The left side of Elaine’s face rested on the massage table, with her breasts pressing against it and her back arching to present her heart-shaped asset to her masseur.

He opened the bottle of oil, his trusted companion when performing one of these client favorite massages, pouring a copious amount on the crescent of her cheeks and watching it streak down to the back of her thighs.

The hands that had expertly relieved her stress during many appointments were now caressing her two, round portions, with his thumbs grazing her swollen labia as he evenly spread the oil until her cheeks were reflecting the overhead light of the living room.

For months, the hour-long massages had elevated their sexual tension, but neither of them had dared to act upon their carnal desires until today, the day of her twelfth anniversary. She had been looking forward to a romantic weekend getaway with her husband to celebrate, but he was forced to cancel the trip due to work commitments.

There would be time to deal with her guilt, but this moment was all about her long-desired happy ending fantasy becoming reality. She had made it to a dozen years as a faithful wife, turning down countless adulterous opportunities along the way, but her flesh hadn’t been strong enough to pass this one up amid the disappointment of their canceled plans.

In her own living room, where she had movie night with her family, she was playing the lead actress in her own real-life porn scene. She was used to grabbing the spotlight wherever she went, occasionally overhearing men calling her a MILF, so she could certainly play her role.

As for her masseur, the dimensions of his tool were fit for any job, with a length and girth that most men, including her husband, would envy.

He had explored her body once a week for several months but now it was time to conquer it. This moment never got old for him, claiming married women was his favorite fetish.

He pressed his tip on her opening, parting her labia before penetrating her forbidden flesh. Inch by inch, his length disappeared into her, stretching her like she was a virgin, not a woman who had given birth.

She held her position firmly, feeling her ass cheeks ripple every time they crashed against his thighs, accompanied by the pleasurable pain of his bulbous head knocking on the doorstep of her womb, where her depravity dwelled.

Every stroke, deep and long, stimulated the previously unexplored depths of her womanhood, sending a jolt of ecstasy throughout her body and forcing her natural lubricant to drool out.

Her cries of pleasure echoed on the walls, loud enough to drown her guilt, as the relentless pummeling of her most erogenous zones continued. She could get as loud as she wanted. Her husband was at work, her kids were at school for a couple more hours, and her masseur had turned into her personal fucking machine.

In her state of newfound depravity, she wondered how many marriages her masseur had intruded, how many unsatisfied wives he had satiated.

A forceful smack on her ass broke her thoughts, followed by another sting of his palm that left a red imprint on her skin.

The vigorous thrashing of her guts inched her closer to, what was for her, an elusive penetrative orgasm. She held on to the edges of the massage table, with her face contorting involuntarily as her orgasm approached.

He clenched his teeth, mustering up the strength to delay his climax and continue clapping her cheeks. In all of his adventures as a masseur, he hadn’t experienced a better cushion for this thrusting than her shapely derriere.

With a deep moan that reverberated around the house, her thighs trembled, her walls contracted and a stream of juices flowed out of her as her body begged him for a mutual release.

His body responded with a molten eruption of fertility splashing against her cervix, forming a pool of virile seed racing to enter her womb.

After finishing the popular destressing massage, he left, taking with him her sense of loyalty, and leaving behind only the shattered pieces of her marriage vows.

She gingerly got off the table, wrapping a towel around her body while feeling his copious load dripping out of her gaped hole and onto her inner thighs.

She sat down on the couch, looking at the family pictures on the wall as a conflict of opposing moralities brewed within her. She had betrayed her husband, but the worst thing was that she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop.

What she didn’t know was that her fateful massage had been part of her husband’s devious plan. He knew his wife better than anyone, and her soaked panties in the hamper on massage days had confirmed his suspicions, so he had ordered the all-inclusive, happy ending massage for her to make up for their canceled anniversary plans.

He had secretly turned his wife into a hotwife, knowing that she would succumb to her lust. He didn’t know if he would ever confront her, but for the time being, he would enjoy getting cucked while his wife entered a rollercoaster of guilt and pleasure with her weekly massage appointments.

He wanted to see how far his wife was willing to go. If she would confess her infidelity, ask for an open relationship, or simply revel in her wickedness. Whatever happened, he’d stand by her side. After all, she was the love of his life.