Julissa and her husband, Rodrigo, had been trying to become parents for several years, with him unwilling to go the artificial insemination route without first exhausting the other options to help his fertility problem. She was thirty-six and felt like she was running out of time, which had her thinking of ways outside the box that would not hurt her husband's ego.
One idea in particular remained in the back of her mind, but she made sure to keep it captive and not let it enter the realm of possibility due to its immoral nature. It revolved around one of her husband's friends, Manuel, who stayed over at their place every once in a while when his job brought him down to the city. She would have liked for that to be the end of the scenario, but there was a wicked detail that her husband was not aware of, one that took her and Manuel back to their college days when they had a semester-long fling.
Throughout the years, she had noticed his lascivious glances when he visited, and even found that he left her used panties with a pungent crust on them whenever possible. From the time she had met him, she had identified him as somewhat of an immature pervert who lacked the qualities to be husband material, but who was carefree enough to top the list of candidates to de-stress with in college and potentially impregnate her now.
However, she refused to give it serious consideration, not because of his friendship with her husband or that she didn't trust him to keep the secret, but because she figured it would only come into play as a last resort. Her focus remained on following the professional advice and protocol they had received in hopes of a natural pregnancy.
It wasn't until more time passed and their frustration grew with the process that Manuel's visit coincided with tempting her with the key to uncage the immoral beast within her. She stayed up late, staring blankly at the dark ceiling while her husband slept next to her. She didn't want to admit it to herself but her body was way past that point with her labia swelling in anticipation of the acceptance of her debauchery.
It's wrong but, damn, it's the perfect opportunity, she thought.
The answer to their problem was in the guestroom downstairs in the form of a familiar person that she had previous sexual experience with. She understood the magnitude of the moment that had presented itself under her own roof, with only the chains defining her morality restraining her.
Her limbs trembled in anxious uncertainty, and her mind offered no alternatives as it was overwhelmed with sexual memories of her escapades with Manuel. The most memorable encounter took center stage, projecting itself in her mind's eye, as she vividly recalled the time when they fucked in a small study room in the library after working on a group project.
She undid her silk robe and slid a hand under the cotton fabric of her panties until her fingers reached the evidence of her arousal and lubricated themselves. She retrieved her fingers and brought them into her mouth, tasting herself and finding the courage to make a decision.
She got out of bed, careful not to wake her husband, and snuck out of the room in a symbolic scene that reflected her descent into the depths of her morality where her depravity dwelled. Her wantonness urged her down the stairs, with every step dissipating her guilt and giving clarity to her objective.
She could not hear her own footsteps over her heartbeat, but she could see indirect light coming from guestroom's ajar door. She opened the door, just enough to fit through, and slow enough to make sure it did not creak.
"Hey, are you still up?" she asked, locking the door behind her.
"Yeah, I was about to jerk off," he said, closing his laptop and placing it on the nightstand, which left only the dim bathroom light against the otherwise pitch-black room.
"You're such a perv," she playfully said, showing the lighthearted energy and confidence they had in their friendship.
"I don't know, you're the one coming into my room with your robe undone," he said, struggling to get a look at her bare breasts.
"Yes, about that, I need your help," she said as she sat down on the opposite side of the bed from him.
"How may I help you...at this time of the night, ma'am?" he asked, feeling his bulge tenting his boxers.
"You know that, uh, I've been trying to get pregnant forever...but it's just not happening," she began, hesitating in her words, yet inching closer to him amid the rising sexual tension. "And tonight, er, I'm ovulating but you showed up and interrupted our...session."
"Oh, well, my bad," he said, unsure of where she was going with it. "I didn't know."
"We don't have much time, I can explain later, but I need to know I can trust you," she said, using her usual soft and sweet tone.
"You know you can, Jules," he said, knowing that he wasn't going to say anything to cock-block himself.
It hadn't gone as smooth as she had envisioned it, but their long-standing connection ensured they understood each other well. It had been over a decade since their last intimate moment but neither of them could tell by how they effortlessly undressed each other and gave in to their desires.
"Missionary, you know, helps the odds," she explained.
He pressed the top side of his shaft between her labia, rubbing it along the length of her slit, and said, "I don't remember it getting this hot."
She would never admit it to him out loud but the taboo of cheating on her husband with one of his friends with the goal of impregnation ignited her essence with lustful flames that scorched through her marriage vows and empowered her sexuality to its apex.