Playing with Fire

She was really going hard as she worked the full length in and out, her other hand stuffed inside her mouth to stifle her groans of pleasure. She came to a juddering climax, subsiding into the chair as she brought her heavy breathing back under control.

I thought she was finished. How wrong was I. She started again, her pace rising as she began to thrust back against the dildo she was ramming in and out of her pussy. In and out. Faster and faster. She came again. And then again.

I was transfixed. I was unable to pull myself away from the doorway. I didn't recognise her anymore. Vicky was an automaton. She'd turned into a robotic sex machine. I struggled back upstairs, feigning sleep when she finally came back to bed.

Having seen that, I began to take a keener interest in what she was doing. The masturbation routine was almost nightly but was more pronounced on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday, especially if we'd had sex those nights, which was almost a guarantee.

And then there was the Wednesday night I beat Vicky home. She arrived about twenty minutes later, looking flushed and embarrassed as soon as she saw me standing there. Brushing past me and mumbling the briefest of hellos, she rushed upstairs and straight into the bathroom. She seemed to take much longer in the shower than normal.

But did that matter? I wasn't sure if it meant anything bad, although it always did eventually to the clueless husband in the erotic story. I dismissed the notion immediately and forgot about it.

It was the next day that Vicky told me that she had arranged to go clubbing on Friday night with some of the women from work. I didn't mind her going out but I made her agree to a trade off where I would be allowed to go night fishing from Saturday through Sunday. That would effectively mean ruining the weekend, which was something she didn't like. But she eventually agreed.

After Vicky had gone out; looking devastatingly all done up and gorgeous; I settled down to catch up with some motor sport I'd recorded. That over I began searching for a decent film to watch. As usual there was nothing that grabbed my attention apart from one film that had already been running for an hour.

I switched over to Netflix to see if it was on there. As usual I spent ages scrolling through the thumbnails trying to find it but without success. So I tried the search engine. This brought up a load of films but not the one I wanted to watch.

With nothing better to do I decided to type 'erotic films' into the search box. I'd always wondered if Netflix had films that fit that criteria, although I assumed if they did they would only be mildly titillating. And yes they did. Of course Fifty Shades of Grey was there. Vicky had read all the books and I confess I'd read a few chapters myself, just out of curiosity of course, but it held no interest for me.

With the others, there was absolutely no information to tell me even what the basic plot was. The only way to find out was to load the film. So that's what I did. I picked one at random and clicked.

The film started and the main character turned out to be an black woman. The first shot of her was great. She was very attractive with a nice pair of breasts, which were well showcased by the type of top she was wearing. She had a slender build with a nice arse and shapely legs that were enhanced by the very high heel shoes she was wearing. Just the way she looked guaranteed my interest in continuing to watch the film.

She was shown as being happily married to a handsome black man. It appeared that they had a fairly active sex life despite having two kids. They were well off, both having their own businesses, their children being looked after by the woman's mother, who it seemed was their live in nanny.

As the film progressed my cock stiffened slightly when it was shown that the woman was wearing stockings and suspenders underneath her tight fitting pencil skirt.

She was every inch a MILF. The story developed into a flashback mode after the main character had gone to see a marriage/sex therapist. It was confusing at first because the plot seemed to jump about a bit. Even though it was a lightweight film it was still compulsive viewing because of the lead actress. Did I tell you she was hot!

It then got raunchy. The woman ended up being seduced; quite easily I might add; by a new client. From there it all went downhill for her. She seemed to become obsessed with the new lover although in one random moment in the film she was in a nightclub on her own and ended up having sex with another man in the toilets.

Although mildly titillating, it was a strange film overall. I came to the conclusion that it had either been badly cut by the director, or by the studio before they sent it to Netflix. It was odd as there seemed to be so much missing that would have made more sense of what was going on. There was some nudity; breasts only; and a soft-core sex scene when she got fucked in the nightclub toilet.

