The Benevolent Cheater – Short Sex Story

The most passionate extra marital experience I’ve had was with a mom from Utah. I’d been in a dry spell going on 5 months, and I’ll admit, I was “that guy,” in a moment of weakness. I posted to a famous subreddit something along the lines of, “Anyone in Salt lake area down to fuck?” (As I was bound for the state 3 days later for work.)

If you’re like me, aka, “have a penis,” you know that this type of title works… Conservatively, at auction, 0% of the time.

Don’t worry, I’m not here to prove the impossible. Cats don’t moo, frogs cannot rollerblade, one doesn’t simply walk out of bay-area timeshares, and “anyone down to fuck,” doesn’t get women into bed. No. But fate does rear it’s fuckable…rear? Every now and then.

The 1 response I received, was from a woman named Emma, asking if I wanted to talk.

And talk we did, and do still from time to time. For the first few months it wasn’t sexual at all. She talked about her past, her dreams (failed and actualized), likes, dislikes, everything you’d want and expect from 2:30pm talk show hosts.

It was refreshing to just listen, and be listened to. And I’m not talking about the nanosecond blip of post-coital chatter.

When things did circle back to sex, it was almost something I wanted to walk straight out of… But turns out, you cannot walk out of circles.

It’d been 2 years since she’d taken dick. Apparently her husband wondered sex was, and I quote, “icky.”

She’d never had sex with the lights on, (something I could relate to). Oral, masturbation, female orgasm, Santa, honest politicians, and bathtub curtains that go up on the first try, all had the same probability of being real.

It turned me on so much getting to explain things to her, (she didn’t watch porn). Cunnilingus, cock sucking, anal, toys, not cumming in her pussy then immediately falling asleep.

She loved talking about it, and found the idea of showering together of all things to be her favorite.

After double checking she wasn’t an alien, Amish, or a time traveler from a future where water showers had been abolished, I suggested we shower together next time I was in her area.

I signed up for the next Utah job, which thankfully came 2 months later. And a good thing too, as I’d been without sex for long enough my wife’s box was starting to look enticing.

She agreed to the meetup at a hotel, far, far away from her hometown. After chatting, flirting, sexting, and spending hours and hours on the phone in subdued, nighttime conversation with this woman, my whole body shivered upon seeing her in real life.

It was her smile; so genuine, so willing, perfect and ready to please that I remember most.

She had on a yellow sundress splattered with tiny red flowers. She’d never been allowed to wear lingerie, but it was obvious by the way she walked and picked at her genitals that she’d managed to purchase her first thong.

My eyes locked onto her red high heels, and up her amazing legs, both of which I had draped over my shoulders later that day.

She had a moderate chest, though I’d seen her breasts on video calls a few times. It was nothing compared to the real thing however.

Hair so blonde it was damn near white flowed down her chest, framing her cleavage.

This was so different than basically all of my previous adultery dalliances. I didn’t rip her clothes off. We didn’t hump in the elevator, we sat at the restaurant in the lobby and talked for about 3 hours.

We held hands in the elevator, her scent and poise driving me absolutely wild.

A kiss on the cheek as I held the door to our room open.

The bathroom sweltered. Emma’s chest heaved, drawing in twisted coils of steam through her parted lips.

I pressed my forehead to hers. Asked if she was ready. She nodded.

The kiss began slow. Hot. Manicured fingers on my neck, our bodies coming together.

Lips entwined, I lowered the half-zipper on her dress, got rewarded with a gasp as I slid the soft, humid cloth from her shoulders.

I broke the kiss, stood back to take in her form. Instinctively, she brought her arms up to hide her bra-covered breasts. Shaking my head, I pulled her closer, leaned in till my lips brushed her unpeirced ears and whispered, “you’re so beautiful.”

She relaxed in my arms, and as I felt the tension melt away, I unclasped her bra. Slowly, I kissed downward. Lips, chin, neck, cleavage, tummy. I felt her hands in my hair as I reached the hem of her panties.

I kissed her pussy, then continued kissing down her legs, my fingers dragging the thong along with.

She explored my naked body as steamy hot water engulfed us. I fingered her for the first time, (her first), her back pressed against the tiled wall. I must have enjoyed watching her writhe on my digit, because (quite by accident), she had her first real orgasm.

That’s when things got real steamy.

It was like I’d lit the fuse… No, the fuse had been lit, she was exploding into billions of glowing shards.

She attacked me. Lips on my face, my neck, chest. We pressed together, making out while she ground her deprived married pussy against my quads.

I’ll be honest. It was like trying to dry off a manic cat once we got out. I hadn’t even got to my hair when I was yanked into the bedroom.

Not even half way to the bed, Emma stopped, dropped to her knees, and began licking, sucking, and…. Holy shit, I don’t even know how to describe it. She was making love to my penis.

I like to pretend I’m a sex god, but… Spoiler. I’m not. I’m average. I simply couldn’t take the intensity.

I tried to pull away, but she wasn’t having it. She jerked my shaft, sucked my head, and swallowed my entire load better than an inner city hooker.

While I recharged, I took my time eating her cunt. It was slow, relaxed, she even talked with me as I did it. Omg, I love how her whole body shook as she came.

We actually went down for dinner after that. Talked a bit more, let the anticipation rise.

I took her missionary the first time. The lights were ON. I lifted her head so we could both watch my married cock open her up. I could feel her plastic heels against my back, and fuck… The sounds she made…

If I could have recorded the little squeaks, moans, gasps, and whispered words… I’d never need porn again.

We kissed and touched… We melded together. It’s what I consider, “making love.”

Before I came, I made her touch herself. I wanted her to masturbate for the first time. I wanted to watch her climax, stuffed with my big Irish cock.

Oh, and it was a thing of beauty. Face red, eyes clenched, body shaking. I fucked her hard…. Like really hard. Shaking the bed, skin slapping skin hard.

It was like I gathered all her energy during the day, and was now injecting back into her. The fact that she was egging me on, screaming out, “YES!”, Over and over, like the set of a professional porno, just made me fuck harder.

I clenched, pulled her hair, buried my face in her neck, then blew my entire load into her.

We stayed like that for quite some time. Sweat, cum, spit. Deep breaths, genitals mashed together. Her fingers in my hair. My lips on her neck…

Fuck that’s a good memory.

NSFW: yes

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