The following morning I woke with a guilt-hangover to add to my alcohol hangover and sleepless-night-exhaustion. Katie showed no sign of stirring so, although I was probably still over the limit, I drove to a twenty-four hour clinic in a distant part of the city where I stood for half an hour alongside care-worn prostitutes and crying teenage girls before finally obtaining the morning-after pills I desperately needed.

When I returned home, Katie was still asleep. I lay on my bed, bewildered.

***

The flowers arrived at two o’clock in the afternoon. I was asleep, so tired that not even guilt could keep me awake. I had popped two of the pills, was hoping they would be doing their much-needed job and wondering if I would feel them doing it.

The doorbell woke me up. I ignored it, expecting it to be one of Katie’s friends. It rang again. I ignored it again. When it rang a third time I realised Katie must have gone out while I had been asleep so I tottered downstairs to find a smiling young woman on the doorstep with a large bouquet of flowers.

There was no card but as I took them into the kitchen a text message arrived on my phone.

‘I thought a card would be too risky but wanted to let you know how important last night was to me. You are a very special woman. Thank you. Neil x’

I should have either ignored the message or replied saying that it had been a terrible mistake which we must both try and forget had ever happened. Even now, I cannot fully explain why I did neither of these. I didn’t throw the flowers into the dustbin either. Instead I trimmed them, placed them carefully in a vase then sat looking at them with a mug of coffee in my hand, thinking.

My hangover had greatly reduced and the hour’s sleep had gone some way towards restoring my composure but even then I can’t have been thinking clearly because I picked up my phone and began to type.

‘The flowers are lovely but you shouldn’t have sent them.’

The response was almost instant.

‘Mel! I’m so glad you replied. I thought you might not talk to me.’

‘I shouldn’t talk to you . We shouldn’t have done it Neil.’

‘I don’t know what came over me’ Neil’s message ran. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Something in that message stirred something within me; perhaps it was anger, perhaps something deeper but there was fire in my fingers as I typed.

‘Are you sorry Neil?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Simple question. Are you really sorry you fucked me?”

Where the ‘f’ word came from I have no idea. Until then I had been rather prudish in my vocabulary.

There was a long delay before my phone beeped again.

‘No Mel. I’m not sorry at all. In fact I’m pleased we finally fucked!’

The words stunned me. I stared at the screen in a combination of disbelief and guilty delight but could not think what to reply. In the end Neil must have got fed up waiting because he sent another message.

‘Are you still there?’

‘I’m still here.’

There was another pause before my phone beeped.

‘I’ve wanted to fuck you for years. Ever since I met you.’

The words burned into my mind as I stared at the screen in astonishment.

‘Are you sorry it happened Mel?’ came the next message.

How did I feel? I certainly felt dirty and guilty but somehow, not sorry.

What was more, I felt unexpectedly aroused; I felt attractive again, I felt sexy again.

Had Neil forced me? I couldn’t even pretend that he had. Although Neil had given me little choice in the matter I hadn’t really resisted; I hadn’t screamed or called for help – in truth I had actually directed his erect cock into my open, waiting vagina myself.

And it had felt so very, very good to have a man want me again in that feral, uncontrolled way.

I took a deep breath then made the second biggest mistake of my life.

‘I’m pleased it happened too’ I typed slowly and carefully.

My heart was thumping as I saw the words appear on my screen and knew they had just appeared on his.

‘Thank God! When can I see you again?’

My fingers seemed to be typing on their own as unfamiliar, powerful emotions surged through me.

‘Tomorrow night.’

‘You’re alone?’

‘Katie’s staying with friends’

‘You really mean it Mel? Let’s be very clear; you want me to fuck you again?’

The words were so hard to type I almost gave up but in the end I sent the message that was ultimately to destroy the trust in my marriage and leave me where I am today.

‘Yes Neil. I want you to fuck me again!’

***

Neil came round the following evening dressed in his tennis clothes. He had told his wife Alison that he had a league match to play but instead came straight to see me. I was wearing a short yellow sun dress with a plain white bra and knickers underneath.

When I saw his strong tanned legs and tight buttocks in those crisp white shorts and the way his polo shirt showed off his chest and biceps, the few reservations that remained simply disappeared.

Within ten minutes of arriving he had bent me over the kitchen table, raised my dress around my waist, pulled my knickers around my ankles and was fucking me hard. I had my first orgasm within minutes, my hands gripping the table edge for all they were worth as I wailed into the empty house.

This was no drunken, accidental mistake. This was a deliberate, sober decision to have sex with another man.

The first, pivotal act of infidelity out of the way, we could take our time about the second. This took place in the guest bedroom with the curtains open, both of us naked. I came again, noisily, my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him as he came, this time in a condom.

I went back on the pill the very next day, hiding them in the depths of my sponge bag in the bathroom where I knew Chris would never look.

***

That was how the first and I hope, only affair in my married life started.

For the first two week, Neil and I met almost every day, snatching opportunities in my house when Katie was out; his wife’s presence putting Neil’s home out of bounds. We fucked so hard and so often that my vulva was constantly sore.

Not even when Chris and I were students had I enjoyed so much sex in such a short period of time.

Things slowed down when my older daughter Hannah returned from University for the summer. With both her and Katie around, the risk of being caught was high but, with only one or two near-misses, we managed.

Chris insisted that I include details of my affair. During those early weeks Neil and I fucked far too often for every encounter to be included individually so here are a couple that stick in my mind.

