I lay listening to my husband start to awaken, as a new wave of lust rushed through my body.

Something had changed: the guilt was diminishing.

Six weeks ago, I started an affair; not uncommon for people, of course, but terribly uncharacteristic for me.

What made it unique and somewhat terrifying was that it was with one of my high school French students.

Oliver Kelly was… wonderful. And I craved him, often.

I was still having sex with my husband, which was wonderful at times… lately, because I have fantasized that it is Oliver driving his thickness to claim me, not my loving husband. It is not a size difference per se (they are almost identical, Oliver slightly thicker at the base), but an emotional connection. With my nearly 18-year-old lover, there is an inexplicable freedom in his method.

He was able to… do things differently; create nuance.

And I have orgasmed every time!

This particular morning, only one day away from our weekly tryst, I was charged with anticipatory energy. Charlie must’ve sensed something and began to caress my thigh and kiss my shoulder.

I softly moaned in return. “Oh darling, that is quite lovely.” I decided to surprise him as this rarely happened on a weekday morning. I turned my body and boldly kissed him on the mouth, morning breath be damned. His eyes flew open, and he melted into me.

I was soon willingly on my back with my legs spread in invitation, my PJ bottoms on the floor, and my handsome husband thrusting his morning erection deep into me. I felt the heat rising as his driving pelvis stimulated my clitoris. Without realizing it, I was tilting and rotating the way I did when I was with Oliver, using a clutching technique he had read about in some dirty magazine. It was his “very favorite.”

“Oh wow, Mar! What are you doing to me?” Charlie gasped during his thrusting.

I let slip my pet affectation for my teen partner. “Mmm, just for you, ma chere!”

Rather than inflame, the blend of objets desire (things I desire) caused me to freeze - I was mentally in bed with Oliver. My kindled satisfaction was doused with a stiff breeze like my vagina had dried up completely.

Charlie was too far gone to notice. Ten seconds later, he was grunting and filling me up with his hot seed.

“Ohhhh wow! Sooo good!”

As was often the case, he flopped to the side, spent and satisfied, no deep concern over my own release.

He was panting yet energized. “Fuck Folgers coffee, that’s the best part of waking up!”

I gently smacked him on the belly. “Don’t be crude!” I then kissed him on the cheek and headed into the bathroom to clean up.

“Did you...?”

I lied the lie that all wives eventually lie. “Of course.”

In the shower, it felt like I had done something terribly wrong. A reverse psychosis took over, and my guilt moved from fantasizing about Oliver while having Charlie to somehow imagining I had cheated on my teen lover with my own husband.

“Oh, MaryAnn… you are a mess,” I softly said to myself.

“Sorry about that.”

I started at the sound of my husband’s voice as he pissed into the toilet nearby. “I know it’s not your intention, but I’m pretty sure I just made us a baby. That was a really great one, Hon!”

Oh, not again. Can you please just give the baby talk a rest?

I was too conflicted to respond. I could not see his face, but I had a feeling he sensed something.

“Or not,” he softly said and flushed.

Hot water burst out of the shower head at the use of the cold in the flush.

“YEOW! Damn it, Charlie!”

He chuckled with genuine affection. “Sorry! I was distracted!”

So was I, darling...so was I.

***

An hour later, I was pulling into the parking lot at school, hoping to see Oliver in the corridors to possibly settle the unease that was plaguing me. Just a glimpse… I felt like a 16-year-old with a crush. A crush who could satisfy me like no one else.

As I got out of my coup, I saw my best friend, Joyce, heading into the building and I smiled. Joyce had made a space available for me to meet my lover. Once a week after school, we would claim Joyce’s sister’s vacant apartment on the other side of town.

Our love nest was becoming our sanctuary. We have made love in every room and every place we could imagine. The dining room table, the kitchen counter, and the edge of the bathroom sink can all be hard and unyielding, yet with Oliver, they became gloriously supportive surfaces for sexual satisfaction.

He still gives me glances in class like he always has, and periodically, one of the girls will admonish him with a disgusted noise.

Seems that hiding his attraction in plain sight was the best way of keeping people off of our scent, so to speak.

Along the way from the Foreign Languages Department office was a staff ladies' room. Some of my husband’s voluminous seed was leaking into my panties. I would need a pad.

I unlocked with my key, and just as I turned to close the door, a lithe figure slipped into the single, stalled room and closed the door behind them.

“Oliver! What are you doing?!” I whisper-yelled. He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, his face as handsome as ever. He had been sporting a tiny bit of stubble lately because I told him it made him look manly.

