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EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

***

“THE WAY IT STARTED”

I paced around the apartment, heart thundering as my face burned with hot blood. I hadn’t been this nervous in a long time and it showed. I suppose deep down I knew what I was doing was wrong. All my life, I had been the guy who was the straight shooter, the Boy Scout to the end no matter what the cost. But, my body was at odds with my mind, a battle of flesh versus morals, lust versus knowledge. My wife and I were only separated, not divorced.

Not yet anyway.

Still, as I recalled the events leading up to this I couldn’t help but feel excited. It seemed rather ironic to me that my wife’s constant accusations of me cheating on her were seeing truth only now, after the fact. The whole time we were together, I remained loyal to her. Sometimes, especially on days like this when I felt so horny I thought I might cream myself at the drop of dime, I wondered at the validity of my blind devotion. It wasn’t that I ever wanted to cheat on her, it was that she had never known anything else.

The first year of our marriage had been one long boat ride down a murky river of neurosis and insecurity. At first, I thought her jealousy and worrying was cute, maybe even flattering. But after a month of it, I began to wonder what happened to the woman I dated and fell in love with. When she began to try and tell me I couldn’t leave the house alone, I became angry. When she began accusing me of cheating on her, I became livid. Finally, when she began believing her own wild thoughts about my supposed infidelity, I grew detached.

Mind you, I never cheated on her. Her insistence amazed me to no end, despite all my attempts at soothing her and reassuring her. When her fear grew to a point that I couldn’t stand to be in the same bed with her anymore, it only reinforced her belief that I must be fucking another woman. Separate bedrooms did little to help her wake up, and a brief physical separation did nothing but add fuel to the fire.

I felt lost and unsure of myself during the months that followed. While my wife engaged in her baseless witch-hunt, I slipped into a depression. Had it not been for one woman, a friend of my wife, I might not have come out of it. Shelley provided me with a sounding board, and clued me in that my wife wasn’t just shouting “infidelity!” to the heavens for no reason at all. I found out that early on in our marriage, my wife had cheated with an old boyfriend. When I confronted her, she denied it completely.

But I trusted Shelley, and considering I believed her over my wife said a lot to me as far as the marriage went. We separated shortly thereafter. Now, I was living alone, married but not. The ring had come off with the revelation of her betrayal, and the truth was I no longer felt loyal to her. I knew that my sudden hunger for other women was a direct breaking of my vows, but I couldn’t help it. Five months had passed since I had had sex, and my body was screaming for attention.

A knock rapped on the door. I held my breath and looked at the shiny brass knob. I knew Shelley was on the other side of that door, looking beautiful and irresistibly alluring. The air conditioner rumbled mutedly in the corner of the room as I straightened out my t-shirt and shorts’, making sure my budding erection wasn’t going to escape me. We both knew why she had come here today, and our thinly veiled flirting over the phone to each other suggested nothing else but sex. My wife had always suspected Shelley, though until a few weeks ago we had never considered each other before. She was as unhappily married as I was, her husband the male counterpart to my wife.

But when we began talking about my wife’s suspicions, we suddenly found ourselves revealing more than we expected.

“I think she thinks we’re having an affair,” I told her grimly.

“Of course she does,” Shelley had replied, “She suspects everyone.”

“That’s why I haven’t been calling much,” I said to her, “Or been friendly when you come over. She starts thinking too much…”

Shelley had laughed, “Well, she probably thinks us saying ‘good bye’ is code for ‘hey, let’s go fuck.'”

“No shit,” I had smiled and ran a hand over my short-cropped blonde hair, “I seriously think she expects to come home and find you riding on top of me, both of us bare ass naked and fucking like rabbits.”

Shelley was oddly quiet at that moment, and I thought maybe I had offended her. But then, she sighed thoughtfully and said, “Now there’s a thought.”

I laughed nervously, suddenly very curious and aroused, “Part of me just wants to go do it.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?” I asked dumbly.

“Sure.”

I remembered breathing so hard as my mind raced, months of sexual isolation coming back to bite me in the ass, “Seriously?”

“I can keep a secret…” her voice lowered, the scarring from years of smoking barely audible in her sultry tones.

“So can I,” I managed.

