The Temptress

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Enjoy.

*

Since you're here, I'll tell you a little bit about myself. That's what you wanted, isn't it, to read about the sordid trysts of a home-wrecking slut?

Now, before you judge me too harshly, know that the shattered lives of the men at my feet are caused by their own desires. If only they had a little will, a little fortitude, then I would not be the cause of their ruin.

But, for most, that isn't how it goes.

Let me take a step back, give you some context. I've never been fussy when it comes to men; I used to deplore all my girlfriends' mile-long lists of attributes they'd require—totally unrealistic and then some.

So unreasonable. Why deprive yourself of the ample opportunity and fun there is to be had? No, for me, they can be short, tall, handsome, ugly, skinny, fat, rich, poor, young, old, or any combination of the above. The only checkbox on my list, the one teeny, tiny little condition is that they have to be...

Unavailable.

And I don't mean a guy who's been dating his girlfriend a few weeks but still casual kind of unavailable; I mean a man who has professed his love and loyalty to another—someone the breaking of his oath would irreparably destroy.

Now that I think about it, perhaps you were right to judge me harshly. Even the thought of seducing someone to break such a promise, to forfeit their integrity and the love of their other for me, gets my heart racing.

I don't know why that became my type, but it has been ever since I first developed an interest in the rougher sex. Of course, in my younger days, the relationships of the people I sought were nowhere near the levels of binding that interest me now, but you have to work with what you've got, right?

It started at school. I'd deliberately pursue the boys the other girls had crushes on—maybe steal a kiss here and there—and get giddy at the drama that ensued. As I grew older, when the world of sex and relationships began to unravel, I did the same—well... a little more than the same, if you follow.

I lost my best friend over it; someone I'd been close to for over a decade. She loved Jake, her first proper boyfriend. They met at university, and she always talked about how wonderful he was, how their love was like a fairytale and how they'd get married one day. She introduced me to him when I went to visit her. He was nice enough; he took us both out for dinner and assured me that he loved my friend and would treat her well.

His words didn't stop him fucking me the next day. My friend was bedbound with food poisoning; I told her the shellfish looked dubious, but she couldn't resist. Fortuitous for me, I know. After pounding my pussy, he shot his unfaithful load down my throat while his sick girlfriend slept. He swore me to secrecy, but I told my best friend the very next day.

In fact, I couldn't wait to tell her, and I didn't do it gently. I told her that all I had to do was ask and, without hesitation, her first love thrust his eager cock in my pussy. She was distraught, and I'm not going to lie and say I didn't relish every second. Just knowing that Jake had surrendered his virtues and cast aside any care for her because of his desire for me, for mere moments of my pleasure... Well, does it help to know that I'm getting wet just thinking about it?

Now, I imagine you're wondering: What does such a woman possess in order to steal the oaths of men? What charms does she employ? Does she have supermodel looks? A killer set of curves?

Well, I'm not deficient in either department; men don't just destroy their own lives for ordinary, do they? I won't say any more. I'll leave the rest to your imagination. Have fun.

Neither of those things are the real reason, though. Attractive women are ten a penny. It takes something more, something I only realised I had after an ex-boyfriend—when I tried to make having a boyfriend work—told me.

I exude sex.

Apparently, this is less common than a pretty face or luscious tits, and it can be at length hard to define. It's in the swaying of hips, the curl of a smile, the breath of a whisper, the electric feel of a touch, and more besides. It's all those things that when taken together, tells the beholder that I love to fuck, and that I want to share that passion with them.

So, now you know a little bit about me. Are you enraptured by my words? Are you curious to know more? Here I am, fifteen years after Jake, whom I consider my first seduction to betrayal. If you can spare a little more of your time, I thought I'd recount a few of my more memorable conquests.

Enjoy.

The Father

It was a boring Sunday afternoon. I had no plans, and the only thing I ended up doing that day was going to the supermarket to buy milk. Expecting only to see mums doing the weekly shop, I was surprised to see a guy that caught my attention standing by the children's colouring books. He'd clearly just been to the gym; he had the bag, and he was wearing a plain grey shirt, shorts and trainers. I glanced at his side-profile as I walked past. Ruggedly handsome with an impressive physique for his age. Mid-forties, maybe. He caught my eyes and I gave him a polite smile, which he returned.

