Cheating Pt. 05

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Cheating Part 5.

Why do I do it?


A message from the author.

I know that it is not everyone’s cup of tea. I know equally well though that there are many of us who thrive on it, who enjoy it and get a big buzz from it. I get a massive kick and huge excitement from it. There’s some guilt and trepidation too of course, but they are relatively easily overcome. The downsides are far outweighed by the upsides; well, they seem to be at the time. And one of the upsides, ironically, is that often, afterwards, and usually during it as well you feel closer to your partner and it can become the glue that holds the relationship together.

Now I am talking, of course, about women cheating. Horrific as it may sound to some, it does happen. Women do go off and ‘sow their wild oats,’ oddly just like men do and have done for years. Well, in this new age it’s the females’ time and it’s us who can have our cakes and eat them too, as we fuck both our husband and our lovers.

I’m talking about cheating. About playing away from home, being unfaithful and having bits on the side. Long term affairs, short flings and even one-night stands, they all provide that buzz, that kick and usually those thrills and excitements that are missing in our marriage. During and between my two marriages, I have had loads of buzzes and kicks and lots of thrills and excitement.

Liaisons such as described above arise from many situations. These stories, some of which are taken from real life as it happened to me, look at the motivations, pleasures, excitement and concerns of the more common circumstances.

Christina x

The One-night Stand.

I was on a hen do for a younger girl from my work. Being one of the older women there I had tried to get out of going, but couldn’t. So, there I was on a warm summer night in a nightclub in, of all places, Blackpool, which I had felt was well past its sell by date; no one explained why that rather tacky town had been selected.

Throughout the previous night’s, raucous dinner in a cheap and rather nasty Greek restaurant, complete with dancing on the tables, plate breaking and Karaoke, I had come to the conclusion that the do wasn’t really my cup of tea. That conclusion was hardened back at the hotel where the fourteen girls stayed up drinking, singing and dancing together until four in the morning. Things improved a little by the next day, most of which was spent at a rather nice spa, but again deteriorated in the evening. We had been instructed by the head bridesmaid to ‘be as glam and skimpy as you can.’

When we met in the bar of the hotel, which thankfully specialised in hen and stag dos, I was, as the modern awful expression goes, gobsmacked. I had never seen so much flesh, leg and chest on show, so many low tops and short skirts, stocking tops and bras.

I was wearing a red sequin, covered, boob tube with tight, black cropped trousers and high heels, which was quite a risqué look for me, but appropriate I thought, for going clubbing, something I hadn’t done in years.

There was yet another noisy and very mediocre dinner, which we ate from 9.30 until past midnight, before going to the club. Unbeknown to most of the girls, the matron of honour had coordinated with another hen do and a large stag do to meet up in a bar next to the club, which, amazingly, went on until six in the morning.

So, I found myself in this bizarre situation where around 30 women and about the same number of men met in a bar to get to know each other. It was manic and crazy, as everyone, well almost everyone, started drinking shots or vodkas with a clear intent of getting drunk out of their minds as quickly as they could.

From my point of view, the only good thing about it was that I could fade into the background and not be missed. I was tempted to slip away and go back to the hotel and go to bed, but as I was sharing a room I thought that was not such a good idea.

So instead, I got pulled. Not just pulled, but comprehensively picked up.

The guys on the stag do were generally older than the girls on both hen dos, so I was slightly relieved to find myself being chatted up by a guy who I put in his late thirties; I knew I could pass for that.

Greg was tasty. There was no doubt about that. He was tall, lean, well built, and dark skinned. Not black or obviously sub-continent, but probably mixed race. He had an easy way about him, a nice smile and a quick wit.

We both quickly agreed that this sort of thing was not for us. We discussed the ridiculousness of the stag and hen dos and agreed that they were both a huge waste of money and basically a waste of time.

“That is, of course, Chrissy,” Greg said, putting his hand on top of mine, staring at my boob tube cleavage, looking up, catching my gaze and adding “Unless you meet someone for the night.”

“Yes, that’s true,” I replied.

We chatted for a while, had a few drinks and danced a couple of times.

