Unwitting Cuckold

I loved laying in bed with Jamar. The quiet moments where we catch our breath and he holds me in his arms are the best moments of my week, other than the times my kids say they love me and give me a big hug just before they ask for money.

“What took us so long to do this?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“I was a coward,” I responded. “I regret that we lost three years of this…bliss.” I kissed his chest at the top of the sternum. He tasted deliciously salty.

“You are no coward, Olivia. You're a wife and mother who tried to stay true to your vows.”

“Fuck my vows! I should’ve listened to my heart…and my vagina.” I laughed. The fact was that I was still wasting my life married to Sam. I had told Jamar that I was going to leave my husband more than four years ago and I couldn’t do it. We had maintained…hold on a minute, he’s eating my pussy and…

“Right there, Jamar! Ohhhhh! Ohhhhhhh fuck! Lick my cunt you dirty dirty man! That feels so…I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” He licks my asshole and I squirt on his face a little. A little more. Oh my, that’s a lot. Some days I am very, very orgasmic and I squirt. It’s messy. Jamar brings it out of me in a way that my husband, Sam never has and never will. I still have sex with my husband. It’s unfulfilling and sad, but he still finds me sexy after nearly fifteen years of marriage, and perhaps because I am in my mid forties, I am easily persuaded by words of wanting. Perhaps it’s because my husband knows a few erotic spots to touch on my skin. Or perhaps I love knowing that I have a secret that I can hold over the bastard, and sometimes I fuck him with Jamar’s cum swishing around inside me. Secreting my vaginal walls. The thought of that makes me cum before he’s barely touched me.

I didn’t always hate Samuel Hendrix. I mean, I don’t hate Sam, but I resent him being in my life. I resent that because we have kids and house and a history, that I haven’t left him. I should’ve left him years ago. We met in the fall of 1996 at an engagement party in Georgetown for my friends Horace and Abigail. I wasn’t living in the DC area yet. I was living in Savannah, Georgia and had flown up for the weekend. Sam was in his final year at Georgetown law school. Abigail and I had been college roommates at UVA, and Horace was an admirer, I thought of mine. We kissed on several occasions sophomore year, but he was always eyeing Abigail. Eventually he professed his love for her and she reciprocated. I was a tiny bit heartbroken, but very relieved because I didn’t really have feelings for Horace and really I just liked the attention. Horace got into Georgetown Law and met my future husband in their first year. Abigail’s family was from Richmond so she moved home and continued to date Horace, driving up to DC on weekends. They’re an adorable couple to this day. They live on a farm in Massachusetts and Horace serves as a personal lawyer for a couple high powered business titans in the country.

Anyway, my visit to DC for the engagement party was not supposed to be life altering. I had just ended a three year relationship with a guy I had grown weary of in Savannah. He lived in Tampa and the thrill of a long distance relationship had run its course. He had no plans to move to Savannah’s and I had no plans to move to Tampa, so where were we going? Who cares if he had a tight surfer’s body with long flowing brown hair with blonde tips and a beautiful face…my god it still actually makes me wet to think of him and they way we’d fuck the afternoon away, young and sun kissed. Anyway, we were over, save for a meeting in Tallahassee in a few weeks to exchange our things left at each other’s apartments through the year (and the hottest break-up sex in the history of mankind in the back of his van in the parking lot behind a shitty hotel. Fuuuuuuuuuck.). What was I talking about? Oh, meeting my future husband.

I met Sam at the party. The first thing I noticed about Sam was that he was tall. He’s like 6’2 and I’m a full foot shorter. I had a glass of wine in my hand standing next to Naomi, another college friend and she was the one who actually mentioned Sam to me.

“Have you met Horace’s groomsman, Sam?” she asked and then pointed to him. He had a bottle of beer in his hand, wearing an untucked white button up shirt and a pair of khakis. He was pretty. He had thick black hair, closely cropped on the sides. Watching him stand there nursing the beer and talking to Horace’s grandmother and Aunt Eugenia, he looked at ease, which I found sexy. He had an easy smile, laughed generously and had kind eyes.