I got the milk, and he was still there as I was heading to the checkout, looking confused. From the new angle, I caught sight of a wedding ring on his left hand. I smiled to myself and approached.

'You don't look like a Disney princess kind of guy,' I said. He jumped a little, having been lost in his own world.

'Oh, haha, I'm not. It's for my daughter. She told me which one she wanted, but I can't remember. There are so many.'

'Makes sense,' I smiled. 'I didn't expect you to be a secret Belle superfan.'

He chuckled. He was in better shape than I first thought. Up close, I could see the contours of his torso through his shirt, and that his arms were perfectly toned.

'I have a niece; I thought I might be able to help,' I said.

He smiled again. 'That's very kind of you.'

'If your daughter's like her, she'll want this one.' I bent down to pick up a

Frozen

colouring book with Elsa and Olaf on the cover, doing so just slow enough to give him chance, if he wished, to cast a glance at my arse. I'd dressed comfortably for what was supposed to be an uneventful trip to the supermarket, in a thick woollen jumper and a pair of leggings. I handed him the book and smiled, wondering whether he'd stolen a look.

'Thanks,' he said. 'I'm sure that's the right one, now I think about it.'

'Well, if I see you here again you can let me know,' I said.

'I will, and thanks again,' he said.

We parted, and as I went to pay for the milk, I tried to decide if he had checked me out. Most guys would have; I look after myself, and my leggings were tight. A toned arse can be the difference between a man betraying his betrothed and walking away—trust me, I know. It's all about the imagination; if grabbing it, spanking it, seeing it bounce up and down on his cock is sweet enough in his mind, then he's already mine. Then again, he seemed like a real family man, and he would have been thinking about his daughter at the time. One thing was certain: The following Sunday, I was going to the gym.

There were three gyms in the small town where I lived at the time, and it was second time lucky. Two weeks after our encounter at the supermarket, I arrived at

Peakfit

at two in the afternoon. He wasn't when I arrived, so I started my workout. Twenty minutes on the running machine, followed by squats—of course—and then some kickbacks. Halfway through my second set of reps, he walked through the door. I continued as though I hadn't noticed, and after a few stretches, he settled on a rowing machine.

I waited until he headed for the water fountain at the far side of the gym, the perfect time for a "chance" meeting. I drained my bottle and went after him.

'Oh, hi,' I said, feigning surprise as he turned around. He looked puzzled for a moment, trying to place me. He obviously hadn't checked me out.

'Hey,' he said. 'Elsa and Olaf.'

I smiled.

'It was the right one by the way, my daughter was made up. Thanks a lot.'

'Don't mention it. See, there are benefits to having a personal shopper.'

'True,' he laughed.

I filled my water bottle and we walked back across the gym.

'I haven't seen you here before,' he said. 'Is it your regular?'

'I'm just trying the place out. Haven't stepped foot in a gym in a long time,' I lied. The look he gave me suggested he didn't believe it. Perfect. 'Will you do me a favour? I was supposed to come with a friend today, but she bailed on me at the last minute. Could you spot me for some back squats?'

He hesitated. I knew the look; he was considering the appropriateness of spotting for an attractive young stranger. This was the tipping point in my mind, and if he'd said no, I'd have ended the pursuit. But if he agreed, well... once the initial line is crossed—no matter how inconsequential it seems—crossing the rest becomes much easier.

'Err... sure, why not?'

'Thanks,' I said, lightly touching his arm. With the first line behind him, it was only a matter of time.

He turned out to know his stuff, and he helped me improve my form while we chatted about work and family. My niece and his daughter turned out to be quite similar, which made for easy and relatable conversation.

During my last set, we made progress, and not with the weights. The barbells were in front of a wall mirror, and during my last rep, I saw him sneak a glance at my arse. It gave me butterflies—the first surrender to impulse always does. I was surprised he had resisted so long, standing behind a peachy bum in tight leggings bobbing up and down.

'That was good,' he said after we'd finished. 'You definitely have the knack for someone who hasn't been to the gym for a while.'

I smiled. 'You never forget.'

We showered—separately, unfortunately, as I was wet enough for him to fuck me right there and then. On my way out, I saw him again in the car park—a lucky accident this time.

