Excitement and regret. Those are the best words that I can think of to encapsulate my feelings about one-night stands. I haven’t had many, only four, ever,  but each time it was the excitement of someone new, and the arousal, and the sudden, meaningless physical attraction and need that led me into it. And each time it had been good, or even amazing - in that moment.

 And afterward, each time, I had asked myself what the fuck I'd done, how I could behave like such a cheap slut, why I would give in to that sudden, powerful rush of arousal, which, afterward, ended up being a hollow, empty feeling, just for a great fuck. And they had been great fucks; I’d chosen well each time, all four of the penis-packing targets of my lust had been good-looking, smart, sexy, eager, reasonably well-endowed, and fairly talented lovers, so from that perspective I should have been thrilled, and satisfied.

And, as I said, I was – in the moment. Extreme arousal, pleasure, and powerful orgasms are a very strong incentive for making foolish choices. But afterward, when the high of my sexual arousal began to wane, and the flood of endorphins in my system began to recede, and the sexy guys had drained their arousal into me, gone limp, and taken their leave, the regrets and second-guessing hit like a tsunami.

And this time it was the worst of all, the regret almost enough to make my knees buckle, because this time, my fourth one-night stand, was very different than the first three times; this time, I was married. And I love my husband, so all of those doubts, all of those regrets, all of the choruses of voices in my head calling me an idiot or worse, were a hundred times louder.

He could never know, of course, I could never hurt the man I love in that way; this was a burden of guilt I’d have to carry alone.

I’d been out with a bunch of my lady friends - a “night out with the girls”, as we referred to it, something we only get to do maybe three or four times per year anymore. We usually went to a club that had dancing, and had tonight, so that wasn’t unusual, and more often than not I got asked to dance by a man – or men; we all did, so that wasn’t unusual either.

I was mildly buzzed; not drunk enough to not know what I was doing, just enough to dial my inhibitions down to almost non-existent; even that wasn’t totally abnormal.

What had been unusual was the guy who asked me to dance. He’d been tall, nicely built, smelled wonderful, and was incredibly handsome, with jet black hair and ice blue eyes, an odd combination I’d never thought much about but on him found irresistible. And so, I’d accepted his invite without a moment’s hesitation. And the first dance had been fine. It was a country place, Western-themed, and we did the two-step to Mary Chapin Carpenter’s ‘Down at the Twist and Shout’.  Another fast song followed, and we danced to that, but then they started to play Keith Whitley’s ‘When You Say Nothing at All’, a slow, romantic song that demands close dancing.

I started to beg off, thanking him for the dance, but he looked so disappointed and asked me for “just one more” that, against my better judgment, I let him pull me close. His scent, and his firm, powerful chest, muscular arms, and broad shoulders as he towered over me were primal things that, like most women, I am almost powerless to resist, and I melted against him. I also realized I was melting in another way, too, my body letting me know it was ready and eager to explore him more intimately. I may have moaned.

When he pulled me tightly to him, not keeping his lower body politely angled away as a less assertive man might, I was immediately aware of the hard bulge of his manhood against my lower tummy. He meant me to be aware of him, I know, and I was, and it felt better than it should have, too large, too hard, too warm, too welcome and arousing, and when I ground myself against it – an automatic response that I might have resisted with one less drink on board – I heard him growl. I felt myself soaking my tiny thong beneath my short skirt as his hand slipped down and below the hem to squeeze my bare ass.

Minutes later, after having abided by the rule that one should never fuck anyone before the third dance, we found ourselves in the claustrophobic little storeroom of the bar, back by the restrooms, with a few spare tables and chairs and stacks of boxes of liquor surrounding us, tearing at each other’s clothes.

And whatever you might guess happened from there, you’re probably at least partially right; later, after sobering up a bit with my friends and trying to pretend as if they didn’t all know what I’d done, the remorse and regrets hit hard as I was driving home. Fucking a stranger in the stockroom of a lousy bar, for Christ’s sake! What a cheap fucking slut!

Touching myself, I found the tiny triangle of my thong saturated with cum; it had soaked through the cotton lining and was seeping through the red nylon. Despite having gone to the restroom to try to clean up, my upper thighs were slick with him too, and in the confines of my car, the scent of our coupling was almost overwhelming. Despite the chilly night, I rolled my windows down in a vain attempt to disperse the heady sex scent.