“I haven’t met him,” I responded.

“He’s a fucking hottie,” Naomi said. “Plus he’s single,” she said in a sing-songy voice. It’s the kind of thing Naomi does when she has an idea for me.

“Then you hit on him,” I snorted.

“I’m not single, but my good friend Olivia is. C’mon Livie, let me introduce you.” Naomi was genuinely persuasive, but she clearly didn’t have to work hard to persuade me to talk to a tall, dark (just the hair), and handsome stranger. She took my hand and led me across the room. We were met by Abigail who was standing steps away from Sam.

“Are you introducing her to Sam?” Abigail asked Naomi.

“I am,” responded Naomi.

“Livie, he is a sweet dude, and he’s fucking hot.” I was dressed well and probably as thin as I would ever be, but I didn’t feel hot, sexy, pretty or any of the superlatives that one might need to confidently talk to a man she felt was a little out of her league in the looks department. Plus, he had to be at least a little smart, he was a Georgetown law student. I smiled at Abigail’s description, but she knew I was showing my uneasy smile.

“Don’t worry Livie, he’s just a man, you’ve talked to hundreds of them, and you don’t have to fall in love or anything. Maybe he just becomes someone who provides you future legal advice because you’re friends,” Abigail said.

“Isn’t that what Horace is for? Do I really need two lawyers in my life?”

“Horace is for that, but having two lawyers to call might be good too. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to our very hot groomsman.” I walked the final 10 or 15 steps with Abigail and Naomi to unknowingly meet my future husband.

I don’t think that the first time you meet someone who is going to be in your life for decades is some sort of magical moment, at least not in the moment. My introduction to Sam was simple and pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Sam.”

“Hi Sam, I’m Olivia.” We didn’t exchange knowing smiles or anything, but we did talk for a few minutes, me with my glass of Chardonnay, him with his bottle of Michelob Light, which, if I’m being honest, was the sexiest bottle of beer. The old Michelob Light bottle had an hourglass like shape, with sleek curves and it felt good in your hands. You could hold it in your fingers in a way that you couldn’t do with other bottles. It was a shame that they first changed the bottle, and then changed the product (Michelob Ultra) in a few years. I didn’t love Michelob Light as a beer, hell I didn’t drink a lot of beer, but I loved the bottle, and once that was gone I drank much much less beer. Almost none. But I digress. The point is that I remember Sam holding that bottle during our first conversation more than I remember our conversation. I wondered how his hands, his fingers really, would caress my curves and if the way he fingered that bottle would be anything like the way he would finger me. I remember excusing myself, feeling a little flush. I headed to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and make sure my hair wasn’t unkempt. Later that night, when I was back in my hotel room in Arlington, I found myself thinking of Sam’s hands and a Michelob light as I touched myself falling to sleep. I suppose our first introduction was more memorable than I let on initially.

We didn’t talk again until the wedding, which was seven months later in Richmond. The night before the wedding, at the rehearsal dinner, I was seated next to Sam, courtesy of Abigail. Through all the speeches and toasts, Sam and I chatted and joked. He was funny and beautiful, even more so than the first night we met. He told me that he was going to dance with me at the reception after I had told him that I didn’t enjoy dancing in front of other people. I find myself to be a much better dancer in my living room or bedroom, when the music is as loud or soft as I want, and nobody is around to watch the carnage. I was like Elaine Benes dancing at a work event, but I had enough shame not to show off in front of anyone. Sam, unfazed, promised to make me dance the next day.

