They Say That Cheaters Never Win

As I held Kerri's fabulous thighs apart with my hands, pressing on the erogenous zones I had located many weeks before just above and inside of her knees, I furiously tongued, licked, and gummed her distended clitoris. I was rewarded by the scream emanating from her mouth, and the violent twitching of her pelvis. Without giving her a chance to recover I quickly brought my hips even with hers and in one thrust buried my rock hard cock in her sopping wet pussy.

Fucking Kerri was always magnificent but tonight may have been the best yet since she never seemed to come down from her orgasm as she wrapped her legs around my waist and erratically bucked and thrashed while I pummeled her harder and harder. My discharge, and her reaction to it, were so intense that I'm sure that we both temporarily lost consciousness. When we regained awareness I rolled off of her and our smiling lips smacked into each other time and again.

At the time of the sexual escapade recited above Kerri and I were married -- just not to each other. I know that I'm a cheating piece of shit, lower than pond scum on the evolutionary scale, but when my cock is in her cunt I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life so I don't give a rat's ass about my status on the evolutionary scale.

A rational person might ask "If you two were so happy with each other why didn't you divorce your spouses and marry each other?" Normally a fair question, but not in our case. We both had comfortable upper class suburban lives with jobs that were enjoyable but not demanding, our spouses made more money than we did, our standing in our basically conservative community would take a terrible hit that likely would require a move, and our spouses had a really vindictive streak that they had displayed in business and in social situations that made us hesitant to do something to incur their wrath.

Plus, we'd been fucking for five months, averaging three times a week, which had caused our libidos to reach epic proportions so that our sex lives with our spouses had actually improved, both in frequency and enjoyment.

"Aren't your spouses eventually going to find out?" you ask, since spouses always seem to eventually unearth an affair. "Isn't it true that cheaters never win?" you also inquire.

Maybe; but the probability in our case was so low that it was worth the risk. We knew what we were doing, and I'll tell you why.

Kerri and I met eight years ago, before we were married when we had each been out of college two or three years. We worked part-time for the same company as "relationship testers" in New York City.

"What's a 'relationship tester?'" you ask. A fair question since it's either an unusual profession, or avocation that you get paid for, depending upon the individual.

A "relationship tester" is hired by a client of the opposite sex to see if the client's spouse, significant other, or even potential significant other, has a "wandering eye;" that is to see if they are trustworthy. When you work as a relationship tester you are always paired with a target (also called a "mark") that has approximately the same level of physical attractiveness that you have otherwise it wouldn't be fair. Having someone who looked like Kate Upton or Kellie Pickler coming on to 5 foot tall, 260 pound, slovenly nerd would hardly be realistic or just, for example.

The "prime directive" for relationship testers is that you never, ever, have sex with a target. If the target turns out to be untrustworthy you bring it up to a point just before naked contact and then break it off. If you go further, you get fired, and potentially sued, and there is even the remote possibility that you could be arrested for prostitution.

While Kerri and I had met, since our jobs as relationship testers were only part-time we never knew each other well until after we had both been working for the testing company about six months. We came into the office the same Saturday morning to do up our client reports, and edit the audios and videos that were part of our information gathering, for Friday night jobs. We were both frustrated since our targets had been very sexy and a "bad" boy and girl, respectively, but as required we had stopped short of sex.

As Kerri and I talked, we started flirting. We really started to like each other. I think she remarked first, although I was certainly thinking it, that we actually looked a lot alike. We both were tall with medium builds, had blond hair, blue eyes, and similarly shaped noses. I told her that I thought that she was a better-looking female version of me. She laughed.

When we came in to the office again Sunday morning we were as frustrated by two other sexy marks that were "bad" from our Saturday night jobs as were had been on Saturday morning. Before our reports had been finished I passionately kissed Kerri, bent her over the table in the office, gave her a clean handkerchief to put in her mouth, and fucked the ever-loving shit out of her.

