orgasm. She swore that the orgasms I gave her were the most intense of her life."

"Sure, sure," Charlotte interrupted. She was nodding quickly, as if she didn't want to hear any of that anymore. "But how did she get you off?"

"Well, she knew she couldn't get me off with a blow job, so she'd start stroking me, kissing my neck, my ears, telling me how I was the best lover she'd ever had. Then, when I got hard, she'd...well, she'd rim me."

I stopped at that, almost laughing when I saw the look on Charlotte's face.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It might have had something to do with how prissy her husband was about the whole thing, but she really got into it. She'd be jacking me off, enthusiastically licking me, occasionally pulling off to kiss my balls, and then she'd go back down."

"Your, uhhh, your wife never did that for you," Charlotte said. It was more a statement than a question.

"No, and I think Patrice was proud of that, too. Anyway, after a bit I'd take over jacking myself off, and she'd just concentrate on rimming and licking me. Pretty soon I'd sort of squeeze out a last orgasm of the day."

"Wow, that's...impressive," Charlotte said quietly, looking down at her meal.

When I didn't reply we ate in silence for a while, and in fact we were almost done with our dinners when I reminded her that she still had a story to tell. I really didn't want to push, but we had agreed, and fair is fair.

She nodded, taking the last of her baked potato and chewing, and then washing it down with the last of her wine.

"I know," she said. "I'm working up to it." Then she looked up at me and gave me a crooked, half-smile. "This really is tough, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed, downing the last asparagus spear on my plate. "But it was your idea, and you know, it really is cathartic. You should try it," I added, with a grin of my own.

Our waitress fortuitously arrived at that point to clear our plates. When she asked if we wanted dessert, Charlotte ordered a glass of Port for each of us and a large slice of chocolate cheesecake to share.

After the waitress left, I looked over at Charlotte and said, "A fourth drink? I'm really feeling it already. We're going to be smashed."

"I need to be in order to get my story out. It's the most humiliating thing I've ever done," she replied, shortly. Then she quickly looked up and gave me another half-grin.

"You also know that I don't really like cheesecake all that much," I said, matter-of-factly.

"More for me," she countered, her chin in the air and a lilt in her voice. As soon as the drinks and dessert had been served, she began her story.

"Well, you put out an ad and met a stranger to cheat on your ex with, but I didn't. I had known the guy I cheated with for a long time. In fact, he'd been my very first boyfriend, way back when I was sixteen. He took my virginity the night of junior prom.

"Anyway, we broke up and went our separate ways when we both went to college. We lost touch for years. Then, you know, one of the things you do when you get a new social media account is to see who else is on the platform. I was looking up old college and high school friends, sending off an occasional 'what's up with you these days?' message, when I searched for Rob's name on a whim.

"Long story short, he responded, and before I knew it we were sending each other messages every week, and then every three or four days, and then daily. He was quite successful, a lawyer with his own firm in the state capital, married for the second time, with three kids. His wife was an ER nurse."

Once she got going, I found that I really didn't need to prompt her or ask for more details. She seemed in a rush to get it all out.

"So, this correspondence went on for, I don't know, months. Over a year, I know that. And gradually he became the guy I confided in. I wasn't seeing a therapist then, and I didn't want to let my sisters or my close friends in on what was happening in my marriage.

"I mean, my husband and I had become more like roommates than anything else! We took care of the kids, never had sex anymore, argued about minor, piddly stuff in hindsight, and basically led our separate lives.

"I guess...I dunno, Rob seemed like a safe person to confide in? He was three hours away, so I didn't have to worry about running into him. He was a guy, so maybe he could give me some insight into what hubby was thinking. And we'd known each other for a long time, so there was some built-in intimacy there. We didn't have to work to get to know one another.

"So, gradually, I started telling him all about how frustrated I was with my marriage. And I know," she said, putting up her hands in front of her, "I know. I should have been talking to my husband about those things, but, somehow, this seemed easier.

"As it turned out, there was trouble in Rob's little paradise, too. His wife was smart, good looking, really committed to helping people. But, for one reason or another, she was a cold fish in the bedroom. They had sex any time he wanted, but in the dark, and always missionary. No oral, no anal, no dirty talk, nothing at all out of the ordinary. She seldom orgasmed, and she told him not to worry, it wasn't that important. After several years of this, Rob was bored out of his mind.

