Cheat

It was happening right in front of my husband's eyes. That's what made it so exciting. That's what turned me into a fuck slut for my husband's best friend.

I am Susan. My husband is named Ed (full name: Edward Wilson Rollins, III). He is a nice guy. I met him just after I got my first job at the ad agency where we both work. In fact, Ed's father, who has now retired, started the agency. Ed is not totally in charge yet, but he ultimately will be. So: nice guy. Good provider. Good looking too, I guess. Clean. Neat. Always dresses well, but he's not affected, or stuck up. Like I said, he's a nice guy.

Ed and I had what I assume is a "typical" kind of romance. Ed courted me with lots of attention. He took me out to baseball games. We went to the movies. I went home to meet his parents, who have moved down to Palm Springs since his dad retired. Ed attended a Fourth of July picnic with my family. They're out of town, too. We went to church on the big religious days, had dinner in the City. We took trips to the wine country, went camping in Yosemite, and actually joined the company bowling team together. It all took about a year from our first contact to the wedding reception.

The sex was ok, too. Nothing special, I realize, but it was certainly pleasant. I didn't have a lot of experience, and Ed didn't either. He's only five years older than I am, and he is not any kind of ladies' man. But he can fuck, of course. And we did it. We did it during the courtship phase, too, even before we got married. Our sex was (and is) pretty conventional; no big fireworks or anything, but there is nothing wrong with fucking your fiancé or your husband. And I do like to fuck. I liked it in college, and I liked it with the few boyfriends I went that far with, but let's just say that sex was never really what I lived and died for. Sex has not been the big centerpiece of our marriage, either, and it was definitely not the centerpiece while we were dating and moving towards that wedding reception.

Enter Steve.

Steve is my husband's best friend. They went to business school together, and just by chance, Steve missed the whole courtship period and the wedding. He works for a high-tech firm in the City, and he was posted to their Japanese office for almost two years, and that included the year that Ed and I were moving towards marriage. Steve missed the wedding, too. He was invited, of course. In fact, Ed tried to get him to come back specially to be the best man. That didn't happen. Whether he couldn't make it, or just couldn't be bothered, Steve did not come to the wedding. I knew there was a Steve, but I didn't meet him until I was just about one year into my marriage to Ed.

I first met Steve when he was transferred back to his company's San Francisco headquarters. When his plane touched down at SFO, Ed and I were at the airport. Steve is married, but with no other family, and no children, and his wife wasn't with him. Steve's wife was in Seattle visiting her parents, who hadn't seen her for two years. So, Steve came in alone (no wife), and Ed played the welcoming committee at the airport. Naturally, since this was a big deal for my husband, I was there, too.

Was it instant? If I am honest, I have to say "yes." It was pretty much instant. I, personally, have come to appreciate that "chemistry" is a large part of what ultimately makes sex so powerful and exciting. If you have that chemistry, that is. The physical facts of fucking are nice, but sexual excitement is just not determined or defined by the physical act. Not with what I think of as real sex. It's invisible (or it can be), and I think the "eyes have it" where real sex is concerned. Eyes and what is said.

Steve and I have talked about that first meeting. He says he took one look at me and knew he was going to steal me away from his best friend and "fuck the shit out of me," as he put it.

Somehow, in some subliminal way, I must have realized he had that thought. I didn't even know I knew it, but I did, and I was already attracted to him by the time we hit the parking lot. It was the way Steve looked at me. That was the first thing. His desire for me was just shooting out of his eyes. And I didn't turn away. I was mesmerized.

Ed drove us home. Steve was going to stay with us for a week or so, till his wife got back from her visit in Seattle. I was in the front passenger seat on the trip from the airport. Steve was in the back. Naturally, most of the conversation was between Steve and my husband, and Steve leaned forward over the front seat to be able to engage better with Ed. That put him leaning over my shoulder, and I was totally aware of his presence. I could feel his breath on my neck. I was aware of his hand curled over the seat, too, behind my right shoulder. And then he moved my hair. He did. With my husband sitting right there (but focused on the road), Steve took his right hand from behind my shoulder, and grabbed my hair and pulled it back so it wasn't in front of his face when he was talking to Ed. And then he said, in a real low voice, and right at a time when the traffic was bunching up and Ed was distracted, "I hope that's ok for you."

And he kept my hair out of his way, pulling it back, and continued talking to Ed. And I felt like I was under his command, right there in front of my husband. Steve was already taking control.

So, it was plain from the start, within about half an hour after meeting him. I knew that Steve was going to take me. That's what I felt. And that is exactly what Steve wanted me to feel. When we got to our house, Steve gave just a little yank, as he let go of my hair, and said "that's lovely!" Ed thought he meant our house. I thought he meant me.

At home, we put Steve's luggage in the big guest room on the first floor (it has its own bath), and since it was about mid-afternoon, and Steve had already said he wasn't hungry, we asked him if he wanted to rest after the long flight. And Steve said, "well, I guess I wouldn't mind getting into bed; sounds good." He looked right at me when he said it. Ed didn't notice anything. But I noticed. And I didn't mind, either.

