Happily Isn't Always Faithfully

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She was exactly his type.
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I adore married women. I always have. The idea of bedding a woman while her husband waits at home having no notion that his wife is betraying him is very erotic to me. Consequently, almost all the women I'd ever had sex with have been married. I've probably had more than my share of them for the simple reason that I exploited every chance to have sex with women. However small the chance seemed, I took it. This has resulted in being shot down from time to time – I've had more than my share of that, too!

To show you what I mean, I'll use the example of Dolores. She was someone I knew some years ago, when I was in my mid-twenties. I had just started working for a delivery company, and had been paired with a man in his fifties named Al, who was to train me. Al was a sweetheart: kind, gentle, loyal, funny, smart and considerate. In other words, just the sort of man whose wife cheats on him.

It's not that Al and his type attract bad women, for few women who commit adultery are bad. No, it's just that kind, gentle, loyal, funny, smart and considerate men are usually too kind, gentle, loyal, funny, smart and considerate to be exciting. And so their wives start looking elsewhere for that particular feeling.

I first met Dolores after only a week or so of working at the new company. She and Al had gone to lunch together and I was in the loading bay when she dropped him off afterward. Al got out of their car and, seeing me, called me over.

"Hey, Jim, this is my wife, Dolores. Honey, this is Jim, the new guy."

"Oh, hi! Al has told me about you. You're supposed to be promising."

"Oh, every woman tells me that," I said.

Dolores laughed. She had a nice laugh, easy and natural. She was about fifty, I estimated, looking neither older nor younger than her age. She was attractive in a healthy girl next door grown up sort of way (if you get what I mean), with reddish brown hair cut short to her collar and a pretty face that had a rash of freckles and all the wrinkles concentrated around the eyes. I rather liked that, as it made her face look always as if it were smiling, which it usually was. She had high cheek bones and expressive lips, both features which I found fetching in women.

I shook her hand as she extended it through the open car window from where she sat behind the steering wheel. As usual, I let my hand linger in hers just a half-second longer than one might think proper. I always did that to make a woman wonder if she felt a slight come-on or whether it was her imagination. The dense ones never wondered at all.

The three of us chatted a bit, after which Dolores drove off. I waved to her as the red Ford disappeared around the corner of the building and was rewarded with a wave in return, showing that she had been looking back in her rear view mirror.

I learned about Dolores from her husband, whom I encouraged to talk about his life and family during our rounds. She didn't work permanently but put in some part-time hours at a clothes bank in the centre of town. Their two children, both boys, were grown and lived away from home, the elder in another city and the younger at university. Al was sometimes worried about his wife because she had only a few good friends. I countered by saying a person was lucky if they could boast of such a thing. Al agreed with a chuckle but said that he still wished she had more to occupy her time.

As you can probably observe, I was actually gathering information on what seemed to be a very possible conquest. While Al was away (which, in our job, was as frequent as not), Dolores lived alone, had time to spare in afternoons or evenings, and had few people to confide in. Granted, this meant nothing if she wasn't interested in me, so I had to find out if she was.

Over time, I saw more of Dolores. I saw her out of the car, which showed me that she was slender, with medium sized breasts and freckles on her arms. When the opportunity availed itself, I would stand next to her, close, and was encouraged when she didn't move away. On occasions such as these, I demonstrated that I was discreet by not doing anything remotely suggestive when or where her husband could see. If a woman is looking for a lover, this would not be lost on her.

After a couple of weeks of being trained by Al, I took the two of them to lunch. I chose a nice place, quiet, and sat at a round table, so that I wouldn't have to choose between sitting next to Dolores (which might have seemed rather forward) or next to Al (which might have seemed awkward). Only when Al went to the washroom (which was twice) did I flirt with his wife.

"That's a very nice blouse, Dolores," I said; "a nice colour. Not a lot of women could wear that."

"Something green?" she asked, a little incredulous.

"No," I chuckled, "something so slim. It looks very nice on you."

"Oh, thank you, Jim," she said, pleased that I had noticed. "Well, I do work out. Nothing too heavy, but two or three times a week."

"Whatever you are doing, keep it up. Every man in the restaurant wants you to."

