MÉta Smith presents
Adulterous
AnaÏs
Copyright ©2011 Risqué Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission.
Smashwords Edition
To discover more authors like Anais, visit our website at www.RisquePublishing.com.
Forward
When I first began to communicate via email with the author now known as Anaïs, I was struck by her raw talent, the dedication and eagerness she had for her work, her desire to learn, and her willingness to push herself and her subject matter to the limit. She was unlike any other aspiring author I’d ever met and I was more than happy to jump on board to work with her.
Six months later, there are no words to describe how proud I am of her.
I present to you Adulterous by Anaïs, in serialized form, similar to the way she presented it to me. Adulterous is a raw, powerful and moving psychological thriller. I know you’re going to love this story as much as I do.
Peace & Positive Vibes,
Méta Smith
CEO, Risqué Publishing
Author of The Rolexxx Club, Queen of Miami, Heaven’s Fury with 50 Cent, Whip Appeal and Sex Appeal
Chapter 1
As I lie across my king-sized bed, dressed in nothing but a teeny, little, La Perla G-string, it takes all the strength that I can muster not to tackle my husband. It has been days since we’ve made love and I’m super horny. The dim candlelight of my bedroom makes my husband’s fit and toned body look even more muscular in the romantic, amber glow that bathes us. He’s in stellar shape for a man in his late thirties or any other age for that matter. He’s also gorgeous and I can’t help but smile when I see the look of desire on his face as he walks over to me.
“I can’t wait to be inside of you,” he says as he descends upon me.
We kiss long, slow and deep, and I hold him tightly in my arms, pressing his sexy, warm body against mine. Before long, the kisses become more urgent, more demanding. I’m panting with desire by the time Thomas pulls my underwear off and massages my clit between his fingers. Within an instant he enters me and begins stroking.
“I love you so much, Madison. You’re so beautiful.” My husband breathes softly in my ear as he runs his fingers through my hair. He’s moving ever so gently inside of me but I’m thrusting my hips at him, trying to speed up the rhythm and feel him deeper inside of me.
“I love you too, Thomas,” I reply, grinding my pelvis into his, forcing my clit to rub against him. It feels so good that if I can keep rubbing for just a few seconds longer, I’m going to cum. But I don’t have a few seconds. I feel Thomas’ body stiffen and tense. His eyes roll back in his head and he gives a shout, shuddering in pleasure. It’s over.
……………….
I guess in many ways I’m your typical housewife. I cook, clean and keep myself beautiful for my amazing husband, Thomas. I don’t work outside the home, I don’t have any children and my husband works a lot of late hours. It can be pretty lonely, but I have friends and a love of shoe shopping that keeps the excess free time in my life occupied. My husband and I have been together for 5 years, and we never argue, which some say may see as a blessing. I’m not like those people. I’m growing bored with the monotony, tired of the routine. I want some drama, some spice!
Don’t get me wrong, I feel really lucky to have such a sweet and easygoing husband considering how many jerks are out there. I wouldn’t want to be single for all the money in the world. I love the security that my husband provides for me. He’s a successful doctor, thoughtful and in touch with his emotions, and he’s a great listener. He’s spoils me rotten, never letting me lift a finger or worry my “pretty little head” about anything. He’s also very, very good looking. But there’s one thing missing from our relationship and that’s a sizzling sex life.
Thomas isn’t a complete dud in the sack, just a bit on the conservative side. He has a thick and meaty, seven-inch cock that is capable of bringing me to multiple orgasms, if only he’d figure out how to use it properly. If I’m lucky, our bedroom romps consist of oral sex until I cum, followed by a five-minute fuck in the missionary position. We usually end things with spooning until we go to sleep. That’s if I’m lucky. Tonight I wasn’t so lucky. There was no oral sex, no orgasm. Yet, even on a night like tonight, it’s not the worst way to spend the evening. It just isn’t interlude filled with intense passion and mind-blowing orgasms that I crave.
Sometimes I wish Thomas would be more experimental and daring, perhaps try a few new and different positions. We have never made love in any position except for missionary, and that’s usually with the lights off. Thomas is so vanilla that he thinks lighting a candle is daring. I wish that he would switch things up, instead of always being so gentle and tender. I would give anything for him to be aggressive and grab me by the hair, bend me over and fuck me hard and rough, smacking my ass. I wish he’d take control and be the Alpha-male that all women dream about.
Speaking of dreaming, I do a lot of that. Dreaming and masturbating. Thomas works long hours and frequently spends nights in the hospital so I often turn to my bedside drawer that’s filled with erotic goodies that I like to use while I fantasize. My favorite is a curved glass dildo. When I use it, my orgasms are so strong that I actually squirt juices like a geyser. Thomas has never made me squirt. I bet if that happened he’d jump back a mile, afraid that he’d broken something!
When it comes to making me weak at the knees Thomas is a complete failure, and the frustration is taking its toll on our marriage. It’s causing me to snap at him, and to be really mean without warrant. But, sometimes a woman needs to be fucked properly in order for a relationship to go smoothly. A happy wife equals a happy life, and although sex isn’t the most important part of a marriage, it’s damned important! I love my man, and don’t want to hurt him, but if Thomas can’t fuck me properly, I’ll just have to find someone who can!
Chapter 2
For days all I can think about is having an affair. I’m consumed with the idea of finding someone on the side to fulfill my sexual needs. I know that it’s wrong to step outside of my marriage. The right thing to do is to communicate with Thomas. I should be honest and tell him what pleases me and work with him to help him become a better lover but I just can’t do it and I’m afraid it will just make things worse. It would be too embarrassing, not just for me but for Thomas. He’d be so humiliated to learn how dissatisfied I’ve been. He’d feel betrayed to learn that I’ve only going through the motions. Then how would he perform? What would happen to our marriage then?
