Guilty Pleasure

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Again, just a quicky without much of a storyline. Not much kink this time, depending on your view none, just adultery, sex and minor drug use. If you don’t like this kind of stuff, go and read somewhere else. The 3w is big enough for all of us.

For the rest, I hope you enjoy.

Feedback would be nice.

And here it goes:

Guilty Pleasure

my wild love is crazy,

she screams like a bird,

she moans like a cat,

if she wants to be heard

The Doors, My Wild Love

I feel like shit. I am lying on the bed, resting half on her soft body. I can feel the fruit of my loins slowly seeping out between her folds and my softening cock. Gradually, the post-orgasmic bliss is fading and with the fog of lust gone my sense of morality returns. And with it, my world comes crashing down inside me.

I have never before cheated on my wife. I had not even taken on her offer to screw around for six weeks shortly after we had gone steady while she had been going to California. “By the time I’m back you then know whether we are for together and you can stay faithful or whether we better part way” she had said.

What have I done? Why have I done it?

Because she is younger? Far from it. Kelly is at least ten years my senior, which makes her at least sixteen years older than my wife.

Because I don’t love my wife? Quite the contrary, I love my wife very dearly. That is the problem. How can one potentially hurt somebody one loves so badly and against better judgment? I don’t think I would care if I didn’t love her anymore.

Because my sex life, barely existing as it is, is shit? Possibly, but it is at best a partial explanation only. My sex life has been pretty bad for quite a few years now, though it has hit a new low about sixteen months ago when my wife was in the last trimester of pregnancy. We have drifted far apart in our sexual preferences, both in time and type. The former means, when I am horny, she is not and vice versa. Not anybody to blame, I guess. It is difficult to control hormones, especially to turn them on at will, without taking tablets. The latter means I would love to play more with bondage, dominance and orgasm control than we ever did, at both ends of the game, while she has turned to quicky style wham, bang, thank you, ma’am, ah, mister.

Having had sex only four or five times in over a year certainly has fueled my illegitimate action, it did not start the fire. I had been tempted before but never acted. This time I would say I hadn’t even be tempted. Temptation insinuates a choice to either give in or not. I didn’t choose. I just acted without considering not to. Whatever had gone on inside me, it had literally overrun me without temptations choice to opt out.

Was it the alcohol? Certainly not. I wasn’t that pissed and had been drunk much more in other tempting situations without succumbing. If at all, having been drunk would make me behave like this much less likely. For one, I do not lose memory from drinking, no matter how much. Remembering every stupid thing one did is a good way of preventing one from doing them. I do a lot of weird, even stupid things and I don’t mind. I do mind people having reason to think I did it only because I was drunk. Secondly, if I’m really drunk, I can hardly get it up and am usually faster asleep than anybody could revive my little fella.

Which leaves: I was the eponymous dick, the proverbial male excusing himself by claiming he was thinking solely with his second head.

Now I got to make the choice of trying to keep it hidden, after all, what my wife doesn’t know doesn’t hurt. Neither her nor me. Or to slink ruefully back home, confess and hope she can forgive me.

Either way, I will need all the luck I can get.

As to how: that is a much simpler story, if longer.

It had started with us going to a congress. Us, that is Kelly, a good twelve years my senior in the firm and deputy head of department and, of course, myself. The congress had been much as expected. Some lectures and talks were good, some bad, some in between. My own had been going quite well, really. In addition, we made some connections in regards to future business. On Saturday evening, the show was over. Not officially, but little enough people usually stayed for Sunday morning lectures, so the organizers had only put fringe themes up. None of them were of any interest to me or Kelly, nor to the department. That meant I had an early evening and the prospect of a lie in waiting for me.

After the last lecture, we just drifted along with the flow of people when she addressed me.

“You’re coming later?”

“Coming? What to?”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“The gala dinner of course.”

“Oh. That. Nah, I don’t think so. Not my cup of tea.”

“Oh, come on. What else are you gonna do? Hide with a book? A paper even? Or zap through the hotel’s porn collection?”

I felt the blood rise to my cheeks and just hoped she wouldn’t notice or blame it on the heat after the air condition’s arctic blast. Because escort ataşehir that was exactly what I had planned. Was I that easy to read or had she just been toying with the cliche of the lonely geek in a hotel room?