After the wedding, once the dancing commenced, true to his word Sam found me on the periphery of the dance floor, sitting at a table with several college friends, and dragged me to the dance floor by picking me up, strapping me across a shoulder and carrying me to the floor. My “friends” cheered him on. It was embarrassing and it was fucking sexy. We danced and sang to everything! I didn’t leave the dance floor until after the last song played. At one point I pulled off my shoes and threw them to the side, nearly hitting Horace, who was dancing with Abigail. Naomi was my caddy, draped on her boyfriend, bringing me a fresh drink whenever I was running low. I was sweaty and gross, but Sam’s lusty gaze fixated on me all night. He looked like a god, chiseled from granite. I guess my gaze was pretty lusty as well. The dj played More Than This by Roxy Music, one of my absolute favorite songs, and I pressed my body against his, took in his aroma, a mix of beer, cologne, and deodorant and I was intoxicated; my head was swimming. I sang every word of the song, eyes closed and unashamed, with the biggest smile on my face. When I opened my eyes and looked up at him, trying to convey to him that I wanted him to kiss me, looking dead in his eyes. He didn’t really get the memo from my eyes, but it made me happy to see him singing too.

“More than this. You know there’s nothing more than this,” he sang. My eyes shifted to his lips, watching him sing. I had stopped for a moment, mesmerized not by his vocal expertise, his singing was okay, but his lips were in sync with Bryan Ferry’s voice. Eventually, I put my head on his chest and closed my eyes and resumed singing.

The DJ next spun Anytime, Anyplace, Janet Jackson’s sexy romp before ending the night with Vogue. It was a wonderful way to end the reception. Imagine a dance floor full of people celebrating love by voguing and shimmying to Madonna.

The reception was held in a restaurant about 4 blocks from the hotel where most folks were staying. The bride and groom hopped in the back of a car to be carted off to a bed and breakfast a few miles away. We waved goodbye to them as they rode away in the night sky. It was barely 10:00, but I was tired and had been drinking all evening. The night air was cool and I turned to Sam and took his hand in mine.

“I’m going to go back to the hotel. Are your groomsmen duties over?”

“They are. I think the other members of the bridal party were planning to have a toast at the hotel bar in a few minutes, you should join us.” We walked the four blocks hand in hand not saying much. I didn’t know and couldn’t figure out how I wanted this evening to proceed. I thought that perhaps I’d just get to the hotel and head to my room to get to sleep. I had a noon flight and I assumed that I’d be hungover in the morning. But if I did that, would I see Sam again? When?

I decided to join people at the bar. There were several conversations at the bar and I was there for a lot longer than I had planned. One drink became two and two became three and before I knew it I was outside smoking a cigarette with three people. I didn’t smoke often, but sometimes I smoked when I drank. When I came back inside, Sam was waiting for me.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. We headed to the elevator. I was on the third floor and he was on the seventh. We pressed each button and when the door opened on the third he grabbed me and pulled me in for a kiss. Needless to say the door closed and I went to the seventh floor. It was our first kiss and despite being pretty drunk, I still remember it. His lips were soft, and I remember his tongue to have been a little cold (likely a result of a lot of drinks with ice at the bar), but it was a sweet kiss, and it made me (and my vagina) tingly.

I woke up the next morning draped in sheets in my underwear. I looked over next to me and saw Sam sleeping quietly. I couldn’t remember much after the kiss, and I had a splitting headache and sour stomach. I sat up in bed, and then jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to throw up. I rinsed my mouth out with the small bottle of mouthwash on the sink counter. I searched in vain for aspirin. At least my stomach felt a little better. I walked out of the bathroom and Sam was sitting up in the bed in nothing but a bedspread.

“Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Good morning,” I replied. “Do you happen to have any aspirin?” He motioned to the furniture where the television sat. I grabbed the bottle of Advil on the TV cabinet, took a couple of tablets and swallowed them.

“You should probably have some water with that.” I stepped back into the bathroom, cupped my hands and shoveled a few handfuls of water down my mouth before returning to the main room.

Sam motioned me over to the bed. He was still covered but he was sitting at the edge of the bed now. He patted the spot next to him, and I walked over and sat down. It wasn’t until that moment, sitting next to him that I realized how few clothes I was wearing.

“I feel naked,” I said.