“Are you out of your mind? Someone may have seen you! And if they didn’t see you going in, they certainly will see you going out! This is the teachers’ ladies' room!”

The sexy young man stepped forward and pinned me against the locked door, his chest pressing into mine, his hands gripping my hips in rightful ownership.

“Zactly,” he growled seductively. “And I came to the teacher's ladies' to find my favorite lady teacher.” He kissed me with excited passion, and I automatically reciprocated, my lips reveling in the familiar dance. My hands flat on his chest, I pushed him away with a loud lip smack.

I panted and checked the lock with a glance. “Please believe that I want this very badly, but this is extremely reckless, young man! We made rules.”

I could tell once again that my aggressive teacher voice, laced with maternal admonition, struck deeply.

He paled. “I...I’m sorry… crap, really stupid, Kelly.” He rolled his eyes in embarrassment and ran his hand through his beautiful, wavy, brown hair. “So, what do I do now?”

He was irresistible.

I was weak.

Terrible combination…

I pulled him to me and kissed him fiercely, my hand behind his head. My other was frantically working the opening of his jeans. His hand was pulling my dress up and pushing down my panties and hose. With a very short amount of frantic manipulation, I was sitting on the edge of the sink, dress bunched out of the way, my nylon-clad legs around him as he pushed into me with a deep plunder.

He moaned his affectation for me, “Ohhh, oui, Madame!”

Instantaneously, I was the perverse blend of lover and mother that I became when we were coupled. I held the back of his neck as I embraced the intent of this surprised mating. “Shhh, ma chere!”

He complied and almost silently thrust into me, his rigid member sliding quite easily due to some of my husband’s leftover spend. The insane combination actually made my mind race with carnality. My earlier arousal and confusion over my husband had left me unprepared for the orgasm as it arrived with shameless bravado. My walls fluttered and seized, and a wave of euphoria crashed into me.

The early morning noises of the hallway outside masked the wet noises of taboo intercourse inside the small room. Delirious in a fever of his love and affection; logic having been left in my car outside, locked in the trunk.

I naturally squeezed him inside, and he held, his own corruption hosing my depths. Charlie was able to give me orgasms, but was sadly inconsistent. Those brought on by Oliver seemed to extend into someplace new, someplace completely ethereal and yet still grounded in the deep reality of lust.

His mouth was pressed against my chest. My fingers gripped his back and his neck as the two of us remained as silent as we possibly could. We wanted to scream a chorus of joy to the heavens.

Once we were completed, we pulled back panting, and I shook my head.

“This was not good, my love. I mean, of course, it was wonderful to have you, but dangerous.”

He shrugged his shoulders and kissed me. His lips, so perfect.

“Sometimes you need to just live, Madame!”

I nodded yet raised my eyebrows. He slowly pulled out, and I conveniently dripped right into the sink. I used some toilet paper to clean myself as best I could, as did he. I took a now even more necessary pad from the vanity cabinet and set it in my gusset.

Now the tricky part.

I ordered my slightly disheveled, dirty-blonde hair and applied new lipstick. “I should leave first. If things are clear, I will knock, and you wait thirty seconds and come out.”

“And if they’re not?”

I laid a hand on his shoulder, looking deeply into his gorgeous green eyes still alight with mischief.

“You will wait in here with the door locked until the first warning bell. Then you quickly slip out and go as fast as you can towards the Science hallway."

He nodded, and I let out a deep breath as he stood on the hidden side of the opening door. I grabbed my purse and unlocked it. He leaned toward me and kissed my cheek.

“Je t’aime, (I love you) Madame,” he softly whispered. I blushed and swiftly exited.

I spent the next few hours wondering how he had done; my body aching for more of him, despite the insanity of what had transpired. The possibility of discovery was fueling my own lust.

Later, he arrived at class as if everything was just fine.

***

At the end of the day, I was preparing for home and headed towards the office to pick up my coat. A strikingly well put together Joyce was casually heading in my direction, her new purple pantsuit looking wonderful with her beautiful blonde hair.

“Hey, you have a moment?”

I smiled and said, “For you, anytime.” I was keeping things sincerely casual when her entire facial expression dropped.

We stood in the mostly empty hallway, and she spoke as softly as she could, flatness replacing any possible emotion. “You were seen. Or rather, he was. What the hell were you thinking?!”

She told me to meet in her car and she would tell me everything. It was a good thing she wasn’t saying much more because the ringing in my ears and the thumping of my heart made it nearly impossible to decipher language.

