Tour Date

My name is John, and I'm an alcoholic. I lead with that because my sobriety is the reason I am writing this and posting it here on this erotic story site for you to read. This is my way of admitting to God and to an another human being (that's you, dear reader) the exact nature of a wrong; a wrong which, in this case, took the form of marital infidelity. That's right, me, a 23 years sober happily married man, cheated on the wife I Iove and just need to say it all out loud to someone.

Here goes nothing.

A musician sometimes hears a call. It's like a dog whistle, but he or she is the only dog tuned in. I recently heard it after several years of silence and started writing a bunch of new songs, then booking a bunch of local shows, then trying a few road gigs, including a no-stress acoustic thing at a place called 49 West in Annapolis. Did I book the show because I knew she might be there? Quite possibly.

On a drizzly, cool Tuesday evening in early December, I just made it to the venue in time to do a quick sound check and head directly into my set. I was relieved and pleased to see a bunch of familiar faces in the audience, people who, it turns out, had not forgotten me after all.

I smiled as I noticed them but there was really only one attendee I was actively hoping to see: Sarah, a woman I'd met twenty some years before when she waitressed at a club my band played and with whom I had recently reconnected via social media. Did I mention that Sarah is beautiful? She is a smoldering combo of old fashioned movie queen and modern day porn star.

She wore a blue dress with leggings and a jean jacket which was dappled with rain. Our eyes locked as she sat and I sang, a smile of hello conveyed in a passing moment. I'd glance at her periodically through the set which went incredibly well. By the time I wrapped it up, I had that buzz that comes from pure musical connection.

Afterwards, I sold merchandise and made small talk and was happy to see that when the dust settled, she was still there, sitting alone, waiting for me. With my gear packed and ready, I joined her. She stood and we shared a nice, long embrace, then sat.

"God, you look good," I said sincerely.

"You too," she beamed. "And that was a killer set. For real. Your new songs crushed."

"Feels so good doing this again."

"Where do you go next?"

"New York City. Playing there and meeting with my old manager."

From there we sprang into the free friend dialogue we'd developed in our messaging over recent months...though danced around the less traditional detours we'd taken. We talked about kids, her work, my music, and a dozen other things until we found ourselves the last ones in the place.

"Where are you staying?" she asked.

"I was just going to find a place on the road somewhere."

"Absolutely not," she declared. "My boys are with their dad this week. You can crash with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Totally sure."

She stood and led the way outside, pointed out her car, and waited for me to bring mine around and follow. Within minutes I was carrying my backpack and guitar into her house.

"Nice, Sarah," I said as I took in the look and feel of her home.

"Thanks. I like to decorate."

"I can see that. You're good."

The living room blurred into the dining room which blurred into the kitchen, all one, nice, warm, open space. She grabbed wine and water and joined me at a small, circular table.

"Is this where you work?" I asked, nodding toward the opened laptop which she promptly pushed aside.

"Usually."

A new electricity surrounded us now that we were hidden from the world. We both seemed to enjoy it even as we became more self-conscious.

"Sorry for how crazy I got with my messaging a while back," I finally offered. "I hated how I intruded on your time with your kids."

Our cyber conversation had recently turned sexual at one point and I had brief trouble not being openly obsessive as I peppered her with questions and fantasies. I corrected my course and reclaimed perspective but felt some lingering remorse. It was also a way to steer the talk to things forbidden.

"It's really okay," she replied. "Seriously. I get it, and I liked it, which was kind of the problem. I was losing my focus and I really can't afford to do that."

A pause followed.

She took a long sip of her wine and reclaimed her bright hazel eye contact. I was struck, not for the first time, by her fundamental beauty. Her long brown-blond hair framed her pretty face and just reached her full chest.

"What do you want to happen right now?" she asked with just a hint of nervousness in her voice.

What I did then was a little surprising, even to me. I leaned toward her, put the palm of my right hand against the back of her head, and kissed her on the lips. It quickly turned epic, becoming all the kisses of my life wrapped into one. Grade school amusement park kiss, new sex teenager kiss, surefooted grown up kiss, middle aged magic kiss...our tongues seemed like they'd been waiting all their lives to meet.

When we pulled away to breathe we almost laughed, but then I kissed her again.

"Is this okay?" she asked.

"Yes," I said with absolute certainty.

She smiled curiously at me.

"What next?" she asked.

"Stand up," I said evenly.

She stood.

"Fuck, Sarah," I said softly. "You look so good. I kept looking at your tits from stage tonight. Take off your boots."

She kicked them off and waited.

"Now the leggings."

Without even a slight hesitation she complied.

"Hand them to me," I said and she reached down, picked them up, handed them over.

I found the crotch, touched it, thrilled by the heavy moisture.

I took her hand and guided it to feel what I was feeling.

"Your pussy is soaked isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Its dripping down my legs right now."

