What's Love Got to Do with It?

The title of this work is obviously stolen from Tina Turner's infamous song originally released in 1984 but still often played on many radio stations today. The title is probably not perfect for this story, but pretty close. This story contains cheating; if that disturbs you move on.

I've never before tried to write a story as a first person account by a woman, so I thought that I'd give it a try here. That will reduce the scoring since the majority of "fans" of the Literotica "Loving Wives" category are men and they are much more tolerant of male cheaters who write in first person than women ones even though for every woman cheater in a heterosexual relationship there is also a male one -- I've never been able to figure that out, but then again I'm not the smartest guy I the world.

I was raised with normal Midwestern United States religious, cultural, and societal values. I never questioned them growing up, maybe because I didn't become an independent thinker until much later in life. It's ironic that the person who helped me most in becoming an independent thinker is someone who probably would have most disliked the results of that. Fortunately, like more than 50% of female cheaters, I -- Deborah Winston -- was never caught.

First a note about statistics; if you do a search on the Internet you will find a wide variety of statistics about what percentage of cheaters in heterosexual monogamous relationships get exposed. For example the Daily Mail in the UK ran a story in 2012 that supposedly relied upon an actual survey of 3000 cheaters that showed only 5% of female cheaters and 17% of male cheaters were ever exposed. Another supposed actual survey in the US several years later got vastly different results: 47.8% (can you really accurately evaluate something like this to a decimal of a percentage point?) of female cheaters got exposed and 39% of male cheaters.

There are other alleged survey results that fall between the two extremes set forth above, and I for one am not willing to believe that female cheaters in the UK are so much more careful, or have so many fewer cheating sessions when they cheat, than in the US that the exposure rate is 1/10th that in the US. Regardless, the only thing that I've gleaned from all of the Internet statistics is that if I'm careful that I have less than a 50% chance of being caught.

But why would I cheat given that the Midwestern US religious, cultural, and societal values that I grew up with that scorn cheaters? I can only answer for my particular situation.

I guess that I was pretty normal for a decent looking woman growing up with my background. One quality that I and many of my female friends had was that we went along with expectations of our parents and society. Those expectations included getting married if you fell in love -- assuming that you knew what love meant.

I married right out of college -- like many of my peers -- to my college boyfriend who was a year older than I am. Ajax Winston is an intellectual man -- someone who I consider much smarter than I am -- and one who knew that he would be successful and did become successful. He didn't have the normal view of traditional male-female expectations that most of the males that I knew had at the time that I met Ajax, and he was the first person in my relatively sheltered life that gave me the intellectual curiosity to start to determine what I wanted out of life and to think independently. Thinking independently in a relationship was something new to me -- for example my mother, both grandmothers, and two aunts were politically in tune with their husbands. Ajax convinced me that that wasn't necessarily the way things should be, and in fact although our politics are not diametrically opposed they differ significantly so that we have voted for different people in eight out of the last ten significant (not just national ones but state and local ones included) elections.

Anyway, since Ajax had many desirable qualities, treated me very well, was certain to be successful, was adored by my family, and seemed besotted with me, I agreed to marry him. It was only after three years of marriage when I read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera that I started to question things. By then I was four months pregnant with our first child, liked many aspects of my life, "loved" Ajax to the extent that I thought possible, and had no desire to "rock the boat;" yet I strangely felt unfulfilled. Attempting to later intellectually evaluate my dissatisfaction I ascribed my new state as the result of my pregnancy hormones and the Kundera book.

Fortunately my delivery of my daughter Astrid was uncomplicated, as was my recovery. Working with a personal trainer and getting assistance from both my mother and mother-in-law within six months after delivery I felt better than before my pregnancy. One reason that I felt better was because I had enjoyed nursing Astrid.

I went back to work when Astrid was six months old, blessed with good child care at my workplace which I took advantage of four days a week, and weekly alternating one day each of childcare by my mother and mother-in-law both of whom considered it a blessing rather than a nuisance to take care of their only grandchild once a fortnight.

