The drive was familiar, a routine by this point in our relationship, but it never quite lost its mystique. We lived in a big city, top ten or so population in the country, which meant going to the other side of it wasn't something I did often. Actually, aside from the unavoidable visits to government offices, I only made the trip to indulge in my secret sex life.

I understood that most people who went down the path of extramarital affairs said nearly the same thing or at least some version of it, always something complicated and stemming from one opportunity leading to another. I thought it was true, I sympathized with it to an extent, but on the other hand, I was comfortable enough with my guilt to simply own up to it. My reason wasn't something melodramatic, it boiled down to exploring my sexuality, mainly my lesbian desires, and while I could admit it was selfish and entirely unfair to my supportive husband and family, I could not bring myself to closing this chapter of my life.

I tried staying away, and never returning, but I knew my way around too well for that to be feasible. I could be fully committed to turning a new page, but I was rendered a mere spectator to my own life when my other half took over and wrote another page filled with lasciviousness. This perpetually conflicting duality of mine had a way of taking control, not only through sexually invasive thoughts controlling my actions but also with a distinct arousal that could only be quenched by my lady friend.

She was younger than me by a dozen years or so, living an entirely different life, almost a comical opposite of me. While I had my life together, aside from the affair that is, she was finding her way by taking online college courses, working at a sex shop, hustling by selling baked goods, and popping up with a new tattoo every other month it seemed.

I wasn't exactly sure what had attracted me to her so much that fateful day when I met her at the sex shop, but I had grown to genuinely like her and considered her a reliable partner to whom I could confide my troubles, secrets, and darkest desires. If I had to give an answer, my best guess was that I liked how she didn't seem to take herself too seriously. She had a way of living in the moment, for better or worse, and she had an unwavering spirit that inspired her vastly different worldview.

No matter how many times I pulled up to her apartment, removing my wedding ring in the car set a timer that urged me forward, and it never failed to turn me into a wet mess, so much that I could feel the cotton gusset of my panties outlining my pulsating bits. The promise of body-shaking orgasms had me rushing up the stairs to the eighth floor, which served as an impromptu lower-body workout because taking the elevator was less discreet for a married woman like myself.

To avoid attracting unwanted attention, she left the door unlocked for me to simply walk into her place, or better said, what had become my personal paradise. The smell of smoke greeted me, but I ignored it in favor of the eye candy she was gleefully handing out by swaying her harness-adorned hips to the tune of the music.

"You're looking sexy as usual," I said, admiring her unique beauty from behind, starting with the black, thigh-high, fishnet stockings encasing her legs, then her exquisitely proportionate glutes that were encased by the harness straps, and finally the various tattoos on her pale skin that told her intimate stories.

She turned around with her radiant smile, showing me the punk-inspired buzz-cut side of her head on her otherwise luscious, shoulder-length hairstyle. "Missus Bates, always a pleasure having you here," she said, in her usual playful tone as she noticed I was in my work attire.

"I-I, uh, want Lutz today," I said, placing my purse on the table, next to the selection of dildos she had neatly organized.

She nodded and grabbed the large dildo that we had named, Lutz. The letter L for large and Lutz; it was silly, but it made it feel more fun and natural for us.

"You must be dripping, babe," she deduced, eagerly attaching the dildo to the front ring of the harness.

While she did that, I began undressing, no different than I did at home after a long day at work, except for the fact I was wearing a matching bra and panty set she had gifted me.

"Love that floral set, much better than when you wore granny panties," she said, making me blush at the memories of our first few encounters. "That booty belongs in something sexy."

I always wore something sexy on the days I met with her, she encouraged it and even inspired me to update my entire lingerie drawer at home. Wearing something delicate and flirty underneath my prim-and-proper outfits served as a reminder throughout the day of the pleasures ahead.

Ready with the strap-on, she walked towards me, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other between my legs to rub my panty-covered labia. She moved it aside and ran her fingers along the length of my slit, back and forth until her fingers and palm were lubricated with my juices. She gently pushed me down on my knees and although it involved no direct stimulation for either of us, it was a symbolic thing in our dynamic.

Lutz was top-tier quality, with a length and thickness that my husband would be jealous of, and worth every penny with his realistic texture and hardness. Up close, I could see the vein details on his shaft, and while he didn't have a taste of his own, she stirred my sexual appetite by stroking him with her lubricated hand so that I tasted myself on him.

I welcomed him into my mouth, awakening my taste buds to the fruit of my perversion, and pushed my lips down his length until his tip tested my gag reflex. I knew I couldn't take him more than three-fourths down or so, but that didn't stop me from trying. I repeatedly challenged myself until I could no longer taste myself on Lutz. These were the things I was addicted to, the inhibition-free eroticism that had me, a married woman with an entirely separate life, on my knees servicing a sex toy for the sheer satisfaction of our mental games.

