My wife and I met in a little Stromboli shop. Marie was a beautiful Italian woman, five foot six, with deep dark brown hair, and stunning brown eyes. We started dating shortly after meeting and things moved quickly. She told me early on that she thought she loved me and I said I felt the same. Honestly, I never felt sure of my love for her.

We were married the next summer and shortly after had our first child. I was very excited as he was a strapping blond haired blue eyed baby boy, nearly my twin. He was growing up in my footsteps, an excellent athlete, and I could not have been prouder. Unfortunately, the marriage did not feel as strong. My wife did not seem to be as interesting sexually. If I had known she was only interested in vanilla sex, I may have stayed single.

Early on in our marriage, I had noticed a particular girlfriend that visited my wife from time-to-time. She was similar height, just barely shorter than my wife, but had blondish red hair, and beautiful blue eyes. I remembered hearing red hair with blue eyes is the most infrequent pairing possible so it definitely caught my attention. When my wife first introduced Melissa, I noticed right away she was very fit. She even seemed a bit sexier than my wife, but I thought I’m a faithful husband and kept my distance.

Little-by-little the days went by and our boudoir adventures got less and less adventurous. My once enjoyable partner starting making me unenthused and what was supposed to be bedtime fun was now a tedious chore. I started thinking about her girlfriend all the time but I didn’t let on, of course, for fear it would mess up my time with my offspring who made me a proud papa every day.

Then there came a really hot day in the neighborhood and I found myself alone at her house after giving her a ride home. The ride home had already been interesting. She was wearing a sexy little sun dress. I was not sure if she was making it ride up her leg but she kept brushing it back down in a sort of flirty, ‘Oh my goodness, I can’t believe that keeps happening,’ sort of way. We got to her house and I walk her to the door like a gentleman.

“Thank you, Michael,” she said to me at the door. “You know my boyfriend and I are really not doing very well so he’s not living here right now. I’m sort of scared since it’s getting a little dark. Will you come in to check the house for me?”

I told her I would, being the dope that I was to her flirtation, and I did a quick sweep of the house just the way I’d seen it done on television. “It’s all clear Melissa. You should be fine.”

She reached out and grabbed my hand. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “I feel really safe with you here.” Stepping closer, seductively, she whispered, “I noticed you and Marie don’t seem close right now.” Her other hand brushed my hip as it slid around onto my ass.

I felt my manhood start to grow in my jeans.

“Melissa, um, I don’t think we should be doing this,” rolled from my mouth in shaky voice.

“It’s okay,” she retorted in a sweet voice, “no one’s here to see.”

Her lips were soft and tasted sweet of some sort of flavored Chap Stick or lip stick. First there was a peck on my top lip and then a small suck on my bottom lip. My left hand slipped from her hand and made contact with the bottom of her sundress. I slid it onto her bare warm skin and shifted it up under her firm glute, feeling its muscle. Her ass was firm, just like I thought it would be the first time I saw her accidentally bend over in front of me at my home. The space between my legs shrunk as my manhood jumped to attention. Why you might wonder? I realized when my hand flowed around looking for the fabric that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Guilty,” I heard quietly escape from her lips, “I was hoping you noticed at your house.”

“Well,” I uttered nervously, “I figured you were wearing a thong.”

She started to kiss me more vigorously and parted her lips. It was the only invitation needed as my tongue ventured inside of her mouth beginning that beautiful tug-of-war the French were so smart to invent. I picked her up and placed her on the counter. Overcome with need, and want, from being starved of love, I flipped her sundress over my head as she leaned back. My tongue slithered from clit to perineum and back again to her already throbbing clit. I tasted her on my tongue, wondering if she was playing with herself before we began this, or did she get that wet just since this sinful act started.

“Oh my god, Michael,” she gasped. “I’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks. This is better than I could’ve imagined.”

I penetrated her with my fingers, her creamy river helping to propel them very deep without effort. I rubbed her g-spot and worked my way up to her a-spot. As soon as I put pressure on that spot she squirted a little, hitting me in the face.

“Wow,” I sputtered surprised through her cum.

“Oh, Michael,” she exclaimed embarrassed, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I told her, “It’s hot that you are so wound up you would squirt for me. Maybe I should get home now though so Marie does not suspect us. We may want to do this again.”

“You have a point,” she answered, “but I should take care of this,” she finished, as she jumped down in front of me on her knees, unzipping my pants.

I returned home to Marie for our regular vanilla sex provided every third night. She was waiting in bed with her boring pajamas and made me turn out the light as was her custom. There would be no placing of her mouth on my nether regions. She always told me blow jobs were disgusting but only after we were married. However, as my shaft penetrated her, a bit of electricity coursed through my body. Melissa’s saliva had just fucked my wife.