Besides, the unaccustomed camaraderie did catch me off guard.

“The reading part sounds about right.”

“Tell you what. At least come along for dinner. After all, the company has paid for it. Not much point wasting one dinner just to pay for another one, right?”

As little as I fancied going to events like that her logic was difficult to deny. Though I didn’t particularly like buffets either.

“Yeah, ok, guess you’re right” I agreed grumpy.

“I know,” she beamed at me. “Tell you what, I’m going to pick you up half seven. Put on something sexy.”

With these words, she turned to the toilets and within seconds the throng of people had separated us.

This was a stupid idea. I really didn’t fancy the final ball with its stupid tourist games. I didn’t particularly fancy the buffet either. Why had I said ok?

The next hour went slowly. Very slowly. I tried to read. I tried listening to music. I even tried tv. Time did not pass.

By seven I decided I could as well get ready. I usually didn’t particularly care whether I was dressed appropriately or not. I could do morning suit as well as punk, and I did if fancy took me.

She had asked for sexy. Sexy was, what she was getting. Or my interpretation, at least.

I always travel with some sexy stuff, including a couple of ropes and a cock ring, or something like that. Not to forget my teddy bear. Not sexy, but very cute. And a good help for lonely nights, because that is what nights away from home used to be. And sexy stuff was for my personal and teddies entertainment. I wouldn’t have been the first time I had worn some of that stuff in public without anybody the wiser.

This night it was nothing fancy, just a black see-through string tanga. Above a pair of tight, black jeans, showing off my arse to best advantage.

Yes, I am male. No, I am not gay, though I have had my offers over time. No problem with that. Just not the way I do swing. But I do know I got a great arse. I also know a lot of women do appreciate a nice male arse as much as a gay.

No socks, a pair of canvas shoes would suffice. No vest, just a plain white shirt and my cow tie. That is, a tie with cows as a pattern.

A pin in the right and a silver feather in the left ear, my black pearl on a leather string underneath the shirt, a dragon bracelet on the left wrist and a slave bracelet with black stones on the right.

Probably not everybody’s taste. But she had asked for it.

At seven thirty sharp it knocked at my door. As expected, it was Kelly. To my surprise, she was down dressed. Kind off. The first thing catching my eyes was the grey woolen sweater she was wearing. Then the faded blue jeans, rolled up at the bottom, revealing just a bit of skin above the ankles before the worn brown shoes. Her hair was open and streamed like fluid copper in wild tangles over her shoulders.

This was certainly not what I had expected.

“What?” she asked with a radiant smile that sent a twitch straight to my groin.

I realized I was staring.

“No … nothing,” I stammered.

“Well then. A tie? My, do we look posh.”

“I like it.,” I said defensively.

“Mh, so do I. Would you mind turning ’round for me to see?”

I almost blushed and followed her request without hesitation.

“Hmm, nice ass. Ok, come on before all the nicest bits are gone.”

As I said I knew my arse was great. And yet her compliment filled me with an unexpected thrill and sent another twitch to my groin. What was going on here?

I offered her my arm and off we went.

Dinner was nice, for a buffet. Food was decent to good and the red wine excellent. Dessert was excellent as well.

The company was, on the contrary, rather mediocre. Besides Kelly, that was. She was witty, charming and flirtatious. I couldn’t help to reciprocate in kind. I also couldn’t help looking at her ankles every time she got up. For some reason, those two slivers of hairy skin looked sexier to me than all the revealing evening dresses around me.

And I’m sure she kept checking out my arse when I got up.

In short, we had a good time.

Finally, dinner was over. I was still sipping an espresso when, after a thankfully short speech, the dancefloor was opened. To my surprise, the live band did play mostly well-known rock songs.

“Come on, let’s have a dance.”

Kelly grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

“Yeah, ok. Just to warn you, though. I’m a lousy dancer. No sense of rhythm and can’t remember any of my lessons.”

Besides that the only dance I ever had led my wife had been tango. With everything else she usually had been leading. I didn’t voice this, though.

Why was I doing this? I caught myself ruminating. I rarely enjoyed dancing. And if I did, half kadıköy escort bayan the time it was a joy by proxy watching how much fun my wife was gaining from it.