Dolores smiled at that remark, and almost inevitably looked about. Some men had been glancing in her direction, some had not. But when she turned back to me, I was gazing into her blue eyes.

You may have noticed that I never said anything such as 'you look good for your age'. Older women don't think of that as a compliment. It's like saying a woman is attractive – considering what she has to work with. A woman wants to know she's appealing, period. Not appealing compared to something that usually isn't.

When Al returned from his second bathroom break, Dolores suggested to him that they have me over to the house for dinner.

"Not just to repay this wonderful lunch," she added, "but just because it's about time we had him over. After all, you two have been working together for weeks now."

"Good idea," agreed Al. "Training finishes after another week. Why don't you come over then, Jim?"

I told him that I was looking forward to it.

Dolores and Al lived in a large house in an affluent part of the city. It was a spreading bungalow with three bedrooms and a finished basement. They had owned it since their boys had been small, and though they thought of moving, they loved the expansive yard and the location. I couldn't have blamed them.

The dinner was great. Dolores spent a lot of time preparing a glazed ham, something which I hadn't tasted in a decade or so, and all the trimmings to go with it. I was a perfect gentleman whenever Al was present, but when he left, even for a moment, to the bathroom, to the car to make sure he had rolled the windows up, to find a family photo album to show me pictures of their sons, I flirted with Dolores. My flirting had been getting bolder, and she had raised her level, too. It was nothing obvious, but I wanted to show her my interest, and she showed me hers.

"That's a great look for you, Dolores," I told her, when Al was out of earshot. And it was. A cool white sweater clung to her torso, showing the slim form she worked so hard at, but plunged at the neck line to give a hint of cleavage. The slacks she wore were very thin and moulded themselves around her ass. "Al's a lucky man. Does he ever get jealous?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Dolores smiled, her eyes wrinkling at me. "He trusts me." Her gaze didn't break from mine, and I noted that she had not said 'he has no reason to be' or anything else that would declare her completely loyal. "Besides, everyone knows I am very happily married." She stood to gather up the dishes.

"I've no doubt of it," I asserted, standing to help her. "It's important that people know that." Dolores flashed a smile at me as we carried dirty plates to the kitchen. I placed mine in the sink and slipped past her, putting my hands on her hips as I did so, as if needing to urge her out of the way. As I sorted utensils with one hand, I kept the other on Dolores' back. She didn't object.

"I'm just going to change," Al called from the bedroom down the far corridor. "I'll be a minute."

"Change?" I said. I moved my hand slowly up, and then slowly down his wife's back.

"Wider pants," she said with a little laugh. "After dinner pants..."

"Ah..."

Dolores turned in front of me, and I caught her arm at the elbow. She glanced questioningly up at me, and I took my chance. Putting my free hand on her hip, I drew her closer and kissed her lips. I could tell that she was surprised, but she didn't resist, and in fact kissed me back. Our bodies pressed together, and I could feel her breasts crush against my chest, and she could no doubt feel my cock begin to stir in my pants. I put my arms fully around her and slipped my tongue into her mouth. Again she responded in the best way, licking my tongue with hers and slipping her arms up my back to grasp my shoulders. We were in a tiny corner of heaven for about thirty seconds before we heard the bedroom door open. We broke away, Dolores running a finger along her lips and me using a tissue in case any of her make-up was left on me. I glanced at her and she, after a quick look, nodded.

"Ready for dessert?" Al asked, poking his head around the corner.

The next day I was off. My training was over and I would be driving alone in a week's time. Al had to leave early for a run to another city. This was good news for me – and for Dolores. I woke, showered, dressed and hopped in the car to drive over to see her. I was taking a risk since she might not have been at home when I arrived, or been with a friend. But I didn't want to call first. If she were at all unsure of cheating on her husband, such a warning would give her a chance to throw up obstacles. I didn't need any of those!

I parked my car a block or two from her home, and walked to her house. She seemed a little surprised when she opened the door and saw me through the screen, but she smiled cheerfully and let me in.

"Hi!" she greeted. "What are you doing here? Forget something last night?" Her attitude was friendly but not that of someone who had accepted a pass twelve hours before.

"No," I answered, "I just wanted to thank you for dinner? Is Al in?"