Inside Joyce’s new ‘78 Chrysler Town and Country wagon, I was nearly hyperventilating. She was direct as if she were delivering horribly urgent medical news.

“Robbie, the custodian, saw our Mr. Kelly sneaking out of the faculty ladies' room looking self-satisfied. There’s only one reason for him being there. Am I correct?”

My silence was affirmation.

“How, how did…?” I was having difficulty catching my breath.

“I went to pick up my mail, and when I heard Oliver's name, I decided that I needed a brochure on acne outside the dean’s office.”

My head was in my hands. “…was my…my name…?”

“No! thank God. Look, other than the obvious advice of ‘never fucking do that again,’ I think you should let this go. He is a smart young man, and he will never rat you out. He may get a detention.”

I looked at her, confusion tears fighting to drop down my cheeks.

“I assume that meeting you in the ladies' room was his idea?”

I nodded.

She sighed with eye-rolling indignity. “His lesson is: Do not try and have sex with your teacher girlfriend at the school where she works!” The last was said with a deserved scolding tone. “Yours is the same!”

Joyce’s anger was righteous. If all this comes out, she is complicated. I nodded and shamefully exited her car, and she drove off.

That night, I did not have to pretend that I did not feel well; I just never revealed the source. I went to bed early and alone.

“Feel better, Hon,” Charlie had called from the couch. That did not console me.

My scrambled head hit the pillow, and I gently cried. “Dear God, MaryAnn, what were you thinking?”

The next day was “Sex Day,” my former favorite day of the week.

Per Joyce’s encouragement, I behaved as if nothing bad was happening or destined to occur. She had spoken with Beverly, the school secretary, and asked why such a nice boy like Oliver Kelly was in the Dean’s office. Beverly the blabber was only too happy to tell why, and that punishment would be detention.

Sixth period, he walked in, head down, as if making eye contact would stop the world from turning.

I nonchalantly asked if he was feeling well, and he shrugged. Class was challenging, yet we both got through it. I asked him to stay after for a moment, and Sylvia Barnes, a sweet black-haired girl who obviously had a crush on him, told him she hoped he felt better.

I closed the door and offered my hand. We walked to our corner, a space that suddenly felt claustrophobic.

I just waited and let him take a moment.

He was so quiet. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re right, that was really stupid.”

I put my hands on his shoulder and kissed his forehead. He looked shocked and undeserving.

“Yes, it was my darling. And you are getting a consequence meant to make sure it never happens again.”

He nodded and then I could tell he was about to be upset. I pulled him into a hug, half maternal, half lover. His head naturally rested in between my breasts. "In case you forgot, I gave in rather quickly. Not my responsible best."

I was overcome with emotions of love and care layered over desire and lust. This boy, this teen, my lover… Everything about him was so perfect. Even this mistake had been sexually electrifying.

“Tout va bien se passer, Olivier.” (It’s going to be all right)

His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke into my cleavage. “I screwed up our date today. They’re making me stay after school.”

I was disappointed, of course. I also know that he didn’t need any more anxiety right now.

“I just told you it’s going to be all right, and I meant it. We’ve had to take breaks before, haven’t we, ma chere?”

I pulled his head forward and kissed him fully on the lips, our tongues softly playing with each other; French kissing in French class. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me tight. Our heat was unstable, and my teenage lover was already hard for me. My ethical self was fighting with my vagina.

"Enough, my love. Now, hurry on to class. We can reschedule for tomorrow, maybe."

"Really?" He looked like I just gave him a hundred dollars to spend on comic books!

"Stop here before school, and I will confirm. You have to be prepared for disappointment."

He nodded and out he ran.

I sat back on a desk and squeezed my thighs to the point of aching.

***

That evening, I called my friend and apologized again for my behavior. Joyce said everything is going to be just fine. I then quietly asked, “Can you do me a favor?”

“I think you know the answer.”

“Can we possibly reschedule for tomorrow?”

The pause was deafening…

“No.”

I was crushed but understood.

“But Saturday night will work.”

My mind raced. Night? Joyce went on. “He can tell his dad he has a sleepover at a friend’s.”

I was giddy with possibilities. Just then Charlie pulled into the garage and my heart sank.

“It’s generous but I can’t get away from a date with my husband…” The guilt made it impossible to even say his name.

There was a pause, and Joyce spoke more quietly, as if someone might overhear. “If you’d like, you can say you and I are going to a bar to hear a band with some other gals.”