For my final attempt, I held out for as long as I could, looking up at her with tears forming in my honey-colored eyes. A couple of tears running down my face were matched by the drooling of my arousal down my inner thighs.

"You're a good little slut," she complimented me, pulling Lutz out of my mouth and helping me up on my feet. "You deserve a reward."

For as long as I could remember, getting my panties peeled off was one of those small details that made a big impact on me, and she knew it. My heart pounded every time she did it, it was the precise moment when anticipation turned into action, and she made sure to hook her fingers under the waistband and take her sweet time pulling the clinging gusset off my labia.

She planted a couple of soft kisses on my feet before removing my panties past them, then caressed her way down my legs until her hands were on my outer thighs. She gave my soft flesh a squeeze and parted my legs open, revealing the sopping, engorged reaction she was responsible for.

This was my reward for being a good little slut like she had said. An enthusiastic, warm tongue approached the distinct heat that only she could satiate. For many years, I had read that cunnilingus was best performed by another woman, and she was proof of that because she could have me squirming in a matter of seconds.

Her flat tongue traced my outer labia, up and down, before switching to the other side, then curled in a way that applied more pressure when she licked over my slit. Most men, including my husband, were too eager and went directly for the clit, but she expertly ignored it until it exposed itself and demanded attention.

The gentle strokes of her tongue were accompanied by an equally soft hold of my thighs, and likewise, the hard strokes were paired with a tighter squeeze. It was like she knew my body better than I did, but that was second to the willingness she had to give me a full cunnilingus course.

"Ohhmm, keep doing that," I guided her, pressing her head against me to beg for more.

I slightly arched my back and bit my lower lip, feeling an orgasm building that was preparing to shower her with a resounding thank you. She had been the one to discover I was multi-orgasmic and, since then, as a pleaser, had made sure to dissolve my week's stress with her tongue before ever penetrating me.

The variations of her tongue ignited my flesh, inviting my hands to pinch and roll my nipples between my fingers while my juices streamed into her mouth. I was ready for Lutz, and I didn't have to ask for him, not when my body was screaming for him.

She sealed her lips around my clit, increasing the suction gently with the caving of her cheeks. She teased me by varying the pressure, edging me closer, then releasing to build up my climax, almost as if showing off the power she had over my body. Her meticulous approach culminated with me squirming and gushing into her mouth, which I knew she happily swallowed without having to look at her.

She kissed all around my throbbing labia, from one thigh to the other, leaving a trail of tender kisses on her way up to the missionary position. She grabbed my chin and spit the aftertaste of my orgasm into my mouth.

"Fuck me, Lutz," I told her, reaching to hold my legs open for her and grant her the access she wanted.

She placed one hand on the back of my head, grabbing a handful of my hair and the other around my neck to restrict my oxygen and heighten my sensations. It was our favorite position, up close and personal, with our lips mere inches from each other, that said more than we ever could.

She pushed Lutz into me, parting my entrance with his bulbous head, and reintroduced me to him one inch at a time. "You like it long and thick, slut," she said, buried deeply into the depths of my wickedness where all my darkest fantasies dwelled.

Hearing those words coming from another woman felt surreal. She was right, I had asked for Lutz and his pussy-stretching dimensions, but amid all of that, her powerful, feminine aura wasn't lost in me. She was beautiful, in dominant control, but with a genuine care for me that her electric blue eyes expressed so eloquently.

Her soft kisses on my lips were contrasted by the masculine vigor of Lutz, relentlessly slotting into me and forcing me to listen to the repeated sounds of my squelching depravity. My tongue was an out-of-beat dance partner to hers because I kept breaking their rhythm to let out moans into her ear.

She finally eased on my neck, making me squirm under her grasp as euphoria manifested itself in the way of a gush splashing against her lower abdomen. If it wasn't for the pounding tracing my most sensitive erogenous zones, I would have blacked out to her overwhelming prowess.

"You're fucking me so good," I said, pulling my legs further back to entice her thrusts.

There were times when I ate her out, either by taking turns or doing the sixty-nine position, and other times when I used the strap-on on her, but our preference for a dominant-submissive dynamic was unrivaled. It's what came most natural to us and how we had first fancied the idea of being together when we met at the sex shop and I confided to her that I wanted to try a strap-on but had no one to use it on me.

"This pussy is mine," she said, stinging my face with her hand before returning it around my neck. "Not your husband's, not anyone else's, just mine, do you understand?"

I nodded my head in obedience, appreciating the roughness I had long fantasized about, one that my husband simply didn't have in him. It made me wonder what he would think of me if he knew how a younger woman treated me, more so, how much I enjoyed and begged for it. It was effortless for her, a fetish so satisfying that could make her orgasm without directly touching herself.

