Caution: This Cheating Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, .
Desc: Cheating Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Wife wants an open marriage, hubby does not.
I knew the marriage I had thought was happy and as close to perfect as one could be was over as soon as I heard that phrase come out of Sylvia's mouth. You guys know the one I am talking about.
"Honey, we need to talk." Sylvia said to me that fateful Wednesday afternoon as soon as I entered the living room upon my return from work.
She was sitting in the overstuffed arm chair in the living room that she had dragged from its usual place in the living room arrangement so that it was facing my recliner with about six feet between the two. She was still wearing the clothes she had worn to work minus her shoes.
I turned, walked down the hall to our kitchen, and grabbed myself a beer. My mind was going a mile a second with all sorts of ideas as to what my loving wife of the past eleven years had to talk about. The most prevalent one being she was going to tell me she had an affair and if she said that; our marriage was done.
She had that unhappy mixed with pissed look on her face I am sure every husband the world over has seen on his wife's face at one time or another. I forced a smile when I was beside her then bent down and tried to give her our customary kiss that we'd shared every day since we'd first lived together and throughout our marriage. She turned her head and my kiss landed on her cheek.
I sat on the couch instead of my recliner and the look of shock that appeared on Syl's face showed me that my plan to upset her plan had worked. She started to rise from the chair but I motioned for her to stay where she was. I took a big gulp of my beer before I told her I was ready to listen to her talk.
"Don, you know I love you and don't want to hurt you; but I'm bored with our sex life and I think we need to do something to spice it up. I think we need to have an open marriage. We can date other people and tell each other about it afterwards. It will be new, exciting, and bring us closer together.
"Please honey; don't look at me like that. It'll be great, I promise. It's only sex for God's sake, it's not like we'll stop loving each other.
"Donald, please tell me what you're thinking." Syl said to me with a look of apprehension mixed with hope.
To be honest, I did not know what to say because I was in so much shock. This was the first I had heard of her being bored with our sex life. I knew that after twelve years of having sex together, we both knew what and how the other liked what we did together when we had sex; and I had tried to be spontaneous and change things up, but she had never complained. I always did everything I needed to so that she came every time we made love and I knew she was not a good enough actress to be faking her orgasms.
I knew her expressions, her sounds, the way her vaginal walls contracted and relaxed when she came and knew she could not fake those things. I knew the one time she did fake an orgasm because she wanted me to finish quicker than normal, but never let on that I knew.
I also knew the way my wife thought and the things she was saying now would never have crossed her mind on their own. I also knew I could not come straight out and ask her where she got these idiotic ideas. I did not want to be with other women, though I had fantasied about it, and definitely did not want her to be with other men or to hear about her experiences with them. That was one fantasy I had never had and the very idea made me sick to my stomach.
I took a deep breath as I bent down and sat my beer on the floor at my feet before I looked at the woman I had loved for the last fifteen years. Memories from all of those mostly happy years came flooding into my head and I sat back and let them roll along.
I remembered the party where we had first met at the beginning of our sophomore year in college; the one a friend had dragged me to as had a friend of Syl's, the fact that we had talked the whole night away, and how we each seemed to know we had found our life partner which led to our dating, and the way we seemed to always be together whenever we were not in class or asleep in our dorm rooms.
The heavy petting and other things we had done with each other's bodies short of intercourse because she wanted to be a virgin on her wedding night. Graduation, finding jobs in the same small town, moving in together to save us both money, the night she had abandoned her wish to remain a virgin, and given her cherry to me. The year of living in sin as both her parents and mine termed the most joyous and adventuresome time of our lives.
Learning about each other and sex together, how to please each other, what we liked or did not like. Our wedding, honeymoon, buying the house we were currently living in, advancing in both our careers; all of those joyous memories rushing across the movie screen I had inside my head.
The hard, painful memories came along right behind the good ones unbidden, but endured because they were as much a part of the life I knew would be over unless I could derail the train I saw rushing toward me.
Our trying to conceive, the tests that determined I was sterile, the crying we had both shared from the news.