Charlie’s car had turned off. He would be in at any moment.

“Alright! Yes! How will he-?”

“Leave the kid to me. Before you say it, you are welcome.” And with that, she hung up. I wasn’t completely sure why Joyce was so bent on getting me with my lover, but I sensed a vicarious tone from her.

Charlie took the change of plans surprisingly well. He admitted he was hoping to have a poker night with his work cronies. He made a few calls and soon had plans to be out late himself.

“Have some fun, MaryAnn. Just don’t flirt with the guys too much. I know how Joyce can be.”

“I will endeavor to be controlled and chaste!” I playfully said in return. He rolled his eyes and gave me a big kiss.

Like in the past weeks, my sex date could not come fast enough. I chose to wear something playful to go out in, but not excessively sexy: jeans and a lovely loose-fitting sweater in autumn tones that spoke of falling leaves, and Speckled corn. Charlie said I looked delicious.

The drive to our love nest found my palms sweating and my heart sprinting. Of course, my thighs were warm, and my panties were moist with desire. I had to crank down the window on my Datson as I feared I might overheat.

I had packed a sexy set of sleepwear, but I had a feeling I might never put it on.

At the apartment, I had barely gotten my coat off and a few candles lit when I heard the door open. I came into the hallway and was immediately engulfed by teen hands and lips. He slammed me against the wall enough to make a statement, but not to give any discomfort. We were nothing but primal lust, tearing each other’s clothes off! Our tongues were battling for supremacy, our teeth clacking with the intensity of our oral confrontation. By the time we got to the bed, he was down to socks, and I was throwing my bra off to the side.

I nearly growled, “Take me, darling! I need you so badly!”

He was such a good boy and followed instructions immediately. His mouth mapped out my neck and took my right breast in with a hard suck! I flinched at the intensity. My fingers dug into his neck and scalp as we fell on the bed. With one hand, I was able to shimmy out of my underwear and throw them somewhere. I grasped his left hand and nearly slammed it into my hairy mound. He wasn’t ten seconds into a splendid finger dance when I exploded with climax.

“OHHH BABY! Yesss - oh my goodnesss!”

I arched and then flopped back down; his fingers never leaving me. I took hold of his forearm, not knowing if I should yank it away or push it in with more force.

His incredible erection was jamming into my hip, and I pushed him flat. I sat back and grasped him with two hands. His eyes burned into mine. My breathing got heavier. I was stroking with two hands and dribbled some of my own spit down onto his manhood. I felt so dirty, such a trashy thing.

“Ohhh fuuuck, Madame!” he grunted as his head flew back. I grasped his hairy scrotum with my left hand and stroked faster with my right. I knew he would not be long, and he needed to be rewarded just like I was.

He grabbed the sheets and arched up off the bed. I bent down and took him into my full lips. His head ended up in the middle of my mouth, my tongue lapping at his frenulum.

He was close, but not quite there, when something possessed me. I don’t know where it came from, nor did I care whether it was something a woman of my stature and background should even attempt.

I ran my tongue down the bottom of his shaft and across his balls. He held his breath as I lifted them and journeyed deeper. His tight anus had light hairs around the edges, and I tentatively ran my tongue through them.

I was continually stroking him, and I felt him get stiffer and thicker. Perhaps it was an illusion, but it drove me on.

His whole body shook, and he started to speak, but only a caught breath slipped out.

I flattened my tongue and ran it over the fluttering and spasming rectal area. I could not get enough of it, licking, flicking, even lightly biting it. I felt him shaking and quivering. He was nearly to orgasm. I lifted my wet and sweaty face up and locked eyes; his wide in shock!

I opened wide and aimed him at the back of my throat.

With a strangled gasp, he exploded into my mouth. The volume of youthful semen burning into my throat set me off again! My vagina spasmed in absolute ecstasy at the consumption.

I swallowed it all like a common whore, my mind dancing in the feeling of libidinous freedom he gave me.

I lowered my heaving body down on top of him. His still-wet erection pressed just above my still very wet vulva.

“That was…. Oh wow, MaryAnn… you licked…?”

He squeezed me tight, and I kissed his neck. My passion still alight, my mind still reeling with what I had just done. It was a filthy act of a common street whore, yet I was burning hotter than ever before.

I had never done that with Charlie or any other lover I had had in the past. And the fact that Oliver used my first name no longer disturbed me.