As usual it was difficult to hear in the almanbahis club. Greg suggested we go outside to chat several times, but I turned down the invitations. After Josie, the Matron of Honour, shouted what sounded like a whisper into my ear, I changed my mind.

“Ok then,” I shouted to Greg, unthinkingly placing my fingers on his wrist, which I noted was sporting a Rolex watch. “Let’s go.”

Outside I explained what Josie had said.

“You might have preferred to stay,” I said as we walked along the sea front.

“I doubt it, why would I?” he said as we walked down some steps to a narrow walkway alongside the beach. It was still very warm and the full moon together with the lights from the promenade above them meant we could easily see our way.

“Well, Josie was organising a mooning contest between the two hen dos with the guys on the stag do being the judges.”

Greg laughed and very pointedly looking back over my shoulder and down to my bum said. “Well I have my own one here, don’t I?”

I felt a little embarrassed, but also quite enjoyed it when Greg fell a pace or two behind me and went on. “On behalf of the stag do I declare er, um………….” he paused.

I got his drift. “Er Christina,” he said; I smiled.

“The delectable Christina’s curvy derriere is the outright winner.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” I said without thinking, leaning against him as I laughed, for we were both tipsy. He put his arm round my shoulders.

“You are most welcome and, from what I could see, most worthy too,” he said running his hand down from my bare shoulders, across my equally bare back, over the sequined top, across my waist and almost to my bum, before I wiggled away.

“Now now,” I laughed. “That wasn’t one of the prizes” I giggled, as he pulled me around to face him.

“Pity,” Greg said, his hands on my hips.

The laughing stopped, we were both serious as we stared at each other for a moment or two.

“So was this one of the prizes?” he said softly, his arms running up my back and pulling me to him.

I was surprised. Surprised at both his confidence, but more so at my lack of resistance. I did, though, keep my face down so that my chin was against his chest. He went on.

“This must be third prize and,” as he took my chin in his hands and pulling it upwards added, just before he kissed me, “This must be second.”

It wasn’t a long kiss, it didn’t need to be for the significance of it to hit home for both of us .

He held me in his arms as we broke the kiss, and he said quietly, “You can guess the first prize, can’t you?”

I didn’t say anything, quite enjoying being held by this tall, strong man. I felt his hands sliding down my back, and this time they didn’t stop at my waist. They went past that, onto the back of my hips, up the flare of my bum and then onto each cheek. He rested them there, sort of enquiringly. It felt nice, just right for the moment, so I didn’t move or push them off.

“Yes Chrissy,” he mumbled before again kissing me. This time, as our mouths ground together so his hands fondled the cheeks of my bum outside the tight, black-cropped trousers.

I couldn’t have stopped him, even if I had wanted to, so aroused had he made me. His hands on my bum, running up my back onto my bare skin above the boob tube then down again, his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, mine in his and the firm, long bulge pressing against my tummy ensured that.

It was happening again. I knew it. I could feel all the familiar stirrings, the needs and wants. But this time it was with a stranger. None of the others had been. And none of the others had been in the open air with nowhere private for us to go.

He pushed me back, deeper into the shadow of the overhang from the promenade above. It was very quiet and deserted. Sure, there were sounds of laughter and talking as people walked along the promenade, after all it was only one or so in the morning and Blackpool is a late-night town, but on the lower path alongside the stony beach it was deserted.

We continued kissing as we slowly moved further and further under the promenade, his hands still fondling my bum. Greg finished the sentence he had left hanging. “The first prize is Christina’s bum.”

I felt something against the back of my knees. I broke the kiss and looked over my shoulder and saw it was a bench that ran the length of what, I now realised, was a shelter.

“Wow, what a prize,” I laughed adding “At least there’s enough of it to make a big prize.”

We sat down on the bench, still kissing.

A part of me knew this was crazy. I was aware that I was going where I had never been before: fucking a stranger. I was finding a new low. I knew nothing about him, had met him less than two hours ago, and yet was now in a deep clinch with him. The buzz was there and it was starting to control me.

With his mouth clamped firmly to mine and his arms encircling me, Greg leaned sideways so that his left side pressed almanbahis giriş against the back of the bench and my right shoulder snuggled against his chest and arm. Our knees were pressing together, which stopped the lower parts of our bodies from getting close. I felt his leg moving against mine, his knee pressing against both of them, enquiringly as if waiting for an invitation.