My God! What had I done, and what was I going to do now? My husband always waited up when I had these rare nights out, knowing I usually came home a bit drunk and a lot horny, and he looked forward to it! I touched myself again, and sniffed my fingers, and, God help me, a shiver of arousal ran through me. But he must never know! I couldn’t hurt him this way… I love him, and I love our marriage, and now, for a brief thrill (an amazing one, but still…) I might have ruined everything!

Perhaps Lee (my husband’s name is Farley, but he despises that and everyone calls him Lee – I hadn’t even known his name was Farley until we’d been dating for several months) had fallen asleep on the sofa. It’s happened a few times, and I always wake him up with a kiss, or by doing something sexual like rubbing my bare breasts in his face, or sucking his cock if it’s accessible without waking him first. Tonight, if I were lucky, I could sneak past him and go do a thorough cleanup, maybe even grab a shower!

I decided to go around the back and enter through the kitchen so that if, by some miracle, he was asleep, the front door opening wouldn’t wake him. I unlocked the door and crept in as quietly as I could, closing it gently behind me. Then I turned around… and promptly knocked a metal pot lid off the counter with my elbow.

Fuck! I stepped on it quickly to stop the clatter, but it was too late.

“Honey? Is that you?”

Double fuck!

“Well, I would hope so. Were you expecting someone else, maybe a clumsy burglar or something?”

He stepped into the kitchen archway that opens to the living room, and I was struck again by how handsome he is. His tousled brown hair, dark eyes, three-day stubble, and crooked smile went so well with his distressed blue polo shirt, and he looked so long and lean in those thin, knit lounge/workout pants he favors. Plus, they very nicely display his little masculine bulge when he foregoes underwear, like now. “Well, I was sort of hoping it might be some sexy, beautiful, horny woman that might want to jump my bones – and look, that’s what I got! Did you have fun with your friends?”

“I did, yeah; Katy and Lynn said to say hi.” They’re the only two that know him well, and I knew he’d be happy that sexy Lynn, in particular, had remembered him; he’s had a hard-on for her for years.

“Hi back, next time you talk to them. Gen, why did you come in through the kitchen?” (That’s me, Gennifer, but he always uses either Gen or Genner if he says my name at all.)

“I thought you might be asleep on the sofa; I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve seemed so tired lately.”

“Me? No, I’m fine, wide awake and raring to go.”

Well, shit! So much for the power of subliminal suggestion. “I’m sort of tired myself; maybe I’ll head for bed and…”

He looked so disappointed! “Really? You’re usually kind of horny after a night out with the girls and a couple of drinks! That’s one of the things I like most about ‘em.”

“I at least need to go get out of these clothes. Someone spilled a beer on me, and I smell like cigarette smoke.”

Before I could bolt, he grabbed my arm and led me over to our big overstuffed easy chair. “Well, I can help you with that part, at least.”

My heart was racing! I had to figure a way out of this – and without seeming like a freaked out bitch, which would make him suspicious - but he bent and kissed me, his tongue seeking entrance into my mouth, where another man’s big cock had recently been! He hadn’t come in my mouth, so I wasn’t worried about cum breath, but Lee always says he loves the way my lips feel so hot and puffy after giving him a blowjob, so I was afraid maybe he could still feel that!

When he backed off, he said, “Your lips are really hot!”

Uh-oh! “I’m probably a little dehydrated; all the alcohol. You know.”

“I guess.” He sat on the broad arm of the chair and started to unbutton my blouse. “Let me help you undress; I’m good at that!”

He is, it’s true – but he also loves to open my blouse when I’m not wearing a bra, like now, and spend quality time on my breasts. They’re small, but I have sensitive nipples and he’s always loved them, and it was a safe place for him to spend some time. He touched and stroked, and pinched and tugged my nipples before he leaned forward to suck on them – the second man to do so in the last couple of hours. I didn’t think he’d be able to smell or taste another man’s dried saliva on my skin, or tell that my nipples were tender and bruised from a recent rough session, and indeed, he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

As he sucked my nipples, he slipped my blouse off my shoulders and threw it on the sofa. Looking down, I could see that the little bulge in his knit pants was turning into a nice tent, the head of his cock clearly outlined in the thin silver-gray fabric. Oh fuck, he was horny!

When he leaned back and looked up at me over my very stiff nipples, I saw his nostrils flare, and I knew he had caught the scent of sex, of another man’s cum. A small frown creased his handsome face as his mind grappled with identifying the phantom scent, but smoothed as he dismissed it and moved on.

