She checked herself out, front and back, in the mirror of the changing room. The blue and white dress with diagonal stripes of varying widths wasn’t quite the kind of thing she normally wore, but it was close enough for her husband not to become suspicious. She felt it accentuated her breasts nicely, which was the effect she was looking for, as well as being a few inches shorter than the dresses she usually wore.

Her fingers trembled as she snapped a photo of her reflection with the mobile, taking care not to include her face. They kept trembling as she spelled out the text message. A couple of days had passed since the man had given her his number, but she’d been nervous about using it. Up until now all contact had been in an online chat. If she sent the picture and the message, things would be different. Did she really want to find out where one push of a button might lead?

“How do I look?”

She had no idea where the man might be when her likeness and message reached the man, and had almost changed back into her ordinary clothes when a muted ping heralded his reply. When she read it, she felt herself go hot all over and her breathing shorten, even though she should have expected something of the kind.

“You look immensely fuckable.”

She contemplated sending a reply of her own, but as she did so there was a commotion outside the changing room. “Mum! We’re bored! You promised us ice cream!” Two young voices demanding her attention. She quickly deleted the brief exchange and the image of herself.

The kids charged at her the moment she stepped out of the changing room. “I think I’ll have this one,” she told her husband, holding up the blue and white dress, the dress a stranger she had never seen had just told her made her look immensely fuckable.

Later she modelled the dress for Don at home. “It suits you,” he said. He didn’t say she looked good, or ravishing, and certainly not fuckable. She hated that it made her feel disappointed in him, but maybe that was what happened after seven years of marriage and with two children always commanding attention.

She didn’t want to risk further texts over the weekend, but she couldn’t get those few deleted words out of her head. “You look immensely fuckable.” It was the most vulgar sentiment she had received from any man, but simultaneously the most exciting (except, possibly, Don’s marriage proposal). She couldn’t quite work out how that could be, but with the words bouncing around her head, she summoned up the courage on Monday, hiding in the toilets at work, to finally send her response, a proposal of sorts of her own.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Uninhibited, no-nonsense sex talk had been completely alien to her until quite recently, and still was if said out loud. It was only when chatting online and now in text messages that she could bring herself to express certain things. It took longer than expected for the reply to arrive, so long she imagined she’d got the wrong end of the stick, which was somehow even worse than receiving a reply that risked leading her somewhere she shouldn’t go. She was back at her desk when the message came through, and looked around furtively, as if anyone who saw her would instantly know what was up.

“Tell me when and I’ll tell you where.”

She didn’t want to answer at her desk. She was known for being conscientious and didn’t want to be seen idling her time away with private text messages, but she sat on tenterhooks until she felt she could revisit the ladies’. Strangely the question of when wasn’t a problem. Any evening would do. All she had to do was tell Don she was seeing a friend and he’d happily look after the kids. In that respect she couldn’t have chosen a better husband. The trouble was that she’d somehow developed needs that outweighed her conscience. Once more her fingers trembled. “Seven, Wednesday evening.”

The reply came in less than a minute. “Broughton Park. Lismore Lane entrance. Silver Mercedes.” That was all she needed to know.

There was no contact at all after that, but there didn’t have to be. On the Wednesday she wore her new blue and white dress to work, so that Don wouldn’t wonder why she bothered to change later when she was just meeting a friend. It didn’t escape her notice that she attracted a few surreptitious glances from male colleagues in ways she didn’t normally. She found herself wondering how amenable to suggestion they’d be. That in turn made her realise just how close temptation always was. Not that she’d ever contemplate having an affair with a colleague, especially knowing how the rumour mill worked, but wondering how many of her co-workers might secretly lust after her only increased her excitement in anticipation of the evening. Then she wondered how she could even be thinking such things. It was bad enough that she was about to meet a man she knew virtually nothing about, pulling the wool over her husband’s eyes in the process.

If dressing up to the nines was out of the question, she thought she looked attractive enough in pumps and nylons and the new dress that gave such a nice shape to her boobs. Dashes of lipstick, eye shadow and foundation were nothing out of the ordinary. A jacket shielded her from the cool autumn air.

Don swallowed the lie that she was meeting a friend, as she knew he would. “Have a good time,” he said as she left. She knew he’d be alright, and that the children would enjoy their evening with their father. They seemed to be happier with him than they were with her.

As luck would have it, the number nineteen bus took her all the way to Broughton Park without changing. Every time it stopped she took a deep breath and forced herself not to get off. What was she doing? On the surface just another suburban wife and mother on a bus going somewhere, inside a bundle of nerves on her way to cheat on her husband.