I feel horrible, like the worst woman and the worst wife in the world, but I know that my cheating is inevitable. In order to assuage my guilt I promise myself that it will only happen one time. I tell myself that I’ll have a fabulous fling and then I’ll find a way to teach Thomas how to fuck me. I tell myself that I’m saving our marriage, not destroying it. But, no matter how many times I tell myself these things, I know in my heart that they aren’t true.
I know that once I start getting laid the way I need to, there will be no turning back. I have very little willpower. I can’t eat just one potato chip no matter how hard I try so I can imagine how greedy I’ll be once I start having multiple orgasms. I have everything to lose but there’s so much to gain. It’s wrong but it will make me feel so right. I took vows but they are going to be broken. I’m going to find sexual satisfaction. I’m going to become the person that I’ve always judged and vilified. I’m going to become a cheater.
The first time Thomas tells me that he’s going to be working late I put on my sexiest bra and panties, thigh-high, fishnet stockings with lace tops, and a super-short, super-tight, little black dress. I spritz myself with my favorite French perfume and apply my makeup to give myself a sultry look. The one thing that I do not put on is my wedding ring. I look hot. As soon as I see myself in the mirror, I am instantly aroused. I am tempted to masturbate because I’m so horny, but that would only defeat the purpose of finding someone else to make me cum.
I hit a bar not too far from our house. The proximity to the home that I share with my husband only adds to the anticipatory thrill that I feel. There is the possibility that someone that we know will see me there, flirting shamelessly, attempting to pick someone up like a lusty single woman, and it only makes me more excited. I wonder if this is why men cheat. Is the thrill of the hunt what fuels infidelity?
The instant I walk into the bar, all eyes are on me. I’m feeling sexy and confident and don’t mind the attention one bit. I take a seat at the bar and order a Scotch and soda. As I pull out my credit card to start a tab, the bartender tells me that it won’t be necessary and motions to a dark-haired, blue-eyed man in a pinstripe suit sitting on the opposite end of the bar. I smile at him and raise my glass. He raises his in return and heads my way.
“Thank you for the drink,” I say as he sidles up next to me. “I’m Madison.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Madison,” he says to me in a lightly-accented voice. He shakes my hand and his hand is warm and soft although his grip is firm. His gaze is direct. His piercing, azure eyes don’t show a hint of trepidation or a glimmer of the fear of rejection. This man is confident, sure of himself, a true Alpha-male.
“I am Cristoff. I’m visiting from Stockholm,” he informs me.
“Well Cristoff, welcome to our city,” I say. “Please, join me,” I tell him, patting the empty bar stool beside me, and flashing a coquettish smile.
“I couldn’t help but notice you when you walked in. You have a very exotic look. You’re simply stunning,” Cristoff says.
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling just a little shy, because my women’s intuition tells me that I have just found what I am searching for. Nervously, I tuck an imaginary loose strand of hair behind my ear and take a sip of my cocktail.
“Tell me, how can a beautiful woman like you be here alone?” Cristoff asks.
“I just needed a change of scenery,” I say.
“Well, I hope that you don’t mind the view from where you’re sitting,” Cristoff replies.
“I love it,” I tell him, meaning every word.
Cristoff and I talk for about an hour. Every now and then he strokes my hand suggestively as he makes a point, and he never stops smiling that cheeky, mischievous smile.
“I hope that you do not find me too forward. But, I feel that there is a connection between you and me. I want to explore that. I don’t have long in town; I am on the red-eye tonight to Copenhagen and then back to Stockholm. My hotel is not far from here. Would you like to accompany me back there and help me kill the time before my flight?” Cristoff propositions me but the confident look in his azure eyes relays that he already knows the answer to his question. He’s only asking because he is a gentleman. It’s simply a polite technicality.
“I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather go more,” I tell him.
Cristoff makes a quick phone call, and then we hop in a cab and head to his hotel. As we ride in the elevator to his suite, we kiss passionately, our tongues dancing in and out of each other’s mouths while we frantically grope each other.
When we enter the room, there is already soft, romantic music playing. A plate of succulent strawberries and a chilled bottle of champagne are beside the bed.
“I took the liberty of having the concierge prepare for our arrival,” he says. I am so flattered by his considerate spontaneity. It also makes things a lot easier for me. After all, I’m cheating on my husband. The classy surrounding takes the seediness out of the situation.
Cristoff pops the cork on the champagne and pours us a couple glasses.
“To a beautiful experience,” he says, as he clinks his crystal goblet with mine.
“Here here,” I reply and take a sip of the bubbly. When I put the glass down, I fall into Cristoff’s arms. We say nothing, only gazing at each other adoringly, approvingly, before we lean into each other and kiss.
His tongue glides across my lips ever so softly, making me crave more. I grab his ass, forcing his hardness to rub against me.
“I want you so bad,” I confess breathlessly. “Take me.”
I try to push him toward the bed but he resists.
“I just want to look at you for a moment. You have such a beautiful body. I want to savor this.”
Cristoff gazes at me as if I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I’m so grateful that I stuck to my diet and kept my appointments with my brutal personal trainer as Cristoff’s intense azure eyes roam over my trim yet curvaceous frame. He takes a sip of champagne and licks his lips.
“Touch yourself for me. Touch your beautiful body. Show me where you want me to touch and kiss you. Show me what makes you feel good,” Cristoff says.