“Here, turn around, and I’ll get your skirt.” That was my cue to step away, but he had his hands on my hips, and he turned me, then hooked his fingers in my waistband, unbuttoned it, and began to slide the zipper down. I was freaking, near-panic, and when he let my skirt drop to the floor, I almost fainted.

But he laughed, and gently snapped the waist string of my tiny thong before patting my ass. “Butt floss, huh, babe? I love it, and the dentist will be very happy to know you’re flossing.”

I was one of his favorite jokes, and I laughed obligingly. But then he slid one hand around the front to stroke the tiny, wet, blue triangle of fabric, and the other up my inner thigh, where he soon encountered a wet slick of me and man-cum. And I closed my eyes and held my breath.

He dabbled in it for a moment, enjoying the slipperiness between his fingers and my skin, but when he pushed two fingers inside the tiny, sopping blue fabric, I felt him shudder with arousal, as I quaked in dread.

“Fuck, babe,” he breathed, “I thought you said you weren’t horny! You’re fucking dripping! Damn, that feels so good…”

“Hon’…

“And you sure as hell aren’t dehydrated! Fuck, Gen, I can’t remember you being this wet… maybe after sex, but not before. I fucking love it!”

I knew that at some point the dots would connect – my resistance to our usual romp after I’d been out with the girls, the scent, the fact that I was literally dripping, the feel of semen versus my natural sex secretions, which I know are different – his mind was not prepared to form that thought just yet, but it would.

He stroked my pussy again, enjoying the sensual feel of my puffy, wet, slippery sex, and, God help me, I shuddered with arousal. I shouldn’t have been able to feel any arousal over the fear, dread, and remorse I was feeling, but I did.

He turned me back around and kissed my tummy, slowly kissing his way lower, to the top of my cum-soaked thong. I saw his nostrils flare again at the foreign scent, and I trembled, my nerves shot. He was fingering me eagerly now, sliding two fingers into my soupy pussy, and when he pulled them out and looked at them, I knew he knew; he had to! What coated his fingers was not my clear, glistening pussy juice, but rather a thicker, more viscous, milky fluid, some areas translucent, others opaque white, but none of it clear and transparent, like normal.

I stared at his hand, waiting for the storm, but he only glanced at it before raising it to his nose for a long sniff. He swore. “Fuck!” And then the unexpected, something for which I was utterly unprepared; he said, “You smell so fucking sexy, my God! I gotta taste you!”

And he shoved his fingers into his mouth. His wet, slimy, cum-slick fingers, dripping with another man’s cum, he suddenly shoved into his mouth and sucked clean!

I let out a cry and tried to grab his wrist, but I was caught completely flat-footed, and I was too late. “Honey, no! Lee…”

I could only watch as his expression changed, first from excitement and arousal to puzzlement, and then to wonder, the realization and the doubt hitting him at the same time. But he knew, and I knew he knew, but his doubts compelled him to sniff his fingers yet again, and give them a quick lick. And then he looked up, into my eyes, and said, simply, “Baby…?”

I felt a huge weight on me, and a sob was forming in my chest. Ashamed to face him, I turned my back; I couldn’t stand to see the pain and hurt I knew would be on his face and in his eyes, or face the anger, the hatred, the disgust, and accusations that I knew would follow. Crushed by what I’d done, I fell to my knees at his feet, my back to him, my body wracked with anguish. “Oh, honey… oh, Farley, sweetheart, I’m so sorry!”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds – I wanted him to scream at me, call me names, all the things I knew I deserved, but when he did eventually speak, all he said was, “Uh-oh. You used my full name even though you know I hate it. This can’t be good.”

That’s Lee, in a nutshell; when his world is crumbling, he chooses calm and gentle humor. I’m not sure I’ve ever loved him more than that moment, but then he touched my shoulder and said, “Tell me, Genner. Tell me what happened.”

I sighed, then turned and looked at him over my shoulder. I don’t know if the anguish on my face was as clear as the hurt and doubt on his, or the pain in my eyes matched his either, but I thought I saw something else in his eyes, too. Curiosity, I think. Curiosity, and genuine interest, and maybe even a hint of arousal, although that was likely just my imagination. Or maybe it was anger…

“Oh, Farley… Oh honey. I cheated on you. I’m so, so sorry… can you ever forgive me?”