"Oh, you didn't have to come out here to do that," she said. "And no, Al's away today and tomorrow, remember?"

"All alone?"

"Yes."

Almost before she had finished the word, I had scooped her into my arms and kissed her again. And again, she not only didn't resist but responded positively. I was more aggressive than I had been before, and let my hands wander as we kissed, wander up her back, feeling the strap of her bra under her yellow blouse, feeling the sides of her body, and caressing her pretty face. She smelt fresh and wholesome, like a suburban wife and mother.

I broke away for a moment and put my hand on her back, urging her lightly toward the corridor leading to the bedroom she shared with her husband.

"Wait," Dolores said, a little nervously.

"What's wrong?" I wanted to know. I'd come very close and didn't want to lose out now.

"I just... You know how old I am, right?" She glanced at me obliquely, as if afraid of the answer.

There was usually this hurdle to get over with older women. I never mentioned their age: 'Sure, you're fifty'. That was too stark a reminder that they were about to get laid by a guy the same age as their kids.

"That doesn't matter," I replied.

"And you know I'm married – of course you do. I'm married, Jim..."

This concern I never brushed off with a lack of concern. That would have implied that I didn't care.

"Yes, I know," I said, concern in my voice. I took her pretty face in my hands. "I know."

I kissed her and she kissed me back. I took her hand and led her down the corridor. As we entered her bedroom, I pushed her against the wall and held her there with my body against hers, my lips on hers, my tongue in her mouth. I wasn't rough, but forceful, and slipped my right hand up to fondle her breasts. They felt full and weighty, each, and I could see and sense her nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt.

"You want this, don't you?" I broek away to whisper in her ear. "You want me to fuck you."

"Yes, yes," Dolores replied, breathless, "I want you to fuck me."

"You need me to fuck you," I corrected, massaging her tits gently and firmly.

"Yes, I need it, I need to be fucked."

I kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her jawline, her neck. Her eyes were closed, softly, her lips parted, and her fingers explored my face like a blind woman trying to remember a lover, as I unbuttoned her the yellow shirt she wore. After the first button, her cleavage came into view, and after the next, a pretty beige bra. I slid my face down her chest and buried it in the warmth of her bosom. She moaned gently.

I caressed Dolores' bare arms after I dropped her top onto the hardwood floor, my fingers sliding under the straps of her bra. With each movement of my fingers, leading the straps farther off her shoulders, I kissed her skin, my lips following the soft cups as they retreated farther down her breasts. She moved her hands to the back of my head, her fingers entwined in my hair as they urged on my actions.

Her breasts were so soft and warm, the skin utterly smooth but for the stark suddenness of the nipples, hard and erect. One caught my lips and I buried it deep in my mouth, while my fingers played with its counterpart. Dolores inhaled abruptly and said something unintelligible. I took the brownish pink bud in my teeth and pulled, causing the woman to arch her back. When I did the same to the other nipple, she responded likewise. Now unfastened at the back, her bra followed her shirt to the floor.

As I propelled Dolores backward to the bed, she struggled to lift my shirt over my head. It was off by the time she fell onto her the bedspread. I kicked off my shoes as I pushed her further up the mattress. She was smiling as we kissed some more. My hand, on her thigh, moved up to her crotch, and she moaned into my mouth as I massaged the area.

"You want me in there," I told her, as I unsnapped her jeans and pulled down the fly's zipper. She nodded vigorously. With one motion, I tugged her pants down to her knees, and a second one had them in a heap next to the nightstand. She wore no socks and was now clad only in panties of a light beige hue, darker at the crotch, where her wetness stained them.

I paused to run a hand up her body and take in the sight.

"Jesus, you're beautiful," I told her. She wasn't quite, but she was very attractive, her body slim, her breasts perfectly proportioned if no longer quite firm, her arms slender and strong, and her legs smooth and long.

"Thank you," Dolores whispered as I kissed her once more. Her hand felt the long ridge in my pants, which grew even harder as the wedding ring on her finger caught on the fabric, reminding me that this was someone else's wife I was enjoying. She fought with my belt for a quarter-minute but grew frustrated, so I paused in our fervent kissing to unbuckle it and unzip my pants. A few pushes and kicks and they joined hers on the floor. "God, I need this," she breathed, feeling the width and length of my erect cock through the cotton of my briefs.