It’s quite the ironic request. The fact that Cristoff and I are together at all is because I can’t show my husband what gives me pleasure, yet here I am about to show a total stranger. At first I’m a bit bashful. Even though Cristoff’s erotic, sensual seduction is what I want I’m used to Thomas’s standard approach. I haven’t been with another man in so long that it feels a little weird having strange eyes on me, having a strange man telling me what to do. It feels strange but it also feels very good. I literally feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I begin to softly stroke my breasts. My nipples stand at attention as I graze my fingertips over them before pinching and tweaking them. I grab my perky mounds in my hands and give them a gentle squeeze.
“Now lower,” Cristoff says, encouraging me.
I let my hands slide down over my belly slowly, teasingly, loving the effect I have on Cristoff. The hunger, the desire, and the passion are all over his face and there’s a monster bulge in his pants. He wants me and he’s going to have me. My hands travel lower still until I’m softly stroking the outer lips of my vagina. My breath begins to come in short gasps as I rub my clitoris in slow circles. I’m so excited that I think I’m going to cum on the spot. I stop playing with my clit and lick the juices off my fingers, my pink tongue flickering over each one before sucking the entire digit into my mouth.
Cristoff doesn’t take his eyes off of me as he disrobes. He’s older, perhaps in his late 30s or early 40s, but he’s in amazing shape. He has chiseled arms, strong, powerful legs and well-defined abs. The bulge in his boxer briefs hints that he’s well endowed. I can’t wait to find out.
“Come here,” I demand as I continue stroking my clit.
I pull Cristoff close to me and kiss him. I slide my tongue into his mouth, followed by my nectar covered fingers.
“You taste so good,” he says as he licks my juices from my fingertips.
Cristoff’s licking goes from my fingers to my neck, followed by my clavicle. He licks lower, stopping only briefly at my bellybutton before reaching his ultimate goal. As his tongue dances and swirls over my swollen, throbbing clitoris my knees buckle slightly, but Cristoff is two steps ahead of me. He scoops me into his arms, transports me to the bed and continues pleasing me with his tongue in one deft motion. I lay back and spread my legs wide, grabbing handfuls of his thick, lush hair as he moves his tongue faster and faster. He stops.
“Open your eyes,” Cristoff commands. I nod my head no.
“Open them,” he orders again. He teases my clit with the tip of his tongue until I’m panting, begging him to make me cum.
“Open your eyes,” he says once more. “Do not be shy. I think you look so beautiful. I want to see the look on your face when you climax.”
Slowly, my eyelids flutter open. I peer bashfully at Cristoff, almost afraid to watch him give me pleasure. Then something inside of me clicks. It’s like I become another person in these very intense moments as the sensations between my legs begin to build. As Cristoff licks, sucks and nibbles gently on my clit I become fascinated at the visual. I watch the artful way Cristoff uses his tongue, and how he seems to savor every drop of my juice. I feel so sexy and so desired, but I also feel powerful. I wanted something and I went out and got it without asking for permission, without hesitation.
I pull Cristoff’s face closer to my box. I don’t care if he can breathe. All I care about is how good it all feels.
“Put your fingers inside me,” I say, forcefully.
Cristoff does as I instruct, sticking a finger inside, then another and yet another. He moves his hand back and forth over my mound, his fingers working their magic inside of me while the palm of his hand rubs my clit.
“Suck my nipples,” I order. Once again, he does as I desire, looking up at me as he traces soft, wet circles around my areolas. I can’t wait any longer.
“I need you inside of me right now. I need to feel your cock. Please,” I beg.
“I’ll give you my cock,” Cristoff says, “I’m going to put it in your sexy mouth and you can suck it. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
At first I’m a little hesitant to suck a stranger, but I wanted kinky, hot passion, a change from my vanilla life, and I’m getting it. I brush the hesitation aside. Within seconds I am on my knees, licking his sizable shaft swirling my tongue around the purple, throbbing, engorged head, and slurping eagerly and greedily. The more he moans and groans, the more I want him, and with a little effort I take all of him into my mouth. I deep-throat him while caressing his balls until I feel them begin to tighten in my hands. Although I am so aroused that I’d gladly swallow every drop of his release, I stop sucking him. I need to feel him inside of my yearning pussy.
“Cristoff fuck me now!”
Cristoff reaches into the nightstand next to the bed and pulls out a foil-wrapped condom. I’m grateful because I’m so horny I may have fucked him without one, and that could lead to all sorts of trouble. I watch him roll the condom onto his cock, anticipating how it will feel when he enters me, and by the time he does I’m so excited that I’m almost ready to cum. He moves slowly at first, easing into me until he fills me up and we rock together in perfect rhythm.
Cristoff and I look into each other’s eyes, kiss and share a connection that feels just as intimate with the one that I share with Thomas, perhaps even more so. It’s lust at its purest. I don’t feel guilty, I feel good. So good that I cum harder than I ever have before, and I don’t bother to stifle the moans that turn into screams as I feel wave after wave of pleasure from my orgasm radiating throughout my entire body. Cristoff cums soon after, telling me how beautiful and sexy I am as he does, his face contorting into a mask of ecstasy. Afterward, we lay in each other’s arms, panting and satisfied.
“I come to town once every month or so. Is it possible for me to see you again?” he whispers in my ear.
“I would love nothing more,” I reply, before I kiss Cristoff lightly on the lips, grab my clothes and slip into the bathroom to freshen up before heading home.
Chapter 3
When I get home Thomas is sitting on the couch waiting for me. He’s holding a cocktail glass and I can see that he’s nearly drained the half-full bottle of Scotch that had been sitting untouched on our wet bar for ages. I can practically smell his breath from the threshold.
“Where have you been?” he asks me immediately.