It went on like that bursa escort for weeks, shortly before I moved out and then every night after. We slowly built up our need for each other, letting ourselves soak in the idea of sex like meat marinating in a fine sauce. Each conversation became more and more erotic, our questions and suggestions more personal. I knew better than to try and justify sleeping with her. I was still married, and right or wrong my wife was still my wife.

I grasped the knob and opened the door.

Shelley stood there in the afternoon light, her shoulder length dark hair pulled back into a ponytail from her dark Italian features. She stood half a foot shorter than me at 5′ 7″ as she smiled up at me. In her arms was cradled the television set she had offered to let me borrow until I found my own. She asked, “You gonna grab this thing?”

“Yes,” I smiled and took the 19″ T.V. from her, “Thank you. Please come in.”

We walked into my small living room, a far cry from the spacious interior of my former accommodations. I had yet to put up any kind of décor and as such, the walls were barren. Many non-descript cardboard boxes lined the bottom of the walls in stacks of varying sizes. I sat the T.V. down on the counter in the kitchen as Shelley eyed my new home.

“Definitely smaller,” she nodded her head, her arms cross over her large breasts. The orange tank top she wore did little to hide her generous bust line, serving only to accentuate and display her cleavage. She wasn’t a thin woman by any means nor was she fat. She was one of those women who walked the fine line between the two extremes with voluptuous grace. Her white shorts were cut at mid-thigh and showed off her tanned, muscular legs. Even her toes looked sexy atop her sandals, the nails painted red.

“Small price to pay,” I shrugged and joined her in the living room, “It was either this or marital unrest forever.”

Shelley sat down on my plush green couch, her legs crossed casually, “You heard from her?”

I shook my head as I flopped into my recliner, “No. She’s been staying at Megan’s for awhile now, getting her head together.”

“That’s funny,” Shelley said dryly, “Considering it was Megan’s boyfriend she slept with.”

“I tried to explain that Megan,” I said, “But she wouldn’t believe me. Right now all three of them hate me for exposing it, though they all have their own angles on the matter.”

Shelley looked at me, her black eyes intense and sharp like a sliver of smoky obsidian, “You holding up okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I breathed and leaned my head back, holding my left hand up and wiggling the third finger, “I don’t wear the ring anymore…”

“That’s good,” she agreed. I looked at her from the corner of my eye, admiring her olive colored skin. I wanted to touch her so badly, to run my fingers over her arms and neck and face. “You’re settled on divorce then?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “The moment she cheated that was it. The marriage was over before it could even start I guess.”

“It’s going to be hard,” she said and then reached into her small purse, pulling out a pack of Camel Lights, “But divorce does end eventually. You two don’t have any kids together, so it won’t be as messy as mine was.”

I looked at the cigarettes.

“You mind?” she raised her brows, the cigarette loosely pinched between her rosy lips.

“Only if I can bum one off you,” I replied.

I pulled a cigarette from the pack as she lit up. Curls of phantom smoke jetted from her nostrils as I ignited the lighter and burned the tip of my own cancer stick. I had quit smoking two years before, but considering the circumstances I felt a couple drags wouldn’t kill me. Besides, I had never been a heavy smoker anyway. As the living room filled with the essence of smoldering nicotine we shared a silence that was both appreciative of the experience and curious in the underlying sexual tension.

“You look good,” I said after a moment, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees.

“You do too,” Shelley shifted her weight and then looked around for a moment, first at the coffee table and then to me.

“Oh,” I said, “We need an ashtray.”

I went into the kitchen and pulled one of my small glass cups from box nearest the fridge. Once placed on the coffee table it began to fill with ash. As I sat down, I noticed Shelley looking at from the corner of her eye. Her gaze fell across my torso and then lower to my crotch and then my legs. An electric burst of excitement jolted through me as she appraised me.

“So,” she said.

I looked at her as my cock began to swell, “So.”

She took a deep breath and then said, “I know we’ve been talking about a lot of stuff on the phone, but I’m wondering if you’re serious about it?”

“I’m very serious.”

“Because we’d have to keep it a secret,” she said.

“Oh, I know,” I nodded and sat back in my chair, trying not to look eager.

She took another deep drag on her smoke, “You sure you want to fuck an old woman like me?”

“Old?” bursa escort bayan I laughed, “You’re thirty-five for God’s Sakes.”

“And you’re twenty-five,” she added, “And at the beginning of divorce.”