On Wednesday 12th July at quarter to seven in the evening, Neil fucked me on my back, lying across the boardroom table in his empty office suite. My dress was under my armpits, the shoulder straps were lowered, my boobs were fully exposed and my nipples had been liberally sucked and bitten. I had deliberately not worn any panties in case we had to be quick but in the end we had plenty of time. Neil fucked me slowly and deeply and I reached a very pleasant, if rather messy orgasm. We had to wash the table top down afterwards.

At seven-thirty in the morning of Tuesday 18th July, Neil took me from behind in the back of my SUV in the Country Park. I was on all fours on the rear seat with him kneeling behind me. My face was pressed hard against the near-side window when he came inside me but I was too uncomfortable to climax myself. Two dog walkers came within fifty yards of us. One of them might have seen us but neither of them reacted.

In the evening of Friday 21st July, my husband came home from the Middle East. Neil and I spent two full hours in bed in our guest room before I left to collect Chris from the airport. He fucked me very hard on my back and on my knees, coming inside me twice and producing as usual, a great deal of semen.

We had been so into each other that we lost track of time and I had to leave in a hurry straight afterwards with only a perfunctory wash. I hoped that Chris wouldn’t notice the smell of sex on me.

Smell turned out to be the least of my problems; half way to the airport I realised I was sitting with a small pool of second-hand semen inside my knickers. Emergency measures were needed. Fortunately, there was a delay unloading the baggage so I just had time to visit first the airport drug store then the Ladies’ Room.

When I greeted my exhausted husband at the arrivals gate, I had a hastily-purchased sanitary towel in my freshly-rinsed, still-damp knickers to prevent any more semen from leaking down my legs. It was already too late to prevent the back of my dress from staining. Fortunately, my husband did not notice the semen at the back of my thighs and thank God, he was far too tired to be interested in sex when we got home.

I’m sorry if this upsets you Chris, but you made me promise and this is the truth.

The next three weeks were difficult. With my husband and both daughters at home the best Neil and I could manage was one assignation each week, with maybe a second if we were lucky. Most were in the back of my SUV, parked in a variety of inconspicuous places within a ten-mile radius of our house.

All were snatched moments of intimacy; few were satisfactory. None resulted in orgasm for me; Neil’s excessive semen production made going about my business afterwards problematic.

The two week family holiday that followed would normally have been something to look forward to; a large, luxurious villa in Spain with its own pool set only a short walk from the sea. We had been there half a dozen times before and knew the area well. This time Hannah had wanted to bring her boyfriend too. Chris and I were okay about it but Katie had gone on and on about being a ‘third wheel’ so the idea had been vetoed and there was more than a little tension in the air even without my secret.

The holiday passed quite well though. As it happened, Katie met a boy who came from a town near ours on the second night. The rest of us were forced to endure their holiday romance, Hannah nursing a grievance throughout the whole fortnight.

Chris and I rekindled our love life to some extent but thanks to the intensity of my new affair and the sex that came with it, my expectations had been unrealistically altered. Chris did his best but as a partner I was not as responsive as I should have been, silently comparing his performance unfavourably with Neil’s.

I’m sorry Chris. I know I was useless in bed. You are a good lover.

When the holiday was over I could hardly wait for the affair to begin again.

I did not have to wait long. Chris returned to the Middle East for a short visit on September 2nd but although he was away, the kids were still at home so there was still the constant risk of my affair being discovered by one of our them or Neil’s wife.

Until the University term started again, we agreed to see each other only a couple of times each week and then only on neutral territory like a hotel room or his office once everyone else had gone home. It was hot, passionate and exciting but not the relationship I wanted.

September 9th finally arrived; the day the kids went back to University or on the case of my youngest, went away for the first time. Chris had returned in time to see them off and for the following two weeks he and I were a couple again.

It could and should have been a romantic time with plenty of opportunity to rekindle our love life in private but my heart wasn’t in it; I was already getting most of the sex I needed elsewhere.

Chris went back to the Middle East for another three-week posting on Monday September 25th. I was mistress of an empty house again. No danger of being caught; no shortage of time; I was free to be the selfish, unfaithful wife and passionate lover I had become.

Neil rose to the challenge and all Hell was let loose sexually. We thought we were in heaven; no husband, no kids in the house, no-one to interfere. With the danger of discovery all but gone, we could be together on an almost daily basis, mornings, afternoons or evenings, whenever Neil could be free and I could arrange my rather empty diary to suit.

Under his experienced tutoring, I discovered much more about myself; about my increasingly adventurous sexual tastes both in bed and out and the risks I could be persuaded to take to have them satisfied.

Chris, it might hurt you to read this but you insisted I was honest so here goes.

Neil arrived at our house at four o’clock on the day Chris left. He returned to his wife three hours later leaving me exhausted and asleep in our marital bed.

The feeling of complete freedom, total abandonment and surrender to sheer physical pleasure as I let him do whatever he wanted to me and with me was truly liberating. He spanked me, bit me, sucked my nipples and fucked me hard but the main event was still to follow.

I know my husband will find this hard to read but while he was in flight that afternoon, Neil introduced me to the joys of anal sex. It took a lot of persuasion but Neil is a very persuasive man so eventually I agreed.

I am so glad I did!

