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It Began with Infidelity

We had not been married long when we arrived at my husband's new military assignment on the Florida panhandle. The Gulf War was raging, and Ken was abruptly deployed to join his unit, leaving me to manage things at home with my school-aged sons. It was the second marriage for both of us, so I was quite self-sufficient, but new to military life. Having so recently left all my old friends behind, and now with my new husband also away, I found myself longing for adult companionship.

Fortunately, the kids were active with sports, so I welcomed being a soccer mom--providing snacks, driving them to practices, and spending time with the other parents. While these interactions with my new friends didn't satisfy all my needs, I valued the social engagement, nonetheless.

Most of my new circle were women... the one exception was Mike. He and his wife Liz were in a situation similar to ours, except it was Liz who deployed, leaving Mike home, in charge of their son Chris. Working part-time as an engineering consultant, he had the flexibility to be active in his son's activities and with our group of ladies. Tall and charismatic, Mike embraced his role as the token dude in the group. He joined all our girl-talk like he was one of us which added a layer of hilarity to our gatherings. Everyone knew Mike and Liz as a couple, but since no one had met Ken before he was deployed, I became the unofficial "single gal" of the group. By default, as the two odd ones out, Mike and I frequently teamed up at events.

Conveniently, they lived right down the street, and our boys became friends. Chris often hung out at our house after school, giving his dad a reason to drop by in the afternoons. Several times each week, I'd drive the boys, including Chris, to their various activities, and Mike would drive them home after he got off work. Eventually, I started inviting Mike and Chris to dinner at our place where they'd linger into the evenings. I appreciated the adult company, and it kept the boys occupied too. While the kids played video games or did homework, Mike and I would chat over evening drinks.

Thirty-five at the time, I was a little older than the other ladies in our circle. Standing five foot-ten, weighing about 145 pounds, I could still turn heads. I don't know if he was drawn to my mature confidence, B-cup breasts, or short dirty blond hair, but Mike and I quickly formed a connection I didn't have with my girlfriends.

Over time, an unmistakable chemistry developed between us. Our conversations often turned flirtatious, and after a couple drinks, even naughty. One night, as we reviewed my plans to redecorate the kitchen, Mike asked with mock earnestness, "So, will the carpet match the dr*pes, or do you prefer a bare floor?" A little tipsy, I played along with his cheeky innuendo, "Well, I have an appointment with my decorator tomorrow. I already have a fuzzy little rug at the entrance, and yes it does match the dr*pes." I said, coyly flipping my hair. "But I think I'll ask her to wax underneath. Do you think it would be an issue if it were smooth like that?" I added. Without missing a beat, he quipped, "It might get slippery when wet, so I'll have to be careful, won't I?" I laughed out loud but let that one slide. Though I was intrigued by the prospect, I wasn't drunk enough to ask exactly how he might encounter my fuzzy rug and slippery bare entrance, or what he'd do if given the chance. I'd always felt my tidy bush gave me a sexy MILF vibe rather than a schoolgirl look. Describing it to Mike was fun and unsurprisingly turned me on. Without Ken around I was growing restless.

With every visit, our exchanges became more irreverent, and our behavior even friskier. Looking back, I could have nipped it in the bud, but truthfully, I relished the attention. Our casual goodbyes became friendly hugs, which progressed to light kisses on the lips. When walking past, I came to expect, and very much enjoyed, a covert swat on the butt when the kids weren't around. Each subtle escalation added a saucy thrill to my otherwise mundane days. Soon, practice days with dinner afterward became the highlight of my weeks. Then we ratcheted it up with family outings on the weekends. On a rare empty Saturday before summer baseball kicked off, we took the kids to swim at a nearby bayou. I rocked a modest two-piece swimsuit which earned a favorable "yowzah!" from Mike. Over several hours, we snacked and shared a few beers while the kids played in the crowded beach area. Toward the end of the day, I ventured over to a shoal across the water...with Mike following close behind.