“Out,” I reply, innocently. I head upstairs toward the bedroom. Thomas follows me.
“Out? Is that all you have to say? Out?” he asks, his voice reeking of suspicion.
“Thomas, lower your voice,” I say.
“I will not! My wife’s been out all night long! I have the right to speak as loudly and as angrily as I want.”
“Thomas, what’s the big deal? I was having drinks with a girlfriend and lost track of time,” I say, calmly.
“You’re lying, Madison. I already called all of your friends. None of them had a clue as to where you were.”
I can’t believe how much Thomas has overreacted. He’s out unaccounted for all the time and I don’t go turning into a one-woman search party.
“Are you kidding me? You called my friends?”
“I was worried about you! What if something had happened to you and I hadn’t even bothered to try and locate you?”
“That’s sweet honey, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Where were you and who were you with? You never answered me.”
“That’s because I think you’ve had a little too much to drink and it’s causing you to interrogate me like you’re my father or the cops or something. You’re my husband, not my owner. You’re supposed to trust me,” I say to him. I give him a hurt look and shake my head. It’s surprisingly easy to defend myself, to play the victim. I feel nothing as I glide about the bedroom, removing my clothes and jewelry. Perhaps it’s because I’ve spent the evening having orgasm after orgasm, and my body is in a state of bliss. I slip into a nightgown and walk into the en-suite bathroom to wash my face.
“Madison, our marriage until this day has been built on trust and honesty. I’ve never once thought that you’d lie to me. But something’s different this time. I can sense it.” Thomas is practically in tears.
“Nothing is different. You’re being dramatic Thomas. I ran into one of my old friends from high school while I was out shopping, one that you don’t know. I hadn’t seen her in years. We started talking and rather than catch up on our lives in the shoe department of Nordstrom’s we decided to go to a restaurant like normal people do. Dinner turned into drinks, and that turned into more drinks. There. Are you satisfied? There’s no sordid tale, just two women that haven’t seen each other in ages catching up and having some fun. Besides, you’re almost always at the hospital this time of night. I’m stuck here all by myself with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Is it a federal crime that I decided to do something for myself without asking for your permission first?”
Thomas stands there staring at me. I can tell he’s debating whether or not to believe my story. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t about what my husband thinks, it’s about what he can prove, and he can’t prove anything.
“Now if you don’t mind, I’ve had a long day. I’m sorry that I didn’t spend it knitting and pining away for you. I have to use the bathroom. Do you trust me to do that on my own or do you plan on supervising the wiping process?”
I don’t wait for a response. I go into the powder room and slam the door. It takes every bit of willpower within me not to burst into hysterical laughter. It isn’t that I enjoy being cruel. I’m not really getting pleasure out of lying to or hurting my husband. No, the laughter I suppress is the feeling of freedom bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of me, ready to explode. I’ve been living a lie for so long, existing as a trophy wife instead of pursuing my own dreams and desires, sensual and otherwise. I feel like a butterfly emerging in spring after spending a long, cold winter trapped in a cocoon.
Thomas doesn’t sleep in our bed. He either camps out on the couch or sleeps in a guest room. I don’t even bother to find out. Instead, I play with my clit, thinking of the day’s kinky encounter and cumming over and over again until I drift off to sleep.
When I wake up in the morning, Thomas is gone and I don’t care.
Chapter 4
I don’t think of Thomas at all as I go about my day. I’m ravenous so I treat myself to a decadent breakfast at my favorite restaurant that consists of rich French Toast, crisp bacon, a light and fluffy spinach and egg soufflé. I top it all off with two Bellinis. I’m stuffed and want to climb back into bed, but I head to the gym to work off all the calories in a grueling session with my personal trainer, Paola.
Paola is beautiful, Brazilian and a bitch when it comes to working out. She doesn’t accept any excuses and when I want to stop she makes me keep going until she’s satisfied that I’ve completed an exercise. Our regimen carries on as usual, but I am clearly not myself. I finish the manic, cardio portion of the workout without uttering a word about how hard it is. Not once do I try to short the number of reps I have to do and I hate lifting weights. I’m simply in la-la land, drifting on the memory of my night with Cristoff. I wonder what he’s doing and when he’s coming back. And I wonder if and how soon I can meet someone else just as delicious.
“What’s going on with you?” Paola demands.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my face a mask of innocence.
“You’re a total space cadet today! Where’s the Madison that I know? You know the one that always whines about her workout being too hard, the one that complains that she’s getting all gross and sweaty.”
I laugh nervously. It’s ironic that I feel guiltier under Paola’s interrogation than I did under my own husband’s. With Paola, I feel as if I’ve been busted and I want to confess.
“If I tell you something do you swear not to tell?” I ask Paola. I’ve been working out with her for years and I know I can trust her. Paola never spreads her client’s gossip.
“You’ve got my word. I would like to think we’re more than just a trainer and client; I’d like to think that we’re friends. Now tell me, where’s your head?” Paola asks, looking concerned.
“Well, I was having some issues with my husband,” I begin.
“A beautiful woman like you? That’s hard to believe,” Paola says with a gentle smile.
“Beauty doesn’t assure a problem free marriage,” I state.
“That’s true but you’ve always seemed to have your husband right where you wanted him. You all appear to have the perfect marriage.”
“I cheated on Thomas,” I blurt. “Our marriage is great, but our sex life sucks, and I needed to get laid. I mean really, really laid,” I tell her. “And I met this man and we slept together and now I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Oh I see. Do you feel bad?” Paola asks. “Are you feeling remorseful or guilty?”
“No. Not in the least. I don’t want to leave my husband. I love him more than anything. But I have needs that he can’t meet. It’s not fair for me to suffer,” I say.