When Neil’s cock first entered my well-lubricated anus from behind, I was lying on my side with my knees raised to my chest. The pain of the first penetration shocked me; it really felt as if I was losing my virginity all over again. I suppose in a way, I was. But Neil was gentle and careful, moving very slowly, using more and more lubrication until my sphincter eventually relaxed and he could thrust in and out easily.

It felt very strange as my rectum was slowly filled by a man’s cock for the first time but we persevered and eventually I had taken all of his not inconsiderable size.

By the time he left, I had been successfully shown how pleasurable an experience backdoor sex can be if done with plenty of care. Feeling Neil ejaculate in my rectum rather than my vagina made me feel raw, earthy and wicked but it was so, so good.

After that, there were too many copulations to describe them all, but as my husband insists I let everyone know the kind of woman I really am, I will include the most outrageous, most daring and most exciting.

On Thursday 3rd October I played tennis in the afternoon with one of my friends then went straight to the Waitrose Supermarket in Newark, about forty minutes.

I have always worn a short skirt for tennis rather than shorts. On Neil’s instructions, for over half an hour I did my week’s shopping with my panties in my handbag, completely naked under my skirt. The thrill was out of this world, especially when I came close to the freezer and chill-cabinets and felt the cold air circulating around my moistening vulva.

Neil met me on a quiet lane near a local Country Park on my way home. I was already highly aroused so did not even think of objecting when he pressed me up against a tree and fucked me standing up, much as he had done the very first time. I came instantly but the green stains simply will not come out of my white tennis clothes.

On Sunday 8th October in our bed and after half an hour of missionary sex, Neil took me anally once again. His wife believed him to be on the golf course. This time we used even more lubrication and I was much better prepared. The whole of the next hour was spent in various positons, the only common theme being the repeated presence of Neil’s shaft in my bottom. The sensations were incredible and the full-body orgasms simply out of this world.

We did it again on the evening of Tuesday 10th an hour after you and I had spoken on the phone. We did it one last time at seven in the morning on Friday 13th October after Neil and I had spent the whole night together in the guest room our house. He had told Alison he was in London for a meeting.

Chris there is no way to put this that doesn’t make me sound like a slut. I’ve discovered I love anal sex. It has been a revelation; I wish I had known this years ago when we were younger and my body better able to handle it.

I really wish you and I had discovered it together rather than me discovering it during my only period of infidelity but no matter how I wish otherwise, I can’t change history. It’s the deepest secret to come out of my affair; if you can read this and still respect me, we still have a chance together.

***

The next part of the story has been written unashamedly as a piece of erotica for readers to enjoy. All the events described actually took place but the words are more mine and detail has been added to make the story appeal to seasoned readers of erotic literature.

***

Our world of lust came to an abrupt end on Monday 16th October 2017.

My husband’s flight was due into Heathrow airport at eight o’clock that evening. As usual, I had planned to drive down late that afternoon to pick him up. Chris had told me it wasn’t necessary; that he could easily get a taxi but, possibly driven by guilt, I had insisted on going to collect him.

That guilt hadn’t been strong enough to prevent me inviting Neil for one last, lingering fuck in our house before my husband returned and our period of complete freedom came to an end.

To reach the airport by eight o’clock I needed to leave home by five-thirty. If Neil arrived around two and had left by four o’clock, that would give us a full two hours together. After that I would have ninety minutes to wash away any gooey traces of infidelity, for my face and chest to lose some of their post-climax pinkness and for me to do any tidying that was needed.

In fact Neil arrived at one o’clock, apparently unable to wait any longer. I had intended to be dressed very sexily for him on our last unhurried afternoon and had even bought new lingerie for the occasion. I was a little wrong-footed and completely unready when he arrived early but was determined to give him the full benefit of my new purchases.

Neil accompanied me up to our marital bedroom and sat on the freshly-made bed while I went for a brief shower and changed into my new lingerie. When I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom I was alive with nerves.

“Jesus Mel! You look incredible!”

Neil’s whole demeanour as I emerged through the door dressed in my new white stockings, red satin bra, panties and suspenders, high red heels and with my hair brushed over my shoulders made my head, heart and boobs swell with pride. He rose to his feet immediately, his trousers bulging as I approached him and posed, turning round and round to give him the full impact of my middle-aged body.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

To cut another long story short, his obvious admiration gave me the confidence to perform for him; I dancing sexily, stripping down to my stockings and heels before kneeling in front of him to tease his hardening cock. Feeling it growing, I slowly unfastened his waistband and lowered his zipper to release it from its captivity.

Though not as long as my husband’s, it was the only one I had seen in well over twenty years so to me, it was still impressive.

Neil raised his bottom from the mattress as I eased his trousers and underpants down, over his tight buttocks, along his muscular thighs, over his knees and down to his ankles. He looked at me, almost as amazed at my behaviour as I was myself as I placed a hand on each of his shoulders and pushed him back on the bed.

With a smile on my face and desperately trying to remember the few porn films I had seen, I mounted him, straddling his chest, one knee either side with my crotch merely inches from his face.

Neil raised his head and began to lick my obscenely-presented vulva with his tongue.

It felt wonderful; apart from the sheer pleasure of having my slit licked by a man’s active tongue, there I was at my age for the first time dominating a strong, good-looking man both physically and sexually. For the first time ever I was in charge; a person much more powerful than me both physically and financially was complying completely with my desires.

“Mmmmmmm!”

I raised my face to the ceiling and moaned with satisfaction as Neil’s tongue flicked back and forth along my open slit, my hands gripping his tighter and tighter as I began to tremble.

