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A Part Time Wife

"She decides that she's a part time wife and acts on it."

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Author's Notes

"This is how one wife explains her extracurricular activities to herself. <p> [ADVERT] </p>She's not married when she's away from home."

I’m a part-time wife. I decided that was what I was, and I liked it. It started several years ago when I was promoted to a job that required regular out-of-town trips. It wasn’t long before I discovered the advantages.

The first time I discovered the advantages was during a week-long trip to Boston. I’d gone out to dinner around the corner from my hotel and met Ivan. There was something about him, and while we were waiting for a table, we started talking. When a table became available, we sat down for dinner together.

There seemed to be a spark between us, and we both felt it. He had a tight beard, and I kept imagining what it would be like to kiss it. Worse than that, I wondered what it would feel like to feel it between my legs while he was, well, down there. I couldn’t think about what he’d be doing there. Anyway, I was just wondering. I knew it wasn’t going to happen.

While discussing what we wanted to eat, he touched my hand. It wasn’t soft and smooth like Justin’s. It was rough and hard, like he worked for a living.

What would they feel like on my … breasts, on my tits? The thought just flitted across my mind. It just flitted for a second—um, a half-second, maybe less.

I was enjoying the tension that was developing between us, so when he invited me for a drink at the hotel bar, I didn’t hesitate. We were at the bar when Justin called to touch base.

I’m here in a bar with some guy I don’t know while I’m talking to my husband.

I was monitoring exactly what I said; I didn’t want to lie exactly, but did I want to tell him the truth? The truth—I wasn’t sure what the truth was.

It’s the truth that I’m here in the hotel bar, having a glass of wine. It's the truth that I’m with a guy named Ivan. It’s the truth that I’m feeling sparks. What else is the truth?

Should I include that what’s happening is almost what we’ve talked about since I got the promotion? What about the fact that I’m seriously not thinking about inviting him to my room?

If I do what Justin wants me to do, I’ll tell him later, um maybe? 

I heard myself letting Justin know what was happening without letting Ivan know.

I’d decided and didn’t even know I had. Talking to my husband, knowing that he wanted it to happen, made me decide to fuck Ivan.

The tension between Ivan and me ratcheted up as I realized I was going to fuck him. The uneasiness I’d been feeling disappeared.

“No, I’m at the bar, having a glass of wine before going to my room.”

“Yes, I think so.”

"Yes, I intend to.”

“No, not a chance that’ll happen.”

“No, I have to go now. Bye.”

Justin had filled in the blanks between my cryptic remarks and told me that he wanted me to do it. All those thoughts I’d had when I’d first met him, I’d get to do.

I let him know that what we’d been flitting around and talking about might happen tonight. Now it was my decision. Am I going to do it? Yes? No? Maybe?

No, I’ll let Ivan decide instead. If he pushes me, if he tries, I’ll let him. This way, it’s up to Ivan. Right. It won’t be because I invited him to push.

I finished my wine, and I invited him to dance with me. The small band was playing a few slow songs, and we got up, and he held me dancing. It was as sensuous and, yes, arousing as I expected it would be. My head rested on his shoulder, and I continued to feel the same connection I’d felt at first.

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I was sighing and making noises of enjoyment as we were moving around the floor. Yes, this was heaven. It was when he kissed me that I made the final decision; I was going to do it. I wanted to feel his rough hands on my tits. I wanted to feel his beard against my thighs. I wanted to feel his cock enter me. And I wanted to feel him cum inside me.

“Ivan, I think the next thing I want is for you to take me to my room, where we’re not in public.”

My decision to make Ivan decide had disappeared in the last moments of his kiss. I wanted it. I wanted him.

When I got him to my room, I told him what I wanted. “Ivan, I want to feel your hands on my tits. They feel so different than …” I couldn’t say the word Justin or the word husband. I just stopped there.

“I want to feel your beard, god Ivan, your beard rubbing against my thighs when you’re licking me, my pussy.” I could feel the heat on my cheeks and neck. I tried to smile, but it didn’t come off.

All Ivan did was start undressing me, saying, “I can do that. Cecilia. I’d love to do that.”

I could hardly move; the sensation of arousal and the need to be fucked paralyzed me. All I could do was make noises of approval—incoherent sounds.

His hands were all over my tits; the rough texture of his hands on them was so different from what I was used to. I moaned when he started undressing because I missed them so much. I wanted them back on my tits.

When he dropped his boxers and I could see what he was going to be fucking me with, I dropped to my knees in front of him and put his cock in my mouth. I licked it, and my hands were on his balls. Bliss, complete bliss.

Ivan pulled me off him and laid me on the bed, my hips on the edge, perfect for what was next. He kneeled between my legs and put his tongue on my pussy, licking me.

“God, Ivan. Ivan Ivan. Yes.” I was almost screaming at that point. When his hands moved back to my tits, I lost the ability to think or talk. I was reduced to just making noises.

His hands were caressing, pinching, and pulling on them; they were driving me crazy. His tongue was probing for the entrance to my cunt. God, yes, my cunt. Together with his touching my clit, I exploded. My hands were holding his face against me, refusing to let him move while I was coming.

His hands became gentle on my tits, and his tongue became tender on my pussy. 

I don’t remember much about what we did from then on until he was hovering over me. I reached up and touched his face and kissed him, saying, “Yes, Ivan, now take me. I want your cock. Ivan, take me.”

The sensations I felt as his cock slowly entered me—I could feel them as he was pushing inside. I felt an outpouring of emotions that I didn’t understand as he settled inside. It was a wonderful feeling.

When I felt him tense and thrust hard inside me, I was feeling complete, loved, and fucked.

We lay there motionless, relaxing afterwards.

That was wonderful, but how am I going to share all the emotions I felt for Ivan?

I didn’t sleep alone for the rest of the trip. My pussy and his cock got to know each other very well.

This was the trip that I told Justin I was his part-time wife. When I'm home, I'm married; when I'm on trips, I'm not.

Written by keylime314159
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