How to be a Cheater: Interlude

[MugWump]

After mine and Tim’s protracted and messy breakup, it’d be a few years and a different city before I started dating again. Which wasn’t to say my cheating came to a halt… I just took a turn as the mistress for the first time, and honestly I fucking loved it just as much.

 

The very first time was a double whammy of awkward; a married guy from work. We’d both started on the same day, 20 year old me, and 30 year old Dion, who was as beautiful as his name was stupid. We all knew he was married, and honestly I worked with him for about half a year without giving him a second thought. The office ladies all drooled over him, and he knew it, and that kinda thing always puts me off a guy. The disinterest seemed mutual, and we barely acknowledged each other beyond pleasantries until it came time for the office Christmas party.

 

We’d been sat next to each other for the dinner, and I think it was on the 2nd glass of wine that I suddenly felt Dion’s hand rest on my thigh under the table. Nothing else about him changed; he carried on his conversation with our colleagues, he didn’t even look at me, there was just suddenly this hand gently gripping my thigh, and I almost choked on my dessert. And that was it. No eye contact, no flirty banter, just wherever I went and wherever I sat that night, Dion would be there, and he would be very deliberately and very discreetly touching me somehow. It drove me wild trying not to acknowledge it, the clothing wherever we were touching didn’t feel like it was there, and I didn’t dare catch his eye the entire evening.

 

When it came time to head home we ordered taxis, but, coincidence of coincidences, it was two seats short, and me and Dion happened to live closest, so we waved the others off and started walking together, making small talk and very deliberately not mentioning the unbearable tension in the air. We carried on like that until we turned down the alley that led to my house, and that was where Dion made his move, turning me by the shoulder to face him, and pulling me in for a kiss that felt like fireworks. He was quite a bit bigger and more muscular than me, and in the shadows of that alley I melted into his arms like teenage girls in the movies. Well, that is, until I heard him unzip his fly and felt his hand on the back of my head guiding me down to my knees in front of him. He had a hefty curved dick, and honest to God he smelt fucking amazing down there, I just kept getting nosefuls of his fantastic muskiness every time the head of his dick hit the back of my throat, and it made my head spin. I don’t even know how long I was on my knees, just that we were interrupted by people passing by, and at that moment I took his hand and led him the two minutes to my house without another word between us, just this urgent, hungry silence.

 

We clumsily fell through my house to my room, clothes landing everywhere, or not even coming off at all; his white shirt was only mostly unbuttoned as his trousers hit the floor, revealing a tanned, smooth, muscular body covered in tattoos, and my jeans and underwear were still very much around one of my legs as he pushed me back onto the bed, spreading me out before him. There was no ceremony or foreplay, our eyes simply locked as he spat on his cock and slid it into me in one fluid motion while I pulled him in closer, his hand covering my mouth to stifle a cry as his curve sent the head of his dick straight into my sweet spot. And that’s how we stayed, entwined on the edge of my bed, kissing through the moans and grunts as he drilled his dick into my guts with such ferocity that I heard the wooden slats of my bed cracking under us. After what felt like an age he finally let out a long, low groan as he thrust his cum deep inside me, in turn prompting me to jizz all over my chest and on both of our nice shirts.

 

As we slowly pulled ourselves apart and upright, we still didn’t speak. In fact, the only word uttered from the moment Dion kissed me til the moment he left was a soft "thanks" as he kissed me at my door and walked into the night.

 

The next day at work it was as if nothing had happened; if anyone else had noticed us, they didn’t say, while Dion and I slipped straight back into our civil but distant work relationship, and if it wasn’t for the dull ache of my bruised insides I might’ve wondered if it even happened at all. We never ever spoke about it, although he did give me a slightly worried look when, at Dion’s leaving do a few months later, I made my way over to his husband to introduce myself. 😏

 

I did always appreciate a married man after that, I must say… see you soon for part 2!

Edited yesterday at 03:22 AM by MugWump