He licked me for a long time, my body shaking as he brought me close to orgasm again and again but never quite pushed me over the edge. The agony of anticipation was exquisite but we both know it was not going to be enough to satisfy either of us.

Still in unfamiliar control, I shuffled back on my knees, reached behind with my left hand until I had grasped Neil’s erect cock, then carefully lowered myself onto its smooth end. It parted my inner lips as it passed through my stretched entrance and began to penetrate deep into my body.

I gasped as I impaled myself on his long shaft, the angle and position making it feel so much thicker than it had before. My legs trembled as I slowly lowered myself, feeling Neil’s already swollen head reaching deeper and deeper into my loins, then my belly, then into my chest where it seemed to catch in my throat.

As my buttocks came to rest on Neil’s upper thighs I could feel the pressure of his tip on my cervix, forcing my womb upwards into my belly while his thick base stretched my entrance tightly. It was a position I had used only a handful of times before and had completely forgotten just how deep a penetration it could produce.

“Oh God! Oh God!” I gasped.

Neil wriggled underneath me as if adjusting his position but I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to think about it. A moment later he seemed to have slipped half an inch deeper still. My breaths came in gulps and I reached out with both hands for security.

Neil’s fingers grasped mine firmly, entwining and holding them tightly. Our eyes met.

And then I began to ride him, tilting my pelvis back and forth, raising and lowering myself on my knees.

It felt incredible. All my life I had taken a submissive role during sex, letting first my husband then my lover take me where they wanted. Like many women I enjoy being dominated; I enjoy having my limits tested but for me, actually taking the lead was unusual in the extreme.

And what a thrill it was!

As I rode Neil’s cock, deciding for myself how fast I wanted to be penetrated, how deeply and from what angle, an entirely new vision opened up before me; a vision of what my sexual future might be. A future where from time to time I got what I really wanted rather than what my lover, however well intentioned, believed would make me happy.

High on the amazing physical sensations and powerful emotions, I began to orgasm hard and fast.

Seeing this, Neil matched his movements to mine, his upward thrusts meeting my descents full-on. The depth of penetration was profound, the battering of my cervix for a moment feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach but I quickly learned that I could control this too simply by changing the way I rose and fell on my knees.

“Ohhhhhwwwwww!”

The room was filled with the wet, slapping, feral sounds of two hot, aroused bodies repeatedly colliding. With our paces perfectly matched, the climax that rolled over me was one of the sweetest and longest-lasting of my life, depriving me of breath for so long that I really thought I would pass out.

“Ohhhhhwwwwwwyyyyeeeesssss!”

As I came over and over again, I could sense Neil’s body going into spasm. With me in charge, I was unable to read his arousal from the pace and rhythm of his thrusts so his climax was all but on him before I realised how close he was.

“Nnnnggghhhh!”

Neil came inside my bucking body with a howl, his hips slamming upwards into the base of my buttocks, his pulsating cock driving my cervix hard into my belly over and over again. The mutual spasming of our two bodies seemed to go on forever, as did the ejaculation that I could feel was taking place deep within me but eventually it began to release us from its grasp and our bodies became ours again.

“Chris Mel! Where did that come from?”

Neil was grinning up at me, his smile as broad as a Cheshire Cat’s. Though it had stopped throbbing, his cock was still deep inside me, slowly beginning to soften. A little embarrassed, I smiled as demurely as a girl can who was still astride her lover, impaled on his cock and whose vulva was beginning to leak juices onto his lower belly.

“That was amazing! You should take control more often. You should dress like that more often too!”

I was still too shocked to reply. As Neil’s cock flopped messily from my vagina, I dismounted gingerly, feeling the now familiar emptiness as his body left mine, then rolled onto the sheets alongside him.

“Come here!”

Neil took my still-trembling body in his arms and cuddled me for a long time. It was warm and comforting and emotions not unlike love began to fill my mind as completely my body had been filled with his seed.

We kissed, stroked and dozed together for nearly an hour before I noticed the clock moving closer to the time I had to leave if I was to clean up and meet my husband’s flight.

It was time for the farewell fuck we always enjoyed - but this time I knew it had to be different.

Chris was normally too tired on his return from abroad to want sex straight away but it wasn’t unheard of. Knowing how my body responded to vigorous sex, especially between my legs, I was anxious not to make it obvious that I had recently been fucked by someone else just in case this was one of the few days in which sex was high on my husband’s agenda.

Our one penetration, however energetic would leave its mark on my chest, face and vulva but I was reasonably confident the worst would have worn off by the time I had driven to the airport and back. After all, I had nearly six hours before bedtime.

This would not be the case after a second or third session in bed with Neil. I knew from experience that my vulva would still be swollen and pink for at least a full day after so many copulations, something my husband could not fail to notice.

Dates were likely to be difficult to arrange over the next few weeks so I knew Neil was not going to be satisfied with only one fuck that afternoon. To try and satisfy him and quite uncharacteristically for me, as I rose to my knees on the mattress, still in my lingerie, I suggested we enjoy a long, slow mutually satisfying period of oral sex.

Actually what I said was “I want to suck your cock!”

Neil looked at least as shocked as he was pleased to hear those words. I was shocked too; in fact I can’t remember ever having said them before either to him or to my husband. He recovered his composure quickly though, rolling onto his back, smiling even more broadly and saying:

“Be my guest!”