She saw the silver Mercedes on the other side of the street as the bus passed to stop a little further along. She took a deep breath and forced herself to her feet. She was glad she was the only person who disembarked. The sun had just set and there was hardly anyone around. Though she could still back down, now that she was here that option seemed less viable with every step she took. Nobody made their bed and then slept on the couch, did they?

She crossed the road and walked towards the silver car, trying to catch a glimpse of the man inside, but it was dark and all she could see was a shadowy figure. Should she knock on the window first or just open the door straight away? After looking around to make sure she saw no-one who knew her, she plucked up the courage for the latter.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Maggie.” She noticed immediately that the man seemed to have kind eyes, which put her a little more at her ease. After all, weren’t a person’s eyes supposed to be a window on their soul? It gave her the courage she needed to get in and close the door behind her.

“And I’m Richard,” the man said. Those few words suggested that he was softly spoken, which surprised her. He had to be about twenty years older than her too, around fifty, not yet fully grey. He seemed respectable enough, certainly not a sex maniac, though given their chats she couldn’t be sure. “You look nice.” He paused. “It strikes me that we don’t know a great deal about each other.”

“I think it’s best if keep it that way, don’t you?” She didn’t mean to sound rude, but she knew how easy it was for confidences to lead to feelings that spiralled out of control. That could never be. She wanted the excitement, but it could happen this one time.

The man gave a little grunt, his hand landing on her thigh. She hadn’t expected that, not the immediacy. She’d thought they might drive somewhere. His place, perhaps. Wasn’t this a little too public?

“If that’s how you want it,” the man said, his voice suddenly harder than before. He paused, his fingers moving very slightly against her dress. “Take my cock out.”

The harsh turn shocked her, though she realised at once it shouldn’t have. It was perfectly in keeping with their online chats. It was just… different online. Anonymity dissolved inhibitions. In real life, anxiety intruded. What had been exciting at a distance was something else entirely in the flesh. But she’d put herself in this position, wanting, needing to extend the excitement.

And now she was here, what could she do but turn in her seat and reach out to unzip this stranger. Maybe he’d planned it this way because there was no underwear in the way, making it easy for her to extract his organ. Neither of them spoke, both just sat there as his cock grew in her hand. She wished he would speak, tell her what he wanted, it would make it easier for her. What was he expecting of her?

But she knew that, of course. She knew what he wanted, because their online chats had been graphic enough. She heated up as she remembered typing those words. “I want to be your slut.” Whatever had possessed her?

But she had meant those words, at the time. It had been exciting to type them. She’d never been anyone’s slut, certainly not her husband’s. Don was always respectful and solicitous, perhaps too much so. She’d wanted more than that she’d felt, or at least something different, something she’d never experienced before. And now here she was, holding another man’s swollen cock in her hand.

What did Richard want? The answer was obvious. They’d chatted and now they were here together, to realise those chats. He wanted her to be his slut. She felt a sudden urge to prove herself to him, and sitting here like this there were only so many ways of doing that.

She stared through the windscreen, seeing no-one. Besides, it was dark. You’d need to be right up close to the car, peering in, to see anything. Slowly she leaned across, heart thumping. There was an eerie silence in the car as his fingers squeezed her leg harder. In turn she gripped him harder, pulling the foreskin back and reflecting that he was well-adorned, and that his organ curved slightly. Her tongue came out, touching the bulb gingerly. She found herself feeling gratified that he was bigger than her husband, and immediately felt ashamed, as if comparing the size of Don’s equipment with another man’s was somehow more disloyal than the actual act of adultery.

She moved her hand, giving the odd lash of her tongue. The man had a firm grip on her thigh. “It’s good that you’re keen,” he said.

Somehow she sensed that he was as nervous about this as she was. Perhaps he was married too. Perhaps he’d decided not to mention that little detail, just as she’d neglected to tell him of her husband. Encouraged, she popped her lips over the swollen head, suddenly feeling what she’d hoped for all along.

She gave a few tugs, then adjusted her hand to slide her lips a little further down. Was she his slut now? She felt like a slut as she bobbed her head a little, using her tongue too. Only then did it occur to her that she’d be going home tasting and smelling of another man’s cock. How could she not have thought of that?

Not that there was anything excessive about the taste and smell of Richard; if anything he gave off the odour of someone who’d cleaned himself thoroughly in advance of their tryst, but that wouldn’t stop her smelling and tasting of cock later, when she came home and Don kissed her. She lifted her head, her hand still clutching his organ.