I remembered the death of her parents in a plane crash while they were on their way to Las Vegas for the first time and the memorial service with only pictures of them because the fire after the crash consumed everything except the metal pieces of the plane and the metal in the cargo aboard it.
After the movie had ended in my head; a plan, however hasty, began to emerge from the chaos that remained inside my brain.
"Why haven't you said anything before now, Syl? Can we talk about other things we can try to spice up our sex life? How about role playing? Can we try that?
"The possibilities for role playing are only limited by our imaginations and you know how big my imagination is. Cheerleader and football player, or housewife and repairman, or even street walker and john; see Syl, I thought of those three off the top of my head. We can try anything you want without including other people. Please, tell me we can do anything else except an open marriage." I begged and pleaded with her as I watched the confusion, anger, and finally determination flow across her face.
"No, we're going to do it my way. Ronnie said you'd try and talk me out of it, but my mind is made up. We have an open marriage and that's the end of the discussion." Syl told me in the stern tone she got when she was determined and I knew three things at that moment.
One): I knew who had put the idea of an open marriage in her head. Veronica Blake, nicknamed Ronnie, was a co-worker of Syl's and a well-known slut in our town who seemed to be proud to be one.
Two): By her tone, it would be a waste of effort to argue anymore with Syl that evening.
Three): Unless I could somehow change her mind before she went too far, my marriage was over, the length of time before it was official being the only unknown factor.
Syl was wrong about one thing; our discussion was not over until I had my say. I stood up quickly and did not care that I had spilt my beer onto the carpet when I inadvertently kicked it. I walked around to stand behind my recliner so that I could look at Sylvia face to face.
"Okay Syl, I know your mind is made up, but I'm going to try and change it. I listened to what you had to say; now it's your turn to listen to what I have to say. I don't want an open marriage, don't want you giving yourself to other men, and hope you're willing to accept the consequences of what you're about to do." I said to her as evenly as I could though I wanted to scream and yell at her.
"But Don..." She started to say before I held up my hand in the universal signal of stop.
"I wasn't done talking, Syl. You'll get your chance when I'm finished. I'm telling you point blank I don't want you to do whatever it is you're planning to do. If you're so bound and determined to go through with this, I get to make the rules.
"Rule Number One: You will not at any time have your "dates" in this house. If they come here to pick you up and you're not ready, they can wait on the porch or in their car.
"Rule Number Two: You will not spend one red cent of our money for anything when it comes to your "dating". If the clothes you have now aren't sexy enough, let whoever doesn't think they are buy you ones they do think are sexier. Same goes with panties, lingerie, jewelry, shoes, perfume, or whatever.
"The first time I find out you've spent our money on anything related to your "dating"; one of us will be out of this house, probably me, and the one left can see how well they can pay the bills on their own.
"Rule Number Three and it's the biggest and most important: I don't want to hear about what you do on your "dates". I don't want to hear about who the men or women are, where the two or however many of you there are go, and I definitely don't want to hear about the sex you may have with someone else.
"Why do you look so shocked, Syl? I don't know what you may want to try to spice up "your" sex life. How do I know if you're bi-curious or not? How do I know if you're interested in giving yourself to two men or more at the same time or not? Hell, until a few minutes ago, I didn't know you were unhappy with our sex life."
"I didn't say I was unhappy with it, I said I was bored with it. I think we're in a rut and want to change it up. I'm not doing this for me, but for us. Ronnie says it really turns Rick on when she goes out on a date and then comes back and tells him about all the naughty things she'd done. She says that they fuck like rabbits when she gets home and if it's on a Friday or Saturday night, they may not get to sleep until its daylight or later.
"Are you sure you want to keep Rule Number Three?" Syl asked me in her sexiest voice, which in the past, had led me to change my mind and see things her way; but didn't sway me that day.
"Yes, I want to keep Rule Number Three, Sylvia. You break it or any of the other two and I'm out of here; out of the house, out of the marriage, and out of your life.
