• About the Author
  • Books by J. A. Reynolds

Eros and the Muse

Eros and the Muse

Tag Archives: cheating

From “Dirty Little Secret”

28 Friday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

adult, cheating, erotic fiction, erotica, excerpt, ice cream shop, infidelity, mature, Not Safe for Work, NSFW, quickie, sex, short fiction, short story, writing

This is an excerpt from the story “Dirty Little Secret” that is published in my book of erotic short stories, Not Safe for Work. A married man is having some issues at home and takes comfort in the arms of a much younger woman. 

*****

He walked up to the window and gave me that panty-dropping smile of his. I opened the small window and the sudden draft of cold air made my nipples stand right at attention, and right at his eye level too.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your family,” I said, as nonchalantly as possible.

His eyebrows knit and then smoothed out quickly as an emotion I didn’t recognize flicked over his face and disappeared just as suddenly as it came. “My wife took the kids to her mom’s for a few days,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said, smiling. “And you had a craving for ice cream that you just couldn’t ignore, right?”

He smiled back, and that look flicked on and then off again. “Let’s just say it’s been the kind of day where a dish of ice cream served by the prettiest girl in town is just what I need.”

If my nipples hadn’t already been standing at full attention from the chilly night air, they would have popped up right then, like you read about. I gave him a saucy grin and said, “Prettiest? I don’t know about that…” I started. “You mean besides your wife, right?”

He shrugged and said nothing, but when his eyes met mine and locked there, I got the feeling that he might be up for a bit more than some playful flirting through a take-out window. I leaned in on my elbows and looked at him through the small opening. “Why do I get the feeling you’re here for more than just ice cream?” Again, I got a shrug that could have meant anything, really, and another one of those shy, sweet smiles of his. My heart thumped in my chest a little bit.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked. “I can let you in the side door. I was just about to close anyway.”

“Sure,” he said, sliding his hand across the formica counter and running his finger lightly along my forearm. “I’d like that.”

Before I gave myself even half a second to consider what I might or might not be doing, I shut the window and pulled the shades down that read “Closed”. I all but ran to the side door, stopping only long enough to hit the switches to kill the parking lot lights.

I opened the door and he was standing there in the soft light of the single bulb. I took a step back to let him in, and all at once he was so close to me I could feel his warmth. I closed the door behind us and locked it with a flick of my wrist. I turned, and in a heartbeat his arm was around my waist, pulling me close. His mouth was on mine, soft but insistent, and if I might have had any objections to what he was doing, I couldn’t think of them at that moment.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and returned his kisses eagerly, a little overwhelmed by the rush of desire that was running from him and through me like an electrical current. His hands slid down the curve of my ass, cupping it and pulling me close to him, and I could feel his hardness against me. He gathered up the hem of my short, khaki skirt and ran his hands over my bare skin, sliding his hands inside my panties and kneading the warm, soft flesh.

I moaned a little in the back of my throat, enjoying his caresses and his obvious need for me. It stopped him short, and he pulled his mouth from mine, leaning back and looking into my eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, and then perhaps thought better of it, choosing instead to kiss me again, opening his mouth and seeking my tongue with his.

I was melting like a dish of ice cream left out on the counter, not that I would ever do that. I’m nothing if not a conscientious employee. Well, except for the whole having-sex-with-random-men-after-hours-on-the-counters thing.

The boss’ desk was right next to the side door and I leaned against it, my skirt sliding up as he pressed close to me, exploring all the soft curves of my body. My breath caught in my chest when his hands found my breasts. He murmured appreciatively as he scooped up warm, soft handfuls through the slightly sticky cotton of my t-shirt. “So nice,” he said softly.

“Would you like to see?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

“God, yes,” he replied, and I smiled and raised my arms over my head, allowing him to pull my shirt off. I leaned back on the desk, thrusting my breasts forward for him. He stroked the soft flesh where it swelled out over the pink, polka-dot satin cups, making me shiver slightly with excitement. He hooked his fingers inside the smooth fabric and pulled them down, allowing my tits to spill out and hang free and full. He ran his hands over them, obviously enjoying himself.