“You aren’t naked. I’ve never seen you naked.” I gave him a puzzled look. “We didn’t have sex last night. We came in here, kissed a little. You took off your clothes to your underwear, curled up in the bed and fell asleep. So I joined you. I sleep naked.” He opened up the bedspread and showed off his Snoopy boxers. “Of course last night I wore boxers. I’m a gentleman if nothing else.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Ten til ten.”

“Shit. How long will it take me to get to the airport?”

“Forty minutes. I promised to get you there on time for your flight. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or you could miss your flight and come back to DC to hang with me. My roommate just got married and is not going to be home for a week.”

“I have to go back to work,” I laughed. “It’s a tempting offer.”

“Well, go get packed up and I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.” We kissed, which was a mistake because I was in a hurry and I wanted to linger with Sam and kiss him all day if that was possible.

“I have to go get my things. I’ll see you downstairs.” Sadly, I put my clothes on and headed down to my hotel room. It was one of the first times in my life that I wished I was irresponsible. It would be a theme that continued to play out over and over again in my life, at least until I met Jamar.

I lit a cigarette. Spent and satisfied. Completely naked and laying next to Jamar. I took the first drag.

“I should start smoking cigars after we have sex. I mean big fat ones, the size of your cock, these cigarettes feel so small in my mouth after I have you,” I said passing the cigarette to Jamar. I know he liked hearing that because he smiled broadly before taking a drag.

“I hadn’t had a cigarette in years until you and I started having sex.”

“Yeah? When did you smoke?” I asked, taking a second drag before handing the cigarette back to him.

“When I lived in Atlanta I smoked a lot. Probably a couple packs a week. I stopped after dating a flight attendant.”

“She wrecked you?”

“No, I was wrecked when I met her. She was a rebound and I did some damage. When it was over, I stopped cold turkey. Prior to this recent tryst with post coital cigarettes, I could count on two hands how many cigarettes I’ve smoked over twenty years. Now look at me.”

“It’s not like we are having that much sex. Are you smoking when we don’t have sex?”

“I’ve had a couple of cigarettes in between. I bought a pack a month ago. Half the pack is still left.” I laughed at his confession.

“No judgment here. It’s my fault that you started smoking again.”

“I worry about getting caught by Ana. I have an air purifier in here, I only smoke naked. I shower and soap up in triplicate. And I don’t smoke with her here.”

“Don’t smoke without me.”

“I’ll stop.” I put out the cigarette and then started kissing Jamar again.

“I have to go soon, so cum quickly.” We fucked for twenty minutes and then I dressed and went home feeling so great.

Sam and I stayed in touch after the wedding. We wrote letters like penpals, we spoke on the phone weekly, we made plans to see each other. I found myself thinking about Sam all the time. After two months of talking, I pushed the relationship forward by scheduling a visit to DC. I flew in on a Thursday evening and planned to stay until midday Sunday. Sam had moved out and left the apartment to the newlyweds. He was renting a small condo in Glover Park. Abigail picked me up from Reagan National at 7:00. Sam and Horace had a law school event, which is why Abigail had been dispatched to pick me up.

“Welcome to DC!” Abigail said, greeting me at the gate with a big hug.

“Hello babe! You look so good. Marriage must be good to you.”

“I like saying ‘my husband this’ and ‘my husband that.’ I also love hearing him call me his wife.”

“How is the sex?”

“We get it in when we can. He’s doing a lot, including interviewing and studying for the Bar exam.”

“College Horace is gone?” Abigail laughed.

“Not gone, just more mature. He’s not skipping responsibilities to smoke weed and hump.”

“That’s good.”

“He's likely to be the breadwinner in the house. I need him to be responsible, but wouldn’t mind a little more humping.” We exited to the parking garage and headed out to her car. We decided to go grab dinner at a restaurant near her condo building. It was a lively conversation. I always loved being around Abigail! Our conversation focused on her marriage and my job, but I was distracted. My mind constantly went to my lusting for Sam. I wanted to see him. But why Abigail and I are such good friends is because she could see that I wasn’t really into dinner.