"I don't care what Ronnie says, I'm not Rick. I don't want to hear about your spiced up sex life, don't want to see you in action with other men, and I'll say it again, don't want you doing this. Now our discussion is over. I'm going out and I suggest you think about what you're going to do. Remember, there will be consequences if you go through with whatever you're planning." I said to her loudly as my anger overpowered my control of it.
I ignored her pleas for me to stop as I walked out of the living room and to the connecting door to the garage, jumped in my car, and left. I drove to the neighborhood bar and nursed a couple of beers for the next hour while I stewed in my anger then languished in my pain trying to find some solution to the mess Syl had put me in.
I knew talking more about it would only make Syl dig her heels in even more than they already were so I decided action was the only option left. No, I was not thinking of physically restraining her, I was thinking more along the lines of sweeping her off of her feet, something I had not actually had to do to win her heart those fifteen years ago.
All the floral shops were closed when I left the bar and the floral department of our local supermarket was my only option, but I managed to find a half dozen yellow roses, Syl's favorites, that were in good shape to take home with me as my first salvo in turning her around.
Syl was sitting on the couch with her cell phone in her lap and wads of tissue lying beside her on the couch and on the floor at her feet. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy and I knew she had been crying, probably for most of the time I was gone. Her face brightened briefly when she saw the vase with the roses in my hands only to be replaced with anger in the next nanosecond.
"Ronnie told me you'd try to get me to change my mind with gifts and false affections. It's not going to work, Don. No matter what you do between now and then, I'm going on my date Friday night. You might as well take those straight to the trash because I don't want them."
With my last plan of salvation shot down in flames by her words and attitude, I did not even try to control the rage that sprang up within me. I threw the vase as hard as I could in her direction, but high enough that she would have had to been taller than her actual 5'6" height for it to hit her if she did happen to stand at that moment. It was only luck that it spun upside down right when it was passing over her and spilled the roses and water onto her.
"FALSE AFFECTIONS! FALSE AFFECTIONS! I HAVE NEVER SHOWN YOU FALSE AFFECTIONS THE ENTIRE TIME I'VE KNOWN YOU, SYL! YOUR FRIEND IS LEADING YOU DOWN A DANGEROUS PATH AND I WON'T HESITATE TO TELL YOU I TOLD YOU SO WHEN THE REAL SHIT HITS THE FAN!
"I'M GOING TO WATCH THE BASKETBALL GAME IN THE DEN! GOODNIGHT!" I could not help but yell at her as the tears began to flow anew down her face.
I stormed into the den, slamming the door then locking it behind me. I flopped down on my old yet still comfortable recliner and angrily punched the power button of the remote for the TV. I could not have told you which college teams were playing on ESPN that night the next day let alone now. I zoned out as a tornado of mixed emotions swirled around in my head.
I was brought back to the present by Mother Nature's call. When I looked at the battery powered clock with mine and Sylvia's college's logo on it, I realized I had been in my trance for a couple of hours and my bedtime was only an hour away.
(Yes, I kept a bedtime. I was an early riser, always had been, and to get my seven hours of sleep each night; I tried to go to bed at the same time each night.)
I went to the downstairs bathroom and relieved myself then went looking for Syl. I found her in our bed with one of her flannel nightgowns on. In the past, they signaled she was not in the mood and I usually did not try; but if she was going out Friday night, tonight would be my only chance for one last taste of her sweet nectar and to feel her still tight pussy around my dick.
I went into the master bath and stripped off my clothes, placing them in the clothes hamper located there. I climbed onto our bed naked like I had for the entire time we had been together and Syl immediately turned away from me, turned off the lamp beside her and laid down with her back to me.
I snuggled up to Syl's back and began nuzzling her neck while I dropped my right hand down onto her right breast and began gently kneading it. She tried to push my hand away, but I was definitely stronger than she was and she finally gave up in frustration. I held onto her when she tried to leave the bed and used her movement to get her on her back in the middle of the bed.
"Stop it, Don. You know I'm not in the mood." Syl said in anger, trying to push me away while trying to squirm out of my grasp.