I turned away again, unwilling to watch him process my awful confession. After a long silence, he said, in a hushed voice, “You fucked another guy?”

I nodded silently, my tears falling on my bare breasts.

Another long silence, and then he said, “Tell me what happened.”

“What?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing… well, not nothing, of course. We were just dancing…”

“That must have been one hell of a dance.”  Lee doesn’t like to dance, and he knows I do, so he’s never much minded me dancing with other guys. Usually, they’re guys we know and trust, of course. “So… what? Did you fuck him right on the dance floor?”

“No, of course not. It wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it?”

“What?”

“How did you go from dancing to screwing?”

I sighed in defeat, knowing I couldn’t avoid him, knowing how slutty I’d been. “I probably had one too many - you know how I get.”

“I do, yes.”

“Anyhow, we’d danced to a couple of great country songs, the two-step, that kind of thing, and then a slow song started.”

“Ah! I see. You didn’t want to slow dance, so you fucked him instead.”

“No! Lee… It just… he smelled so nice, and he was tall, and strong, and nice looking…” He’d been gorgeous, but I wasn’t going to tell my husband that! “It, um, affected me. You know. And then when we danced… honey, he was hard, and it felt so good. You know what that does to me.”

“I do, but why don’t you tell me?”

“Lee, please…”

“Just tell me. I need to understand.”

“Well, it felt good, pressed against my tummy, all hard and hot and big…”

“He was big?”

Shit! Why did I say that!  “It felt that way when he pressed it against me, yes, kind of rubbing on me. You know how horny that makes me.”

“So you were grinding on him, too.”

It took me a moment to admit it, but I eventually said, “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, what, then? He just dragged you off into a corner, or out to his car and…”

“No. It was probably my fault. I probably started it.”

“You? How… why…”

“I told you I probably drank a little too much, so you know.” He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to go on, and eventually, I did. “I reached down and squeezed him. I groped him, okay? While we were dancing. It felt so nice, and so big, and I wanted to find out if…”

“And was he? Was it big?”

“Honey, I don’t know – I mean, I didn’t know then. It felt pretty big, but that was through his pants and all, but it was nice.”

He cut me off again. “You liked that, I’ll bet.”

“You know…”

“Were you wet? I’ll bet you were dripping.”

“Lee, please…”

“So you were, then.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess. I’d been aroused ever since he rubbed his hard bulge against me, so it just kept building. It’s how you do stupid things.”

“Clearly. Then what?”

“We were still dancing, sort of, and he had his arms around me. He was squeezing my ass, and when I, um, fondled him, he slid his hands up under my skirt. He touched me, my bare skin, and stroked my bottom, and then he slid his fingers inside…”

“Inside? Inside of your thong, or inside of you?”

“Inside of my thong. And then inside of me. Can we please stop this now? I feel bad enough without the replay.” The truth was, as I recounted the story, step by step, I was getting aroused all over again, my pussy hot and wet, and that was just wrong.

“Christ, Gen. No, we can’t just stop it now. I need to know what you did; you owe me that at least.” I could feel his eyes on my back, and I knew he was glaring at me, filled with hate and revulsion. “Did you come when he did that, when he put his fingers in you?”

I hadn’t, not immediately; I came when he stroked my rigid clit just moments later. I said nothing, remembering how good it had felt.

I heard him groan. “You did! You had a fucking orgasm as soon as he touched you! What did you do next: go fuck him in a bathroom stall or something?”

“No, that’s disgusting. There was a stockroom, like a storeroom or something down the hall, and he took me there.”

“And you went willingly? He didn’t force you?”

I shook my head no.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know…why? He said it was Alex, but I don’t know.”

“You just wanted to fuck…”

I nodded.

“Goddamn it, Genner! What happened next? I’ll bet you sucked his cock.”

I nodded again; my husband knows what I like, I’ll grant him that!

“Tell me!”

“I dropped to my knees. I opened up his pants. I sucked his cock. What else is there to tell?”

“And you loved it.”

I shrugged.

“You loved it. And how big was he, now that you had him in your fucking, cocksucking mouth?”

“Pretty big.”

“Bigger than me?”

“Lee, please don’t.” My husband has nothing to be ashamed of in the penis department. He’s very much an all-American average male, a very nice five-and-a-half to six-inch cock, depending on how aroused he was, a nice medium girth, a very nice, handsome, user-friendly cock, all in all. But like most men who don’t have ridiculous mega-cocks, he’s insecure about it; he thinks he’s too small, which he is not. My stupid mistake hadn’t been about that.