“It’s time for me to take you to Sam’s place.” I smiled and nodded. We left the restaurant and drove to Shaw to Sam’s apartment. I buzzed his unit, he buzzed me in, and we finally fucked!

“I’m so glad we got to finally do this,” I said.

“Me too. It was amazing,” he said, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“What did you expect?”

‘I’m not sure what I expected. You seem so nice.”

“I am nice.”

“I’m not sure a nice person says the things you said in bed,” he said with a bemused look on his face.

“What did I say? I honestly don’t think I said anything too depraved, did I?”

“Listen, I liked what you said, it was a turn on, but I’m not sure I would’ve expected someone who seems kind of prudish to say what you did.”

“Well now I’m very curious as to what I said that you think makes me a different person than you thought I was.” My tone had gone from playful to serious. This would not be a turning point in our relationship, I mean, I still fell in love with Sam and would find myself standing at the altar with him in two years, but this conversation would always hold me back when it came to sex with Sam. It stunted my sexual growth in ways that I didn’t even know. I was always thinking about what he would think of me saying something that he found “depraved.” Over time I grew resentful of the fact that I couldn’t have joyous sex with him. It’s crazy that the first time I had sex with Sam, would be the most open I ever was with him, and by the time I realized this, we had been married for a dozen years and had two beautiful kids.

Sex seemed less important to daily life until I met Jamar. That first year we built this wonderful friendship. It started off as two parents grabbing coffee after morning drop off. We talked about our kids and being parents. As the year progressed we talked about growing up, meeting the loves of our lives, and whatever else friends would discuss. I told him about problems, and he’d listen without trying to solve said problems. I know, amazing, a guy not trying to solve my problems. He just listened and I think I fell in love. It threw me for a loop, honestly. I didn’t know that it was happening until it happened. I found myself mentioning him to Sam throughout that first year. It took a while for Sam to hone in on it. Jamar wasn’t the first person I talked about as a friend. He wasn’t even the first guy, but there must’ve been something else in my voice, or a twinkle in my eyes or something like that. It started with a glance or a snide comment from Sam that let me know that he wasn’t interested in me talking about Jamar or even being around him.

Then one day, late spring 2012, I kissed Jamar. You hadn’t heard about that had you? I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. Jamar had walked with me to my car as he always did. We would walk and laugh and say goodbye. He’d keep walking to his house, I’d hop in my car to go to work, which was either stay at home mom or freelance writer. That day I had errands to run in my mom role, kindergarten graduation was around the corner. I said goodbye and kissed his lips. No tongue. Still, completely unexpected and inappropriate. We looked at each other after the short kiss, said goodbye and went our separate ways. We didn’t speak about it at our next coffee later that week, but I knew that I had feelings for him, and thought that he had feelings for me. I figured that spending the summer apart might help my feelings for Jamar dissipate, but you know, absence and fonder hearts.

At the beginning of the next school year I had to go take care of my mother in her final days living in Greece. I thought about my marriage and Jamar every day in Greece. I came home from my mother’s funeral determined to leave Sam, so much so that Jamar and I fooled around once. I gave him a blowjob and he ate my pussy, and it was so good. We were so sympatico, but I stopped us from doing anything else, despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to have him inside me. I told him that I wouldn’t stop him ever again, but I didn’t want to have sex until I left my husband. He understood, and he was patient. In the meantime he started fucking Faye, who I introduced him to.

At home, my sex life took an unexpected turn. Returning from being with my mom had had a strange impact on me. Despite my desire to be with Jamar and leave Sam, my marital bed was an active volcano of sexual activity for the next several months. Sam and I got into the habit of putting our kids to bed, and then heading to our bedroom to have raucous intercourse for twenty to thirty minutes several nights a week. We barely kissed, and there was no other foreplay, he’d get naked, I’d pull down my pants and sit down on his hard cock, which was thick and veiny and always felt so good. Or I’d bend over the bed and let him pound me from behind, a couple times, when I was really in the mood I’d let him stick his dick in my asshole, something we hadn’t done since we were dating and the early years of our marriage.