"Then you shall have it."

I could feel her smile rather than see it, as my face was kissing its way down her chest, her belly, toward her cunt, which I could smell as I approached. She lifted her hips accommodatingly and I removed her panties. She doubled her knees to allow me to slip the underwear off easily and a moment later my mouth was immersed in her sweet pussy.

Dolores' pubic hair was a brighter red than the almost auburn hair on her head. It was short and felt cushiony against my mouth. Her lips were fat and purple and damp, moisture leaking between them. I let my tongue move along their forms, the tip of it sometimes entering her slit. It moved easily, the whole area lubricated intensely by the woman's excitement. She was moving her legs, her knees pumping up and down and to the sides, and her voice rolling in a continual groan. Yet she kept her crotch as still as possible for me.

I could tell Dolores wanted to climax, but I could also tell that she was a distance from it. I teased her pussy lips some more and then let my tongue penetrate. I waggled it back and forth, up and down. She started to gyrate her hips, making it difficult for me to stay put, but I knew by her actions that she was becoming more and more thrilled. I then pushed my mouth hard against her cunt and sucked. Dolores' back arched and I reached up with my hands while keeping her pussy down with my face. I fondled her breasts, rubbing her nipples with my palms, while continuing to torment her cunt.

"Ohhhhhh, Jesus, Jesus, yes, Jesus...." She moaned.

I drew her clit, little but prominent, into my mouth and gently glided my teeth over it. Dolores bucked her lower half and screamed. I repeated the performance, better each time as I used my hands to keep her hips steady. Each time, she screamed and pounded the bed with fists. But she hadn't cum yet.

I slowly raised my face up her body, pulling off my underwear simultaneously. My hard cock sprang out, thick and veined, plump and ready. As my face neared hers, my organ entered her, the smooth, gentle action being enough to generate another series of twitches.

"Uhhhhhh..." she moaned, as if in warning of something bigger approaching.

My dick filled her space and again I heard her mutter under her breath. I gathered her arms over her head at the wrists and pinned them on the bed, while my other hand I slid under the small of her back, to lift her torso ever so slightly.

"Oh God, Jim, I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to..."

I knew what she had to. I slowly moved my hips, fucking the woman under me. Her feet curled around my legs instinctively and I began moving faster. Dolores moaned with increasing intensity and our breathing became matched in rhythm and shallowness. We were both about to climax. She struggled with me, the building passion needing an outlet. But I kept her arms pinned over her head, and her body pressed under mine. She began uttering little cries, gathering strength and volume, more and more. I pounded her faster, harder, faster, harder, until –

"Jesus Fuck Oh Jesus Fucking Jesus!!"

Dolores released her sexual energy in such strength she nearly threw me off as I filled her cunt with my cum. I fought to push her back down and only won as her climax subsided. Mine was spent long before she stopped thrashing, but the feeling of ecstasy remained. Slowly, we calmed down and I finally released her arms. She was glowing with perspiration and the sweat dropped off me freely. Our breathing was still hard, recovering not only from the exertion but from the superficial amounts of air we barely breathed as we had neared climax.

I caressed my newest lover's face, kissing her lips and smiling.

"I didn't know you were religious," I said.

Dolores giggled and covered her face with her hands. She was actually blushing.

"I'm going to have to ask forgiveness for that one this Sunday at Church," she said, the words muffled through her fingers. I chuckled at the fact that she felt guilty about her profanity but not her infidelity.

"You were fantastic," I said, truthfully.

"Really? Was I?" She looked into my eyes. "I know Al likes sex with me, but he almost never says anything about it." The mention of the husband, cheerfully driving somewhere, perhaps thinking of the little woman waiting for him at home, made my spent cock harden.

"It was beautiful," I assured her.

"It was..." She continued to gaze at me with her blue eyes. "I needed this so much."

"And you'll get it again," I promised. "But not just yet..." I slipped out of her and lie beside her lithe body. Our panting was finally subsiding.

"Did you...did you want something to drink? Or eat?" She was uncertain whether I was going to stay.

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