“Does he have the right equipment?” Paola inquires.
“Yes, his equipment is amazing. He just doesn’t know what to do with it.”
“Have you tried to help him?” Paola asks.
“Without words, yes. I’ve tried moving my body a certain way or guiding his hands, but it just doesn’t work.”
“You’ve got to tell him with words Madison. You can’t be a coward.”
“I know. But it’s not just that. I got a rush being with someone new. I can’t explain it,” I say, searching for the words to articulate my feelings.
“You don’t have to, Madison. I know how that is. Where I come from, there isn’t such an emphasis placed on monogamy. It’s great to have someone to love that loves you, but fucking isn’t always about love. Sometimes, you just need to explore and experience new things.”
“Exactly,” I say, feeling like Paola has read my mind.
“Can I ask you something without offending you?” Paola asks me.
“Sure.”
“Have you ever been with a woman?”
“No,” I say, blushing.
“Do you find me attractive?” she asks.
“I think you’re very beautiful. But I’m not sure that I want to go there. It isn’t personal.”
Paola chuckles.
“I don’t take it personally. I just think that you and I would have fun together, innocent fun. I am married, you are married. There’s no danger to either of our relationships. My husband and I are very open. I’d even share him with you, if you like,” Paola offers.
My eyes roam over her body. She’s deeply tan, and her skin has a golden-brown glow. Her breasts are firm and perky, her waist is tiny, and she has the perfect, round ass that Brazilian women are renowned for. She’s also drop-dead gorgeous, with dark curly hair, piercing dark eyes and a dazzling smile. I’ve seen Paola’s husband and he’s just as hot as she is. A threesome with the two of them could be doubly good a treat as my rendezvous with Cristoff.
She smiles at me and I smile back. I can feel a little current of electricity between us. The attraction is instant and undeniable.
“I can tell you’re curious,” she says.
“Maybe,” I tell her, and sit down on a mat to stretch my worn muscles.
“Let me help you,” Paola says. She makes me lie back while she pulls my ankle toward my head, applying gentle pressure. Her body is on top of mine and she casually and brazenly, albeit briefly, grinds her crotch against mine. I can feel my clit start to throb and my juice start to flow.
“Paola, you aren’t helping,” I say, looking up at her.
“Sure I am. We will all get and give pleasure and it will help you become sexually confident enough to teach your husband to make love to you. You can’t act like a prude once you’ve had my husband’s cock and my tongue.”
I envision what she’s just said. I already know what the answer is.
“Yes,” I tell her. “I’ll do it.”
Paola smiles and lets her crotch graze against mine once more.
“Soon Paola,” I tell her as I feel my desire begin to mount.
“Why not now?” she asks.
“Why not?” I reply.
Paola texts her husband and tells him to meet her at their house for lunch. She tells him she has a sexy surprise for him and he responds that he’ll be there in about an hour, which gives Paola plenty of time to play before he joins in on the fun and games. We head to their home and as soon as we are inside Paola and I begin to kiss and touch each other. Her tongue is insistent and gentle at the same time, and her body feels firm and soft at the same time. It’s a beautiful paradox.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whisper as I grab one of her breasts and squeeze it.
“I can’t believe it either. You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about you,” she says, tracing circles on my lips with her tongue. “I’ve helped to create your beautiful body and now I get to enjoy it.”
I’m flattered and surprised. I had no idea she was attracted to me or that she even liked women at all, but I’m that glad she finds me sexy. If I’ve held stereotypes in my head about bisexual women not being feminine or beautiful, Paola shatters any previous illusions. Paola is definitely both. Although she’s strong and athletic she has a girlish quality that makes her irresistible. What we’re doing doesn’t feel dirty or taboo, it just feels like two friends having fun. We kiss and caress each other casually until our passions start to build. Our kissing becomes deeper and more urgent. Caressing becomes groping.
I have no idea what to do. I just go with the flow. I try to mirror Paola’s actions as she places her hand between my legs and gently parts my lips with her fingers. When she starts to massage my clit, I massage hers in a similar fashion. Paola moans, smiles, gasps, bites her lip; her face changes a thousand times and each expression is more sensual than the last. I become encouraged and start to touch Paola the way I like to be touched instead of copying her.
Paola kisses me deeply then tells me, “You are going to make me cum with your fingers!”
I want to see it, feel it and taste it so I quickly position myself in between her legs. Her waxed, bald pussy looks so juicy and delicious that I’m instantly drawn to it and want to devour it. I dive in, stroking inside her pussy with my fingers and swirling around her clit with my tongue. I can feel her g-spot under my fingertips and I work it, while really going in on the little man in the boat. I lick on top of the hood and underneath, using quick, fluttery strokes; it’s just what I’d love for Thomas to do to me.
Paola begins to scream something in Portuguese and I don’t need a translator to tell me that she’s cumming. Paola’s juices are everywhere. She’s a squirter, just like me. I don’t stop working her g-spot, and she just keeps on cumming until she has to push my head and hands away.
“I can’t believe you’ve never done this!” she says, trembling. I can’t believe I’ve never done it either because the rush that I get is beyond exhilarating. I want to experience the kind of pleasure that I’ve given to her. I know that Paola is recovering from her orgasm, but I want mine too.
“Paola, I’m going to sit on your face,” I tell her, stroking her breasts and making her lie on her back.
“Yes, sit on my face,” Paola replies. “I want to taste your pussy. And then Rodrigo is going to fuck us both and it’s going to be so good.”