I ignored her and attacked her neck with my mouth. When I started licking and sucking on the side of her neck directly below her right ear, she stopped struggling and assumed a passive posture beneath me. I began kneading her 36 D's through her gown while continuing to lick and suck on her neck. When she moaned in pleasure, I knew she was mine for the taking. I quickly scooted down her body, bunched her gown up enough to get my head into the valley between her legs, and pulled her panties to the side so I could get my mouth on her by now wet sex.
I did not lick around her mound and outer lips like I normally did, going directly for her clit instead. I began licking it hard and fast with up and down then side to side licks. Her squirming returned, but this time it was from the pleasure I was giving her and not to escape.
The familiar tiny squeal she gave out when she was close to cumming was my signal to up the stakes yet again so I latched onto her clit with my lips and began sucking on it like I would have one of her large nipples. Syl began to scream in ecstasy at that moment and I had to use all my strength to hold her to my mouth.
My cock was rock hard, harder than I had felt it since my early teens, and when Syl started to descend from her peak, I crawled into position between her legs and slipped it inside her before she could react. I was balls deep in two strokes and again changed my usual routine and began slamming her hard and fast instead of slow and easy like I normally did.
I was not going to last long at that pace, but I did not really care if Syl came again or not. I knew it would be the last time my cock would be inside her if what I feared was going to happen Friday night, happened; and I was going to do what I enjoyed instead of what she enjoyed. I shot my sperm-less last load into Syl after five minutes of pounding her and was mildly surprised when she came for a second time when she felt my cockhead pulsing inside her as my seminal fluid burst from it. I held my cock buried to the hilt after the last spurt until it began to soften, pulled back from her valley, and wiped our combined juices on the bottom of her gown before flopping down on the bed on my right side away from her.
Syl huffed in anger before literally jumping off the bed and stomping into the bathroom. I turned off my bedside lamp when I had caught my breath and amazingly was asleep before Syl returned to the bed. My internal alarm awoke me the next morning fifteen minutes before my alarm would have gone off at 5 A.M.
I dressed in my workout clothes in the master bath, grabbed my clothes for work that were hanging there for me, and left the house for the 24 hour gym that was only blocks away from my employer. I did my normal hour and twenty minute workout, showered, and went to work. I ate my morning bowl of cereal at my desk then got to work which took my mind off of my problems at home.
Right before lunch, I walked out to the reception desk to begin the cultivation of what I hoped would be my new avenue for sexual relief. Even though Syl wouldn't be available to me after Friday night if she did not wake up in time to stop and realize what she was thinking of doing was wrong, did not mean I had to abstain from sex until our marriage was ended.
Although she was ten years younger than me and a plus sized young woman; Mindy Reynolds, the receptionist, had been flirting with me since her first day on the job and I was going to use that to my advantage. I spent the next ten minutes flirting with Mindy and hinting that after Friday, I would be available if she was interested and I could tell she was. I ended up getting her cell phone number and promised to call her Saturday. I was hoping it would be to tell her things had turned around and I was again unavailable, but I would not be disappointed if the call was to arrange to meet her Saturday night.
I left work early and stopped at Radio Shack for voice activated audio recorders and motion activated video recorders that were Wi-Fi enabled, and the cheapest laptop they had that met the requirements for the recorders' software. The hardware store next to Radio Shack provided me with the rest of the things I needed for my plan.
It was tense in the Plank house the Thursday night before the big day on Friday. Syl again copped an attitude when I tried to talk some sense into her so I retreated to the den after dinner and begin writing down the things I needed to do the next day. I went to bed after locking the pad I'd been writing on in my briefcase which I placed next to the door to the garage so I wouldn't forget it the next morning because I normally did not bring it home with me.
I left at my normal time on Friday morning, but after having gotten my boss's okay to be off, went back to the house from the gym, knowing Syl would be gone to work by the time I got back. I installed my recorders, downloaded the software, and checked to see that everything was working and the computer was storing the input from the recorders like it was supposed to. I installed the hardware from the store on the three doors I needed to and moved most of my things from the master bedroom to the guest bedroom, hopefully leaving enough of my things that, in her excitement about the evening, Syl wouldn't notice the missing ones. I'd move the rest when she was out.