This went on for several months. It was the most sex that Sam and I had ever had; Really! Ever! Sam both praised and questioned my seemingly insatiable thirst for fucking him. The reality is that sex with Sam was replacing masturbation. The goal of each session was to get off thinking about Jamar, which is what I did. I would close my eyes and imagine that I was having sex with Jamar. Which is why during one particularly intense orgasm I called Sam “Jam,” able to swallow the end of the name before it came out.

“Did you call me Jam?” he asked me when we were panting laying on our bedroom floor.

“What?” I asked, gasping for air.

“Did you call me Jam?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s not the first time.” I broke into a cold sweat. “I kind of like it. It’s like you’re telling me to jam my dick into you further.”

“What a fucking disgusting son of a bitch,” I thought. But I also realized that he had no idea that Jam was short for Jamar, so I went with it.

“Oh, well yeah, I do like the way you jam it in,” I replied with a shudder. He kissed my neck and I recoiled and pushed him away so I could get up and go to the bathroom.

We continued to have sex, but the amount started to decline over the next few months until we returned to our barely existent sex life and I returned to using toys and thinking about Jamar.

Throughout the next three years, as my son and Jamar’s daughter continued to matriculate through the grade school being in the same class during second and third grades, we continued to have our weekly coffee dates. We didn’t discuss our feelings for each other. It was agonizing, but I knew that if I was going to stay married, it wasn’t fair of me to ask Jamar to wait for me to get the balls to leave my husband. Sometimes Faye would join us at coffee, and seeing the way she looked at him I figured it was only a matter of time before they would become a couple. I knew they were having sex, and whenever I spoke privately to each of them asking about their relationship, neither expressed the desire to change the nature of their relationship. I once caught Faye with her hand on Jamar’s crotch under the table, which cut our coffee threesome date very short on that day. To say I was jealous was an understatement, particularly because I had been the asshole that introduced them and the only reason I wasn’t leaving the coffeehouse with Jamar to have midmorning sex was because I was stuck in a marriage I didn’t want to be in, because I didn’t want my kids to be in a divorced home.

“Fucking kids!” I’d laugh to myself. But each time I saw them together, sharing a glance or laughing with one another, it was hard not to imagine them tearing the clothes off of each other and having the best sex my mind could concoct. Which was one reason that after four years of friendship, and three years after our initial attempt, resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to get a divorce in the immediate future, I decided to succumb to my urges and fuck Jamar’s brains out.

We were having coffee on a cold and rainy day. Our conversation that day was a bit stilted, which wasn’t normal for us. I had been in a mood lately, mostly because I wanted Jamar, but couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject. Plus Sam and I had been arguing a lot lately because his presence and his face annoyed me so deeply. Ultimately I was angry and frustrated with myself for not getting out of my current situation. And now I’m having coffee with the man I want to get naked with, and I can’t get the words to come out of my mouth.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we usually talk the entire time we are sitting here together, but today you seem to be preoccupied, which is fine, but if there’s something I can help with…”

“You can definitely help, but I don’t know how to say what I need to say..”

“You know you can tell me anything.” He took a sip of coffee, I looked at his beautiful lips wanting nothing more than to lock my lips on his.

“I hate cold and gray days.”

“If that’s what’s bothering you, then we are on the same page.” I took a sip of coffee, foam settled on my upper lip and I licked it off.

“That’s not what I wanted to say to you, I mean, I do hate cold and wet days, but it’s not what I want to say to you.” I took a breath and looked into his expectant, but concerned face.

“What’s on your mind, Liv?”

“I have been good, I mean, in regards to you, I’ve been good. I mean, really really…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jamar asked impatiently.

“I want to go back to your place and fuck you!” I blurted. I looked around hoping nobody heard me. Then I returned to look at Jamar to see what he had to say. He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face.