By the end of the film it was revealed that she was a sex addict. I didn't even know that was actually a thing! Apart from the appalling editing, the acting was risible apart from the main character. Not only was she good looking, with a fit body for an older woman; yes I googled her name and age; she put a lot of emotion into her performance and you believed in her angst at what she'd become.

Pity you couldn't have said the same about the rest of the cast. The mother in particular was dreadful. In her scenes with her daughter, she either rolled her eyes or gave her long, knowing looks. It was quite hilarious at times.

Anyway, film over I went to bed. I didn't hear Vicky come home and when I left to go fishing the next morning she was still asleep in bed. I left her a note telling her I loved her and I would be home late Sunday afternoon.

VICKY'S STORY

I'd gone all out for my night out with the girls from work. I'd bought a new dress that was a glittery silver type creation. Short and cleavage revealing I felt incredibly sexy as soon as I put it on. Terry seemed to like it! Just for a change, I piled my long hair up into a messy bun and did my makeup differently too, especially around my eyes. It was so unlike me to be this adventurous and when I put on some long dangly earrings I felt like a completely different woman.

We had a few drinks at one of the girl's houses before we caught a taxi to the club. It was a much cheaper way of getting drunk. Once inside we bought a drink each. We were hoping that would be the last drink we would buy all night. There were always good looking guys around, looking to score, who would finance your drinking if you let them. The trick was to avoid having to give them something in return. Unless you actually wanted to of course!

As the night wore on we were soon attracting a lot of attention. It seemed the local football team that Terry supports had just won a game that night or something. I was surprised as I thought football was only played on Saturdays. But I wasn't bothered. I don't follow football so have no interest. However it appeared that most of the team were in the club that night; arriving quite late; but being lauded as minor celebrities, the atmosphere was soon electric.

I'd been hit on several times during the night and yes, it had aroused me, not that I would act on that. I was engaged to be married after all. I had just sat down for a rest when I noticed one of the footballers; a very large, muscular black man; snuggling up to some random blonde haired girl. I didn't know her, she wasn't part of our group.

I watched as he licked her neck, before moving up to suck on her earlobe. He saw me watching so turned her slightly so I could see more of what he was doing to her. His eyes were locked onto mine as he licked her neck again.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. She seemed to be quivering from his touch. His tongue was really long, or so it appeared, so it must feel really good on her neck for her to be having that kind of effect on her. It was then I noticed his hand was under her dress and by the way it was moving, his fingers had to be inside her pussy.

As he continued to look at me, he smiled. And then winked. I looked away and then looked back. He licked his lips slowly, making it clear what he wanted and then nodded his head at me. I felt the tingle in my sex and the loud thumping of my heart. My breathing became laboured as my legs parted slightly at the prospect of being taken by such a specimen.

What was I thinking! I stood and moved away, desperately trying to find my work colleagues. I went to the dance floor expecting to find them there but they weren't. It was then I felt two hands close around my butt.

"Hey baby," the man said as I tried to turn to see who it was. Of course it was the footballer. His hands felt hot against my bum cheeks as he began to stroke and caress them. He pulled me back against him as we began to dance to the music. Okay, maybe not dance, it was more like swaying. Okay, probably grinding!

He pulled me in closer and I felt something large rubbing into the crack between my bum cheeks. Of course he'd be big. Stereotypically, weren't all black men supposed to be hung like donkeys? Or is it horses? I can never remember.

He was now really grinding into me and I wasn't stopping him. Nor did I stop him when his hands slid up my body to cup and then squeeze my breasts. And nor did I stop him when he slid a hand under my dress to rub my pussy from behind.

I was gone and he knew it. Taking hold of my hand, he led me off the dance floor. I tottered behind him in my high heels, trying to keep pace with him as he almost dragged me outside.

He took me behind the nightclub to a dark place. There was no preamble, he knew what he wanted from me and he knew I was going to let him have it. He pushed me back up against the wall. His hand went under my dress where he ripped off my thong. He tossed it to one side before returning his big mitt to my mound. I was so wet his fingers slid into my pussy easily. His other hand was busy undoing his trousers.