My gaze fell on the naked skin above her ankles. I imagined kissing it. Imagined peeling the jeans off and kissing my way up those legs to the cooper framed skin folds at their apex.

I felt the familiar twitch in my groin. I fantasized as I had so often before in the company of attractive women.

I have to admit, I enjoyed dancing that night after I had let go of my reservations. It was loud, it was wild and it was fun. Kelly’s expression was not dissimilar to my wife’s when she was enraptured.

Then the music slowed. Kelly stepped closer and we danced real slow. She was very close. I could smell her discreet perfume. More importantly, I could feel her firm body. Her breasts against my chest. Her pelvis against my pelvis.

I had lots of twitches in my groin. In fact, I had a fully grown boner shortly after the first slow song had started. She could hardly miss it.

“Care to walk an old lady home?” she finally asked, rubbing her pelvis lasciviously against mine. Her breasts were still pressing against my chest. My right hand had strayed lower than the small of her back. Her arse was at least as nice as mine. From my perspective, even more so.

How I longed to squeeze her even tighter, to kiss and fondle her.

To fuck her.

“My pleasure,” I said, my voice hoarse with lust. “But I don’t think the party’s over yet.”

As on cue, the band went rockier again and hesitantly we separated. Apparently, neither of us wanted to draw too much attention.

“True. But I would prefer to have the finale with more privacy than here.”

She held up her arm. I gently took hold of her hand and hinted at a kiss on it before placing it on my arm.

“As I said, my pleasure.”

No sooner had the door of her room fallen closed when she threw her arms around my neck and her lips met mine.

There was no tenderness in our kiss. Just raw passion as lips mashed against each other and tongues intertwined. Hands were feeling and squeezing each other’s bottoms. Her breasts were squashed beautifully against me and my cock pressed pleasurably against her.

All thoughts of propriety and fidelity had vanished. All I could feel was the firm yet lushly soft body in my arms and the passion and lust running through my veins.

We were both out of breath when we parted. She wriggled out of my arms.

“Whiskey?” she asked as she made a beeline to the minibar.

“Scotch, if they have Pure. Anything else on the rocks, please.”

“Won’t be a minute.”

Glasses clung. Fluid gurgled. She turned back around, a glass with brown liquid in each hand. One she placed on a small table nearby, the other she kept in her hand.

“Estradour,” she said. “Strip for me, please.”

Estradour. Nice. I couldn’t have cared less as I pulled open the tie. She moved back and let herself sink in an easy chair, watching me attentively while sipping on the whiskey every now and then.

I have never mastered the art of strip-tease. Not even close to it. So I didn’t try to pretend. I just undressed with due restrained but without fancy. Which was something, considering I just wanted to tear the clothes first of me, then of her. The faster to fuck her. But I took my time. As they are wont to say, anticipation is the greatest pleasure.

When I had reached the string she called out “stop” and laughed.

“Damn, that looks hot. Love your knickers,” she said, still laughing.

“Do me a favour and leave the string on for the moment.”

My cock was hard as a rock and standing straight up. Besides being clearly visible through the thin material it didn’t do a good job constraining it. The cock head had pushed out and its wet glistening redness was a stark contrast to my pale skin and the black fabric.

“You can undress me now.”

Languidly she stretched, for all purposes looking like a relaxed ginger cat. It took me two steps and a sip of whiskey to reach the easy chair.

I placed my glass next to hers, then reached for the sweater and slowly pulled it over her head to reveal the white blouse I knew she was wearing underneath. Unceremoniously, I dumped it on the floor behind her.

For the blouse, I sat down on her thighs. I opened it slowly, button for button, starting at the hem and working my way upward. Her hands closed around the head of my shaft and rubbed it gently. Actually, it was more of a tease than a proper rub.

Still, it was enough to cause moans of pleasure and involuntary pelvic thrusts while the white fabric gradually split to reveal skin equally pale as mine.

Her body was, of course, not as tight and shiny as a teenager’s. Neither was mine. There were marks and blemishes, wrinkles and scars. She had more weight around hips and belly than suited her frame, making her deliciously soft.

And who cared anyway?

One of the first things I escort bostancı noticed was, to my big surprise, a jewel-studded piercing in her belly button surrounded by the tattoo of a flaming sphere.

I would have thought her too conservative for anything like piercings, even more so for tattoos. I didn’t let myself be distracted for long, though.