At the time we were both a little cynical about relationships so we didn't romance each other, but we did fuck two more times. It was the best sex I had ever had, and unless Kerri was an excellent actress it was the same, or close to it, for her too.

It wasn't more than a week after our third fuck that Kerri had to quit both of her part time jobs and move back to her home town to take care of her mother, who had had a serious accident and no one else to turn to. About two weeks later I met my wife-to-be, Julie.

Julie was an assigned target on a Saturday night. She came from money, and so did her fiancé. Julie turned out to be trustworthy even though it was obvious that she liked me, and we "clicked." I filed my report, with audio and video excerpts, indicating that she was in the highest trustworthy category and thought nothing more of it.

Another three weeks or so after Julie had been my target she screwed up one of my assignments by intercepting me before I was able to approach my mark one Friday night.

"Hi, Blake -- if that is your real name. Remember me?" she said with drink in hand, a sexy look on her face, and provocative clothing and accessories.

"Ah, hi, Julie," I replied. I tried to make the conversation short but she was having none of it. Finally I said, "Listen, I came here to meet someone, so if you'll excuse me..."

She didn't let me finish. "I'm not sure your job tonight is going to work out, Blake, since once you start talking to her I'm going to tell her that you're a relationship tester," Julie said quietly, with a big grin on her face.

There was no use denying it. The look on my face undoubtedly gave it away. "Please don't," I pleaded.

"Let's you and I have a little talk, and a dance or two, then maybe I'll let you get to work," she replied with a diabolical grin.

Turns out that her dumb ass fiancé told her about the testing, something we caution our clients never to do. She got really pissed. To hear her tell it she was getting nervous about marrying him anyway since even though he was good looking and pleasant he was shallow and not too bright -- as evidenced by telling her about the "testing." So, she had dumped him the day before and actually came looking for me. I made her quest easy since I was in the same bar/dance hall that I had met her in three weeks earlier.

After a long talk, a few drinks, and a few dances, we ended up fucking at her condo that night, and staying together the entire weekend. While she wasn't Kerri-esque she was way above average. I quit my job as a relationship tester the next week. A month later she got a promotion that required her to move to city X, and she asked me if I wanted to accompany her. I didn't like my other part-time job, City X had good prospects for what I wanted to do full-time, and I really liked Julie, so I followed her. We lived together in City X for nine months before we got married.

Julie and I had been married about six years when about a year before the events described in the first two paragraphs above I saw Kerri at a party. We were shocked that we reconnected in a different city than we met in and was not either of our home towns, and that we were now both married. She had been married about five years to a guy named Brent Spencer. Neither of us had any kids.

After a private conversation Kerri and I decided not to tell anyone that we knew each other and we exchanged cell phone numbers.

Except for meeting once for lunch and talking on our cell phones five or six times, Kerri and I didn't communicate with each other over the next six months or so. In the meantime, Julie had started to travel a little more with her job leaving me with more time to think -- and I used that time to think about Kerri.

One lonely Thursday night, with Julie not due back until Friday night, I had a strong urge to call Kerri. I had never called her at night before, but I couldn't help myself.

"Hi, Kerri, this is Blake."

"Hi, Blake. What a nice surprise!"

"We haven't talked for a while and I was just thinking of you and thought I'd find out what you're doing. Is this a bad time?" I asked.

"No, in fact I was just thinking of you too. Brent is out of town."

"Ha, coincidence, Julie is too," I replied, probably more enthusiastically than I should have.

After what seemed like a long pause Kerri said "Why don't you come over for a drink. I have to get up early, but as long as you don't mind leaving by eleven or so it would be fun to catch up."

"Great, I'll call Julie and talk to her a bit and then be over. What's your address?"

About forty five minutes later I arrived at Kerri's mini-mansion. When she answered the door in a provocative outfit I knew our casual relationship was over. She said "Hi, Blake, nice to see you," in a sultry voice. Those were the last words -- except for exclamations of ecstasy -- either of us spoke for the next forty minutes.