‘So tell me – was he bigger than me?”

I nodded miserably.

“How much bigger?”

I shrugged, but he wouldn’t let it go.

“Longer?”

I nodded.

“What, like twice my size?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No, he wasn’t a foot long. God, Lee…”

“How much bigger, then?”

“I don’t know. A couple of inches, I guess, maybe three.”

“That’s pretty big.”

Again, I nodded.

“How about thickness? Thicker than me?”

I didn’t answer; he had been quite thick, something that was especially noticeable when I took him into my mouth and when he first entered me, but I had no desire to tell my husband that. He just wouldn’t let up!

“Was his cock thicker than mine?”

I nodded – barely, but he saw it.

“How much thicker?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t measuring! Probably twice as thick as you, Lee. He was thick, okay? He had a great cock, long and thick, and big, smooth, gorgeous balls too, before you ask, because I’m sure you will!”

My apparent anger and frustration at his endless grilling stung and silenced him for a moment. He was forcing me to give him the death of a thousand cuts, and I hated it. I had no desire to tell him the filthy details, to keep hurting him, no desire to humiliate him; what I’d done was bad enough, and now I had to feel bad about lashing out too, something I had no right to do.

Quietly, he said, “Just tell me what happened, then. Don’t keep making me ask. I have a right to know – I need to know! What happened after you sucked his big cock?” He said that last part derisively, his way of calling me a cock whore without saying it.

I dropped my chin to my chest, ashamed and angry – angry at him for forcing me to do this, but mostly angry at myself. But this was what he wanted, so… “He made me stop. I think he was about to come, and that would have been fine with me. You know I love that, your cock spurting in my mouth, but he still wanted to fuck me. He lifted me onto a pile of liquor boxes, and kneeled in front of me and licked my pussy. Maker’s Mark…”

“What?”

“The top box; it said ‘Maker’s Mark’.” I don’t know why I said that, or even why I’d noticed. Maybe it was because after he licked me to orgasm, and fucked me face-to-face, he’d bent me over those boxes like a cheap whore and fucked me like I’d never been fucked, and I was staring at those words while he slammed his gorgeous big cock into me, reading them as I came again and again.

“That’s pretty good Bourbon.”

“What? Who cares? Does that matter?”

“Well, you said it… Never mind, just go on; he was licking your pussy. I’m sure you were dripping. Did you come?”

“What do you think?”

“Of course you did. You love that.” He touched the back of my thong, right where the butt floss joins the waistband, tugging at it and pulling it into my cum-slick crease. “Did he take this off first? I’m surprised he didn’t just rip it off.”

I shook my head. “No. He just pulled it off to the side, out of his way.”

“And then he fucked you… my wife.”

What a weird thing to say! Still facing away from him, I frowned, not sure how, or even if, I should respond to that. Finally, I muttered yet again, “Lee, I’m sorry.”

“How did it feel when he stuck his big cock in you?”

“Lee, my God! Can we please stop this?”

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back so that I was looking up at him, my neck craned awkwardly. “No! No, we can’t fucking stop! In fact… turn around and face me. I want to see your face; I need to look into your eyes while you tell me how much you loved feeling his big cock enter your horny slut pussy.”

I was shocked by the vehemence of his words - he never talks to me like that – but all I could do was sit and take it. I deserved it, after all, and I could hardly criticize him for verbalizing pretty much the exact way I felt about myself. I slowly turned around, shamed and embarrassed, my eyes on the floor, and then on his feet in his slippers as I kneeled in front of him.

“Look at me! Look me in the eyes while you tell me how much you enjoyed his ‘great big, thick cock and huge, smooth, gorgeous balls’ while he was fucking you!”

He spat the words at me, mocking me, using my own words that I’d flayed him with in an ill-advised moment of pique when I’d tried to strike back, frustrated with his questions. I looked up at his face, expecting to find him red-faced, veins bulging, his sweet, handsome face contorted with rage and humiliation.

But that’s not what I saw. Instead, his face was slightly flushed, glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his lips wet and puffy as he kept licking them, and his eyes… God, his eyes were dilated, his dark pupils massive, wide with arousal, and I watched them roam over my mostly naked body, taking in a hickey on my neck that I didn’t even know was there until later, roaming over my small breasts, my nipples dark pink and puffy, bruised from rough use, and down to my crotch.