I straddle Paola’s exotic face and position my pussy right above her full, luscious lips. I open my box and expose my engorged clitoris, rubbing it a little as I lower myself onto her mouth. Paola is pretty enough to be a beauty queen and she licks my pussy well enough to be a porn star. I wind my hips slowly, reveling in the sensations. Her tongue darts in and out of my tunnel and I rub my clit as I begin to ride her face with more force and speed.
“Paola, you feel so fucking good when I fuck your face!” I tell her. Paola sucks my clit gently between her lips and swirls her tongue under the hood slowly. It’s a wet, soft and deliberate action and just what I need to take me over the edge. I cum hard and practically smother Paola as I do. My body convulses and twitches uncontrollably, my thighs shake, I scream and I shout. It’s so good I want to cry. And I still want more.
“Where is Rodrigo?” I ask, as my pussy throbs from the final contractions of my orgasm.
“I’m right here,” he says, his deep voice booming from the doorway. I turn around and there stands all six feet, three inches and two hundred twenty pounds of Rodrigo.
“Honey, how long have you been home?” Paola asks him.
“Long enough to see everything, and it took a whole lot of discipline for me to not dive in long before now!” he admits. Rodrigo is shirtless, wearing drawstring basketball shorts and he’s stroking his long, curved hard-on. Rodrigo’s cock is perfect looking. It’s thick, tan and the hooked shape makes me think that he can find spots inside my pussy that I never knew existed without the slightest problem.
“What are you waiting for, then?” Paola asks. “We girls have had enough time to play with each other. We need to play with you. We want to get fucked!”
“You’re going to get fucked all right. The both of you are going to feel this dick deep inside you,” Rodrigo says and walks over to the bed. He kisses Paola. Then he kisses me.
“Paola told me she had a sexy surprise, but I would have never guessed it was you, Madison. I’ve heard so much about you but I would have never imagined you’re so damned kinky. I saw you take control of my wife. Do you think can take control of me the same way?” he asks.
I give Rodrigo a coy look. The dominant, pleasure seeking part of my persona that is immerging as a result of my extra-marital affairs can’t be contained anymore.
“How about I let my body do the talking,” I suggest. “Get over here!”
Rodrigo joins us in the bed and I flip him onto his back swifter than a Sumo wrestler. I go straight to his crotch and swallow as much of his monster cock as I can. I slurp up and down his shaft greedily trying to get more and more of it into my mouth. I use my hands to stroke him as I suck him off and as soon as I taste a drop of pre-cum on my tongue I stop and lower myself onto his dick.
“Paola, I’m going to fuck your husband so good and I want you to get behind me while I do. I want you to pinch my nipples and play with my clit and play with his balls while I ride him.”
I slowly start to move up and down on Rodrigo’s hooked dick. Just as I predicted the head of his cock is rubbing the sensitive spots inside my pussy walls at all sorts of unfamiliar but delicious angles.
“You’re such a nasty little bitch,” Paola says with a crooked smile. “I hope this is just the start of a beautiful relationship.”
“Oh it is. The three of us are going to have lots of fun together for a long time to come. Now stop talking and get over here and touch me Paola,” I instruct her. Although I want to go berserk and ride Rodrigo’s pole fast and furious I take my time. Rodrigo’s is the biggest cock I’ve ever felt inside of me and I want to savor every moment.
Paola licks her fingertips and takes my nipples between them and pinches them gently.
“Harder!” I command, as Rodrigo’s cock sinks deeper and deeper into me with each stroke.
“Yes, that’s it!” I tell her when she does as she’s told. She tweaks my nipples to the point that it’s almost painful. It’s taking me back to the edge. I take Paola’s hand and place it on my box, guiding her hand to stroke my clit just the way I want it. Feeling Rodrigo’s huge, thick cock and looking at his perfectly chiseled chest and washboard abs while Paola’s fingers work their magic is sensory overload. I cum again, and my body thrashes around as if I’m possessed while my pussy throbs and contracts. I’m momentarily breathless, the pleasure is so intense. I don’t stop grinding my hips though, I work them until I feel weak at the knees and I know I can’t cum anymore.
I slide off Rodrigo’s cock and Paola immediately inserts it into her mouth. She licks the cream off of it and then looks at me. She isn’t going to let me off that easy.
“Oh no, Madison! We aren’t done. I want to suck your juicy pussy again. Rodrigo, don’t you want to see me lick her pussy?”
“Yes, I do.” Rodrigo says.
Rodrigo positions himself behind Paola and enters her from behind and Paola gets comfortable between my legs. At first, my pussy is so sensitive that every time her tongue touches me in the slightest, I squirm and attempt to wriggle away. But, as I watch Rodrigo pound her from behind I start to become more and more aroused, and before long I’m spreading my lips for Paola so she can have even more access to my clit.
“Doesn’t her pussy look tasty?” Paola asks Rodrigo.
“It does. It looks so sweet and juicy.” Rodrigo pulls Paola up toward himself, grabs her hair roughly, and twists her body around. He kisses her, all the while maintaining his rhythmic, doggie-style thrusts.
“Madison, I can taste you on her lips and you taste good. And your clit is so fat. I want to lick it too,” Rodrigo says. He and Paola stop fucking momentarily and both begin to lick my pussy. They kiss each other and my box until I gush all over their faces.
Rodrigo and Paola speak to each other in Portuguese as they fuck again, and they look as sexy as they sound. I watch them together, how they move in perfect harmony, how they have so much chemistry and heat. I’m not sure Thomas and I will ever have that type of intensity but as long as I have my Brazilian lovers and can see Cristoff whenever he comes to town, I’ll be okay.
Paola cums and Rodrigo is about to cum too but she stops him.