I knelt and pushed the hem of her tank dress up to find her juice trail with my tongue. I licked a slow line up her inner thigh. My mouth watered as her neatly trimmed pussy came into view.

I looked up at her with the devil in my eyes and said, "Tell me to taste your pussy."

Her voice was all breath and hot lust.

"Taste my pussy."

"Say taste my fucking pussy, John," I continued as my tongue found her sweet, dripping lips.

"Taste my fucking pussy, John," she replied, somehow managing to spread for me even as she stood.

I placed my hands at her waist and guided her back onto her chair. Still kneeling, I pushed apart her thighs as I bent and burrowed into her, seeking my fortune in the warmth of her cunt.

"Fuck," she moaned like a stoned jazz singer as I loved her taste with all my heart. She combed my hair with her fingers as mine eagerly, easily slid into her and my tongue wrote letters on her clit.

"I'm gonna fucking cum," she panted and I bore down harder, finding a hungry, desperate rhythm until she arched and shook, a muted scream accompanying her beautiful climax. Her pussy clamped around my fingers as her clit pulsed like a little lawn sprinkler.

"Fuck you're good at that," she said softly as her feet returned to the earth.

We both stood, hugged, kissed. Our kiss was tender at first, her cleaning her juice from my tongue with hers, but soon we were hungry again, wild. She tugged my cock through my jeans then unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped and unleashed me, my pants and boxer briefs joining her boots and leggings on the floor.

I couldn't stop kissing her and feeling her everywhere. I lifted her dress up over her head, happily welcomed her big, firm, braless tits to the party. I leaned down to quickly kiss one nipple, then the other, gripped the cheeks of her ass as she squeezed and stroked my dripping dick.

We stumbled, connected, to the nearest opened rug and she laid down beneath me there, our lips never parting. With her chest pressed against mine, her legs spread and wrapped around me as she accepted my weight and my cock submerged itself inside of her.

"Fuck, Sarah. You feel so fucking good."

She pulled me back to kiss, then whispered in my ear, "Fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy."

I went from 0 to 80 in no time flat, unable NOT to fuck her hard and deep. I lifted my torso to better see her. Her tits glistened with a soft sheen of our sweat and moved in time with my thrusts. She reached her hand down to frig herself as my cock repeatedly filled her. Soon she was moaning a new hard-edged climax and I felt mine stirring. As her waves subsided I pulled out of her, jacked myself firmly until thick, hard blasts of my cum littered her perfect body. The first found her chin, the next few, her tits, the last ones, her stomach.

"Fuck," she laughed, amazed. "I have literally never in my life seen so much cum."

"Fuck," I agreed as I collapsed beside her.

We fell into an easy, comfortable silence, just laying on the floor together, staring up at the ceiling.

She absent-mindedly finger painted her tits with my cum.

"FYI, you rubbing my cum into your tits is pretty much the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

She reached a hand down and playfully tugged on my pussy-soaked cock.

"Does this thing have any other settings?" she asked.

"Apparently not."

She smiled warmly.

"Follow me."

We stood and walked naked up two flights of stairs to her bedroom. In her bathroom, she turned on the water in the shower, stopped and pivoted so I could take in the sight of her.

I stroked myself as my eyes grazed every inch of her body, mesmerized by the sight of the jagged road map my cum still made all over her tits and stomach. With her eyes locked on mine, she scooped some up with her fingers and ate it.

"Shall we?" she asked.

She back pedaled into the shower and I joined her. A foot or so apart we faced each other as she let the steaming water wash her clean. Her expression turned serious, intense. Her focus on me was intoxicating.

"I want to be your fantasy," she said. She stepped to me, put her lips to my ear. "I want you to do whatever the fuck you want with me. Make me your fuck toy."

The entire world disappeared and she was all there was. Her sex was all I knew or needed. I turned her, stood close behind her. I poured soap into my hands and reached them around to massage her tits, her nipples.

"Do you know how fucking hot you are?" I seethed. "I want to fuck you all night, Sarah. Then fuck you again tomorrow morning."

My cock pressed against the small of her back. I pushed her forward, knelt to spread her, taste her ass, her pussy. I stood back up and bent my knees to lower myself slightly and pushed into her again.

I pulled her hair and she arched her wet back as I rode her. The fuck became more of a pure pounding than the previous one.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she prodded.

I smacked her ass hard once, then again, as she came and came, my cock a hard blur below my waist, disappearing, over and over and over, into her insatiable fuck box.

"Fuck," I screamed as I bracketed her waist with my hands and froze, emptying into her.

Breathless and spent, I hugged her happily from behind.

There was more, an entire lazy morning's worth, but to share it with you now would be gratuitous. You get the picture. I was weak. I failed myself and my marriage. And do you want to know the worst thing? It felt so good I still can't seem to muster any real regret.

Thank you for listening.