My mouth kept moving across his collarbone and down his chest. I took his hairless nipple into my mouth and sucked and flicked it. I was gone into a realm of complete wanton debauchery, and I never wanted to leave. I maneuvered my legs so my hairy wetness was grinding into his thigh. He assisted by firming up the muscle and flexing his hips. His fingers ran up and down my back, igniting my skin as my hard nipples pressed into his abdominal flesh.

I wanted to be so dirty with him.

I wanted to be wild with him.

I wanted to be with him more than my husband.

The base selfishness fueled me, and I hit another peak, my body arching up off of him. It seems the thought of ending my marriage to take on a seventeen-year-old sex partner as a permanent lover ignited something ridiculous inside my slutty alter ego.

“Olivi-AYYY! Je jouis (I'm cumming)!” My voice caught, and I shook and collapsed on top of him, every nerve in me sparking with joy.

Normally, we would rest and hold each other in soft, romantic cuddles. But seeing me behave with raunchy abandon invigorated my lover.

He had me on my back in seconds. His palms pushed my thighs open and down. That stretched my lower back and lifted my hips up off the mattress. I was not in the best physical shape, but I was certainly no soft pudding. The ache of stretching was welcome as his wonderful, wicked dick plunged into me. Yes, he had a dick. A beautiful, beautiful D I C K.

I said something that I had avoided for all of these times we had been together. I could no longer hold back.

“Fuck me, baby! Fuck me like a common streetwalker. Make me feel like you own me!”

The fire in his eyes made him look like a completely different person. And I loved it.

The next ten minutes were a blur of ecstasy. I have never had intercourse this hard, this fast, nor this passionate! I gave up holding on to him and just let my arms flop to the side. My breasts slapped into each other, periodically hitting me in the chin. He was a man possessed, sweat flying off his forehead, his breathing ragged and aggressive, as if he was battling a dragon.

I felt every thrust and every bump, yet was completely freed of any reciprocal responsibility. I was just being fucked. I prefer "make love" or "intercourse." But this was fucking, and there was no denying him.

His climax was forceful and primal and painted every inch of the insides of my femininity. The maternal instinct in me sucked it from him, aching to have him fertilize me; to create a baby. It no longer disturbed me nor frightened me. I welcomed it.

My eyes were so tight that all I could see was white. Light sparkles of color on my periphery danced until my orgasm began to smooth out.

After we subsided, he slowly lowered himself on top of me, and I carefully wrapped him in my arms and legs. He took his most comforting and intimate position of lying his head on my breast. We lay there, our breathing starting to match, knowing something majestic and otherworldly has just happened.

***

The ringing of the alarm clock next to the bed snapped us both out of our slumber. We had gotten up, used the bathroom, and had two more sessions before fatigue overwhelmed us. It was Oliver’s idea to set the clock, knowing I had to get home. He was going to stay until the morning to keep up the deception with his father.

My cleanup was slow, and my departure was plodding. We must’ve said goodbye seven times before I finally slipped out the door. As I started my car, I surveyed myself from toes to the top of my head. I’ve never felt so right: pure satisfaction and comfort in partnership. As I drove, the feeling began to wane, and guilt knocked on the window and asked to ride in the passenger seat. What was I going to do about Charlie…?

It was 12:40 when I climbed into bed. My poker player had not gotten home yet. And for that, I counted myself lucky.

I lay in bed, eyes heavy, my head still a jumble of emotions and responsibilities. The bedroom light suddenly flicked on, and a very drunk Charlie greeted me from the doorway.

“Well, I know you weren't at zhuh bar becuzh I drove past it twice.” His speech was slurred, and he was quietly disturbing. “N’ jist so ya know, I could smell him on you two weeks ago, but I wan…wanned to pretend I was wrong.”

I’d never seen him like this, and my heart felt like it stopped for a moment.

“Then I threw my laundry in the, the, thing last week… you had left your dirty pannies on top. I’m a man, MaryAnn… I know what my jism looks like.”

I let out a strangled gasp and covered my mouth.

“That weren’t mine, Mar.”

I buried my head in my hands, my whole body shaking.

“Well, fuck… that’s all the confirmation needed.” He was so quiet I feared for my safety. “You trollop, you f-f- filthy thing.”

He stepped toward me, wavered a bit, and shook his head. “I’m going to a motel…”

He left, and five seconds later, I heard the kitchen door slam.

I finally exhaled.

To be continued….Chapter Five: Cinq-ing Deeper

I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, please hit the heart. If you really liked it, clean up first and then hit the star.

And as always, feel free to leave a comment. I try to respond to them all.

Merci, Matt