“Don’t stop!” the man grunted.

How could she not have realised how difficult it would be to cover her tracks? Perhaps she should tell Richard this had all been a mistake, that she couldn’t go through with it. But his hand had left her thigh, and she realised with a surge in her belly that he was starting the engine.

It wasn’t too late, but it was. After all, she already smelled and tasted of his cock. The damage had been done. She’d have the trouble of figuring out what to do whether she went through with this or not. And wasn’t this what she’d wanted? To test her own boundaries, to say to a man, “I want to be your slut,” and go through with it. To be wild and reckless?

She felt a little dull thinking that this was actually the most reckless thing she had ever done, certainly sexually, possibly in her entire life. And here she was having second thoughts.

She pushed her lips back down Richard’s shaft as he pulled away from the kerb, feeling a renewed thrill. Yes, this was what she’d wanted. If she’d never been a good girl exactly, she’d always been careful not to be a bad one. But just this once in her life, she wanted to see if she had it in her to transgress; to enjoy casual sex with no strings attached. It was proving surprisingly easy. She pushed her lips further down Richard’s shaft, enjoying the way he filled her mouth, the way they’d discussed in their online chats when talk was still cheap.

Her mouth was watering now as her head bobbed. She could feel Richard’s movements as he changed gears, turned the steering wheel. For once in her life she would be a slut. Just this once she would have uninhibited sex with a stranger with no strings attached, suck his hard cock and let him do whatever he wanted after that. Don need never know.

Don must never know. She needed to work out how to conceal her infidelity afterwards. Mints, perhaps? Extra strong chewing gum? Or maybe she could stop off for a drink, drown the smell and taste of cock with alcohol. These thoughts were interrupted by Richard placing a hand on her head. “You’d better stop now, unless you want me to cum in your mouth.”

She pulled off, not sure what she wanted. Then she sat up straight, realising that she was wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and pulling it on.

“You suck like a pro,” Richard told her.

She blushed, not entirely sure that was a compliment. Then she started wondering if Richard was the kind of man who availed himself of prostitutes, deciding that she didn’t want to know.

Richard didn’t answer, but stared at the road, negotiating a sharp bend. Then he said, “Why don’t you play with yourself? Make sure you’re nice and ready when I decide to fuck you?”

He said it matter of factly, as if it was perfectly natural for him to fuck her whenever he decided he wanted to. As if he owned her somehow. But then that must surely be what being his slut entailed. All the same, she knew in her head that it was wrong for her to let this man own her, if only for an hour or two, even though she’d basically invited him to fuck her.

But it felt right. This was what she was here for. She’d told him so many times, “I want to be your slut.” The trouble was that her dress wouldn’t pull up easily and beneath it she was wearing both tights and knickers. She could at least have bought herself a pair of hold-ups. She really hadn’t thought this through at all.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be ready for you.” Saying it felt absurdly filthy, and it stirred that part of her that he wanted her to touch. Yes, she would be ready for him. “I am your slut, after all.”

Gosh, had she just said that out loud? The dirtiness of it caused a sharp and extremely pleasurable twinge. She didn’t have to touch herself to grow wet. Besides, as Richard indicated and turned right, she realised that she knew where they were, after all. A short distance up the road was the old castle. By day it was a tourist attraction, but now, at night, it was a pretty solitary spot.

Solitary except for the van that stood in the car park. It was rocking in a very suggestive manner. “Looks like someone else has had the same idea,” Richard murmured. She wanted to ask him if he’d ever taken anyone else here, but once again decided that the less they knew about each other the better.

Richard made a grand turn, parking at the other end of the car park from the van and turning the engine off. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to her. Then his hand was on her knee, and before she knew it, the hand was travelling up under her skirt, heading for her crotch.

Her first impression of Richard had evaporated. Perhaps that impression had been right, but now he was behaving as if he’d made up his mind exactly what he wanted to do to her. Earlier she’d thought he seemed as nervous as she felt, but now his hand was demanding, even if the tightness of the dress prevented him from touching her where he wanted. When he spoke he sounded impatient, like someone who would have his way no matter what. “Show me your pussy,” he said.

She felt her body react to his command, his commanding tone. Don would never tell her what to do; he’d either let her decide for herself what she wanted, or suggest his own preference gently. To be told what to do in this way was exhilarating. There was only one problem. “I’ll have to get out of the car first. My dress…”

“Then do it.”