'Where are you off to now?' he asked.

'Bus to the supermarket, need to pick up some dinner.'

'Oh, me too,' he said.

Patterns. His wife sent him to buy things on the way back from the gym.

'Do you want a lift?' he asked.

I feigned hesitation.

'No, you're right, you barely know me.'

'I'd love one,' I said. 'But if you turn out to be an axe murderer, I won't be able to help you pick books again.'

He laughed as we got in the car.

And that was it for that encounter. We went to the supermarket where he bought a bottle of merlot and I bought more milk I didn't need. Then we parted ways. Until the next week.

The following Sunday, I arrived at

Peakfit

at 2.30. He was right on time. We worked out together, and did the same the following week, and the week after. He told me it was fun to have a workout partner again, as his wife hadn't kept up her gym routine after giving birth to Caroline. He didn't tell me that he wished she had, but I could tell by his tone that's exactly what he thought.

With each week, I caught him looking more and more. To be fair, my butt was looking better than it ever had. At the end of our fifth training session, we had a corner of the gym to ourselves; I'd finally persuaded him to try yoga. He wasn't bad, but we did share a laugh at his occasional collapses on the mat.

At the end of our session, he sat breathless against the wall.

'I have a new respect for yoga,' he said. 'I had no idea it was so hard.'

'It's great for flexibility,' I said, and treated him to a wide legged forward fold, jutting my peachy arse towards him, evoking in his mind all the things he could do to it, how my sweet pussy would envelop his cock, if only he was willing to betray his family.

'It's also good for core strength,' I added, sitting next to him, noticing a flush in his face that hadn't been there before. As I said it, I traced my fingers down my tank top and over my glistening stomach. There was a moment where we held each other's gaze. My stomach was full of butterflies, and I could sense his heart beating faster in his chest.

Together, we slowly leaned in. Just as our lips were about to graze, he pulled away.

'I have to go,' he said, and darted from the mat, not even stopping to shower.

I went home pleased. It hadn't happened that day; his conscience had won the battle, but he was losing the war. He'd crossed the line of letting himself let close to me and had been a hair's breadth from tasting my lips. Right now, he'd be sitting with his family, looking at the beloved mother of his child, yet he'd be thinking of me. My lips. My scent. My body. There was no going back for him now.

He wasn't at the gym the following Sunday, or the one after. I wasn't worried; the obligatory period of denial was natural. It knew it may even work in my favour, as when we next met, all the pent-up thoughts and fantasies would hit him at once, and if the opportunity to enact them then presented itself, it would be harder to resist.

I knew a man like him wouldn't just stop going to the gym; he cared about his physique too much. I didn't even think he'd change gyms, being a man of routine. So, I varied the times I went. Sometimes first thing in the morning, sometimes last thing at night, and everything in between.

It was five weeks before I saw him again. Same day, same location, just a different time. It was late at night, and the gym was almost empty. He saw me as soon as he walked through the doors. I drank in his masculine physique, one that gave the impression that all would be okay if it had hold of you. I saw doubt flash across his face, and I felt a tingle in my loins.

What followed would be the most intricate part of the seduction, reassuring him that he had nothing to worry about, that he was a faithful man, and that sex would never have happened between us.

'Hey,' I said, feigning shyness.

He didn't retreat at my approach, preferring to resolve his problems head-on. I had a feeling I'd have him that night. He set his bag down, and we sat on a bench near the entrance. I was worked up from my workout and ready for my pussy to be ravaged, but I played the character of the mother, a concerned and empathetic expression on my face. I waited for him to talk.

'I love my wife,' he said after a while.

He did, I could tell, but he

lusted

after the young, pert twenty-something he never thought he would have again.

'We've had such a strong marriage; I've barely even looked at other women over the years. We had Caroline. It was all so perfect, and then, in the gym a few weeks ago... I just became someone else. I'm sorry.'

Noble, I thought, blaming himself for the whole thing. I could see why his wife had fallen in love with him.

'Don't apologise,' I said, 'you did nothing wrong. We'd been exercising, dopamine gets released. We just got a little giddy, it didn't mean anything.'

He gave me a wry smile. 'That's a very forgiving interpretation.'