They locked on the tiny triangle of light blue fabric, now stained dark with another man’s semen, which continued to leak out of me. He looked at my legs, specifically my upper thighs, the inside of which were wet and shiny with streaks of cum, white and creamy at the top, along the edges of the thong.

When his eyes locked on my sex, my crotch, my eyes dropped to his, almost by reflex, and I was shocked by what I saw!

My husband, my angry, embarrassed, humiliated cuckold husband, was enormously aroused! His thin pants were stretched out over his erection, tented up to a rounded dome over the head of his cock! Not only that, there were several dark wet spots on the silver-gray fabric, ranging from nickel to almost half-dollar size, where his precum had saturated the material.

Lee is a leaker; even when a little aroused, he seeps. When he gets very aroused, like when I’m edging him or something, he gets rock-hard rigid and there is an almost constant trickle of precum issuing from his tip; sometimes, if it goes on and he’s dying of horniness, it even gets a little of the white stuff in it, which is a very good sign that he’s about to go full-geyser. I love it because I can tease and torture him at that stage, and I get a tasty treat, and he loves it because it’s so exciting, and his orgasm will be so very intense.

Now, though, despite his anger and jealousy, he was inexplicably, bizarrely, hugely aroused. It made no sense!

 The little light in my head began to flicker, the filament first glowing softly, and then growing brighter, and then suddenly flaring to life! What I’d done, despite how awful it was for him, was also his favorite fantasy come to life, a variation of the tale he tells most often when we’re sharing fantasies or making up little stories and vignettes to arouse each other, sort of like role play without acting out.

For most of our marriage, some of the ways we’ve spiced things up are by making up stories to tell each other involving our imaginary sexual exploits, or sharing fantasies we knew could never come true. Sometimes we even searched out videos online that catered to our kinkier, unfulfilled desires to watch together. Mine varied – public sex or exposure, or sex on a tropical beach with an audience (usually guys jerking off while they watched), maybe being tied up or spanked, possibly even spanked by him and all his friends when they came over to “play cards” (which he doesn’t even do) before servicing each of them, or, rarely, me and Lee enjoying another woman. If I were extra horny and being naughty, I might even fantasize about being sprayed and slathered with the hot cum of a dozen men… or worse!

His stories and fantasies always, ALWAYS involved some variation of me with another man, or even other men. In some of them, it was Lee and another man taking turns with me, in others it was me with another man while Lee watched, maybe jerking off. In some of his fantasies it was me with two (or more) other men, Lee watching and masturbating, or filming, or maybe tied to a chair and forced to watch me being fucked – and me coming, orgasm after orgasm driven by big, masculine, well-endowed men – while all he could do was sit and helplessly watch while hearing my ecstasy.

They were, essentially, cuckold fantasies, I suppose, but I really liked the ones he told of me with him and another man, the three of us making love and enjoying each other’s bodies. Those made me very horny, as did most of the ones of me with two other very sexy, sexually gifted men while my husband watched and enjoyed, maybe jerking off. Those were fun and arousing; I think having two men focused entirely on me and my desires would be amazing, and sometimes Lee would talk like he wanted to make these fantasies come true.

His harder fantasies, with multiple guys, with him being shamed and humiliated, I didn’t much like those, even when the action was arousing. I didn’t understand them, and knew I could never be a part of something like that. But they aroused him, and that’s good.

He’s my husband, though, and if anyone is ever going to humiliate him it would likely be me, either unintentionally somehow or like I had tonight by cheating, fucking another man behind his back, and stomping on his pride and masculinity by letting that man pump his big phallus and flood of cum, of semen, of his hot, virile sperm, deep into my body, which belonged to my husband.

It had been good, though, very good, but now, sober, I felt awful about it; somehow, however, despite it all, my sweet, loving, kinky little freak of a husband was enormously and conspicuously aroused.

I wondered if maybe a part of my cheating had been a subconscious acceptance of his fantasies and desires, that maybe deep down, I’d felt that he was okay with it, even wanted me to do it. That gave me an easy rationalization, an excuse, an off-ramp for my guilt and self-loathing. I also knew, in my heart, that it was bullshit. No man, no husband could want his wife to do something like that, and he was clearly hurt!

I mean, no man would want that. Would they?