I listened to her, my mind fearful of her hesitation.

“I’m only saying that I don’t want you to do something you’d regret later,” Shelley told me as the afternoon sun streamed in through the living room window, making her shorts glow against her tan skin, “You’re going through a lot right now.”

“Shelley,” I said, “This has been one of the worst years of my life. I really think she was hoping I would cheat on her so could somehow justify what she did. That’s why she was always accusing me and suggesting it all the time.”

“You still love her?”

I thought for a moment, and then said, “No. I did, but she kind of made it real hard to keep that love, you know? I think when she started throwing stuff at me I realized I didn’t love her anymore.”

Shelley nodded.

“To be honest,” I continued, “I feel like it was the old bait and switch. The woman I dated and proposed to skipped town the minute the rings were slipped on and the ‘I do’s’ were said.”

“I’ve known her for long time,” Shelley said quietly, her eyes on the ever shortening length of her cigarette, “And you’re not the only man she has done this to.”

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. Still I asked, “There were others?”

“At least one that I know of,” she said and took another drag, “She never mentioned it?”

“No,” I rolled my eyes, “And neither did you.”

“It wasn’t my place,” she said.

“Well someone should have told me,” I looked at her, not really feeling mad but just discouraged, “Jesus, why did she have so many secrets?”

“It’s not your fault,” Shelley said, “How could you have known?”

I shrugged and said, “It’s done now. I don’t care. Let her have her guys on the side. She’s not my wife anymore.”

And there was a thud against the wall of the living room. We looked at each other, our eyes wide as something banged into the wall again, and again and again. Shelley stood up and walked over to the wall, leaning in and tilting her head to one side to listen. Through the wall and over the rhythmic bumping came the throaty moans of a woman, her voice muffled but clearly aroused. I cocked a brow and joined Shelley, our ears pressed against the wall.

“Holy shit,” I laughed as Shelley giggled to herself.

She smiled broadly and knowingly asked, “You know what they’re doing?”

I smiled, “It sounds like they’re doing a little dance, making a little love…”

Shelley winked, “Pretty much getting down tonight?”

“Sure sounds that way,” I nodded as the couple began picking up their pace, the headboard knocking a little harder against the wall. “These walls must be thinner than I thought.”

“Never a dull moment, anyway,” she commented as the woman next door began squealing, her voice accented by the thrusts of her lover.

“Wow,” I said, my cock now straining against my underwear as I tried to adjust my blue shorts, “He’s really giving it to her.”

“Or she just really enjoys giving it to him,” she interjected. A loud yelp filtered through the walls as the primal grunting of the woman’s lover became louder and louder. Shelley licked her lips, “God, I love a good fuck.”

“See?” I said playfully, “One more thing we have in common.”

“That’s true.”

My heart was beginning to pound again in my ears and almost overpowering the sex beyond the wall as the mystery woman began shouting, “Don’t stop! Please don’t stop. Fuck yeah! Oh fuck that feels good! Mmmm, yeah! Come on baby, make me cum please!”

There was some more pounding against the wall and then more screaming. My neighbor was clearly enjoying herself. I looked down and saw that my shorts were tented out now. Shelley’s nipples were hard and prominent through the material of her bra and tank top, a wide grin on her face. I couldn’t believe we were listening in on their sexual Olympics like this. More surprising was the fact that it turned me on so much.

I noticed Shelley sneaking peaks at my obvious bulge. Her subtle glances down at my crotch sent my pulse racing. My mind replayed our very sexual conversations on the phone, everything from how she liked to be eaten out to what an orgasm feels like for her (her toes tingle when she orgasms, so she says). The urges and want that coursed through my body was matched only by the desire that seemed to be radiating off Shelley like heat from a fire.

I wanted to see, suck and pinch those hard nipples badly. I wanted to see if her skin was as soft as it seemed. I wanted to rip her panties away and run my tongue over her mound, tasting and discovering the nectar within. After having gone so long without sex only made my thirst that much more unbearable as my eyes roved over the curves of her breasts and hips. I really wanted to fuck her and I knew that I couldn’t say no even if I had wanted to.

I thought of the vows I had escort bursa taken not too long ago and felt a pang of guilt. I hated feeling like that. And then I thought of the revelation concerning my wife’s cheating. The anger from that truth seemed to wash over the guilt and carry it away. As the headboard knocked next door, I found my courage and broke the silence. “So you like listening to other people get laid?”