I grabbed Kerri by her top, pulled her toward me, crushed my lips against hers, and then ripped both of our clothes off. We barely made it to the sofa before I started eating her pussy. Soon we were in a sixty nine. Not much later she was on her knees on the floor with her head on the sofa while I pounded the shit out of her doggy style while manipulating her ample tits.

After our mammoth simultaneous orgasms we lay panting and giggling. "You're the best fuck in history; God I love your body!" were my first words to her.

"My cunt loves your cock and the way you handle it, even if you are a rapist," she chuckled.

"I didn't see you trying to stop me," I snorted.

"You couldn't tell that I was trying to fight you off?" she giggled.

Of course I spent the night. We fucked two more times, each one better than the last. As we were hurrying to get ready for work the next day Kerri was frank.

"It doesn't seem that either one of us has the brains or willpower to stop fucking each other; so I suggest that we meet to discuss how to make sure we're never caught. That would really, really screw up my life."

"Mine too, Kerri; but I agree. There is absolutely no way that I'm giving up sex with you," I replied as I took her into my arms.

After a passionate kiss before she went out the front door, and me the back door, she said "Call me Sunday morning to make arrangements to meet. Have a list of all of the things we have to do to prevent getting caught.

We had a perfect excuse to meet Sunday afternoon. Our work as relationship testers, plus the experience we gained in our jobs at the time, made us well equipped to know the possible pitfalls. I worked in the computer department for the State Government office that offers counseling services (marriage, emotional, educational and substance abuse issues), while Kerri managed the head office for the school counselors in the largest local school system. While neither of us worked as counselors, per se, we interacted with them all of the time and knew most of the pitfalls of relationships.

We were in complete agreement in how to proceed.

--No contact except voice communications using burner phones with no call memory or speed dial;

--No public displays of affection;

--No use of credit cards when together; and

--No changes in any type of behavior toward or around our spouses. This last one was the most important and most difficult but it was one we were certain that we could pull off in view of our experience as "relationship testers."

That brings me to the quintessential sexual experience described in the first two paragraphs of this story. It took place on a Wednesday night in one of the many guest rooms in the mini-mansion that I lived in, financed by Julie's wealth and hefty salary, not my modest one. Both spouses were out of town.

Once we fully recovered our senses we had a heart-to-heart.

"Kerri, I'm so blinded by passion toward you that I think that I may have been unconsciously giving off vibes to Julie that makes her suspicious. Even though we've basically followed our 'rules' for avoiding detection I think that we need a cataclysmic 'trust event.'"

"What the hell does that mean, Sherlock?" she snickered.

"What it means is that we need to make our spouses suspicious of us in particular, and then prove the suspicions unfounded."

"Deep, Gandhi -- or should I say Freud -- real deep!" she facetiously replied.

I lightly pinched her tits. "Listen up or I'll never fuck you again," I absurdly stated. After her laughter died down I told her my plan.

Kerri and I planted bugs in our spouses' cellphones so that we could learn if they had any particular suspicions. Though we were cheaters we didn't really want to invade their privacy so the bugs communicated with a computer in my office that had software that only selected out parts of conversations that had key words or phrases, such as "affair," "cheating," "suspicious," etc. -- you get the idea. While we could listen to an entire conversation if key words or phrases were used, typically we would only listen to a few relevant seconds.

We also continuously mentioned each other to our spouses, including even showing them photos and asking if they ever remembered meeting us.

When our spouses called from out of town we didn't answer right away (of course sometimes that was due to the fact that we were actually fucking each other's lights out), and if we did sounded out of breath.

We had fake absences from our jobs, asking the receptionists in our office to say that we had stepped out for a minute when our spouses called.

We called each other on our regular cell phones several times a day and hid away our burner phones in our offices.

It didn't take long. In less than a month Brent and Julie had gotten in touch with each other and speculated about whether we were having an affair, and then jointly contracted with a private investigator. That was just what we wanted.