“You like?” I asked.

He nodded. “Very much.”

“Show me,” I replied.

I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. His cock bulged in the opening, snug under the white cotton of his underwear and seeking an escape just under the elastic of the waistband. I ran my hand over the hard, warm outline of his erection, brushing my finger against the hot, throbbing head. It leapt at my touch and I smiled, stroking it gently through the slightly damp fabric.

“I need you,” he said softly, looking into my eyes.

“Take me,” I replied, pulling his cock free of his pants. I wrapped my hands around the warm, hard flesh and stroked him, making him moan anew. He slid his hands up my skirt and pulled my panties to the side, seeking my hard clit with his fingertips. I shuddered as he made contact, gasping with pleasure. He sought my opening, sliding his fingers easily into my tight, hot cunt. I moaned and bit my lip, raising my hips to urge him deeper inside me.

His arm slid around my waist as he pulled me to him, and I felt his cock hot and hard against my pussy. “Wait!” I said, even though every fiber of my being was screaming “Fuck me!” at the top of its lungs. He stopped, breathing hard and pulling away slightly. I exhaled, and scrambled around behind me on the desk looking for my purse. “Condom,” was all I could manage to get out, and he nodded with sudden understanding.

He laughed a little, helping me find a little foil packet in the pile of junk I’d dumped out of my bag. “Been a long time since I’ve needed one of these,” he confessed breathlessly.

“Let me,” I said, tearing it open and rolling it smoothly over his cock, making him groan with pleasure. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him close. “Now, where were we?”

He guided the tip of his cock to my opening and pressed against me, slowly, almost hesitantly. He looked into my eyes and I watched a dark cloud of doubt cross his face that was so obvious I almost stopped him right there. The sudden sadness and compassion I felt the second I recognized it must have registered on my face as well, because like a cloud on a windy day, it slipped away as I watched him mentally shrug it off. He kissed me with renewed passion, trying to drown himself in my kisses, and God help me, I let him. I helped him.

As he breached the entrance and entered me, whatever defenses either of us might have had up a moment earlier slipped away.

He took me right there on the desk, surrounded by the gleaming stainless steel ice cream freezers and stark white walls. His need for me was urgent, and I held him close as he fucked me, driving his cock into me over and over again so hard that he lifted me off the desk with each thrust.

I knew I had ceased to be just a pretty, willing girl for him and that he was using me to tame some demons that were tormenting him–or perhaps in spite of them. There was something so desperate about the way he clung to me, his face buried in the soft curls at my neck, murmuring words I couldn’t quite hear or understand. I wanted to make him come, to bring him to the height of pleasure, to try to release him from whatever was driving him.

He felt so good inside me, his body so warm and heavy next to mine. We moved together in rhythm, my hips snapping up with each thrust, my lips against his ear urging him on with moans and whispers and sighs, begging him not to stop. I was getting so close to coming, going wild from the pressure mounting inside me. I told him what he was doing to me. “You’re going to make me cum,” I told him. “Oh God, I’m so close…don’t stop…”

I came hard, crying out as my pussy spasmed and throbbed around his cock. He put his hands on my face, looking into my eyes as I came, watching me lose control. He kept fucking me, each stroke long and deep, until I was spent. When he was sure I was satisfied, he moved faster, harder, and deeper, managing only a couple more thrusts until he came inside me, his cock swelling and exploding.

We were both breathing hard, and my legs slipped down. He pulled me close and held me, whispering, “I’m sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry…”

I stroked his hair and held him until I felt him soften inside me.

Gently, I reached down and eased him out, sliding the condom off. I was about to drop it into the garbage, but thought better of it. He busied himself with tucking his still sticky and half-hard cock back into his pants, and I saw him look at the used condom dangling from my fingers, and at my spent pussy, panties wet and pulled off to the side, accusing him. He stepped back, his face flush and his eyes averted and I hopped up, dropping the condom into a take-out cup and putting a few napkins in and the lid on before dropping it into the trash. Just in case.