I worked as a paralegal in a large law firm which had strict rules against fraternization between attorneys and staff. I believe that was fortunate as far as I was concerned because there were a number of aggressive male attorneys who seemed to consider me more desirable than I considered myself, which could have led to messy situations without the strict anti-fraternization policies which were enforced by a senior partner who nobody wanted to mess with because of his stature, physicality, and status (which is different than stature).

One lawsuit that my firm had required legal expertise that it didn't have in-house; therefore my firm brought Roger Morgan on board as co-counsel. Roger was an attorney at another local firm who had the requisite level of expertise in the subject matter of the suit but didn't have the ego problem that many lawyers have so he was happy to 2nd chair the case and let a trial attorney from my law firm be first chair.

As the suit progressed I became in charge of handling documents for discovery and ultimately for trial. I worked closely with Roger. Roger always spoke almost reverently about his family and I could see why when I met Roger's wife Cornelia and his two young kids at his office one day when they popped in for a visit. Roger was always a perfect gentleman and a very good attorney; but he was also something else. He was as hot as a man could be -- at least in the opinion of the many women at my workplace of all ages and marital statuses who commented about him.

While a number of other women in my workplace were vocal in their lust for Roger I never said a word about that aspect of his being, although I felt the same attraction to him that the vocal women expressed.

During the course of the discovery process I often attended depositions that he conducted and handled the documents for him. We spent a significant amount of time together -- just the two of us between breaks in the deposition and travelling to and from them -- doing that. We were always respectful and circumspect, yet exceedingly cordial, in all of our dealings with each other. Then an unusual circumstance arose.

We had a deposition scheduled in a suburb of the city our firms were in and Roger picked me up at 9:00 a. m. for the thirty minute drive to the deposition location. We went over documents and what he wanted to accomplish on our way there -- nothing out of the ordinary, except that I had a skirt on that accentuated my legs very well and that I often got compliments on. As we were riding Roger put sunglasses on even though it was cloudy.

The deposition was of an out-of-town witness in a conference room at the Four Seasons hotel in the suburb and was likely to last the maximum of seven hours called for by the court rules of procedure. However, the witness was exceptionally forthright and the deposition was concluded by noon. Roger had gotten everything he wanted and was in a good mood.

After we both packed up our documents when we got back to his car the day had turned from cloudy to bright sunshine and we both were in a good mood. After we stowed our documents in his trunk he asked "Since we got done early would you like to go to lunch?"

"What did you have in mind?" I innocently asked, although for some reason in the bright sunshine and with his tie loosened he looked even better than normal and maybe my question was Freudian.

"That's a really open-ended question," he laughed.

"How so?" I responded with a big smile.

"Well it could have other connotations than eating a meal at a restaurant," he replied this time without the laugh but with a grin.

"Well give my supposedly open-ended question your most honest answer."

After a pregnant pause he replied "What if my answer is brutally honest?"

"I'm a big girl, I can deal with brutal honesty," I replied with a sneer on my face.

After an even longer pregnant pause he said "I'd like to go back to the Four Seasons, get a room, and fuck your brains out."

After yet another pregnant pause during which we both stared at each other I asked "Your treat?"

Through a diabolical smile he replied, "Oh, most definitely my treat."

Shocking myself so profoundly that I didn't even give the situation conscious thought until much later I answered "OK -- but no PDA -- and no love, just lust."

Roger shrugged his shoulders "OK," and we walked back to the hotel without touch or talk. We didn't touch until we got into the elevator to go up to room 1412 when he planted a ten second kiss on me which was so steamy that it caused smoke to blow out of my ears; and then no other touching until he opened the door to 1412 and carried me over the threshold without objection from me and without either of us saying anything.

The next ten minutes were probably the most unusual -- and erotic -- in my experience. We leisurely undressed each other; I took off one of his garments, he took off one of mine, although because he had more garments on I was completely naked before he was.