Though I love to receive oral sex, I had only limited experience in giving it. Still I did my best but it did not start as well as I had intended. Taking Neil’s flaccid penis in my hand was not an issue; it was covered in a drying combination of my juices and his semen but it began to firm up immediately. The problem came when I lowered my head to lick his smooth, rounded end and took it between my lips.

After twenty-plus years of marriage, I was familiar with the smooth, slightly sweet or slightly sour flavour of semen and had expected to find it on Neil’s cock. What I had not expected was to find in abundance the sour, bitter taste of my own vaginal juices, churned to a foam by repeated rapid thrusts then thickened by time as we dozed.

The stale aroma filled my nose as the earthy, organic taste filled my mouth, for a moment making me gag.

“Are you okay Mel?” my lover asked anxiously, pulling back my long hair to reveal my face.

I looked along his flat tummy into his eyes and nodded as sexily as I could, then steeled myself and resumed my work, running my fingers up and down his sticky shaft and taking his head into my mouth over and over again, each time running my tongue over its smooth end and around the ridge beneath.

Neil sighed aloud then moaned with pleasure. I began to dip my head faster, my fingers gripping the base of his shaft tighter too. He responded well, moaning louder, stroking my hair, head and shoulders, spurring me on to greater efforts.

I had licked and sucked Neil’s cock for what seemed a long time when to my surprise, he gently but firmly pulled my head away from his groin, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet alongside, reaching out towards me with his hand.

Slightly bemused, I took it and was guided firmly onto my knees in front of him, my face level with his groin.

There was no doubting what he wanted me to do and I have to say that there was no hesitation in my mind as I began to do it.

There, in my stockings and heels, bare breasted and on my knees in front of my lover, I sucked Neil’s cock as I imagine a cheap prostitute might do. I dipped my head forwards and backwards, I grasped his tight sack in my hand and ran his balls between my fingers as my tongue worked its eager way up, down and all around his rock-hard shaft.

Having licked most of my juices from his erect cock, my taste buds were numbed to what little of the rancid flavour of my juices remained and I did my job as professionally as I could. But this was clearly not enough for Neil; after a few minutes I felt his strong hands on either side of my head, holding me tightly.

Then, with a violence that took me by surprise, Neil began to fuck my face, his hands in my hair pulling me onto his cock with every thrust. I choked but he didn’t stop; he didn’t even slow down, thrusting into my mouth as hard as he had so recently thrust into my vagina.

Quickly learning to breathe through my nose, I managed not to faint but could do little other than let him have his way.

“Good girl! That’s my little slut!”

For some reason, Neil’s crude words made me more aroused rather than frightened. Though it is a word I was to hear shouted angrily many times over the next few weeks, right then no-one had ever called me a slut to my face before.

It felt earthy; it felt sexy; it felt as if this was how a lover should talk.

“Suck me Mel! Suck me you slut!”

With my face being fucked so vigorously, sucking was impossible but I did my best and was rewarded by the realisation that whether I liked it or not, this was not going to last much longer.

Neil was about to cum and showed no sign of pulling out of my mouth before doing so!

I felt the head of his cock swell alarmingly. His hands forced my head violently forward until his smooth end hit the back of my throat, momentarily choking me. Gagging, I fought for breath, pushing his hips away until my mouth could once again close on his shaft but by then it was too late.

“Oh my Godddd!”

For the first time in my life, I learned how it felt to have a man cum inside my mouth. A full-scale, copious ejaculation began in earnest, filling my throat and covering my tongue in warm, slimy goo.

It shocked me; apart from being unexpected, the enormous volume of semen that spurted from Neil’s cock and the force with which it was ejaculated took me by surprise. I remember it vividly; a light, watery spray hit the back of my throat directly and made my choke. That was bad enough but before I could recover my breath, it was immediately followed by a less vigorous but far thicker and much more plentiful dose of the semen with which my vagina was by now very familiar indeed.

“Ngh! Ngh!”

Neil grunted as he came, his hands still gripping my head, his cock still thrusting in and out of my mouth but more slowly now that the heat of his climax was beginning to pass. I gasped and choked, feeling a trickle of fluid running down my chin.

Eventually the thrusting stopped and my head was released. I pulled back, Neil’s cock still half-erect only inches from my watering eyes, my mouth full of his sperm-filled semen.

He looked down at me.

“Open your mouth,” he hissed, his eyes still wide with lust.

I did as I was told, showing him the milky pool on my tongue.

“You’re such a slut, aren’t you, Mel?” he grinned.

I nodded, my mouth still open. In the position I was in, no other word would do.

“Swallow it!”

I looked up in surprise.

“Swallow it all, slut!”

There was only one thing to do. Keeping my eyes fixed on his, I closed my mouth and tried to swallow the slimy goo. I gagged then tried again with the same result but on the third attempt the whole slippery puddle slipped smoothly down my throat like a warm oyster.

“Open up!” Neil commanded.

I obeyed, showing him my empty mouth. I stuck out my tongue for good measure too

“You are amazing Melanie!”

Neil’s face was one big, lustful grin as he took me by the hands and helped me to the bed again. He climbed alongside me and we hugged and cuddled and kissed for a long time.

***

Neil left the house at four o’clock. We had spent three whole hours together but nearly an hour of that had been spent talking and dozing in each other’s arms in the bed I would soon share with my husband.

As he showered and dressed, I pulled on my bathrobe and wiped my face clean with a tissue then followed him downstairs to the front door. We kissed slowly and deeply before I let him out into the afternoon sunshine.