Quickly I yanked my bra up and pulled my skirt down, and he handed me my shirt from the desk. As I turned it right side out, he spoke. “I’m sorry…” he began, but this time I stopped him.

“Don’t.” I said, gently. “Please don’t apologize.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t be silly,” I continued, pulling my shirt back on. “Of course you should have.” I slipped my hand in his and squeezed it warmly. He looked into my eyes again and I smiled at him. “Maybe you’re ready to talk now?” I asked, and he smiled back with a sweet, embarrassed smile and nodded gratefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

I grabbed a scoop from the sink. “Go on and sit down,” I said, flipping open the freezer lid with a bang. “I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

From “Dirty Little Secret” published in its entirety in Not Safe for Work, available at Amazon.com in paperback and for the Kindle, and at Barnes and Noble.com for the Nook.

He’ll Never Tell

17 Monday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

adult, cheating, erotic fiction, erotica, infidelity, mature, motel, sex, shower, stripper

In the cold calm of early morning, Bob opened his eyes and looked through the gap in the room-darkening drapes that had refused to close entirely. He could see the red glow of the motel sign that beckoned weary travelers from the highway shining brightly against the cold, slate gray sky. “Rooms starting at $69,” it declared. He snickered again at the double entendre, mentally high-fiving the clever son-of-a-bitch that had set the room rate.

Scratching his balls thoughtfully, he looked at the clothing strewn around the room. In the dim light coming through the broken drapes, he could see a black lace bra dangling from the bent television stand and he smiled, remembering the sight of Pam’s large melons tumbling free as he tossed it aside. His cock stirred, and deciding he wasn’t going to waste his sixty-nine bucks by missing out on a hot morning fuck, he stroked it, coaxing it back to life. After all, he reasoned, you didn’t become the owner of three successful car dealerships by wasting cash.

From under the badly hung bathroom door he could see a wedge of bright light shining in an irregular pattern across the well-worn carpet. The shower was running and he could hear occasional snatches of a tuneless melody as she hummed to herself. He rose and padded silently on bare feet across the floor, narrowly avoiding a large brown stain near the foot of the bed.

She jumped slightly when he pulled the heavy, white shower curtain aside, but smiled when he stepped between her and the stinging hot spray, and grinned a more knowing grin when she saw his purple cock jutting out from beneath the beginning of a paunch she’d never noticed as long as he kept it sucked in.

He spun her around, forcing his cock into the cleft of her ass, stroking her silicone sweater puppies and tugging on her big, brown nipples. He bent his head, pressing his lips to her neck where the dark roots of her hairline changed abruptly to the platinum blonde tresses that were pinned messily atop her head. “You’re a sweet piece of ass,” he said, feeling the head of his cock throbbing between her cheeks.

She giggled and looked coyly at him over her shoulder. She was too old to pull off the demure act anymore, but she still had a few good years left in her before those big titties started heading too far south for her to be able to dance on the main stage at his favorite gentleman’s club. He bent her over and ran his hands down her back, spreading her cheeks and stroking her bald beaver. She braced herself against the shower wall, moaning as he spread her snatch.

“Oh, yeah, Daddy,” she said, her voice high and breathless, “put your big cock in me.” She wiggled her ass and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “I’m your naughty girl.”

He sank into her, watching the round globes of her ass jiggle as he pounded her. In his mind, Pam was just what every man should have: a tight, hot cunt with a pair of huge knockers, always ready for a quick fuck whenever and wherever. So far she hadn’t mentioned him leaving his wife again–her one cock-wilting inconvenience. He told her he couldn’t afford an ex-wife and a girlfriend, but it didn’t keep her from opening her yap about it every damn time they fucked. He was grateful that for now the only sounds coming out of Pam’s mouth were the little kitten noises in the back of her throat that came with each powerful thrust of his cock. He grabbed her hips and drilled her, speeding up as the pressure in his balls built. “Come on, Daddy,” she said, reaching down and diddling her own clit. “Make your baby come.”