“Rodrigo, I want you to cum inside of her. I want her to experience what it feels like for a real man to explode inside of her. Don’t hold back when you bust your nuts. Fill her up. Maybe if her wimp of a husband gets lucky he can suck the spunk out of her pussy!” Paola says and laughs wickedly. “Madison, is that okay?”
“It’s fine by me,” I say, laughing along with her. There’s no danger of me getting pregnant, and the idea of a lasting souvenir gives me a thrill. I don’t know about Thomas tasting Rodrigo’s cum later on, but I’m positive that I’ll use his spunk to lubricate my clit when I get myself off before bed.
Rodrigo gets on top of me and begins to pump his cock in and out quickly. I wrap my legs around him and pump my hips back at him. He’s so large that it’s almost uncomfortable fucking so fast and furious, but when Rodrigo shouts and he cums I know exactly what Paola meant. I can actually feel his cock throbbing inside of me while spurt after spurt of gooey semen fills me up. The sensation is so new that I cum one final time before the three of us collapse into a tangled heap of bodies, spent from an afternoon of down and dirty, no holds barred fucking. It’s the best day of my life.
Chapter 5
For the second time in as many days, I walk into the house late and Thomas is up waiting for me.
“Hi hon,” I say, casually.
“Hi hon,” he says, his emphasis on the word “hon” particularly venomous. I have no idea what his problem is, but I feel so invigorated that I don’t care.
“Did you have fun working out?” he asks.
“Yes, I did actually. I even went to Paola’s afterward and she made me an authentic Brazilian sandwich for lunch. It was so delicious and filling, and low in calories. It was great,” I say, laughing to myself at the double entendre. I had a Brazilian sandwich alright! I was sandwiched in between two South American sexpots who fulfilled my every desire.
“You were gone a long time,” Thomas complains.
“We talked and had Caipirinhas afterward.”
“Madison, I’m going to stop you right there. I’m going to prevent you from making a fool of yourself. More importantly, I’m going to prevent you from making an even bigger fool of me. I know where you were yesterday and I know where you were today. I had you followed today,” he confesses.
“Followed? You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m being stalked by my own husband? You’re sick, you know that? I had no idea you were so insecure.” I lay into Thomas even though I’m the one in the wrong. I am cheating on him, but from my perspective my encounters are no threat to him or our marriage.
“I know that you went to Paola’s house. I also know that her husband came home shortly thereafter.”
“Do you hear yourself? I go to a friend’s for lunch and her husband comes home. So what? There’s nothing tawdry about that. Here’s something you might not know Thomas: other husbands come home. But you’re always at the hospital so you wouldn’t know anything about that,” I reply coldly.
Thomas grabs me by my arm so roughly that I’m afraid he’ll bruise me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer; he drags me into the media room of our home and slings me into a chair. He grabs the remote and turns on the super-sized, flat screen television. The television’s image is of Paola, Rodrigo and I fucking. I can tell that the footage is taken from a camcorder stationed outside of the bedroom window, and although it’s a bit blurry at times and the camera moves around a lot, there’s no denying that the threesome on the screen is us.
I don’t say anything. I don’t even look Thomas in the eyes. I just sit there and stare at the screen. I should feel guilty or scared; I should feel something besides how I feel now. Right now, I feel horny. Seeing my afternoon escapade in front of me makes me wet. The thought that whoever filmed us had to be turned on when they did it makes me even more aroused.
“Yesterday you went to the bar, our bar, and you picked up a man and left with him. I don’t know where the two of you went, but you got in a cab together. You used your credit card at the bar. It was really simple to have a detective question the people who work there, especially when he greased their palms so nicely. You don’t take into account how pretty you are. You never just blend into a room, Madison. People notice you. They remember you,” Thomas continues ranting. He looks so wounded, and I know I’m busted but I still remain silent.
“Is that all you’re going to do? You’re just going to sit there? You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Thomas asks.
I finally break the silence.
“Thomas, I love you, and you know this. Despite what you see on this film and despite what you think happened after I left the bar with that man, I hope that you know that I love you,” I say. “I fucked around and I got caught, but I need you to understand that I didn’t do any of this because I don’t love you. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you. I cheated because you could stand a little help when it comes to getting me off. It’s not my intent to be cruel, but our marriage can’t go on like this. I need to cum. Not the quiet dignified orgasms that I have on the rare occasions when you go down on me either. I need to have screaming, moaning, full-body orgasms, and I need them a lot. I’m tired of fucking myself with sex toys. I’m tired of fantasizing.”
I look at Thomas. There are tears streaming down his face. He’s so hurt. Then, I notice something else. His cock is sticking straight out of his pajama bottoms. Thomas’s cock looks, bigger, thicker and more virile than it has ever looked before. There are even dribbles of pre-cum running from the head and dripping onto the carpet.
I don’t understand fully why Thomas is reacting the way that he is, but I’m horny and he’s ready so I take advantage of it. I look him in the eyes while I slowly, seductively start to take my clothes off. Thomas stops me dead in my tracks. He grabs me, shoves me against the wall and rips my panties off.
“Thomas!” I gasp, my eyes widening.
“Shut up you fucking whore!” he says, grabbing me by my neck. There’s a look of rage in Thomas’ eyes that frightens me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You wanted to get fucked, right? Well, I’m going to fuck you like the whore that you are.”
Thomas grabs my breasts roughly.
“You still smell like them,” he says.
“Thomas, I’m sorry,” I say. “I never meant to hurt you. Are you going to hurt me?” I ask. I need to know where Thomas’ head is, whether he’s some kind of animal or he’s actually, surprisingly being kinky.
“If you don’t want this, you can walk out right now,” Thomas says, stepping away from me.