Nervously she undid the seatbelt and opened the door. She was all too aware that they weren’t alone, that the van was there. What if she was seen? She opened the door and got out. The van was still rocking, so she assumed the occupants were preoccupied with each other. Swiftly she pulled off her jacket, reaching into the car to deposit it on the back seat. Once she’d unzipped the dress and stepped out of it, it went the same way as the jacket.

There was a slight chill to the night air, but there was nothing she could do about that. An almost full moon cast light on proceedings, but Richard still flicked on the overhead light in the car. Heart beating, she faced the car, gripping the hem of her tights.

She was glad she was standing where she was, looking over the roof of the car instead of at Richard. She had a vague idea that real sluts kept their pubic hair aesthetically trimmed, at the very least, but she couldn’t do that without arousing Don’s suspicions. She was embarrassed to pull her tights and knickers down like this in public, even if it was dark and they were alone save for the steadily shaking van. She hoped Richard liked what he saw.

She heard him open the door on the driver’s side. “Come round here,” he said, voice thick and not quite as commanding as before. She tottered awkwardly round the front of the car in her pumps, tights and knickers round her lower thighs impeding her progress.

Richard had swung his legs out of the car, but she was glad she was still staring over the top of the vehicle as she came to stand before him. Second thoughts were presenting themselves again. Whatever had possessed her to go through with this?

Then suddenly Richard’s hands were on her buttocks, squeezing hard. She put her hands on the roof to steady herself, not looking, only feeling as his hot breath swirled against her sex. Before she knew it his tongue had worked its way between her folds, finding her clit almost instantly.

It may be chilly out, but the searing flames of euphoria that burst into life more than compensated for that. Suddenly she couldn’t understand how she’d managed to go so long without this kind of thrill. This was why she was here, because she’d needed more than just the normal routine. She’d needed to challenge herself. She’d needed the elation of abandoning herself.

She gasped out loud, gripped by an all-consuming fever. When it came to receiving oral, she was actually quite spoiled, since Don seemed to regard it as something of a husbandly duty. Now all of her husband’s ministrations seemed to pale into insignificance next to the experience of this stranger flicking his tongue against her and digging his fingers into her buttocks.

There was a noise. She realised it was the sound of her own moans. Going weak at the knees, she steadied herself against the car. Richard’s tongue wriggled against her clit and she heard herself as he must hear her, a wanton slut, half out of her head with desire. A slut who just wanted one evening of abandon with a stranger she would never meet again.

She grew tense. There was moisture churning inside, so much moisture. Richard seemed to be purring as he inched his tongue towards her entrance, but by now she wanted one thing and one thing only. She was a slut and said what a slut would say. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Richard asked, albeit hardly decipherable since his mouth was still pushed against her and the tip of his tongue making as if to enter her.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Fuck me, take me, screw me!” She wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but moved to one side to allow Richard to get out of the car. Still steadying herself with hands on the roof of the car, instinctively she planted her feet as wide apart as the tights and knickers would allow and stuck her bum out. Instantly Richard’s hand was touching her. Fingers worked their way between her labia as his tongue had. Fingers were suddenly digging into her, rough fingers stirring the massive build-up of fluid inside her.

“Just take me!” she gasped. “Stick your big cock in there and fuck me hard. I’m your slut.”

The words came easily, much easier than she would have imagined beforehand. It felt strangely liberating to utter them, but she never could with Don, who could never regard his wife as his slut. This was different, no other feelings but pure lust, no strings, no baggage. When Richard spoke, she noticed that the tension was gone; he was back in command, of himself and her. “Tell me again.”

There was a trickle down the inside of one thigh. Her normal reticence now a distant memory, she had but one thing on her mind. “I’m your slut,” she said. “And I need you to fuck me right now.”

“You want my big cock?”

His fingers moved, wriggled, dug, worked her to a frenzy. She was almost screaming. “Yes! Give me your big cock right now!”

At last! Fingers removed, she felt him penetrate her. Her hungry vagina sucked his big cock into her. Then Richard began thrusting, his hands clutching at her still brassierered breasts. Don liked to fondle and caress her softly, but Richard mauled her like he was a wild beast and she his prey. The elation she’d felt became the white heat of ecstasy as he drove his cock into her hard, panting loudly. The world shrunk to a bare minimum of this wild, liberating rutting.

“I love being your slut,” she gasped. Then as his hands squeezed her breasts hard and he shafted her with enormous force she cried out, “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh yes, fuck me!”