“Fuck!” he grunted, and shot his hot load into her cunt, wetting down her insides with his seed. He pulled her close, feeling his cock throb weakly as he spent, leaning on her long enough to catch his breath. He slipped out, watching as a glob of cum oozed out of her gaping crotch and slid down her leg, only to be washed away by the rapidly cooling shower spray.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, giving her ass a congratulatory slap. “I tried to hold back for you, but your tight pussy just drives me wild.”

Pam stood and turned, pressing her tits against Bob’s chest. She stuck out her lower lip. “Aren’t you going to finish me?” she pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He disentangled himself and stepped out of the shower. “Not this time, baby,” he said, smiling at her as he quickly dried himself off. “I gotta get home before the wife finishes her shift,” he said, lifting the lid of the toilet and groaning as he released a long stream of urine into the bowl. “And besides,” he said, looking at her leaning against the wall of the shower, “it’ll give you something to look forward to next time.” He shook, splattering piss on the seat, and walked out of the bathroom.

He was zipping up his pants when he felt a sharp pain rocket through his head and saw a blinding light behind both of his eyes. He stumbled and fell, landing hard on his hands and knees. A heavy glass ashtray rolled past him and landed under the dilapidated dresser, and he could see blood on it. He wondered where it came from as his arms buckled and his cheek scraped roughly across the stained carpet. He gagged as a piece of some sort of fabric was shoved in his mouth, and as he felt the room fade to black, he heard Pam’s voice. The breathless schoolgirl affectation was gone, and her words sent a chill down his spine. “I intend to have you, love. How hard you fight is up to you.”

Forsaking All Others

14 Friday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

boundaries, cheating, conflict, erotic fiction, erotica, Falling, flirting, infidelity, marriage, process, writing

As I sat down to work out a story idea that was scratching around in my brain, I did what I usually do. I think about who the characters are, what they are like, what kind of personalities they have, and what’s going on in their life.

One of the most important things I consider when I’m starting to put the story down on paper is the conflict. I wrote a little while ago about how it seemed to me that stories with no discernible conflict are selling. How it seems that readers are looking for simple stroke pieces and not stories where the sex is less than perfect.

That aside, I still look at the story I want to tell and ask myself, “What is the conflict?”

I’m married, and I’m finding that lately a lot of my stories have had an infidelity theme running through them. I’m not sure why, exactly. After 16 years together, we’ve discussed the issue of cheating pretty often and we know where we both stand.

More or less.

I confess that sometimes I feel lazy when I put married characters in a position to cheat. It seems like an easy conflict to me. But examining the reasons for cheating and getting inside the heads of people who have strayed–people who have broken their marriage vow to forsake all others–right now at this point in my life, that interests me. I’ve reached the point where honestly, I can see it. I can understand why it happens. I have been married long enough to know that marriage isn’t always easy, that happily ever after takes work, and it doesn’t take a whole lot to upset the apple cart. It really doesn’t take much at all, in fact.

I can understand the what if’s that come up. What if he meets someone else? What if her feelings of friendship turn into something deeper? What if you grow apart over the years instead of closer?

I’ve also found that lately among my married friends that the topic of cheating comes up from time to time. In online forums we’ve discussed what cheating actually is. In a world where people can connect emotionally without ever breathing the same air, it adds a new layer of complication. The emotional affair is as real as the physical one, and just as damaging. In my opinion, it’s more damaging.

I believe I’d rather have my husband fuck someone else for funsies than to find out he was in love with another woman he’d never so much as touched.

One of the more interesting definitions of cheating when it comes to online interactions was “Would you do it if your spouse was standing over your shoulder watching you?” If the answer is no, you’re cheating.

I’m still not a hundred percent sure I agree with that, entirely. I tend to be pretty much the same person I am when L. is around as when he’s not. I flirt at the same level in person whether he’s there or not. I’m an open book. I never pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m open and casual and I have lots of guy friends. There is flirting, online and in meatspace.