She stopped her pummeling hips, giving me a second to catch my breath, but only while she turned me around like a sex doll and put me on all fours. She lightly tapped my reddened pussy, as if telling it that she wasn't done with it yet, then pushed down on my lower back to arch my body to her liking.

With my head resting on the bed, I couldn't tell what she was going to do next until I heard the nightstand open. That's where she kept her go-to vibrator that she usually inserted before fucking me doggy style. Hearing it buzzing loudly when she turned it on then muffled once inside of her made my pussy pulsate and sent my nectar trickling down my thighs.

She got behind me, modifying the traditional position by having only one knee down and the other bent at an angle with her foot flat on the bed for increased leverage. "Your booty is damn perfect," she said, spanking it a couple of times to watch it jiggle.

I gripped the sheets underneath me, bracing for more spanks, but she caught me off guard by thrusting Lutz back into me in one thrust. "Ohmm, fuckk," I moaned, knowing she meant what she said about owning my pussy.

She allowed me a moment to refamiliarize myself with Lutz, but that didn't stop her from spanking me some more, hard enough to leave red imprints on my cheeks. She settled her hands on my hips and unlocked the profound pleasure that only this position could give me with her powerful strokes that dissipated the pain of my reddened cheeks. It was simple enough, the angle allowed her to maximize the motion of her hips and reach the backside of my pussy with all of Lutz's length.

The girth gaped me, stretching me to my limits, while the length bottomed out with every thrust that my ass cushioned. I didn't have the stamina or the hip control to wield Lutz as she did, but I knew what it looked like from the times I had fucked her. It was enthralling to see him disappear and then reappear with more glistening lubrication that signaled the right spots were being stroked.

These were the scenes that were etched in my mind, the reason I couldn't stay away from her for too long. She was my newfound addiction, and why I decided against being a loyal wife when my affair had arguments like these. I had responsibilities out there in the real world as people called it, but from her apartment, that view was nothing more than a blurry background because my sole responsibility in her lair was indulging in hedonism.

"You bad fucking wife," she said, delivering another punishing spank to my rippling flesh.

I knew she was close, she was much easier to crack than I was, and the light splashing of her juices against me told me so. However, she had one more surprise in store for me amid the brutal thrashing of my guts. She removed one of her hands from my hips and reached for something to her side. I didn't know what it was until I felt it pressing against my rear entrance.

She pushed it in with little reluctance from my body. A small tip that gave way to a larger feeling, a butt plug was my obvious guess, but when that also penetrated my puckering grip, I figured out she was introducing anal beads into my rectum, with each one being larger than the last.

The dual stimulation had my skin burning with lust, my face flushed and my chest heaving. I could feel Lutz ravaging my pussy and creating enough friction to slightly move the beads on the other side of my thin wall. My climax was imminent but she didn't stop, on the contrary, it incentivized her to push another bead into me then another, until both my entrances were equally stuffed.

"You're gonna make..." I warned, unable to finish before my body interrupted me with repeated squirts that matched the convulsions of my pussy. My cries of pleasure echoed off her apartment walls, loud enough to quell the thoughts that I would ever abandon such pleasures.

My exhausted body succumbed to the orgasmic tremble, crashing down on the bed, unable to withstand the rush of sexual ecstasy rippling through my body. My pulsating pussy was contrasted by my clenched sphincter, it garnered most of the attention, after all, it was the main culprit of my debauchery, but my clawing fingernails and curling toes made their presence felt, too. Basking in my infidelity, I could feel my heart thumping in every centimeter of my flesh, being who I wanted to be and ready to exchange my other life for this one, at least until my pleasure subsided and reality set back in.

In my nearly semi-comatose state, I remained aware just enough to feel her crawling next to me in bed. She relished seeing what she had done to me, so much that it sent her over the edge with the help of her trusted vibrator. She joined me in orgasmic bliss, moaning into my ear like I had done to her before, and although her peak was more tame, she held me against her body, and said, "You loved that, fuck yeah you did."

"Combining Lutz with the beads was intense," I told her, kissing her on the forehead, "You just know how to keep me coming back for more."

Once again I had thoroughly enjoyed everything about our meeting. It wasn't only the different ways we displayed our carnality, but also the aftermath during which I made peace with the woman I had become, in large part thanks to her guidance. It was necessary to mend myself before returning to normalcy and while it had gotten easier over time, it still required the introspection that filled me with temporary remorse.

The moments before I left were always bittersweet, when my skin was glowing with satisfaction but my chest carried an emptiness of uncertainty. Her embrace aided my recovery, relaying her understanding and serving as reassurance that no matter how different we were, our special bond would keep bringing us back together. We didn't know how much longer we could compartmentalize our lives, maybe heartbreak was in the cards, or maybe exploring more toys and involving other people in our sexual escapades. Whatever the future held, we would experience it together.