“Why now? What’s changed?”

“Nothing’s changed in how I feel about you. I’ve had these feelings for so long”

“You’re still married.”

“I am. I’m not getting a divorce right now. But if you want me you can have me.”

*********************************************************************

Jamar literally tore off my clothes when we reached his house. I didn’t even get to feel that comfortable mattress Faye once bragged about. He still had his clothes on while his face, tongue and several fingers probed my pussy for orgasms and I came and came and came, begging him to keep eating me and making me feel so wonderful.

“Get naked!” I commanded. “I want to see your cock. I want to feel your cock.” Jamar took off everything he was wearing and threw them across the living room floor. His dick was thick and veiny, just how I like it! I had forgotten how it looked, it had been years since I had given him a blowjob, and while I wanted to suck it again, I really wanted it in my cunt. So as not to risk changing my mind again, I spread my legs, laid on my back on the floor and guided him into my pussy.

“Oh my! Fuck me Jamar!” I screamed as he thrust his cock inside repeatedly. It was what I had hoped it would be. His balls slapped the underside of my ass, which made a thwack sound that was such a turn on. All of the sudden he stopped fucking me and pulled out, I immediately took his dick in my hands and began to suck him. I had always been a confident dick sucker, ever since I made Collin Briggs cum in two minutes during my junior year of high school. I liked the taste of cum, but I only would swallow guys I really liked. I didn’t swallow Collin’s cum. I swallowed Sam’s cum several times through the years. The only other guy who’s cum I had swallowed was my college boyfriend Yannick, who was French and fucking sexy. We had dated for a few months during my sophomore year, he was a senior. I blew him one last time before graduation and my present was swallowing his cum. It was an inexpensive gift, plus I wanted him to think about it on his flight to Paris later that day. Jamar would be the third guy who’s cum I swallowed.

“Holy fuck!” he exclaimed. I finished swallowing what was in my mouth and then kissed the tip of his cock making him shiver, before sucking the head of his beautiful cock into my mouth and suctioning out a couple more drops of semen. Jamar fell to the ground.

“You like that?” I asked rhetorically. He looked at me with a blank stare. That answered my question. “Are you convinced?”

“I’m convinced that you are a sex goddess,” he said.

“The things I am going to do to you. You haven’t even had my doggy style yet,” I joked. He was laying on the ground and I cuddled up against him. I found myself staring at his skin. Black and smooth like obsidian. He is really a beautiful man, physically. My fingers began to caress his lean muscular arms. I slid my fingers through his patch of chest hair, rubbed his belly, which was not full of trim abs, he had a small gut, but it was perfectly imperfect. His thighs were thick and muscular, I wanted to be squeezed in between his legs so I could feel how powerful they were.

“What do you want to do now?”

“I want to have more sex,” I responded. “But I can’t, I have to go get some work done.” We kissed, and then I stood up and started gathering my clothes. My hair was disheveled, my makeup needed a touch up and I smelled like I had just been having sex. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. Do what you need to do.”

“Want to join me in the shower?” I asked as I walked toward the bathroom naked with an armful of clothes. I imagined my ass looking sublime to him as I stopped just short of the bathroom entrance. I dumped my clothes in the hallway in front of the bathroom entrance, watching Jamar approach me confidently, striding like he was going to storm the beaches of Normandy. He came up from behind me and we passionately kissed before heading into the bathroom to fuck and shower. Did I mention that he had wonderful lips?