He pushed his pants down to his knees as my arms coiled around his neck. His hands closed around my butt and then he lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. He held me easily. I could feel the tip of hs cock rubbing against my slit. I tried to push down, to force him to penetrate me. I was so horny. I wanted this so badly.

"Steady baby, you'll get what you want in a minute."

I whimpered as he teased me, sliding the head of his cock against my clit, making me wetter and wetter as my neediness grew.

And then he dropped me and his cock went in hard. He was a good size and I was tight. I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut from the initial shock of his penetration. God, maybe he was bigger than I first thought. And then he fucked me. I whimpered and cried and grunted my enjoyment but it didn't last long. He wanted to bust a nut and that's what he did. But I came like an express train, milking his cock for every last drop as my pussy tried to hold him inside.

He finally let me down even though I still clung to his shoulders. He then surprised me by kissing me. His tongue found itself in my mouth where I almost choked from the size. I felt my pussy begin to tingle. I was still horny.

"Will you fuck me again?" I asked. Sensible me was horrified. It was like I had a split personality.

"Not tonight babe, too much other white pussy here for me to enjoy. It wouldn't be right for me to deprive all them sexy babes from enjoying my big black cock, now would it?" he said with a creepy laugh. "But if you come tomorrow night I'll gladly give you another ride!"

I went back inside the club, finally found my work colleagues and then went home. I could hear Terry snoring in bed, so to fulfil my need I spent another hour with my trusty dildo before finally going to bed.

When I awoke the following morning Terry had already gone. I tried to rationalise my actions in the nightclub. That wasn't who I was. Or was it now? Since Terry and I had started our dangerous game it seemed to have sent me out of control. That horny feeling was almost constant now. And once I'd had sex, I wasn't satisfied. I wanted more. What was I becoming? I didn't want my life to be like this. It wasn't natural.

Late morning I had an appointment with my hairdresser. I'd only gone in for my usual cut and blow dry. When I came out I was no longer a brunette. I had finally let her persuade me to dye my hair blonde. When I got home even I didn't recognise me.

As the day turned to night, so I became restless. I wandered aimlessly around the house trying to occupy my mind but all I kept thinking about was sex. I started to consider whether I should go back to the nightclub to see if that footballer was there again. He'd said he would be. I went and showered, trying to decide what to do. I even looked in my wardrobe, thinking what dress would look good on me if I did decide to go.

I looked at the time. It was only seven o'clock. Earlier I'd tried to have a meal but just moved the food around my plate. Eventually I gave up and threw it in the bin. I was still restless. I grabbed a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and poured myself a large glassful. It seemed to have gone before I managed to sit down, so I went and refilled it.

It was soon empty. The phone rang. It was Terry just checking in to see if I was okay. He was so sweet, always thinking about me. I did so love him. He told me that the fish were biting and he and James were catching loads. He sounded so happy. He rang off after telling me he would be home around six o'clock Sunday evening.

I looked at the time. It was eight o'clock. I switched on the computer and loaded one of the porn videos. Retrieving my dildo I was soon masturbating wildly to the action on the screen. However, when I came, all I could think about was the footballer's cock hammering in and out of me.

I went for another shower. When I came out I went into the bedroom and pulled out a dress. It was a sexy little red number. Very short and very cleavage revealing, so much so that it was impossible to wear a bra with it. I did my hair and makeup and then called an Uber. By the time I left it was ten o'clock.

This was a new sensation for me. I'd never been out clubbing on my own, ever. I mean, who did that? Anyone? I bought a drink, then another, whilst watching the door for 'him' to arrive.

I got hit on. Guy's bought me drinks. I let them grope my bum on the dance floor and even allowed one a brief fondle of my boobs, but I resisted any attempt they made to go further. And then he was there. I felt my pulse quicken as I walked towards him. He didn't seem surprised to see me. He just flashed his white teeth at me and took my hand. He led me upstairs to the VIP room and plied me with drinks.

