Sometimes you can't help yourself. Sometimes you find yourself overwhelmed. Sometimes things you are carried away on such a roller coaster that you have no time to think rationally. I know, it happened to me.
Three years ago I was happily married, immersed in the usual suburban life. I would be lying if I said I never looked at other women. I notice a nice tight backside or a pair of firm breasts just as much as the next man. Occasionally I'd watch some piece of soft porn on late night cable although the simulated sex was usually pretty laughable and some of the boob jobs way over the top. Otherwise I was happy. Three years ago everything changed.
I had been to a meeting with a local client and rather than travelling back into town, decided to come home early. I parked the car on the drive as normal. Walking up to the front door, I found it locked. My wife's car was still there so I assumed she had gone round to a neighbour's house. On this day I had left for work without my house keys. We kept a spare behind the house for emergencies, so I walked around to get it. As I reached the back garden I could hear from somewhere the sound of energetic sex - and really enjoying it too. I smiled to myself - our neighbour was a divorcée with lots of male friends, and a penchant for loud and uninhibited sex. As I got to the back of the house, I realised though that the noises were not coming from next door, but from my own garden.
I stepped around the corner. No one was in sight, but the cries of uninhibited pleasure continued. I looked across the lawn to the summerhouse, and could see two naked figures just inside. I took a step forward, then stopped in shock. I could see now that the woman was my wife Ann, on her knees, her long auburn hair streaming out, her eyes closed, her lips parted in ecstatic pleasure, while behind her a muscular male figure bucked and plunged.
I stepped back out of sight, stunned and unable to think. My heart was pounding, my throat was tight. I couldn't believe that the woman who had taken her pleasure with me that morning, was now herself being taken by this man and delighting in receiving each thrust. I could hear her moans and whimpers still. I looked around the corner again. He had withdrawn from her but was still kneeling. I could see his naked figure - a strong tight back with firm muscular cheeks and as he turned slightly his erect penis swing gently. Ann turned to face him, then she bent forward and began gently sucking and nibbling his hard erect shaft. In the five years of our sex life together, she had never allowed my own cock anywhere near her face, although she loved it when I buried my own face between her thighs. I loved it too - the soft folds of her labia as I probed with my tongue, the sweet taste that appeared as she came to orgasm.
She was still working her lips around the exposed head of his penis, playfully licking it like an ice cream, her eyes looking up at him. She paused, then laughed and took him again into her mouth, to my amazement swallowing him deeper and deeper until his whole shaft was in, her lips pressed against his skin. He looked skywards, shuddering with pleasure as her lips wrapped tight around him, she pulled out, then back, out then back. I watched mesmerised as she alternately sucked and bit at him. I looked at his arched back, muscular in a way mine had never been and I could see why she lusted after it. As she sucked him in, I could see the muscles in his ass cheeks tense, each one perfectly defined.
She redoubled her efforts, biting him hard, drawing him deeply into her mouth. He cried out but not in pain, then his back arched and he began thrusting back at her. I could see that he was coming - pumping himself into her mouth. She held on tight, not letting him withdraw, sucking him down as his tight muscular ass thrust forward then back. He sighed, a long deep sigh and I saw his body relax, the toned muscles softening as he spasmed one more time then collapsed forward, holding her to him, gasping for breath.
She finally released his cock, and as he sat back on his heels, I could see it slowly softening and subsiding, the tip glistening slightly, semen stringing from it. She sat back and smiled, then reached out to touch the moist head of his cock with her fingers, before putting them to her lips, licking each in turn.
I realised that as I watched I was becoming more and more aroused. It was almost painful, like being adolescent again, hormones raging and wanting to screw every female I saw. I fled. I couldn't cope with the competing emotions of watching my wife giving head to another man, something she had always refused to do to me, and being so aroused by what I saw. I knew I still wanted that beautiful body of hers, I still wanted to plough that bittersweet furrow between her strong thighs, but I couldn't understand how I could be aroused watching her do it with someone else.
I stumbled back to my car. All I could see was her lithe golden body, those full lips wrapped around the man's hard erect shaft. I could see every detail - the dark curls of his pubic hair, the pale ivory shaft, marked with faint blue veins, the contrast of the deep red of the tip, her engorged lips as they gently caught him up, the incredible ease with which his rigid shaft slid between them so deep so that her lips kissed his belly as she swallowed him.
As I sat there I realised I was again aroused, my hand had slipped inside my trousers and was playing with my own hard and stiff erection. I cried out in self loathing as I realised I was masturbating over an image of my wife giving a blow job to another man. Why had she done this to me?
I thought we had always enjoyed a good sex life. That morning alone I had woken to find her hands cupped around my balls, playing with my morning erection. As she saw me open my eyes, she swung her lithe body across me, and while still half asleep took my cock into her sweet moistness, clamping down on me, squeezing me, milking me as I came quickly and uncontrollably, feeling my cock pumping into her before gradually softening.
She laughed and rolled off me. She loved being in control when we made love, my every move and touch at her direction. To be honest I liked it that way too - the contrast between the demure public face she offered to the world and the demanding lustful private woman always turned me on.
I knew I had to go back, but I still didn't know what to do. Should I hope he was still there so I could catch them in the act or that they were now indoors and fully dressed so I could pretend it hadn't happened? I was still aroused, I still had a guilty fascination with what I had seen her doing, I still had an almost photographic recall of every muscle and inch of his body as he spent himself in her mouth. Sometimes it seemed as if I was as aroused by his body as by hers. I suddenly pictured myself in the scene, not as him, but as her, taking that ivory pillar into my own mouth, wrapping my own lips around its tip, tasting it. I could almost taste it. I wanted to be there. I wanted to take that hard erect cock between my own lips, to put my hands on his ass as she had, to draw him into me, as she had.
I stood on the driveway. I was still fully, painfully erect. Without consciously choosing to, I found myself walking again around the corner of the building and moving towards the summerhouse. They were still there, sprawled out on the rugs, eyes closed as if asleep.
She was on her back, her left arm stretched out to her side, her left breast exposed, her right breast hidden by his arm laid across it and around her neck. Their heads were laid side by side. I could see her left leg stretched out, tanned, smooth and at the top, the luxuriant golden red bush of her pubic hair. He had one leg laid across her, his now soft penis, flopping across her right thigh, spilling out from his own dark bush, his balls hanging smoothly below.