Obscured by some reeds and sea grass, but within sight of the beach, Mike approached from behind, wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the nape of my neck. "Wow!" I exclaimed, "you are really testing the boundaries today!" Until then, our digressions had not been so intimate, but his touch was scintillating. I giggled and lowered, shoulder-deep, to allow his hands to investigate beneath the water's surface, cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my bikini, fingers tracing the edges of my swimsuit. Only when they slid between my thighs did I stop him. I realized I was loitering on the verge of infidelity and wasn't ready to go there. "This was still just a fun dalliance," I reassured myself. Nevertheless, my skin tingled as we swam separately back to shore. After some dinner on the beach, we packed up to drive home. While the kids roughhoused loudly in the back seats, Mike and I gazed forward in awkward silence, unable to voice what swirled through our heads. At one point he reached for my hand, but I pulled away, as I rehashed the afternoon's alluring, yet unsettling, events. By the time we got home, the sun had set. After unloading the vehicle on the driveway, I pulled Mike aside to ask, "What was that about earlier?" Somewhat puzzled he responded, "I don't know. I thought that was why we swam to the shoal. Wasn't it?" It was, but I didn't want to admit it. Then, in the shadows, he leaned in to kiss me. I half-protested, "the kids are right inside," but he persisted. My nipples roused under his touch as I felt a tingling warmth spread below. Again, I stifled my reservations, permitting our kiss to deepen, right there in the open. Just then, Chris yelled from the house that he was ready to go home, jolting us back to reality...almost too late. While I knew I should, I could not resist his insidious temptation. The following nights, my dreams floated between the tender intimacy of my husband's last touch and the electrifying sensation of Mike's fingertips exploring my flesh, his lips claiming mine. Lying in bed, I indulged in fantasies of what might have happened had we had not been interrupted; what he would have done to me. I imagined my own fingers were his, massaging myself to orgasm before I drifted, restlessly, to sleep. The next Thursday, Mike swung by to take the boys to baseball practice. Rather than coming inside as he normally did, he just honked the horn, and the boys ran out to the vehicle. Alas, he was married too, and I suspected he was also rethinking our two close encounters. I should have felt relieved--after all, the right decision was made--but I could not help but feel deflated. Not twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Answering it, my spirit lifted to find Mike waiting outside. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, cupped my face, and kissed me passionately. Any lingering hesitation melted as our tongues intertwined. "What kind of slut am I?" I fretted, even as I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to our bedroom--the very room where, three months ago, I last made love to my husband. Enroute, he snatched off my tee shirt, and tossed it to the hall floor, followed by my bra. He took complete control of me, pulling my tits to his mouth, sucking my aroused nipples. "Oh god," I purred, stimulated by every forbidden touch. He pushed me onto the bed, watching as I unbuttoned my shorts, so he could swiftly pull them off, along with my soaked panties. Naked before him, a tear rolled down my cheek. I had crossed the line. I was a willing...no, an eager, adulteress. I parted my knees to gesture my submission. Fully clothed, he kneeled, pulling my legs over his shoulders and pressed his face between them. He wasn't gentle, as he'd been at the creek. "DAMN!" his tongue felt exquisite, lapping between my silky lips, tickling my clit with each stroke! Overwhelmed by this surge of pleasure, I climaxed against his face. Grasping my hips, he flipped me over the bed like a rag doll. Dropping his pants to his knees, he shoved my face into the bed and spread my cheeks with both hands to expose my glistening sex. He was so hard, and I was dripping wet. An ecstatic groan welled up in my throat as he plunged balls-deep on the first thrust. Panting and trembling, I felt another wave build as he pounded me harder and faster from behind. Between strokes, he spanked my ass with an open hand until it was as scarlet as the imagined "A" on my chest. I cried out, "do it AGAIN! HARDER! AGAIN!" I had never been taken with such raw ferocity, and I wanted more! After cumming again, I turned to wrap my lips around him, tasting my own zest, clenching his balls as he neared his own peak. Just as he was about to unload down my throat, he pushed me back to the mattress. Mesmerized, I watched him step out of his pants and rip off his shirt. His magnificent, veined cock swayed proudly before me. All I could think, was that I craved it--I longed to feel his hot cum shoot deep inside me. I lay back, feverishly fingering myself, inviting him to climb between my legs. He mounted me; urgently seizing my breasts and kissing my mouth. "Fuck me!" I pleaded. With each successive, rhythmic thrust, I screamed, "Fuck me! Make me your whore!" My body shuddered; my pussy clamped him tightly. I moaned and gasped with every pump of his hips. "Cum inside me! NOW!" I demanded. After several more phenomenal thrusts, he finally released his first hot salvo deep within me. The warmth spread through my womb just as I imagined it. Then, pulling out, he unleased ropes of semen onto my belly, my tits, and my face. Even as he continued to grimace with exertion, I sat up to take him back into my mouth, determined to suck his balls dry, swallowing every, last, drop. Quenched, he collapsed next to me on the bed. Wiping his spent load from my mouth, he kissed me again. "Thank you" he whispered. "I've wanted you since you first described this..." his hand stroking the fuzz over my "entry" as he called it weeks ago. I laughed, recalling that prophetic conversation--never expecting my clever tease would lead us here.