We both probably both knew this was a seminal moment, I certainly did. One of those times between potential new lovers when something happens that defines the future of the relationship, fling, affair, lovemaking, one-night-stand or whatever.

But, of course, in our highly aroused and slightly drunk states we didn’t think of it in those terms.

Greg was probably thinking ‘If I can get my leg between hers I can get on top of her, and maybe fuck her here and now.’

I was thinking ‘If I open my legs I am opening myself to him;’ it hadn’t even entered my head that we might have sex here.

Greg pushed his tongue deeper into my mouth. I met it with my tongue and we fought a little duel. I loved kissing and I was good at it. We squirmed our widely parted lips together, we sucked each other’s top and bottom lips in turn and licked all round each other’s mouth. We were, though, still sitting upright and I was vaguely aware that if we were to have sex it would either be standing up or him on top of me on the bench. And, how fucking sordid were both of those thoughts?

Although I was quite shocked at myself by going this far, this soon, the buzz was more and more intense and was taking me over. My body wanted more, my entire being needed more, I wanted more from this appealing man. My breasts were aching and my blood-engorged nipples were pounding with sensation. And that was all I needed. That was where I needed his attention, yes, I realised I wanted Greg to play with my tits.

My legs slowly parted. Greg’s right leg slid between them and he eased me backwards until my body was stretched out with my back against the wall and my legs stretched out on the bench. He rolled as far alongside me as the restrictions of the bench allowed. He was almost on his side, I was on my back, his chest was against mine squashing my right breast.

“Ok?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I grunted, half of me wishing I had the strength to say ‘no’ and get up and leave.

Lying almost supine on the bench, in the dark shadows at the back of the shelter we would not be visible to anyone that passed by. In any case we would almost certainly hear anyone approaching. I was surprisingly relaxed and had wrapped my arms around his neck, leaving the length of my body open and exposed to his advances; I was a little like a puppy lying on its back, leaving its throat and chest exposed to another dog.

I expected to feel his hand on my breasts, actually more than expected, for I hoped and wanted it there really. It was a surprise then, when I felt it on my chest between the bottom of my boobs and my waist. It was a bigger surprise, somewhat of a shock really, when I felt it start to move. It went downwards instead of up. It was on my waist as he kissed me harder. It slid onto the softness of my tummy.

‘God no,’ I thought as he pressed and softly rubbed right on the apex of my slight bulge. ‘I must stop him,’ I thought as slowly it slid down the incline. ‘This can’t be happening’ I thought, as the edge of his hand pressed right against the top of my pubic line.

Greg knew that he had me. It was his business to know that sort of thing. It was how real players worked and he was one of those right at the top of his game, I was a helpless pawn against such opposition. He knew he had me from the kiss, from the tension in my body through his hands and in the way I reacted in his arms. In his terms, he had made the break-through, now he pressed for total victory.

He knew that the combination of touch and words had more than twice the power of either alone. The two together created synergy, players learned that at an early age and he was a player supreme. Parting my blonde hair, he pressed the tip of his tongue against my ear. Leaving it there for a moment or two as he softly licked just inside my ear, he whispered. “You are amazing Chrissy, you have the most gloriously desirable body.”

He was absolutely correct, for, as he whispered those words and slid his hand down further, I realised that right at that moment, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to have his hand there. Involuntarily, yet somehow on purpose, invitingly, sordidly or however either party looked at it, I opened my legs.

“Oh God,” I grunted as his hand found its goal. My body jerked as it finished this stage of its journey. My head went back as I clung onto him around his neck, while he pressed me there. I felt myself starting to cum as Greg pressed right against my cunt inside the thin trousers.

He knew then that it was game, set, and match.

Although Greg may well have been the best and most almanbahis giriş exciting fuck I had ever had, it was, by far, the riskiest, most dangerous and craziest thing I had done since ‘putting myself in play’ as a teenager.

His unusual approach totally defeated me. It ruined any resistance I may have had and made me putty in his hands. I had never been quite so comprehensively seduced, but then I hadn’t been seduced that many times really, for usually I was a completely willing partner.