“Don’t you?” she smiled and then glanced down at my bulge, “I think maybe you do.”

I motioned to her breasts and the rock hard nipples contained just beneath her tank top, “I guess we both do.”

Her face now bright red and she was avoiding eye contact. I could feel that she wanted to sleep with me as much as I did her but she wanted, or maybe even needed, me to make the first move. She had been bold on the phone, but here in person it was as though she were torn between her inhibitions and her need. I took a deep breath as my neighbor cried out again and said, “It’s okay, Shelley.”

She looked at the wall, a funny smile on her face, “Is it?”

“Sure. I love the sound of people having sex,” I said. “Listening is always so erotic… but watching is even better.”

Shelley looked at me and asked, “Have you ever seen two people fucking?”

“In college I watched my roommate and his girlfriend-” I was interrupted by the sound of my neighbor screaming out again.

“FUCK YES! FUCK ME HARDER! MAKE ME CUM!”

I tried to concentrate on the story of my roommate and his steamy coupling with his girlfriend, but the moans from next door were too much. I noticed that Shelley’s nipples were getting even harder now, protruding out far enough to make me wonder what just how long her nipples actually were. My tongue snaked out and licked my lips as my mind bounced back and forth between the fucking next door and this incredibly sexy woman in front of me.

“Ride my cock baby, yeah, that’s it! Ride it hard baby!” her lover cried out.

After a few minutes of passionate hardcore sex, we heard the mystery man instruct my neighbor to roll over. “Let me fuck you from behind…”

Shelley whispered, “You ever seen this woman before?”

We were both now leaning against the wall as I replied, “Not once.”

“Oh FUCK YES!! Yes! That feels goooood! Fuck me Ritchie!” we heard my neighbor cry out.

After a few minutes of this I looked to Shelley again. Her eyes were fixed on mine as we listened. Something powerful passed between in that look, something that made a hot shiver arc though my spinal cord from the base of my cock to the back of my skull. I noticed that we were unconsciously moving towards each other. Whereas we had at first been a few feet apart now we were within a few inches of each other.

“Cum on my face,” my neighbor begged. I couldn’t believe it, she was actually begging. I didn’t thinking people actually begged. Shelley’s mouth fell open, her eyes never leaving mine. I wondered if she had a fetish about facials? Ever since I was a kid and had seen my first porno, facials were the ultimate turn on for me. As my neighbor encouraged her lover to orgasm on her face and tits, I felt myself getting ready to blow my own wad.

“Does that turn you on too?” Shelley asked me, “Do you like it when a guy blows on a girls face?”

“Are you kidding?” I replied, “It’s only the best thing in the world.”

Shelley inched a little closer and asked another question. “What else turns you on?”

“I love eating a woman out,” I told her.

“Really?” she asked, “Any good at it?”

“Did you ever hear my wife complain?”

Shelley grinned broadly, “Not once.”

As the climactic groans of Ritchie’s orgasm began to grow louder, I asked her, “What is your fetish?”

Shelley blushed, “You sure you want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I love masturbating in front of the man I’m with,” she said quietly, her voice tinted with more than a little excitement, “I love watching him masturbate while I do.”

“Nice,” I smiled and tried to control my breathing. My cock was aching now, all seven and half inches of hard meat uncomfortably pressing against my underwear and shorts.

“Can I ask another question?”

“Please do,” she said as the man next door shouted out and reached his climax. Shelley shook her head, “Wow, listen to that…”

“Do you ever play with yourself when you listen to other people fucking?” I asked her boldly.

Shelley smiled shyly at me, “Yeah… I do. The people next door to me are like this, and I can’t help it I guess.”

I said, “Maybe we should.”

“Should what?”

“Masturbate,” I said, my body ready to explode.

Shelley looked me in the eye and after a long moment said, “All right.”

She turned and stood straight. Her fingers released the button of her white jean shorts and the zipper came down slowly. The shorts fell to the floor and revealed black lace panties that just barely covered her sex. These weren’t utilitarian underwear, but rather the kind of clothing used for a purpose. I felt a smile cross my lips as I realized that she had indeed come here with the thought of having sex with me.

“I thought you might like these,” she whispered and hooked her fingers in the bikini strings that hugged her hips.

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