I opened the next button, then planted a kiss in the middle of the tattoo. Button, kiss. Button, kiss. In this fashion, I worked my way up. Her touches on my cock, sometimes firm, sometimes feather-like caress, were certainly distracting and, to both our pleasure and arousing frustration, slowed my progress quite a bit.

With the sixth button, I was reaching the base of her breasts. The seventh revealed part of their lace covering. With the eighth, I was kissing the valley between them.

And finally, with the ninth button, her blouse fell fully open and was quickly pulled from her arms to join the sweater.

The lace bra took much less time before being added to the growing pile of clothes behind her.

Big, pendulous breasts were revealed, the skin so white as to be almost translucent.

I leaned slightly back to enjoy her continuing ministrations on my cock and to study those breasts.

A few freckle-like spots were the only blemish on the skin, if you want to call them blemishes. A few veins were visible as blue snake-lines. The aureolae were almost as big as the palm of my hand, easily covering a third of the breasts. The nipples were the biggest and longest I had ever seen. Easily as thick as my pinky and as long as the first phalanx, their dark, rich, almost strawberry-like red was a blatant invitation to feast on them.

I bent over and sucked one of those fat nipples in my mouth. They didn’t taste like strawberries, just slightly salty when I sucked each first in. They didn’t feel like strawberries either, but much more arousing. My reward was moans and firm squeezes around my cock. Which, in turn, made me moan around the nipple and perform the odd pelvic thrust.

I don’t know how long we were at this game. I had no sense of time, completely lost in my feast and the sensations it was producing between my loins.

Her areolae puckered up quite quickly, the nipples grew stiff. Not as stiff as my cock, though. Right then, that was hard to beat.

The skin of her breasts glistened with my saliva. Her hands on my cock were driving me wild. One was pumping the shaft, the other did rub the head. I didn’t know which was doing what and I certainly didn’t care. I only dimly knew I was getting rougher and rougher in my ministrations as my pelvic thrusts were getting more frequent.

“Yes, bite my nipples. I want to feel those teeth,” she moaned encouragingly.

Never one to disregard a lady’s wish I bit down on the nipple in my mouth, albeit hesitantly, as my fingers twisted the other one. After all, I only had one set of teeth.

“Harder, you bastard, harder. I can barely feel anything,” she yelled, bucking and writhing underneath me.

And that set me off. With a groan muffled by her breast, my hips jerked uncontrollably as the sensations overwhelmed me. Her hands turned into a very slick tunnel as my cum squirted into them.

“Oh yes, that’s nice” she gasped breathlessly, her body twitching underneath mine.

She kept hold of my cock with one hand, the other kept rubbing the very slippery head.

The sensations quickly built up to an extreme level I couldn’t take.

“Aaah, god. Oh god, oh god. Aaah.,” I moaned as I squirmed back, hips still bucking. Once getting out of her reach I also got off her lap and unceremoniously fell to the floor, panting.

It took quite a few moments to catch my breath and getting eyes and attention to focus again.

She was still reclining in the easy chair, a happy smile on her face and lust still burning in her eyes. As I watched, she lifted the fingers to her mouth and lasciviously licked my cum off, her eyes never leaving mine. Cum seemed everywhere on her. Most on her hands, some on her belly and trousers and even a few spots between the breasts. What a sight.

I was spent, alright. But watching her my cock was already twitching again and I felt confident I would be able for seconds in a short while. A nice feeling.

“I think you still haven’t finished what you started,” she said, pointing to her trousers.

The first step was, of course, to take off her shoes and sitting in front of her on the floor meant I was almost in the right position. I leaned forward and took the shoes off.

I have to admit, kneeling almost naked in front of her, taking those shoes off was more thrilling and arousing than watching her spread my cum over belly and breasts and gently rubbing it in the skin. All the while she made little, cooing noises.

The socks followed the shoes.

Her feet were unremarkable. Nice, small toes, nails painted glossy black. I kept the right one in my hands and started caressing it. Then I took the big toe in my mouth and sucked and licked. At the same time, I kept caressing the foot from sole to ankle.

As before, my initial reward was content moans from her. Pressure was starting to build up in my cock again. It wasn’t rising to the occasion yet, but it sure felt nice.

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