He’s okay with it. He knows. And he knows it doesn’t mean anything. He understands that it’s not about an emotional connection or about me looking for something I don’t have at home. It’s my personality and part of who I am, and he loves me for it.

But not all my friends can say that. Some of them are very different people when their spouses are around. Normally outgoing, sexy, friendly, carefree people put a muzzle on their personalities, and it confuses me. Why would your spouse want you to be someone you’re not? I don’t get it.

Be not another if thou canst be thyself.

Having said that, my husband I have secrets. We don’t need to know what the other person is doing all the time, or with whom, or what exactly is said. There are things I say to my online friends that I probably wouldn’t say with him over my shoulder. Not because he would disapprove or not understand, but there are things about me–kinks that I enjoy–that depend on secrecy. There are things that are sexier because they’re not shared directly with him.

For the longest time, I kept my erotica writing a secret from him. It was hotter knowing that people were getting off to stuff that I was writing without his knowledge. Not that he would disapprove, and when it got to the point that this little writing hobby might be a paying gig, maybe even (dare I say it?) a career, I told him. He didn’t flinch. He’s not much of a reader, though. I’ve written stories using my friends as inspiration and let him read them, and he’s still okay with it, though the stories themselves were just that much hotter to me when he didn’t know.

There’s something inherently naughty in secrets.

For me, cheating is anything that interferes in a negative way with our relationship. If it comes between us or pushes us apart, that’s a bad thing. If it doesn’t affect us, if it doesn’t touch his feelings for me, or mine for him, I’m okay with it. He can’t say the same thing, though. His definition and mine aren’t the same.

The thing is, if one partner would consider a particular behavior cheating, it holds the other partner to that standard. On the one hand, I can see that because it makes sense. If your behavior puts a wedge between you and your partner, it probably is cheating. On the other hand, I can see that taken too far. I know people with spouses whose are threatened by what could be considered next-to-nothing by any sane, rational person.

It’s not easy to define, and as such, it’s hard for me to ever point fingers and say “That behavior is okay” or “That behavior is always wrong.” I think people are more complicated than that. A person who cheats isn’t always bad, someone who gets involved with a married person isn’t always bad, and the wronged spouse isn’t always a blameless victim.

Shit happens.

Humans are delightfully complicated, and if you let it, it makes for good reading.

Falling

08 Saturday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

adult, cheating, erotic fiction, erotica, infidelity, mature, sex, sexual literature

“Dude, this is all kinds of wrong.”

His acknowledgment of our sins hangs in the air between us. The naughty transgressions that brought us to a breath away from broken promises, and the larger, looming ones yet to be realized hover, waiting. His voice is low and the naked desire in it makes me shiver, and in that instant I see in his eyes the glimpse of a man letting go.

His lips are on mine, warm and soft…hesitant…asking…he’s falling and I can feel his struggle as he looks for a last-minute hand, something to hold onto, to stop himself before it’s too late. In that gentle kiss is a plea…grab me, don’t let me fall, but I don’t listen. I can’t hear.

I’m falling too.

I yield to him easily, my mouth opening for him, inviting him to spill into me and make me his.

His tongue seeks mine and the heat that has been radiating and simmering inside and between us burns through and melts away all pretense. Decorum goes up in a blast of fire and dissolves into ash. His hands are on my body, and any chance of pretending that this is a bit of harmless flirting is consumed completely. I’m a child again on Christmas Eve, sneaking downstairs to shake presents, peeling back a bit of the paper, and catching a glimpse of the secrets contained, finally opening it and reveling in the joy of knowing what I found was mine, with little heed to the consequences that lie in the bits of paper around me.

Garments are pulled off and cast away, scattered debris and wreckage of what once was litter the floor as we are laid bare for one another. His hands tremble slightly as they touch my skin, private skin that he’s seen but only imagined sliding beneath his fingertips. Gentle hands that have cradled his babies are whisper soft on me, following the graceful curves of my breasts. Patient hands that ache to make a woman respond breathlessly are on the hard, pink points of my nipples, making my breath catch in my throat. Skilled hands that know what I will like pull me close, and guide me to the bed.