For the next month we drank coffee at his house. We decided that going to a coffee shop was a waste of time, as both of us had work, and we also wanted to fuck, all the time. I thought about Jamar constantly. Weekends, when we didn’t see each other, were endless. I hated Fridays and loved Mondays. It was a bizarro world, but so much better than the real world. Sam’s foibles bothered me less in this new world. Instead of nagging him about leaving the seat up on the toilet, or throwing his dirty clothes all over our bedroom and not taking them to the laundry room, I’d think about positions I wanted Jamar to hump me in. Sometimes I’d turn myself on so much that I’d steal my husband for a quickie in our bathroom, or a blowjob in the garage. Despite my general dislike of him, my husband was still a sexy and attractive man, and sometimes on those long Jamar-less weekends when I was fantasizing about being naked with Jamar, I would get so turned on that seeing Sam walking around our bedroom in his boxers would be too much to bear, and we’d have sex. It bewildered Sam.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked one Sunday morning after we had had an intense twenty minute fuck with me facing him sitting on the vanity. I smiled and hopped off the counter, pulled up my panties and went about my day. He looked at me with an absent look, which, if I’m being honest, I wanted to sit on his face, bounce on his tongue and grind that look away. Instead I left our room to clean the kitchen.

I had forgotten what it was like to get Sam’s ‘A’ game. However, even with Sam giving it to me like an inmate during a conjugal visit, I was only turned on because I was thinking of Jamar. A week later I was laying in bed touching myself when my daughter Meg walked in to ask me if I could take her to her friend Katie’s house so they could work on a school project.

“Oh, I’m not feeling well Meg, can your dad take you?” I responded.

“He took Kyle to go watch the Georgetown game.” Oh that’s right, I thought.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll take you.” I couldn’t look my daughter in the eyes, in case she knew what I had been doing. I started to worry that I couldn’t keep up the affair with Jamar, however on Monday…

“Give it to me! Ohhh! Just like that, Jamar! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop! Holy fuck…” you get the idea. I was in ecstasy with him. I was on birth control so I didn’t worry about where he came, half the time he’d pull out and cum on some part of my body, about a quarter of the time I’d take it in my mouth, but the rest of the time he’d cum inside me. Sometimes I’d fantasize about getting pregnant with his baby. I thought that we’d have such a cute baby, light brown, perfect skin, with a bright smile, and really smart. However, even though I stayed on the pill, at my age, I wasn’t too worried about pregnancy, the only babies I wanted were baby orgasms, followed by full adult ones. Waves and waves of tremors and aftershocks, which had become a routine part of sex with Jamar. What I found to be a really odd kink though, was when he came inside me, I loved holding it in. Of course gravity would eventually kick in and I would leak his cum throughout the day. Whenever the fluid leaked out onto my panties I’d remember what I had been doing to squeeze out his magic liquid and sometimes I’d go to the bathroom and taste him again.

Once, after being with Jamar I met Sam for lunch at a little cafe near our house. We had started to have monthly lunch dates whenever we could make it work. That day Jamar and I had only spent about forty-five minutes together, less than half the time we usually spent. He had to meet with a couple of clients in Maryland and didn’t want to risk being late, so we cut our time short, but the time was still really hot. He had cum inside me, and I hadn’t showered, so when lunch with Sam got a little suggestive, we paid the check and headed back to the house for a quickie. First, I almost called out Jamar’s name in the middle of an orgasm. Second, Sam made a curious comment when it was over.

“You were really wet,” he said as he came out of the shower and began to dress. “I must’ve really turned you on at lunch,” he chuckled. He was so proud of himself. No dummy, you were fucking me with another man’s cum inside me. I should’ve just told him I was leaving him and packed up my stuff, but I couldn’t leave the kids.

“I’ve been very horny lately,” I said clumsily.

“I know, we’ve had sex like four or five times this month. I know this might not last so I’m going to take advantage of it.” Sam kissed me on my forehead. “I’ll be home late, I have dinner with the partners of the firm this evening. I’ll text you when I’m headed home.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Have a great day.” I immediately went to take a shower to wash off the funk of Sam. It felt gross that I was still having sex with him. In that moment, in the shower, I realized that having sex with Sam was making me feel like I was cheating on Jamar. He was the relationship I wanted, but instead I was stuck in my marriage. And in that moment I decided to choose to stay with Sam until our kids were out of the house, and I hoped that Jamar would stay in my life until then.