Richard’s only reply was his own loud panting. Her walls closed on him, as if forcing him to stretch her back out. She’d always regarded purely vaginal orgasms as a myth, but now she wasn’t so sure. She could feel something building, an unstoppable force enflamed by the sheer force of the man’s thrusts. Still, it didn’t hurt to be on the safe side. She lifted a hand from the roof and reached down to administer a little self-help.

Electric sparks dispersed throughout her body as fingers met clit. “Fuck me!” she gasped. “Oh yes, fuck me!”

Richard grunted behind her, working his cock crazily. She became suddenly aware that his hands were yanking on her bra, enough to free her swollen nipples and pinch them. “Oh yes!” she cried. “I’m your slut! I’m your slut!”

Mouth open to allow moan after moan to escape, she turned her head, noticing suddenly that the van had stopped rocking. Not only that, but there were three shadowy figures leaning against it, and just as many cigarettes glowing. They were being watched, she was being watched.

Behind her Richard gave a strangled cry. His fingers dug into her breasts and his rod felt like steel in her just before it tensed and twitched. “Yes!” she heard herself gasp as she worked her fingers against her clit. “Do it! Cum in me!”

He was already doing just that, and as his semen shot out inside her, she felt herself tighten to infinity, heard herself scream out loud as her whole being contracted and exploded.

There were cheers and clapping from the van. Going weak at the knees, she sank to her haunches and turned around, leaning back against the car. Richard was standing in front of her, looking down, a drop of spunk dripping from the tip of his cock just as she could feel semen emerging from her and dripping onto the gravel.

Slowly she came to her senses. “Thank you,” she said, a little embarrassed now. “That was lovely.”

“I’ll get you a towel,” Richard said.

A towel? She’d brought wet wipes, but she was grateful and a little surprised that he was so considerate. A combination of wet wipes and towel made her clean enough. Clean enough to go home. As she pulled her tights and knickers back up the van’s door’s slammed shut. She noticed that her tights had laddered on the front of her left thigh. That didn’t matter, tights laddered all the time, it was hardly going to make Don suspicious.

The van roared away as she readjusted her bra. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t been recognized, but the people had only been shadows to her, and presumably the same was true of her and Richard to them. Besides, they hadn’t sounded like the type of people she normally had dealings with. She reached back into the car and pulled her dress and jacket back on. She wanted to ask Richard if he saw anything about her that might raise Don’s suspicions, but he didn’t know she was married, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“You look perfect,” the man told her. “Your husband won’t suspect a thing.”

She just stared at him, a hint of fear making itself felt. “What makes you think I’m married?”

“Your ring,” he told her. “At least I assume it’s a wedding ring.”

How banal. And how could she not have thought of that? Strangely it was a relief to her that there were so many things she hadn’t thought of. It was like a confirmation of how out of character all this was. A proper adulteress would never have made such simple mistakes. Before they drove off she readjusted her lipstick in the vanity mirror. Yes, she looked exactly the same perfectly ordinary suburban wife and mother of two she always did. Who would ever imagine what she’d just done?

As Richard steered the car back to where he’d picked her up, she reflected that she didn’t even feel guilty about what she’d done, only elated that she’d actually done it. The only thing she had to worry about was Don potentially finding out, but how would he? She’d been careful to delete all the messages from her phone, and it would never happen again. It had only been a one off, to see if she could, to see what it was like.

Richard pulled up outside the park gates and they sat there for a few moments. “It was nice meeting you,” Richard said.

“The same,” she replied. “I had a good time.”

What else was there to say? They were, after all, just two strangers who’d met casually and were now parting just as casually. She opened the door and got out, walking the short distance to the bus stop for the ride home. The only thing left to work out was what to do about the taste and smell of Richard’s cock. Maybe she was just imagining things, but she fancied they were still as strong as ever.

Mints? Extra strength chewing gum? A quick glass of wine? No, there was an even better way to disguise what she’d done.

On the bus she got out her mobile. She was half afraid Don would hear something in her voice if she phoned, but a text message wouldn’t give anything away. “Make sure you’re naked when I get home. I want to give you a nice surprise.”

Having forewarned him it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, she thought. But she sent the message to her husband, knowing that by now the kids would be tucked up in bed. She would fellate Don spontaneously the moment she got home, and tell him it was her way of thanking him for being such a good father while she was out with her friend. He’d accept it gratefully and not suspect a thing. Her husband was very trusting.

Too trusting, obviously, but it was a one off thing, this evening.

But did it have to be?

She bit her lip as the memory of what had just passed caused a familiar twinge. She took out her phone again.

“A week on Monday, same time?”

Then she pressed send and hoped Richard replied before she got home.