Alone in the house I realised I had more work to do than I had originally planned. Instead of our usual guest room encounter, Neil and I had fucked in Chris and my bed. I had put fresh sheets on that morning to welcome my husband home but now they were rumpled and semen stained and the room smelled of recent sex.

There was still time to get it all sorted and meet my husband’s plane - if I got a move on.

Rushing upstairs I opened all the windows to let the air clear then began to strip the bed. The sheets and duvet cover really were messy; no way must my husband see them so I carried them down to the utility room, shoved them straight in the washing machine then started the programme.

Going back upstairs, I went to the linen cupboard to get new bedding. To my relief there was enough there but the duvet fought back hard and it took a good fifteen minutes to get the bed looking clean and neat again.

I breathed a sigh of relief, went into the en-suite and began to fill the tub with water and a goodly dose of bath foam. A long soak would help my post-coital aching muscles relax and wash the sticky residues of my infidelity from my body.

My body! I inspected myself in the mirror; the body I saw was definitely middle-aged but, if you ignored the stretch marks, was not in bad condition.

I checked my neck and boobs carefully for hickeys and bite marks but found none. My chest was flushed, my vulva was still distended and an angry pink colour but after a warm bath and four hours’ drive to and from the airport, any residual redness could be put down to having sat down for so long.

I turned off the taps and slipped off my robe in preparation for what I intended would be a blissful soak.

Then I heard the front door opening downstairs.

Oh my God!

It was on a latch and could only be opened with a key. Only Chris, the girls and I had keys. The girls were in University so…

Oh Jesus! Chris must be home early!

I pulled my robe back on in a hurry, ran through the bedroom to the landing and looked down into the hall. A single suitcase stood in the centre of the floor; Chris’ suitcase. The front door was open; he must be at the taxi getting another piece of baggage.

I ran back into the bedroom and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T shirt then ran my fingers through my hair and, my heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead, went down the stairs as casually as I could manage to greet my husband as normally as I could.

As my bare feet reached the wooden floor, Chris came through the front door, placed a second bag alongside the first then looked up at me. His body language was strange but I was feeling too flustered and guilty to notice.

“Chris!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he replied.

“But your flight isn’t due for hours.”

“I caught an earlier one,” he told me.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” I protested. “I could have picked you up earlier.”

“Could you?” he asked quietly. “You weren’t too busy?”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you might be.. occupied so I made my own way home.”

The twinkle in his eye that usually accompanied our first meeting on his return was not there. He did not come over to hug me or kiss me and, when I moved towards him, he backed away. With my unwashed body still bearing the evidence of Neil’s fucking, this was initially something of a relief.

I did not notice the ominous atmosphere that was developing.

“Can I get you anything,” I asked.

“Haven’t you given me enough,” Chris replied in an unpleasant voice.

“Sorry?” I asked, beginning to realise that something really was amiss.

Chris did not answer directly. Instead he looked at me with a hard expression on his face.

“I didn’t want you to pick me up,” he said slowly.

“Why not? I would have been happy to do it.”

“Would you? I would have thought you’d be too busy.”

I frowned, puzzled.

“Anyway, I didn’t want you to,” he went on. “I wanted you to be here when I got back. I wanted to surprise you.”

The words could have been cheerful and romantic but for some reason sounded threatening.

“I thought I might catch you…”

“By surprise? You’ve certainly done that but why are you being so cold?”

Chris took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye.

“Two days ago I went to see the site Doctor,” he said ominously. “I wasn’t feeling great. I was uncomfortable. Something was wrong; I was concerned.”

He laughed hollowly.

“It turns out I was right to be.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked anxiously. “Are you ill? Are you alright?”

“No Mel, I’m not alright, but I’ll be better in a few weeks if I take these.”

He slowly placed a small cardboard box on the hall table. I picked it up, quickly recognising the contents as antibiotics.

“What’s the matter? Is it serious? Tell me!” I demanded.

“Oh, it’s serious alright,” he said with a false laugh, his voice so cold and emotionless I could hardly believe it was my husband talking.

“What is it!” I was getting angry now. “Tell me Chris!”

“Okay,” he said. “It’s simple Mel. I have acquired a sexually transmitted disease.”

He was speaking as if explaining an easy maths homework problem to one of the kids for the tenth time.

“What?” I gasped in disbelief.

“I’ll put it another way for you. I’ve got VD. I’ve got the clap!”

“Oh my God!”

“And there is only one person I could possibly have got it from.”

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in.

“Me?” I gasped.

“Yes. You, Mel. There is no-one else in the world I could have caught it from.”

A cold fear passed over and through me as he continued.

“You didn’t give it to yourself so the only possible conclusion is that you’ve been having unprotected sex with someone else; someone who’s infected.”

I stood open-mouthed.

“You need to start talking Melanie!”

The shock of my infidelity being found out in this brutal way was like a hard physical blow. My mind was spinning; had I really heard those words? Could they really be true?

I felt sick!

If I was infected then it could only have come from Neil. Had the man whose semen was even then slowly seeping from my vagina really have given me an STD?

I had thought I was his only lover apart from his wife but why should I have been? If a man was happy to cheat on his wife then why had I imagined he would stick at one lover? Had I really been that blind or conceited?

In a perverse way I began to feel as if I had been betrayed as much as I had betrayed my husband.

There was only one possible course of action. I began to cry. Within moments I was crying as hard as I had in my entire adult life.