We lay intertwined, as our lust waned. "What about Liz? And Ken?" I mused, uncertain if I even wanted an answer. "Liz is fine with it," he revealed coolly. "She's been screwing a woman in her unit since she left. We learned years ago not to make these separations harder than necessary." I was stunned. Confused. "How can I be the only cheater?" I exclaimed, tears burning my eyes, as if shared guilt could make this OK. Mike responded sympathetically, "I can't tell you how to work it out with your husband. But I want more of this..." his hands stroking my drenched mound as he continued "...with no strings attached. And I want you to enjoy this again..." he said, wrapping my hand around his still engorged cock. I took a long moment to compose myself, dry my eyes, and to contemplate; all while stroking him back to full stature. I answered him by straddling his hips and guiding his shaft inside me. I wanted a final climax, before he had to get the kids. I rode him methodically, feeling every inch, focusing only on my own gratification. When satisfied, I dismounted. And as abruptly as he had upturned my life, Mike left.

With Mikes tangy seed lingering on my tongue, I took in the enormity of what I had done. I had surrendered to another man. Not a stranger. Not a lover. I not only let him cum inside me, I begged him to do it; then tacitly agreed to do it again. My initial humiliation at being used as a mere plaything subsided, replaced by anticipation for when I would use him again the same way--precisely as he put it, no strings attached. Despite qualms about what we were doing, I continued to enjoy Mike's companionship, both with and without clothes. Our "vanilla" relationship continued as it had; weekly dinners and friendly drinks into the evenings--minus the sexual tension. Whenever he asked me to fuck, I enthusiastically agreed--perhaps twenty or more times; I lost count. What I do know is, until Ken returned from Iraq, I no longer joined my girlfriends at baseball practice. Instead, after Mike dropped off the boys, he returned to fuck my brains out--sometimes at his place and sometimes at ours. I greeted him in my robe, with nothing underneath. He took me in every way imaginable, however he wanted, in any room of the house--except our master bedroom. Somehow, I rationalized, it wasn't truly cheating if it wasn't in our marriage bed. Many nights I impatiently dropped my panties for an after-dinner quickie. Other times he'd ravage me at a secluded spot outdoors. We both understood that it wasn't about making love--it was purely raw, exhilarating sex between two friends. An ideal arrangement until our respective loves returned. Before we knew it, both our spouses did return. Our affair didn't end, but did change character. The first time I met Liz; she leaned in to kiss me tenderly on the lips. I was prepared and kissed back; Mike had warned me it was a term of their "arrangement." At events she'd often cast a knowing smile, but we never spoke of what I did with her husband. More than once, with Ken and Liz standing in the bleachers above us, I furtively lifted my skirt in the shadows and bent over for Mike to penetrate me--strictly no strings attached. Ken reveled in my sexual energy, my desire to experiment. He didn't know then, that at least in part, lingering remorse drove me to pleasure him as I continued to service Mike. He especially loved it when I talked dirty in bed, encouraging me to divulge my wildest fantasies. So, I obliged, describing in elaborate detail, my most recent rendezvous with Mike. Fast forward five years. Mike and Liz had long since moved on. One Sunday afternoon, with his cock buried deep inside me, Ken asked, "Would you ever consider really doing something like that? I'd love to hear stories of your actual exploits. Damn, and to watch too." It was not the first time he had asked, or even the twentieth, but at that intimate moment, I decided to confess; every explicit detail of our acts, all the conflicting emotions I experienced, and why I continued for so long. How often, unbeknownst to either man, I enjoyed both in the same night, fucking one and making love to the other.

We continued to make love as I spoke; I anxiously searched his face for a reaction. To my relief and delight, his curious smile turned into a wicked grin. With every enticing word I uttered, he grew more intense, pushing even harder and faster. On the brink, and struggling to speak, he stammered, "Babe, that is so HOT! But tell me before you do it again. I want to screw your freshly used pussy!" Then he released into me.

I was free! No longer an adulteress, I was a Hotwife.

Hope you enjoyed the tale of my journey. Love, Bea (AKA, Valpcupl)