Now, though, here he was, cuckolded in the ugliest way by my cheating, but quivering with arousal, his cock a steel bar, by all appearances about to spill a load in his pants!

“Lee? Honey? Are you okay?” He just looked at me… and leaked. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course I’m mad at you! And hurt, and embarrassed… Am I not enough for you?”

“Of course you are! It was just a thing, a moment… It wasn’t about you! I’d had too much to drink, he was very sexy, I was very horny, but I love you! I fucked up. Even after I felt that big cock of his, I should have walked away, but I didn’t. That was my mistake.”

“No.” He paused and then went on, “No, Gen, your mistake was not bringing him home with you. You could have talked, felt him out…”

I was stunned into momentary silence until I tried to break the tension with a weak joke, softly saying, “I did feel him out…”

He snorted, almost laughed. “Not like that! I mean, about whether he would have been open to a threesome, or to letting me watch! You could have included me; you know how much I’ve always wanted to experience that, my biggest fantasy.”

“I didn’t, Lee; I didn’t know that! I always thought it was just a fantasy; I didn’t think you’d ever want to really do it. Honey, is that why you’re so aroused? I mean, look at you…wow!”

I reached out to touch him, but he pushed my hand away. “Don’t!”

“But look how hard you are! And you’re leaking so much, you must be…” I reached out again, and this time he didn’t stop me. I loved the wet, slippery fabric of his pants on my fingers, and when I squeezed his cock it was as hard as I’d ever felt it.

But then it jerked powerfully, and throbbed, and he grunted, “Ohh, fuck!” and he was coming. He came so powerfully that even through the fabric that was pulled taut over the head of his cock, that first blast spurted several inches, and then it was a flood of white, pearlescent, creamy goodness bubbling through his pants.  I dived onto his cock, taking it, fabric and all, into my mouth so that I could help him, make him feel better, possibly even redeem myself a little… plus, of course, I love his cum and the feeling of him cumming in my mouth.

It felt odd, his fabric-wrapped cock in my mouth, but the thin knit did little to slow the flow of his semen, nor to dampen the power of his orgasmic spasms, and I loved every second of it. Plus, it was so good to be enjoying such a powerfully intimate moment together when only moments ago I was sure he hated me!

I continued to suck him through his pants, and to my surprise and gratification, he gently stroked my hair and my neck, before lifting my hair out of the way so he could watch me kneeling at his feet, his cock in my mouth, apologizing in the best way I could think of! I couldn’t help it; I teared up and angrily swiped at my eyes with the back of my free hand.

He touched my neck again. “Honey, you can stop now.”

I shook my head no, his cock still in my mouth. I intended to suck him back into his soft, small, relaxed state, worshipping his cock as long as he’d let me. Getting the pants out of the way would be nice, though…

He squirmed before groaning, “Please stop! It’s super-sensitive right now; you know how it gets.”

I relented and released him, smiling up at him with cum-covered lips. “I know exactly how it gets. We can do more later. Stand up, though, so I can get you out of these pants! You’ve made quite a mess of them.”

"You first." I slipped out of my saturated thong, which he snatched from my hand and pressed to is face, breathing the pungent sex scent and rubbing the cum-slick triangle against his face and lips. I moaned with arousal and motioned for him to stand.

Before he stood, he bent forward and kissed me, licking his cum from my lips and chin, and when he stood, he groaned and wobbled. “Fuck… I’m dizzy!”

“I shouldn’t wonder, after that! That was quite a load, hon.”

“I haven’t come that hard in a long time… maybe ever! Incredible. Goddamn!”

I’d untied his drawstring and slipped his pants down by then, and was amazed to see he was still in the full upright and locked position! I pulled his erection down with one finger before releasing it to spring upright again and slap against his tummy.  “Speaking of hard, you still are! You haven’t done that in a long time either.”

It was true; early in our relationship, he would, if extra horny, occasionally remain hard for a second go-round, or barely soften before I breathed new life into it; now, almost eight years in, it didn’t seem to happen anymore. Until tonight.

“Do you want me to suck you again? I’d love to, you know.”

"No. Not now, anyway; I need to catch my breath and let my head stop spinning.”

“Sit, before you fall.” He did, his very stiff cock standing proud from his lap. I looked at it, my favorite cock on Earth, and smiled. “You’re amazing!”

He smiled, and my heart melted. It had been a block of icy fear ever since he’d figured out what I’d done to him, but his smile told me we’d be okay, perhaps, eventually. He held my hands, and now he pulled. “Stand up, Gen.”