I wanted to cry when I saw what she was wearing when she came downstairs for her date the night our marriage died. The clingy black dress we had picked out for our tenth anniversary which accented her breasts, the narrowing below them, and her broad hips that might have turned off some men, but had definitely turned me on for the last fifteen years.
No, Sylvia was not a small woman; but she was beautiful to me with her curves in the right places along with her long brown hair, green eyes, and pert nose that definitely did not match the rest of her face. Her lips were plump naturally, unlike some women's, and I had loved kissing them, sucking on them, and seeing them wrapped around my cock when she gave me one of her excellent blowjobs.
The matching "fuck me" pumps shattered my last hope that she was not planning what I had feared she had planned for the evening. I made one last attempt at saving our marriage.
"Sylvia, I'm begging you, please don't go out tonight. Stay here with me and let's figure out together how we can spice up our sex life with only the two of us involved. I promise I'll try anything that doesn't involve pain or other people." I said and hated myself for the whine I heard in my own voice.
"It's too late. My mind's made up. If you wait up for me, I'm sure you won't regret it." She purred at me as she walked toward me.
I heard a car horn blast outside of the house and hurried to the window as much to get away from her as to see the car of the son of a bitch who was too lazy to come to the door for his hot date with my sometime in the future ex-wife. It was not a flashy sports car like I was anticipating but an everyday four door sedan that I could not determine the make of from the sideways view I had of it. It did not really matter though because the big dent in the rear passenger side door would make it easy to find if I wanted to later down life's road.
I skirted around the living room to stay away from Syl and saw a perplexed look cross her face. I did not acknowledge her goodbye before she exited the front door for what I was sure was the last time as my faithful, loving wife. I still had things to do so I suppressed the tears and anger I felt at that moment and began the next phase to my plan.
My car was parked down the street in friends of ours two car garage and all of the lights were out inside the house with only the outside porch light on when Syl returned home at 2 A.M. I was sitting in the chair from the living room in the guest bedroom which would be my bedroom until the divorce was final because I knew Syl had given herself to another man tonight or she would not be coming in this late. I had the digital camera she had given me on my thirtieth birthday, but still worked perfectly, in my pocket so I could preserve any visible proof of her infidelity if I got the chance.
I did not answer when she called out to see if I was home and stood to follow her when she rushed passed the open door of my room. It sounded like she was crying as she passed and my heart sank like it always had when I heard her crying. My emotional side wanted to rush to her and comfort her like every other time she had been crying, but my rational side kept me from doing it.
I no longer considered her my wife and did not want her sexually like I had from the time we had met until that moment. I slipped silently down the hall on bare feet and stood outside the master bedroom door which would be her room from now on and listened to her cry as my broken heart crumbled into dust with each sob she emitted. I heard the bed springs squeak when she arose from the bed and heard the bathroom door shut only moments later. I slipped into her room and found her dress and bra on the floor.
I looked for her panties, but they were not there and the first thought I had was: "The bastard kept them as a souvenir." followed by "Nah, she wore them into the bathroom and put them in the hamper. I'll try to get them tomorrow if I can."
Syl had not locked the bathroom door, hell there were only the two of us and we had stopped locking doors years ago. To be honest, we usually did not even bother closing them. I opened the door and thanked the heavens that I had thought to spray the hinges earlier in the day with WD-40.
I had my camera ready when she emerged from the shower and the lighting in the bath was bright enough that the automatic flash did not activate. Syl had her face covered with the towel she was drying her hair with and did not know I was there. I managed to snap off two pictures of the love bites on her breasts and the finger marks on her upper thighs near her new, to me, shaved pussy before the noise from the camera registered in her brain.
"Don, what the hell are you doing? Stop taking pictures of me like this." She yelled at me as I managed to take one last picture of the hickies all around her neck before she grabbed her robe and clutched it to herself covering up her nude body.
I did not say a word as I turned and went back to my room. I locked the door behind me knowing she would not be able to pick the new keyed door knob. I put my old headphones on that covered my whole ears, turned on the mini-stereo I had found in the attic and fixed the day before, and managed to go to sleep.