I lie down and smile at him and he slides between the clean sheets of this bed…borrowed…neutral…neither shared nor sacred. We pull the covers around us and share a sigh as the delicious current of skin on skin ripples through us. He is kissing me, lightly, savoring the feel of my lips on his, and I let my hands wander over him. I want to explore him, to take my time and get to know every inch of skin that I’ve coveted, but my hands are drawn ever lower, seeking the heat that is pressed hard against my thigh.

He moans as I wrap my hands around him, feeling him throb at last in my grasp.

I know there is no turning back now.

He knows.

His hand is between my thighs, seeking my heat, and finding it easily. His fingers open me and slide into my slit, parting the plump, soft folds and stroking the hard little nugget. I moan and spread my legs for him, urging him inside, needing him desperately. His fingers possess me, no longer gentle, but strong and searching, testing my readiness…seeking my limits.

I have none.

He looks into my eyes and I know he sees nothing there by pure desire and unbridled lust. I want his cock inside me and it is written on my face so plainly that he doesn’t hesitate for even a second. His legs are between mine and I wrap around him, enfolding him, needing his beautiful thickness to fill me. A moment of regret and cool emptiness when his skillful fingers slide wetly away, but another moan of desire and a shiver of delight as the hard, hot, thick head of his cock presses against me.

“I’m going to be so quick,” he apologizes, and the sweet, naked honesty in his voice melts my heart.

“We have all night,” I remind him with a smile. Then softly, a nearly whispered, “Take me.”

He slides inside me, his hot cock filling me easily. He is thick and wonderful, seated deeply, the root of his cock throbbing against my clit. We lie together like that, bodies joined, limbs entwined, and he kisses me, his lips on mine somehow more intimate than the joining below the waist.

Slowly, we move together, trying to draw out this first pleasure, knowing it will have a particular sweetness because it will be our first. But it’s too good. It’s too hot. It’s too intensely right. And wrong.

All kinds of wrong.

I’m moving my hips beneath him, meeting his thrusts, urging him to a faster rhythm as my cunt locks around him, basting him with my juices, soaking the sheet beneath us. I’m going to be quicker than him, I fear. His eyes have closed and his eyebrows are knit, and I can see the light beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he tries to hold back, to reserve his own pleasure, to share, not take it.

“I’m going to cum,” I tell him, and his eyes open. He has come undone. My legs are around his back and he’s lifting my hips with each deep thrust and I know it’s not going to be long. My cunt is hot and swollen, ready to explode, waiting for that perfect moment, that throb, that thrust that takes him over the edge. My voice is a whimper in the back of my throat as it comes. One thrust. Two. Deep inside, and then I feel it. The swell and throb, and the hot rush of his cum wetting me down, filling me, finishing me.

My pussy contracts around him, waves of pleasure starting in my core and radiating outward in ever widening spirals. My breath is coming in ragged gasps and I’m shaking from the fierce pleasure. I peak, and ride the swell back down again, relaxing under his reassuring weight that tethers me back to earth.

His hands are on me again, soft against my cheek, his lips gentle…melting summer-sweet kisses.

We lie together and he holds me close, running his hands lazily over me like he’s trying to memorize me. Neither of us speaks. Our thoughts are our own, but running in tandem. The same doubts, the same vague guilt, the fear and anxiety of not knowing how hard we’re going to land.

Falling.

Lunch Break

03 Monday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

adult content, cheating, erotic fiction, erotica, fiction, friends with benefits, mature, nooner, quickie, sex, sexual literature, short story

His lunch break is only a half an hour, and she lives an hour and a half away.

Once a week he slips out of the office at lunchtime and they meet up somewhere away from prying eyes. He’s found a secluded spot behind a closed gas station, in the shadow of a crumbling whitewashed cinder block building, hidden from view by a rusted and sagging chain-link fence and tall, overgrown weeds. There’s no time for renting a comfortable room somewhere. She can’t chance her husband finding a receipt from a no-tell motel, even if there were any close and discreet enough to his office, and she has to get home and get the smell of sex off of her before the kids get off the bus. He can’t risk the temptation of a rented bed and willing partner, so it has to be quick.