I don’t move. I want him. Even though he’s angry and he isn’t going to be gentle, it’s exactly what I want.
“That’s what I thought,” Thomas says, his smile looking more sinister than I’ve ever seen before. “You’re a slut.”
Thomas grabs me between my legs.
“I know this isn’t all your juices. I bet that Brazilian piece of scum’s skeet is what’s got your cunt so wet,” Thomas says. He spins me around and bends me over. He smacks my ass hard over and over again, until I beg him to stop.
“I thought whores liked it like that!” he says, grabbing a handful of my hair. “Don’t whores like it rough?”
As horribly as Thomas is treating me, I have to admit that he’s right. I love how he’s man-handling me.
“Yes Thomas, I like it rough. I liked it rough when I fucked a stranger last night. I liked it rough when I fucked two more people today. I cheated on you because I wanted to get fucked like a slut instead of a wife. I didn’t care about your feelings when I thought that I wouldn’t get caught. You’re right, I’m a whore, I admit it. But I’m also your whore. Honestly, I’m afraid you’re going to leave me, but I’ll do anything you want if you don’t. Anything,” I tell him.
“Get on your knees,” Thomas says.
I do as I am told.
“Suck my dick. I know you sucked those other men off, don’t even bother to lie and say that you didn’t. So open up,” Thomas commands, and when I do, he shoves his cock in my mouth. I suck it eagerly, moaning as I do, my hands roaming over my body.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting his hips back and forth while I try not to gag. Thomas fucks my mouth until I can barely breathe.
“Get up bitch!” Thomas says, and then turns me over so that I’m on all fours.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he asks.
“Yes Thomas, I want you to fuck me,” I plead.
“I’m not going to fuck you, you nasty whore. I’m not going to take that Brazilian’s sloppy seconds,” he says, and thwacks me on the ass again.
“But please, I won’t do it again. I need your dick, baby. Please Thomas, fuck me!” I’m crying, pleading, and Thomas’ expression tells me he loves every second that I grovel. He takes his fingers and shoves them inside of me. He wiggles them around and then pulls them out and puts his hand in front of my face.
“Lick it up!” he says. “Lick his cum all up, and maybe I’ll fuck you.”
Thomas dips his fingers inside me several times and makes me lick up the spunk that’s on them.
“Now will you fuck me?” I ask after I’m certain that I’ve licked it all up.
“I’m going to fuck you Madison, but I’m not going to fuck your pussy. I’m going to fuck that nice, perfect, tight, virginal asshole of yours,” he says. “That is, if you haven’t turned into a complete tramp and given some strange guy your asshole.”
“I haven’t Thomas. I swear!”
“Good. Tonight, that ass is mine,” he says.
My body tenses. I’ve never done anal, I’ve always been too afraid of the pain. Thomas can read my expression and laughs.
“Scared of the pain huh? You weren’t afraid of the pain you’d cause by cheating were you?”
I shake my head no.
“No, you weren’t. In fact, you were downright smug about it. You practically laughed in my face and acted like I was crazy. Now you’re going to see how it feels to be humiliated. Maybe you’ll feel my pain now.”
“Please, Thomas, I’ll do anything, but,” I start to plead.
“There’s no but except the butt that I’m about to fuck,” Thomas says, definitively. “Or you can get out. You can pack a bag and sleep somewhere else tonight. We can see how far you get without my bank account funding your lifestyle.”
Thomas is sexually blackmailing me as punishment. At least, that’s what he thinks. I’m afraid of the pain of anal, but I’m extremely curious and open to the experience. The truth is that Cristoff opened Pandora’s box and I’d do just about any depraved act Thomas wanted me to, but I pretend to be afraid. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I choke on my crocodile tears.
“Ok Thomas. I’ll do it for you. I’ll do whatever you want,” I say in a pitiful voice.
I clench my teeth and brace for the pain but Thomas moistens the tip of his dick with the juices oozing out of my pussy and he’s taking his time probing my tight, anal canal. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t feel good. It’s just different. Industrial.
“Do you love me?” he asks.
“I do. I love you so much,” I tell him.
Thomas pushes himself into me a bit more and stops, allowing me to adjust to the sensation.
“You’re a slut Madison,” he says, easing into me some more.
“I am,” I tell him. “I’m a slutty, cunty whore. I fucked three people in two days. You make four.”
Thomas grunts and spits onto the entrance of my asshole, which is being stretched wider by his hardness. He pushes himself even deeper inside and then he reaches around and begins to play with my clit.
“You like me inside of this ass, don’t you Madison?”
“I do,” I admit. “Please, keep playing with my clit while you fuck my asshole baby!” I begin to push back at him.
We rock together slowly at first then build in speed. Thomas rubs my clit, spanks my ass and spanks my pussy. He pulls my hair and grabs me tightly by the throat as he reams me. He’s taking out his aggression and his frustration on me, and I love every kinky minute of it. I hope that while he’s degrading me he’s also showing me that our marriage can withstand this infidelity. Good, bad or ugly, we’re together and we’re going to stay together. I open up fully now, fucking him enthusiastically, attempting to give him as much pleasure as I can despite the any discomfort I might feel.
Thomas grunts like a madman over and over again as he administers his final thrusts into my asshole. He screams as he fills my ass with his load and I cum with him. He pushes me away and glowers at me.
“Are you going to leave me?” I ask Thomas.
“I don’t know,” he tells me. “A part of me loves you and a part of me hates you.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I confess. Thomas doesn’t respond. “Have I lost you?”
“Today I learned things about you that I never thought I’d learn. If anyone had suggested that you’ve done the things that I found out you did, I’d slit their throats for it. You were my princess, my angel.”
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