By starting in a way so different from most men I had experienced, and by finding my clit so quickly and adeptly, he had sent such rushes of excitement through me that, inevitably, I wanted and badly needed more. So, when he took his hand away from between my legs and stroked my hair with it, I wanted it back down there. I almost asked him to replace it, but managed to resist that indignity.

We kissed more and, as he repositioned himself, I became increasingly aware of his erection pressing against the outside of my leg. He wiggled his body so that now, it pressed more against the top of my leg, right up by my groin. Then came the next part of his unorthodox approach.

I felt him take hold of my hand, pull it downwards, manoeuvre it a little and then press it against him. I jumped with the realisation that my hand was pressed against his bare cock.

It hit me hard to realise that he had it out; that had never happened to me before.

As he whispered, “Ok Chrissy?” my fingers involuntarily wrapped round its impressive thickness. It felt amazing.

It was then and only then, when he had made me cum a little, when he had rubbed my pussy and clit through my trousers and when I was holding his cock, only then did he touch my tits. ‘Incredible’ I had thought as his hand closed round my right breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure, ‘He really does know his stuff,’ I giggled to myself.

Having already gone so far with him, feeling my boob tube being pulled down didn’t seem that significant. His hands were all over my breasts, squeezing and rubbing, his fingers pinching and pulling my nipples and his mouth on the bare flesh seemed normal. The fact that I had so recently met him and that we were outside didn’t seem to matter; it was almost as if those facts were irrelevant.

It still hadn’t occurred to me that he would actually try to have full sex in that shelter; there was still a touch of sexual naivety left in me, obviously!

Having waited so long to pull down my top, Greg quickly made up for it. His hands, fingers, mouth, lips, teeth and tongue covered every inch of each orb and both heavily swollen nipples. I found myself writhing against his hands and mouth. I was clearly, eagerly even, reveling in all the pleasures he had withheld from me by his atypical seduction approach of ‘attacking’ my pussy before my breasts. Now, though, avidly ‘attacking’ my two full boobs and sending such wonderful sensations through my writhing, shaking body, he didn’t ignore my lower parts. His mouth moving all over my breasts, Greg slid his hand back between my slightly parted and, obviously he thought, invitingly opened thighs.

“Oh Christ, yes,” I grunted as his fingertip found my sweetest of sweet spots whilst, at the same time, he gently bit my nipple. I felt almost delirious with pleasure and excitement.

“Ok?” he whispered rubbing my clit.

“Oh yes,” I moaned adding “Yes, yes, yes.”

My eyes were closed, my mouth was wide open, gasping for breath, my head was thrown back and my body was thrust forward towards his pleasure giving fingers and mouth. I really was in the position of a true slut.

He caressed me more firmly as he slowly thrust his cock into the surrogate cunt I was forming with my hand. He moved his other hand and fumbled to make the thin belt around my waist undone. Without waiting, he slid my zipper down. Quickly, so I would have no chance to push him off, he slid his hand inside my cropped trousers. Down my soft, slightly bulging stomach, into my thong, across my unruly thatch of tawny coloured pubes, and between my legs to find the gratifying wetness of my pussy.

If the sensation had been strong when Greg pressed my clit through my trousers and panties, when he pressed it ‘au naturel’, the feelings almost sent me through the roof; I quickly started to cum again.

I hugged him around his neck even tighter, loving and hating him at the same time.

“Oh my God. Oh shit Greg, oh Jesus,” I moaned as he rubbed right on my clit.

“Good?” he gasped sucking my nipple, fairly hard and running his finger along my lips.

“Yes. No, no. Yes, but stop, we can’t,” I stammered half-heartedly trying to wriggle away.

Greg seemed to know this was a big moment. A go for broke moment, a shit or bust moment.

He slithered his fingers into me and pumped them just as he would if he were fucking me with his cock as opposed to his fingers. The significance of this was not lost on me.

“No, stop, please stop,” I whined.

“No Chrissy, I can’t stop, you don’t want me to, do you?”

“Yes, yes I do,” I replied my bodily actions belying my words, as my hips thrust back at his fingers even as my words said otherwise.

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