"So, after weeks and even months of confiding in each other, we gradually got around to comparing how sex with our spouses was to the sex we used to have. And, of course, back then we were young, and we had all the energy in the world, and just like you said, when you're first discovering something it's just hot as hell."

I nodded. "So, you spent some time chatting about how much better sex had been with each other than how it was with your spouses," I said, filling in what she seemed reluctant to say.

She glanced at me with the saddest look on her fact, and after a few seconds simply nodded.

"When was the first time you actually met in person?" I prompted.

"That year the state teacher's convention was in the capital," she said, quietly.

"Oh," I said, nodding again. That made sense.

"When Rob found out I was going to be in town, he suggested we meet for a drink. I agreed, and over text we both agreed that it had to be platonic.

"You know, that convention was three days long. I had tickets for the awards dinner on Friday night, so that was out, and I was driving home Saturday afternoon after the capstone luncheon. But that left Thursday.

"After checking into the hotel that morning, I went to all sorts of workshops throughout the afternoon. It was fun, hearing great speakers, learning new techniques, and seeing friends and colleagues. But...I felt like my heart was beating faster all day long, just knowing that I was going to see Rob that night.

"Anyway, dinner was on our own that night, and most people just went to one of the hotel restaurants or walked to a place within a couple of blocks. The hotel was right in the middle of downtown, so there were plenty of places to eat. I felt like I was some sort of secret agent, going out, pretending I was going down the block to get some pizza, but then ducking down a side street and meeting Rob in a parking lot around the corner.

"He had this beautiful silver Lexus, with all the luxury options, and when I slipped into the passenger seat I felt like I was in a different world. It was kind of like what you said before, sitting in his car while he drove us to the restaurant, I didn't need to worry about the kids, or my husband, or fights about money, or anything else. It was like being in a fantasy.

"Anyway, he took me to a restaurant on the water, about an hour out of town. I didn't even know where we were going - I was totally in his hands, and it felt great. We chatted and caught up and laughed. I asked him what his wife thought he was doing, and he said he often had to stay out late working on a case, or meeting with clients and colleagues. She'd never even question him about it.

"The dinner was amazing, and there were drinks, and we sat overlooking the lake, watching boats go by. It was May, and it was warm outside all evening. It almost felt like summer break was already starting. I relaxed for what felt like the first time in months. It was so enjoyable!

"So, we had this great dinner, and this great time, and then he drove me back to the hotel, and all the way back I was honestly wondering if he expected me to invite him up to my room or something. I mean, he knew I had a roommate - she was a math teacher from Easton, very nice, but not the sort of person I could ask to leave the room for a while. Besides, there were people I knew at the convention, people who would know Rob wasn't my husband. I definitely couldn't risk it."

"Wait," I interrupted. "You sound like you were already thinking of having sex with him. I thought it was still platonic at this stage."

"Oh, it was, it was," she assured me. "But I think I already knew where it was eventually going to go. I mean, because it wasn't possible in the moment, I allowed myself to fantasize about it. At that point, though, I was still thinking of Rob as 'just a friend' and our relationship as platonic.

"Anyway, he parked on a side street about a block from the hotel. We talked and talked for another half hour, but it was getting late and he had to get home. He told me he'd watch me from the corner until I got to the hotel lobby safely, even though there's almost no crime near the convention center. And he did. I actually turned as I was entering the hotel and waved at him. I could still see him standing under a streetlight down the block, and I thought it was really sweet...and that he looked so lonely. Still, I told myself that wasn't my problem, and I went up to my room."

"So, that was it?" I asked. "Nothing happened?"

"Not with him, at least that night, but I wouldn't say nothing happened," she said in an undertone, head down but glancing up at me.

"When I got to the room, my roommate was in the shower. I got into my pajamas as quickly as I could and then got into bed and masturbated." She said it breathlessly, like a schoolgirl confessing to her friends at lunch. When I looked at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes and continued.