So Steve went to the guest room to rest. I came down the hall a few minutes later, just to be sure he knew where the towels were, and that he should feel free to take a shower, and to ask if there was anything else he needed. My husband was thirty feet away, checking for messages on his phone, and I went right into the room with my husband's best friend, and Steve said, "turn around."

I did, and he grabbed my hair again. This time he pulled it with real authority, and he said "thanks." He said it pretty loudly, so my husband could hear. "I want you to keep checking on me. I may need some help." Ed probably heard the remark, or he could have, but he didn't see how Steve looked at me when he was talking. I felt like he was telling me that I was his, and that I should be ready to come running when he called. That's when my panties got wet.

They really did. Just like that. I liked it that he was calling me out, right down the hall from my husband. I never would have guessed that I would like that. But I liked it. I really liked it. I could feel it go up right between my legs. I felt like I should touch myself right there.

Of course I didn't. Not then.

It was a weekday, and both Ed and I had taken off work. It was really too late to go back into the office, but Ed decided to go, anyway. Of course, Ed could never have guessed that this was going to be a bad idea. At least, it was going to be a bad idea for Ed if he wanted to keep a faithful wife.

Ed left. He said he'd be home at the regular time for dinner, and that I should keep checking to see if Steve needed anything when he woke up. The plan was to take Steve out to dinner, so I wouldn't have to cook.

My heart started beating so fast when I heard his car actually leave the driveway. I could hardly breathe. That's when I touched myself.

I did. I couldn't help it. I was so wet. It felt so good to run my fingers all over that slick, sweet, juicy cunt of mine. Then Steve walked down the hall.

I was getting myself off in the living room, flopped down on the couch, and I hadn't heard him coming. There was carpet. He was in his bare feet. He didn't have to guess what I was doing. There I was.

Steve just sat down next to me. He put a finger over his lips in the "silent" sign. "Don't say anything, " he was indicating. Then, he did say something himself. "Rub it on my face." That's what he said.

I blushed so hard. I really turned red. I couldn't even talk. And I didn't move a muscle. Steve got up and kneeled over me, one knee on both sides of me. I was still slouched on the couch. "Rub it on my fucking face,' he said again.

And I did.

Steve grabbed my hand. Took it, not "grabbed." It was gentle, not harsh. He did it with his left hand, and he sucked my fingers. Then he put his right hand right up my skirt, and slipped it in my panties. I spread my legs for him, too. And he finger fucked me right there till I came so hard I couldn't even believe it.

All the time, Steve was looking at me, and all that desire was just overpowering. I didn't care about anything but getting off. I just went from model wife to fuck slut in one easy lesson.

And here's the lesson, the lesson that I learned from Steve: take what you want.

Steve fucked me right there on the couch. After Steve and I fucked, we took a shower together. Then I got myself cleaned up. Steve actually did lie down then, so he was genuinely asleep when Ed got back. Steve and I had had about two hours, and we left a big wet spot on the couch. I didn't notice it until later, after the shower was over and I was all cleaned up, and when I did notice the spot, I flipped the cushion. Just in time, too, since Ed was walking in the door as I did it.

What I love most is fucking Steve right in front of my husband's nose. That gets me off so hard. The more dangerous it is, the more it's a split-second fuck, the better I like it. And I love to rub my pussy juice all over Steve's face. I love to mark him with my scent. I hope his wife knows. She probably does. But not my faithful husband, Ed.

Ed is fucking clueless. He has no idea that when Steve drops by on Saturday mornings it's on purpose, because he knows that Ed plays golf each Saturday at 11:00. We usually get to fuck when Ed leaves for his tee time.

But I like it even better when Ed fingers me under the table when he and his wife, and Ed and I, go out to dinner. We do that. And one way or another Steve gets to feel my wet pussy. Maybe it's just with his big toe, jammed into my cunt as Ed orders the wine. Actually, Steve's wife is pretty clueless, too.

I like to cheat.

That is really the bottom line. I fucking love to cheat on my husband, and I love it that it's his best friend I am cheating with. It's his best friend who is fucking me. It makes me so fucking wet. I can't even tell you how hot I get dreaming about the next time, and reliving every dirty move we've made, right in front of my husband's face.

As you can tell, sex with Steve is the opposite of the bland marital type sex I thought was what defined the act. He taught me anal. I love it up my butt. Last week, Ed was mowing the lawn when Steve came over. Steve told me to slip off my panties, and as I looked out the kitchen window, and bent over the sink, Steve gave me a shot of lube in my ass, and put it in, while I waved to Ed, and yelled that Steve was in the house.

I fucking love it.

My advice? Pay attention to that lesson I learned from Steve: take what you want. And if you're like me (and you can find the man for it), you should cheat on your husband. And do it right in front of his face.

It will make you wet. It will make you come so fucking hard!

I guarantee it!