***

The events that happened next don’t make my tale any more erotic but need to be told if this story is to play the role that it must if my marriage is to survive.

Confronted with such incontrovertible evidence, I had no choice but to confess everything and immediately. Through floods of tears and one trip to the toilet to be sick, I answered my husband’s angry questions.

Had I been having an affair? Yes I had.

Who was it with? Neil.

When did it start? I told him the truth between huge sobs.

Was it still going on? Yes, but I would stop it straight away.

When did he last fuck me? This afternoon.

When did he leave? Less than an hour ago.

Chris cursed his bad luck at having just missed us ‘in flagrante delicto’.

Where did you fuck? Here in our house.

In our bed? Yes, in our bed.

How often had I fucked him? A couple of times a week. Usually more.

Had I used protection? I was back on the pill.

Had it not even occurred to me to use condoms? No.

Couldn’t I tell I’d got the clap? I did not tell the truth; that I had thought the itching came from too much sex.

Did I realise I could have got HIV too? It hadn’t crossed my mind.

What kind of stupid, cheating cunt was I?

I had no answer to that; I was too busy asking myself the same question.

He moved towards me briefly with his hands bunched into fists. For a moment I thought he was going to hit me but he controlled himself at the last minute and instead pressed his face close to my chest and neck. Then he kissed me hard on the lips, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth.

“I can smell him on you. I can taste him too,” he growled. “You reek of semen and sex.”

“Chris please…”

“You disgust me Melanie!”

He snarled then left the room, returning a moment later with a set of keys in his hand then walked out of the front door.

A moment after that, I heard his car roaring out of the driveway.

***

I did not see my husband for three days although he must have come home at least once because his clothes and other personal things were missing when I returned late the following afternoon.

The next day, the Doctor confirmed I did indeed have at least one sexually transmitted disease. A series of tests revealed it to be one of the more unpleasant but thankfully curable ones. Both my vagina and rectum were infected but at this stage the symptoms were mild and could be mistaken for soreness after excessive sex.

I’m not sure I can imagine anything more embarrassing than talking through this with a woman who looked little older than my daughter but that’s what I had to do.

She knew I was married and asked about Chris. I explained what had happened.

She asked how many sexual partners I had been with in the last few months. I told her.

From the locations of infection, she knew immediately what Neil and I had been doing. At least I had not picked up HIV.

The young Doctor gave me a long, stern lecture on safe sex, telling me with a supercilious look on her face that the number of older people presenting with STDs was rising sharply. She wondered how it as that so many of her parent’s generation could abandon sexual responsibility after so many years being stern with their children.

“The menopause means no babies, not no diseases, you know?” she said in a voice so patronising I could have slapped her.

Ludicrously, the thing I most wanted to say was that I was that I wasn’t menopausal and was at least ten years too young to be from her parents’ generation. Instead I simply accepted the prescription with lowered eyes and a deep feeling of shame. Then I fidgeted all the way home in the car, my vulva itching like never before.

I had called Neil as soon as Chris had left the house and left multiple messages on his phone. Even so, it was late that evening before he returned the call and I was able to explain what had happened.

“I was worried he would come round and attack you,” I told him.

“I’ve been out,” he replied. “But Alison’s been in all day. She didn’t see anyone.”

“Maybe he’s gone to his sister’s. You’d better watch out.”

“He’s not stupid, Mel,” Neil said trying to reassure me. “If we get into a fight it’ll get out really quickly. He won’t want the world to know any more than we do.”

His calmness was suddenly too much for me.

“Why are we talking about him like this?” I screamed into the phone. “Don’t you get it Neil? You’ve given me gonorrhea; you’ve infected me! How in God’s name did that happen?”

It was a rhetorical question and we both knew it. There were only two possible answers; either his wife Alison had given it to him or he had another lover.

Guess which it was!

There was an element of justice in it I suppose. If Neil was prepared to cheat on his wife with me, why should I assume I was the only girl he was cheating with? Why did I think I was special? How could I have been so stupid?

My competitor for a share of Neil’s impressively high libido turned out to be a girl in Sheffield. She was ten years younger than him; a party girl who clearly did not believe their relationship to be exclusive. Though not actually a prostitute, the age gap had to some extent been breached by a series of expensive presents.

It seemed more of a Sugar Daddy relationship than that of a kept mistress but the result was the same. He got his end away whenever his business took him North and she got to live rather better than she would otherwise have been able to afford.

This was, he assured me, the only possible source of infection. When I suggested that he had probably passed it on to his wife too he laughed hollowly, saying it had been over two months since he and Alison had made love. If his wife had an STD, she had acquired it herself.

Neil’s visit to the Doctor confirmed his condition the next day, a day in which I neither heard nor saw anything of my husband though I called both his mobile and his sister’s phone several times without reply.

It was late the following day when I learned that Chris intended to stay with his sister until it was time to go back to the Middle East again. What I told the kids if they asked was up to me but at the moment he could not contemplate living under the same roof.

His voice was cold and hard. I cried myself to sleep every night until five days later he flew back out for his next three-week posting.

While he was away, we communicated only by email and there weren’t many of those. Chris was badly hurt, feeling betrayed in many ways, all of which I could understand. I felt completely alone; I couldn’t talk about this to the kids, my parents or my friends and was now barely on speaking terms with Neil, whose marriage was falling apart too.

Why was that if my affair was still secret?