And dirty.

It’s never a problem.

They slide into the backseat of her car, kicking aside a bike helmet and a few rumpled, coloring books. The waxy smell of crayons and the orange remains of fish-shaped crackers serve as less-than-subtle reminders that they’re no longer a couple of teenagers, even though the urgency with which they come together is adolescent–heedless and hedonistic. His hand is inside her shirt almost immediately, pulling her breasts out and tugging at her nipples, making her gasp. She can feel how hard he is through his pants, and she fumbles with his zipper, struggling to free him.

He laughs and says, “Let me,” and deftly pulls his cock out, stroking it like he does in the short phone-cam-recorded videos he makes just for her. She watches them after her husband and kids are in bed, and records some to send to him, taking pictures and writing him long, detailed emails about her sexy, dirty, hot, funky fantasies.

She doesn’t want to leave her comfortable life, and neither does he plan on abandoning his family for her.

Friends with benefits, the kids call it, and it suits them perfectly.

She pushes his hand out of the way and leans over, taking him in her mouth with no warning or explanation. None is required. He moans, running his hands down her back and gathering up the soft fabric of her skirt and pulling it out of his way. He finds the black lace panties she put on just for him and slides his hand inside, running his palms over the soft curve of her ass.

She’d love to keep sucking his cock, to taste him as he cums in her mouth, but there can be no long, drawn-out lovemaking between them, and a quick blowjob isn’t going to be enough. Not for either of them. Not today.

He guides her to his lap, pulling her panties to the side as she straddles his cock, taking him inside as far as he can go. He fills her perfectly and they sit together like that for a minute, his hands pushing her clothes out of the way, hers around his shoulders as his mouth finds her nipples. She squirms and grinds against him as he sucks them into hard, aching points.

They move together, his cock deep inside her, hitting all the secret, hidden spots that he knows will drive her wild. And it won’t take long. The pent-up desire and frustration needs an outlet, and like a current through a grounded wire, it’s found a short path through them. She tells him she’s close and that she’s going to be quick, her words a frenzied whisper in his ear.

His mouth is on hers, her hands twined in his hair, pulling him to her, his hips thrusting against her. He is determined to make her come first, and she’s in no position to argue with him as she feels the pleasure build to its breaking point. With a powerful throb, her orgasm bursts inside her like a bubble, and as she clenches tightly around his cock, she drenches him, soaking his open pants and crying out. She’s breathing hard, and so is he, and grabbing her hips, he drives hard into her…once…twice…and then he comes, his cock exploding, his hot cum mixing with hers in a slippery, ecstatic mess.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she says with a laugh, sliding wetly off his lap and running her thumb over the purple love bite starting to form right beside her left nipple.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says, kissing the spot before pulling her shirt back into place. “See you next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Follow Me!

Tweets by ReynoldsErotica

My Amazon Author Page

Cougars and Jackals for Kindle eReader

Not Safe for Work in Paperback–NEW!

Not Safe for Work for Kindle eReader–NEW!

Not Safe for Work for Nook eReader–NEW!

Readerotica 4 for Kindle eReader

Seven Nights in Paperback

Seven Nights for Kindle eReader

Seven Nights for Nook eReader

Down the Rabbit Hole in Paperback

Down the Rabbit Hole for Kindle eReader

Down the Rabbit Hole for Nook eReader

Archives

  • RSS - Posts
  • RSS - Comments

"Two well-assorted travelers use
The highway, Eros and the muse.
From the twins is nothing hidden,
To the pair is naught forbidden;
Hand in hand the comrades go
Every nook of nature through:
Each for the other they were born,
Each can other best adorn.”

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 63 other subscribers

Blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Eros and the Muse
    • Join 63 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Eros and the Muse
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...