Without clothes to me he looked like a perfect physical male specimen. He had a muscular chest with just the right amount of hair, a toned stomach, and a very proud uncut cock that clearly liked what he was seeing in me. Once we were both completely naked he lifted me up and deposited me on top of the bedspread on the king sized bed in room 1412. I was about to suggest that we shower first but when his mouth encapsulated the nipple on my right boob and my left hand instinctively located his low-hanging testicles, that plan became moot.

I had never before had a completely wordless sexual experience; but that is what our first copulation was. We kissed passionately, he worshipped my tits and I worshipped his testicles with equal felicity, and then his mouth attacked my pussy before I had any chance to adjust his position to a 69; once he sucked my clit into his mouth all desire to do anything except enjoy myself immediately left me.

Shortly after Roger's lips first sucked my clit I had the most intense orally-induced orgasm of my life. While I was mid-orgasm he gave me a shocker (two in the pink, one in the stink) which lengthened my orgasm and ramped up its intensity even more.

Once I had almost completely come down from my climax I could feel Roger shinning back up so that his chest was above mine. As we locked eyes -- and perhaps souls -- his cock slowly but steadily entered my pussy causing me to involuntarily moan and then cry out, and causing him to groan. When he was completely buried I felt stuffed.

Without putting all of his weight on me he moved his chest into contact with mine so that our nipples were adjacent each other and sometimes rubbing against one another, and started to slowly piston in-and-out. There was complete asynchronicity as he varied his pace moving in-and-out of me; my pulsing of my pc muscles; and the extraneous movements of our pelvises. It wasn't long, however, before an orgasm welled up in me that felt like a storm-induced wave crashing at the seashore. About the same time as my orgasm was taking over my consciousness Roger grunted loudly and the first of many pulses of seminal fluid entered my vagina. After about the fourth one I remember screaming and starting to go limp, but I didn't remember anything else for some time.

When I regained awareness Roger was still on top of me, chest-to-chest but obviously without his entire weight on me, and he was very slowly and methodically still reciprocating his cock in-and-almost completely-out of my pussy. When he sensed that I was a sentient being again he sat up on his haunches. While we smiled at each other he gently massaged my tits. Finally I spoke the first real words that we had exchanged since we were at his car. "If you pull out I'll suck your testicles."

"That sounds like fun," he smiled and then withdrew his shrinking, but still engorged cock. When he popped out it caused a bolt up each of our spines, which we both laughed about when it finally dissipated.

I guess that I was very un-lady like when I immediately went after his balls and despite some fluids on them (probably a combination of his cum, my pussy juice, and sweat) I vigorously sucked them while moving his foreskin back and forth with one hand.

Roger groaned deeply in appreciation. I was getting more enthusiastic with each suck, and after a while I moved my mouth from his testicles to his cock, and my hands from his cock to his testicles. The groaning got louder and louder until finally he pushed me away, turned me on my hands and knees, and then unceremoniously deployed his cock into my vagina as he simultaneously grabbed onto my low-hanging tits.

Roger then proceeded to very purposely energize my vagina by vacillating his cock in it while coincidentally squeezing or twisting my nipples. I came again, and once again it was with the force of a tidal wave and based upon the loud grunts coming from my sexual partner his orgasm was of similar power.

We finally separated and lay next to one another, a small sheen of sweat covering various parts of our bodies. After a few minutes of merely staring into each other's' eyes he smiled and said "You want me to proclaim the understatement of the year -- maybe of the decade?"

"Sure; I'd love to hear it, Roger."

"That was really fun!"

I giggled, he laughed at my giggle. "I can't argue with that," I replied.

We then engaged in light banter, but were getting a little chilled lying on top of the bedspread with the sweat evaporating from our bodies. "Let's take a shower to warm up and then have a chat," I said.

"Sounds like a plan," he responded, and after he got off the bed he held his hand out to me and helped me off. Being the gentleman that he is he got the water to the temperature that I was most comfortable with before we got into the relatively large and ornate shower stall. We respectfully soaped each other up and washed each other off. I only had to slap his roaming hands a few times before we exited and dried each other off with the fluffy Four Seasons' towels.