Neil must have exaggerated the paucity of his sex life at home because his wife had also become infected. In her case however, her first action after hearing the news from her Doctor was not to confront her husband as Chris had confronted me, but to go through his bank accounts and other financials in great detail.

She discovered the existence of his Sheffield love nest and its youthful occupant who it appears was not the first such girl to have benefitted from his generosity. She then took the details to a particularly vicious local divorce lawyer. The first Neil knew about this was when a letter arrived from the solicitors suing for divorce and insisting that he left the marital home immediately.

A year on, they have both moved away from our city to distant and separate parts of the country. He and I have not spoken since then

Many times during Chris’ three week absence I pleaded with him to forgive me and for us to try and put our relationship back together. My repentance is genuine though I understand this might be hard for you and him to believe.

You really do only appreciate what you have when you lose it.

As this realisation came to dominate my life I had to turn to the same young female Doctor again for medication to help me cope. This entailed receiving another lecture on middle-aged drug dependency which I sat through with my eyes lowered in shame and my teeth gritted.

As the time approached for Chris to return to the UK, I began to detect a softening in his hitherto complete rejection of my pleas for forgiveness. Though he insisted he would not return home, he said he would go with me to see a Marriage Counsellor as long as I promised not to put him under pressure and to be completely honest about what had happened.

Grasping this straw with both hands, I made an appointment that afternoon and to cut a long story short, we had our first counselling session the day after he returned to the UK and his sister’s house. I knew she had never liked me which made the situation even more difficult.

I could imagine what she was saying to Chris over dinner every night.

Seeing the man I loved with such a look of disgust on his face when he met me at the Counsellor’s studio reduced me to tears immediately. I could see a flash of emotion and hoped he would hold and comfort me but he didn’t.

Despite this, the session was good, held partly separate, partly together. I was extremely honest about what had happened and my sincere wish to mend the damage I had caused whatever it took. I cried throughout the entire ninety minutes. We went back to our separate houses.

Two sessions later we agreed to have lunch together somewhere private but on neutral territory to talk things through on our own. It was an awful experience; Chris was cold and formal throughout but at least had not yet talked to a divorce lawyer. We agreed not to tell the girls while we were trying to sort things out between us.

We agreed to have lunch a second time. It was less glacial than the first, so we arranged to have dinner the following week. It was better still though progress was slow.

It took five more counselling sessions and seven more meetings on neutral territory before Chris agreed to move back into our home, but not back into our bed. I was very nervous and excited when his car pulled into the driveway for the first time since he had found us out, but also very apprehensive.

He slept in the spare bedroom but at least we were under one roof again.

To outward appearances we seem to be the same couple we used to be but below the surface it’s not true. I know we can never recover the trust we had before, but I hope and pray we can recover enough of it to bring back some of the love and life we had.

There is reason to hope; after a particularly horrible row, our sex life unexpectedly resumed, albeit in a violent, tear-and hate-filled way. I cannot bring myself to write the names Chris called me as he fucked me brutally on my knees, penetrating me crudely and angrily from behind, pulling my hair and slapping me hard on the buttocks until he came noisily.

Frightening though it was at the time, the incident seems to have been cathartic for both of us. Given what I have done, I consider the treatment to be entirely deserved and made no attempt to resist.

Afterwards he seemed to regret his loss of control and for the first time, we shared a bed all night. We have done so ever since then and, though we have now fucked many times since then, Chris has never been that sexually violent with me again.

I hope we are reaching the point where we might actually be able to put this behind us and move on with our lives.

The Counsellor – to whom I will be forever grateful – quickly identified that Chris’ repeated absence as having been a major ‘stress point’ in our relationship long before I cheated. She took care not to blame the affair on this or reduce my own responsibility for my actions, but said that we did need to try and keep the sexual side of our relationship alive while we were apart.

Among other things, she suggested we tried Skype or phone sex, and also the use of toys (which I confessed I already had). She also suggested erotic stories, taking turns to choose one that turned us on then sending a link to the other. Each of could then read it in advance of our phone or Skype session and use it as a basis for intimate talk or telephone sex.

This proved to be a very powerful took both for immediate arousal and, through careful choice of story, for admitting or confessing desires or fantasies that we had but did not feel able to reveal.

The publishing of this, my own story is intended to be the ultimate example of this.

Although it is being written at my husband’s insistence as a penance, it is also as a vehicle by which I can confess the last few secrets about my affair that Chris doesn’t yet know and which I would find very hard to tell him face-to-face.

They might be a shock to my husband when he reads them. There is one confession in particular that I hope and pray he does not find revolting. I’m sure you can guess which.

***

Chris, I’ve done what you asked now. I hope it shows you just how far I am prepared to humiliate myself to win back your respect. I know I never lost your love; that’s what makes me feel so ashamed.

There are no more secrets to come out. Perhaps the vivid and detailed description of my seduction and the enormous excitement and pleasure the affair brought at the time will help you understand how it happened even if they do not excuse it.

The affair was one of the most exciting periods of my life but it wasn’t real. There was nothing behind it but my own inadequacies and a selfish desire for physical satisfaction.

Now it’s over, I’m ashamed of the whole thing.

I have taken a risk in agreeing to have my real name and the real places used, but I trust you.

If telling the truth in this way can close off that part my life forever and allow us to start afresh, then however people think of me, it will have been a price worth paying.

Thank you to Jenny’s readers for your patience. I hope this piece of self-indulgence has brought you some pleasure too.