I already had in my possession at work an electronic equipment detector -- which could sweep for bugs -- but I wanted no chances so I bought a state-of-the-art piece of equipment that could detect any electronic equipment. We strongly suspected from phone conversations we had monitored that while Kerri and I were at work one day our homes and cars were being fitted with video and/or audio equipment, and we left our regular cellphones out when at home to allow them to be bugged.

Just a few days after we suspected the electronic equipment had been planted in our houses our spouses went out of town -- on legitimate business, but obviously timed to test us. I surreptitiously swept both of our houses and vehicles and identified with subtle little stickers that could only be seen with infra-red where all the cameras and recording devices were. Our cell phones and home phones and cars were obviously bugged and there were five cameras in each of our houses.

While our spouses were gone we called each other to make plans to go out to dinner, or various cultural events, and to end up at one of our houses or the other for a drink. We would occasionally talk about our spouses in glowing terms, and say how much we missed them -- but sprinkle it with enough criticism or good-natured teasing to make it realistic.

When we went to each other's houses we would read, play cards or a board game, or watch a DVD movie together sitting right next to one another with occasional exchanges of affection but absolutely nothing sexual. We would kiss each other lightly on the lips when we said goodbye.

We even -- though not enough to make them suspicious that we knew that we were being monitored -- masturbated (twice each) in our beds, calling out their names as we climaxed.

Two weeks later our spouses both had to go out of town again, and we repeated our performances for the cameras and audio.

Our theatrics required us to cut down on our sexual escapades but didn't eliminate them. Both weeks they were gone we got quickies in our garages after moving our cars away a short distance, and when the person who was travelling back to his/her house returned it would be with a bag from some store that we would make sure a camera caught so that it looked like we had stopped off on the way home to buy something.

As our final stroke of genius the last day of the second week that Julie and Brent were gone, as I gave Kerri a quick peck on the cheek goodbye in full view of her living room camera and where its microphone could clearly pick up what we had to say, she said. "Blake. Do you think that we should tell Brent and Julie our secret? I don't like hiding anything from our spouses."

After a pause for dramatic effect I replied. "Let's approach it this way. I don't really want to tell them, but I don't want to lie. If either asks us what's going on with us we'll honestly answer. If they don't, we won't tell them."

"You're a lot smarter than you look," Kerri giggled, then gave me a quick peck on the lips before I exited.

Wow -- were Julie and Brent predictably curious. They both mysteriously disappeared for part of the day on Saturday after a Friday night return, and on Sunday morning -- after Julie and I had had a very pleasant fuck -- she asked me what I'm sure was burning up inside her.

"Blake, I need an honest answer from you about something."

"Sure, Julie, anything," I replied while stroking a bare tit.

"Are you and Kerri Spencer having an affair?"

I did my dramatic effect pause, then softly smiled and said "I guess I can see how that you would ask that question because I do talk to and about her a lot, and we meet often when you and her husband are out of town. But, no, we're not."

"What is your relationship?" she asked with true puzzlement.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, and after another pause said "Julie, if I answer your question you have to promise me not to ever tell anyone else. Do you promise?" I asked while holding both of her hands.

"Why the secret?" she asked.

"You have to promise otherwise I simply won't tell you and I'll just have to let you go on thinking whatever you want," I dejectedly replied.

"I promise," she replied, staring into my eyes.

"We found out, by serendipity a few months ago, that we're half-siblings. We have the same father and a different mother. Do you realize what pain that could cause our mothers if that became known?"

Julie was agape, and speechless. "Holy shit..." was all this high-powered corporate executive could say.

"Have you ever noticed how much alike we look?" I queried.

"Yes....it really is quite obvious," she said with realization in her eyes. "How did you find out?"

Another histrionic hiatus in the conversation by yours truly; then in the most serious voice I could conjure I said "I'm sorry -- but I'm not really willing to talk about that now, nor anything else. I answered your question honestly, and that's all I'm willing to share at this time. There are other people involved." I ended with a few soft strokes of her face, and then said "Please understand."