"It had to be quick, but I was so relaxed and excited that I didn't have any problem. I just got under the covers and rubbed myself, one ear cocked toward the bathroom to make sure my roomie didn't walk in on me." She closed her eyes, and for a moment I thought she was going to start touching herself under the table.

"I just pictured Rob on top of me, inside me, kissing me, and I rubbed my clit until I had this monster orgasm." Then she gave me a mischievous look and said, "Maybe even a 'whole-body' orgasm." We both laughed, and then she told me that she brushed her teeth as soon as the bathroom was open and went to bed, where she had one of the best night's sleep in her life.

At that point the drinks and dessert were served. I ordered waters for both of us, because after three strong drinks already hydration was becoming a problem for me, and I was sure it was for her, too. We took a quick break while I went to the washroom, and I made sure to splash some cold water on my face before drying off and returning to the table.

By the time I got back to the table, two large glasses of ice water had been served. I gratefully gulped half of mine down while Charlotte excused herself to go to the washroom. I watched her as she made her way across the room, and noted that she was weaving just a bit. Thank God we'd both had the foresight to use Ubers tonight. By the time we finished the Ports we'd be trashed.

When she got back to the table, Charlotte took a sip of her Port and a bite of cheesecake. To make her happy, I took a bit of the dessert, too. I've always thought that cheesecake has a sour aftertaste, and the dense texture puts me off, too. This one had really rich cocoa notes, though, so it was bearable.

"Where was I?" she asked, brightly.

"Let's see," I said, wrinkling my forehead in mock concentration, "You'd just rubbed yourself to an amazing orgasm while thinking of somebody who was not your husband fucking you, but you were still fooling yourself into believing you weren't cheating...or weren't going to cheat...or something."

She looked at me for a moment, and just said, "Yeah." Then she took another sip of her drink and continued.

"Anyway, all the next day at the conference I felt like I was walking on air. You mentioned that you felt like you had this amazing secret that nobody else knew about. That's where I was. I just floated through all these great workshops, had lunch with some old friends, laughed and was happy.

"I texted back and forth with Rob all day. He wanted me to skip the awards dinner that night and come out with him again. I told him he needed to spend Friday night with his wife and kids. He said that his wife was working the night shift at the ER - did I tell you that she was an ER nurse? - anyway, I told him that was all the more reason for him to spend time with his kids.

"In the end, he stayed home with his kids, I went to the awards dinner and had a great time, then I hung out at the hotel bar with friends. I called home and talked to my husband and daughters. I thought that was the end of things with Rob, and I was kind of grateful."

She stopped and looked at me. "You know, I never really wanted to cheat on my husband. Never in million years thought I'd be a cheating wife." Then she took another bite of cheesecake and chewed for such a long time that I had to ask her what happened to change things.

"The next day was just a half day - workshops in the morning, and then the capstone luncheon. Rob called me and told me he had the afternoon free, he was supposed to be out of town at a meeting with colleagues, and he wanted to see me before I left down. It would be our last chance to see each other, we lived three hours away, yada-yada.

"Long story short, I agreed to meet him after the luncheon, and then I texted home to say I was hanging out for a bit with friends so I'd be home later than planned.

"He picked me up around the corner in the same parking lot as the previous time. A cold front had gone through overnight, and it was a chilly, rainy afternoon. I chucked my umbrella in his back seat and got in, and we just took off. We drove and drove, along the river, up through the mountains, and the rain made it seem like we were all alone - just the two of us in the whole world.

"We talked about what life might have been like if we had stayed together, and of course we decided it would have been absolutely amazing. He pulled up at some small-town bar somewhere - I didn't even know where we were. But this place was all dark wood and hidden booths and it had a fire in this massive fieldstone fireplace to take off the chill.

"I felt like he was really paying attention to me, like I was the most important thing in the world - like my husband used to when we first started going out, but never did anymore. I was only wearing jeans, a jersey top, sneakers, and a windbreaker. My hair was all flat from the rain and damp, but the way he looked at me made me feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

"He reached across the table and took my hand, and we sat there, having a drink, holding hands in this little out-of-the-way corner, telling each other how great we had been in bed back when we were teenagers. He even got up and danced with me when a song we used to know came over the jukebox.