Soon his fingers were sliding inside my dress, easing the straps off my shoulders, pulling the top down to expose my breasts. He didn't care who saw us and as he began to suck my nipples, so his hand went under my dress. He made me cum and then took me down onto the dance floor. We ended up almost having sex right there.

At the end of the night I told him he could do what he wanted with me for as long as he liked. I was free and could be with him until three o'clock Sunday afternoon.

He took me to his home. It was nice. Very masculine. Just like him. He fucked me, I fucked him back. I came multiple times just with his tongue. It was bigger than some men's cocks and he sure knew how to use it on my nipples and pussy. We went at it all night and all the next morning, although we did take some time out for a light breakfast before we resumed. His cock was superb. Black as obsidian, not massive in length but certainly thick, with large veins running along the shaft when he was fully erect.

Before I left he asked if he could see me again. I told him I was engaged. He said it wasn't a problem. If I didn't mind, he didn't either, because I obviously liked his cock. I told him I did, it was the best I'd ever had, and I'd think about it. I then caught an Uber home where I went for a long shower. When Terry finally came in I welcomed him with a hug and a big kiss. That night, despite being sore, I let him make love to me.

The next day, Mr Blake fucked me again at close of business. As he did again on Wednesday and Friday. I liked it but I didn't like myself for liking it! I suspected I was out of control but I didn't want to believe I had a problem.

Friday night Terry went out with his mates. I didn't mind. Looking for something different to watch, I put on Netflix. I was scrolling down the list of films when I finally came to the section where it shows recently watched films. I saw the title and knew we hadn't seen this one together, and was therefore curious to see what Terry would watch without me. I clicked on it.

I watched in growing horror as the main female lead went down the rabbit hole. The same rabbit hole that I had entered, or so it seemed. When the female lead fucked the guy in the nightclub toilet I very nearly vomited. That had been me!

And when it came to the end and it was revealed she was a sex addict I was horrified. Is that what I'd become? It was time to consult Doctor Google.

I went online and researched sex addiction. There were many websites; mostly American, or so it seemed; that dealt with the issue. I'd never heard of it but it must BE a thing because even the good old British NHS had a web page devoted to the issue.

Even though I didn't want to admit it, I fit quite a lot of the main criteria for what constituted being a sex addict. I read that there were many pivotal moments that could lead one to develop this addiction. And then on one website I found what I believed to be the root cause of my problem.

It was the fifth profile. But surely that event had been minor at best? How could something seemingly so innocuous lead me down this path of depravity? I hadn't been raped. I hadn't been subject to a prolonged sexual attack. I had been groped on a bus - and then fingered a little bit. Surely this wouldn't make me a raving nymphomaniac? Then I found a section on being a submissive. There were a lot of key factors in that, which gave me food for thought.

I knew I needed professional help. I couldn't get through this without it. Hell, I'd been fucked by Mr Blake that very day and was still feeling horny. How was I going to get around that problem? And how was I going to confess to Terry about my recent debauched actions? It would surely mean the end of us as a couple if I confessed to running around behind his back, cheating on him and I didn't want to even consider that. But I had to tell him, didn't I?

I knew I needed to break the chain, so the first thing I did was to start looking for another job. I had to get away from Mr Blake as soon as possible. I began to look for jobs where I could possibly work remotely. It limited me a little bit to call centre type positions, but I had to get out of the office environment, at least until I could sort out my problem.

I was making good progress, or so I thought. I'd had a couple of on-line interviews and was waiting to hear back as to whether I'd got the job. I'd also gone off sick from work, to avoid contact with Mr Blake.

It was a few days later when Terry decided we should go out. I admit it had been a while since we'd been out clubbing together. So I made the effort and dressed up for him. That meant a short, tight fitting dress and high heels. Terry had been to watch his football team play that afternoon and had stayed out after the match drinking with his best mate James, and his other mate, Andy.

We had arranged to meet up at the nightclub where we'd first met. He promised not to be too pissed by the time I got there. Ha, fat chance I thought. As soon as I walked in I could see him stood at the bar, swaying slightly as he bought another round of drinks. I slid in beside him.