I reached out and touched his forearm. 'Look, maybe if you feel that way, we should work out separately. You should go back to your Sunday afternoon session; I'll come on Saturday instead.'

'No,' he said quickly. 'I don't want you to feel you have to stay away because of me.'

I pulled my arm away. It was time to change tact. 'No, I... ugh, I shouldn't say this, but I was beginning to think I might be falling for you. I know it's silly but... well...'

I watched him carefully, alert for any reaction. His pupils dilated and his eyes glazed over into a blank stare. Longing.

'I—'

'I know, I shouldn't have said anything,' I interrupted. 'I'm sorry. I'll take a shower then go. I'm sorry.'

I hurried off to the showers, pretending to be embarrassed and upset. Once in there, I got to work. I placed my gym bag in view of the showers, then positioned my phone so the camera was pointed at the scene. After making sure it couldn't be seen at a casual glance, I hit record and stepped into the shower.

I waited as the warm water cascaded off my skin. The showers were communal, but when I'd finished my workout, there had been no other women in the gym, and I knew he knew that, too. About five minutes in, I heard someone enter. I listened to the footfalls. They were too heavy to be a woman's.

My heart raced, knowing this could be the moment. Would he have second thoughts, or would he give in to carnal desire. I remained facing the wall, not giving away my knowledge of his presence. Walls separated each shower, but there were no doors or curtains. The footfalls stopped, and I knew he would be able to see my naked body. My phone lay there, waiting.

I heard nothing for a while, then footfalls resume. Lighter this time. Bare feet. Although I couldn't see him, I could feel his approach in the distortions of the air behind me. I slowed the pace at which I cleaned my body, running my fingers over my goosebumps as he entered the stall. His shadow engulfed mine on the tiles, and he stood behind me, unmoving.

I inhaled his musk, and the manly scent of exertion surged through me like a drug. I heard his breathing through the rush of water. Judging by his shadow, he was hanging his head, the morality of what he had done and was about to do a burden on his mind. His little girl would be asleep by now, and his wife awaiting his return; yet he was here, naked and alone with a young woman who, minutes ago, had professed feelings for him.

His shadow moved, and I felt the graze of strong hands on my arms. I closed my eyes, shivering at the touch of betrayal. He lifted his hands, misinterpreting the reflex as revulsion, oblivious to the wetness of my pussy. When I didn't protest or run, he tried again, being more forceful this time as he ran his hands down my arms and caressed my hips. A groan escaped me, and he inched closer.

'But what about your wife,' I whispered, 'your daughter?'

He stopped, holding my hips tight. My intent was not to dissuade him, rather to uncover his deepest motivations for what he was about to do. I could feel his breath on my neck as he searched for the right words.

'I love them both but... I need this.'

'I need this, too,' I said.

With that, he enveloped me in his arms, burying his head into my neck, kissing me as he drew his hands up my stomach and massaged my breasts in powerful circles. I surrendered to the contrasting sensations; his rough palms dominated my smooth skin, yet his lips were delicate on my wet neck.

He pulled me closer to him, and my heart skipped a beat as I felt his cock against the small of my back. I reached back and ran a hand through his damp hair. He looked up and our eyes met. Within them I saw no regret, only ravenous hunger. Our lips locked in a sensual kiss and, as our tongues explored each other's foreign mouths, his cock hardened against my skin.

I turned around to see what would soon be mine. His impressive manhood aside, his body was all I had imagined it to be. Rugged, powerful, and toned.

I kissed him again. 'I glad we're doing this,' I said.

He smiled as we washed each other, taking our time. We ended up slick and white with soap as I washed his hard muscles while he explored every inch of my body. My arse turned out to be his favourite, as although my tits are just as good, he paid far more attention to my squat-toned behind.

As his arousal increased, he became more primal, his masculinity asserting itself. Light touches became commanding grabs, and as I was soaping his broad shoulders, he built up the courage to spank my arse. Hard. I inhaled like I'd been hit with a blast of frozen air, revelling in the impact reverberating through my body. Again, he misunderstood my reaction.

'I'm sorr—'

I planted my lips on his, cutting short his unnecessary apology. He was a good man, a respectful man, but while betraying his family with a young slut in a gym shower, I wanted him to treat me like he owned me.