"Roger, can we get between the sheets and have a discussion?" I asked as I got the last drops of water off of his broad shoulders.

"Wow, you have lots of nice plans," he smiled, so between the sheets -- still naked -- we went.

"So, Roger," I started out, "tell me what brought about your blatant propositioning today?"

"Well, Deborah, although you don't seem to realize it you have a smoldering sexuality that is as welcome as a sultry tropical breeze on a cold winter day. If you combine that with the fact that, although I love my wife dearly, and although she is a very good-looking woman, sex with her is about as exciting as a Labor Day Parade, I got uncharacteristically bold enough to proposition you. I sense from the passion that you exhibited today -- which is comparable to a 4th of July fireworks display rather than a Labor Day parade -- that you might be in a similar situation with your husband."

"Hmm," I grinned, "I guess you can say that I'm in the same boat with my husband. I love him dearly and never want to leave him but the Labor Day Parade compared to the 4th of July fireworks display pretty well sums up my situation with him compared to what we just did."

"What are we going to do about it?" he posited.

"I'd like a session like we just had -- and maybe even with a little kink to it -- a couple of times a month. That would really make my life complete. I don't know how we would go about it, however, since the absolute last thing I want is to get caught; and, it's too expensive -- even for a well-heeled shark like yourself," I chuckled, "-- to afford the Four Seasons twice a month."

"I'm a very creative and motivated guy," Roger responded. "Give me some time to think about it. In the meantime," he chuckled moving his eyebrows up and down and moving one hand to one of my tits and the other to my crotch.

"Oh no you don't, you bastard; why is your one-eyed friend standing at attention again?" I replied when I tried to push his hands off of me and I looked under the covers at the condition of his cock.

Despite my feigned reluctance several minutes later I was impaled on his cock, bouncing up and down and swearing at him while he mauled my tits until we each had another almost synchronous debilitating orgasm. When we were done we had to take another shower.

When we walked out of the hotel we didn't have any display of affection, didn't smile at each other, didn't walk funny, or do anything else to indicate what had just taken place in room 1412. We had to stop at a quick serve restaurant on the way back to our offices since our stomachs were growling but didn't eat enough to spoil our dinner. Roger dropped me off at my office at the expected time -- 5:00 p. m. -- and no one in my law firm had any suspicion whatsoever that we had spent on the order of three hours hauling each other's ashes.

When I got home with my little girl from day care that night we both greeted Ajax/daddy warmly (although obviously Astrid couldn't talk yet -- but she did smile and giggle when Ajax picked her up and kissed her).

A funny thing happened that night after we put Astrid to bed. I was still sexually charged from my afternoon delight and that transferred over to my feelings for Ajax. It wasn't really guilt, but there was some emotion that made me snuggle up to Ajax, talk him into coming to bed early, starting to suck his cock, and then riding him cowgirl that really excited me. It was the best sex that we had had together in a long time -- at least as far as I was concerned, although he seemed to like it just as much as always. I guess he wasn't like me -- in my case the brain is the most important sex organ and in his case it probably is his penis. Regardless I slept like a log -- a very happy log.

There was no way that my interlude with Roger was going to be a one-off. Three days after our escapade in Room 1412 he came to our office for a meeting with the lead attorney in my firm and I was required to sit in on it. It was remarkable that he and I gave absolutely nothing away. When asked about the deposition he gave a completely formal answer, and though he complimented me on my help there was nothing in his look or my reaction that would provide even the most remote hint that we had squished our naked bodies together for the better part of three hours after the deposition ended.

Roger and I had a real need to get documents ready together for his next deposition. We were primarily all business in a glass-walled conference room in my law firm but when we neared completion of our business he passed a folded piece of paper over to me and whispered "This is personal," so I smoothly put in my purse and gave him a quick smile.