I did, and he leaned forward, pressing the side of his face to my tummy for a moment as he pulled me against him. As he held me to him, he slid his fingers up my leg, slowing in the cum slick at the top before slipping them between my lips to softly stroke my most intimate spots.

I said, “Mmmm,” and parted my feet, pushing my hips forward to give him easier access. He softly stroked me for a few moments, teasing my clit with his fingertip before sliding two fingers into me, something easily accomplished in my slippery, messy sex. It felt good, and I thrust myself onto his fingers. He muttered, “Fuck, that’s so hot! I can’t believe you still have so much cum in you.”

I moaned, due partly to him fingering me and partly to remembering how it had felt at the time. “He was really deep, hon’, balls-deep, and he held himself all the way in me while he came. It was so…” I realized what I was saying, and stopped. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, tell me! Please?”

“Seriously?”

“God, yes, you can’t stop now.”

“You’re sure?” I was still hesitant, but it was beginning to dawn on me how much he’d wanted something like this.

“Very sure.” His cock, rigid and throbbing with each beat of his heart, backed up his words.

“He filled me, hon’. The tip of his cock was tight against my ceiling when he came; if he’d had another half-inch, I don’t think I could have taken it. When his orgasm came, it felt like he got even thicker and harder, so deep inside of me, and then that amazing throb and pump, those hard pulses that you know I love…”

“You came.”

I looked into his eyes, which were filled with arousal and yet with pain, or maybe embarrassment that he was so obviously enjoying this, and I said, “Oh, God, yes, I came! He did too, huge; it felt like a flood! You know how that affects me, feeling you come in me, and when he did... I came so hard, baby.”

He moaned softly and leaned his forehead against my tummy before kissing it, moving ever lower until his kisses fell on the top of my mound. I knew what he wanted; he’d talked about it in his fantasies, but I’d never believed him, so when he slid his fingers out of me and stared at his hand, fingers coated with another man’s cum and whitish streaks trickling down his palm, I seized his wrist and guided his fingers to his lips. He hesitated only momentarily before eagerly sucking them clean, and I bent and kissed him as he did, sharing, letting him know it was okay.

When he was done, his fingers free of cum, I pushed him back. “Lean back, Lee, and slide down a little.” When he’d complied, I stepped up onto the chair and stepped over him, straddling his shoulders and head and facing his feet so that I could gauge his reaction to my used, wet, puffy pussy by the barometer of his cock. “Look up, honey.”

When he had, I began to slowly lower myself to his waiting lips… but then I dripped, and it hit him square on the nose! He jumped, startled, but then laughed. “Well, that was unexpected!”

I giggled. "Still some in me! Rookie mistake, huh? Sorry…”

He stroked my leg, then hooked a hand over the top of my thigh and began to pull me down. “No worries. Now gimme!”

He continued to try to pull me down, but I resisted, moving slowly, swaying above his face so that he could continue to admire my messy, dripping, cheating pussy, until I finally settled onto his lips, grinding into his mouth as he devoured me! I never, in a million years, would have believed he’d do it, despite his oft-repeated fantasy. His own load occasionally, sure, he did that sometimes, and I loved it, but another man’s? No fucking way!

But I’ve never been so glad to be so wrong! First, because this was him truly forgiving me, his unspoken approval – or that’s how I felt anyway – but also because I had two shattering orgasms as he licked and lapped at my dripping pussy, and another the moment I broke free and lowered myself onto him, impaling myself balls-deep on the rigid spear of his cock.

Needless to say, he didn’t last long, a couple of minutes, tops, because he was hyper-aroused and over-stimulated, but it was long enough, and I had one more very wonderful orgasm as he pumped away, refilling me after his thorough cleanup.

After, as we lay entangled, breathing heavily, slick with sweat and sex juices, he softly said, “I wish you’d gotten his number.”

“You’re serious!”

“Yes. He’s already fucked you once, after all, and you seem to love his cock. I’d like to be a part of something like that – as you know. Maybe he’d have been open to a threesome or, you know, some variation…”

I considered that revelation quietly for several minutes before replying, “I didn’t, though, and I’m not even sure that Alex is his real name.” When I saw the look of disappointment cross his face, I said, “He did tell me that he goes to that bar a lot on Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe we could check it out next week or…”

Lee kissed me and squeezed my breast. “It’s a date!”