"Damn it, she's single.", thought Gregg. He had been surfing the dating sites, looking for a married woman for three days now, with no luck. How he hated to see that dreaded "S" beside a woman's name. He wanted a married woman to romance and seduce. He'd had seven already in the last three years and he'd found them all on sites that allow you to select "married" in your search for a partner. Matchdoctor was his favorite. So now he sat staring angrily and helplessly at Sheila's profile. She was 35, a few extra pounds with short, reddish brown hair. She liked "indoor sports" "cuddling" and "spoiling her man". All the attributes he looked for in a married woman. He shook his head and clicked to the next profile: Dorothy. 44.
This one was classy. Dressed in a dark blue evening gown and pearls. His heart raced. He scrolled down to her marital status. All his attention galvanized and he stared as the letter appeared: M. Scrolling further down, he saw that she was "just looking for online friends". Gregg knew that that was just code for: "Let's get to know one another first, and if I like you, we'll see." Now, he was really checking her profile out in earnest. She lived in Canterbury, about 40 miles from him. She liked windsurfing, collecting sea shells and whist. She said she was 6 feet, 138 pounds. A brunette. It was hard for him to tell how long her hair was, because she had it up in a pretty, fancy hairdo. Other than her picture and the fact that she was married, two things helped Gregg to sink his teeth into Dorothy's profile; the line "...looking for online gentlemen friends" and the fact that she did not mention her husband once on it. He obviously took good care of Dorothy, though, money-wise at least. Those were the wives Gregg wanted and loved the most: The ones who were smothered in posessions and a nice house and landscaped lawn but were completely neglected emotionally and sexually. The more well-off women were sharp as a tack, too. They always stayed one step ahead of their husbands and usually didn't slip up. Most of the rich husbands didn't even care enough to notice that their wives were having an affair, anyway. They were too busy making money and golfing.
At 32 years of age, Gregg had had married women from age 17 up to 68. (The 68-year-old had offered to leave her husband and marry him, even offering to allow Gregg to continue his online activities). She was almost begging him and proved quite hard to get rid of once he had tired of her and decided to move on. He had been 24 then, and his all night sex had made her as giddy as a schoolgirl. She said she'd die if he left her. In reality, the only thing that died when he left her was his cum inside her mature pussy. She'd had five weeks of sexual heaven. Her husband, a retiree who often left for fishing and hunting conventions, hadn't suspected a thing. He had thought that no young guys were after married, mature women his wife's age. He couldn't have been more wrong. Unlike some guys, Gregg wanted to know all about a woman's husband. In lounges, restaurants, hotels and chalets, he would listen intently as his date would describe her husband and their relationship. Gregg especially loved the photos. He wanted to see the face of the man he was replacing. The man who would be paying to raise Gregg's child if he impregnated his wife.
He e-mailed Dorothy right away, making certain that he appeared polite and professional. To his surprise and delight, he received a response from her the next afternoon. She thanked him for his interest and asked him for a photo. He zoomed one off of him lying on his side on the bed, wearing only a smile and a black thong. Underneath, he daringly wrote, "Can we meet for cappucino?" When Dorothy received it, she didn't know whether to get angry or not. She got up from the computer quickly and walked to the wide bathroom mirror to fidget with her gold earrings. She looked at her face in the mirror, wondering whether she could attract a young, thin, muscular guy like Gregg. She lifted her skirt to look at her violet, satin thong. No one knew she wore a clit clip but her. Not even her husband. Dorothy walked to the computer, intimating a decisiveness. She sat down and was tempted to fire off an angry, defensive response to Gregg because of the revealing photo of him, but considered instead that she was getting no younger and that she and her husband no longer loved eachother. She typed out only, "Make mine a double". Before the week was through, Gregg was watching Dorothy's expensive diamond wedding ring rise and fall as she drank her cappucino. A womans wedding ring captivated Gregg. It was the symbol of his extraordinary erotic victory. He would often kiss it during sex and when they parted after a meeting. Most of all, though, he loved the feeling of it on his back as he ploughed the man's wife, forcing orgasm after luscious orgasm from her helpless and grateful pussy with his 9" cock.
After they met and kissed, Dorothy asked, "Are you married, too, Gregg?" She had already committed to having sex with him if he asked.