The next hour passed in a confusing blur. One moment I was basking in the euphoric afterglow of the most incredible sexual encounter I had ever experienced, enjoying the fleeting feel of Chioma lying at my side, nuzzling into my chest, the next, I was under the jets of the shower in the bedroom’s en-suite bathroom, contemplating what had just happened.
My cock was still semi-hard as the water washed over me, my body alive with the excitement of sex with a new person. God, the feel of being inside her had been beyond imagination, her cunt receiving me and pulling me into her with adulterous abandon. The experience of awakening her passion, capturing her lust with my cock, the meeting of our sex, the whole encounter had been mind-blowing. Even thinking about it made me want to stride back into the room, bend her over the bed, and fuck her until she screamed for mercy.
Yet even as I stood there under the shower, I felt the first hints of the guilt which was due to assault me in full force over the coming hour. I had just cheated on my wife, the mother of my children, the woman who I had been faithful and loving to for the last decade. The woman who loved me completely and would never betray me in the way I had just betrayed her.
I had not assisted her best friend with pregnancy matters. I had not gone about my business in a passionless way in order to plant my seed inside her best friend. I had not had emotionless intercourse with her best friend. I had absolutely not abided by the rules which Bisola had set down for the encounter with her best friend.
No, I had fucked Chioma without reserve, had cum inside her only after I had felt her delicious cunt climaxing around my dick. I had pinned her petite frame to the bed and had mashed my body against it in my eagerness to join our sexes completely. I had savoured every second of the experience, had touched her, caressed her, had put my tongue in her mouth and kissed her. I had said things to her which were a direct betrayal of my wife, had told her about the supremacy of the experience of having sex with her.
When Bisola had given permission for me to come here to do this act, she had not been expecting me to do any of these things. No, indeed, she had such faith in me that she had completely trusted me not to do anything remotely approaching the lustful act of betrayal I had just committed.
“Tell me you won’t be any less than 100% mine, John, that you can do this without feeling anything for Chioma.” That is what Bisola had said to me, and I had told her what she wanted to hear, that hers was the only cunt I wanted…
Except that was not true anymore. I had crossed a line with her friend, and as I stepped out of the shower and towelled myself dry, I knew that I could not undo or forget what had now been started. What Chioma and I had just done together was adultery, an act of infidelity to our long-term mates. Further, it was an act of wanton lust which had ended with my sperm pumping inside Chioma, potentially providing her with something which her husband was incapable of giving and something which could change the nature of our relationship irrevocably.
There was absolutely no point in denying that I now wanted a woman other than my wife, that Bisola’s cunt was no longer the only one I wanted. I wanted Chioma, and the only thing that matched the hunger I was feeling to go back into the bedroom and lose myself in her was the guilt this desire was producing.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, contemplating the conflicting want and guilt, then splashed some water on my face and walked back into the bedroom.
Chioma was sitting up in the bed, the duvet cover pulled up to her shirt covered chest, her knees apparently raised up to her chest under the duvet. Her face was still flushed and her hair erotically tousled from the recent passion, and as I came into the room, her eyes moved from the door, where they had been focused, to fix on me.
“Hi again,” she said, somewhat shyly.
“Hi, stranger,” I replied, and moved to pick up my clothes and start dressing. I could tell immediately that the same thoughts of guilt which had assailed me in the last 5 minutes had also gripped her, and the intimacy we had enjoyed moments before had noticeably receded. “Are you OK?”
“Yes…wonderful,” she replied. “Thank you…for everything. It was wonderful…” She looked down at the bed, and I knew the awkwardness we both had felt earlier had returned to the room, and that a “but” was coming.
“Wonderful… but?” I queried, my heart pounding with an erratic giddiness I had not felt since my teenage years.
“But….we shouldn’t have done things the way we did. We shouldn’t have said what we said to each other.” She looked directly at me, appearing somehow sexual and demure at the same time. “What just happened…we were being unfaithful to our partners.”
Her saying it just served to reinforce the thoughts I had been having a few moments earlier. We had both betrayed the two people we cared about more than any others in the world.
“I know,” I replied.
“If they had seen this, it would devastate them,” she added, looking like she might be on the verge of tears. “If Bisola had seen this, she would hate me. She had agreed, as a friend, to let us do this, and I end up…fucking her husband like a sex-crazed whore.”
“There were two of us doing the fucking, and you are definitely not a whore,” I said, emotions of guilt mixing with a sudden concern about what might be coming next. “What you are saying is true. What we just did was not mechanical; it didn’t abide by the rules they set out. We have just committed adultery. But it was the most incredible sex of my life and yours too I think, and I think we both know and recognise that.”
As I said this, she bunched her knees up closer to her chest, putting her chin on the top of her knees over the duvet, and I suddenly knew again that I wanted her desperately. If she turned to me now and told me to come to her, I knew I would be on her in moments, would grab hold of her shirt and rip it off her body in my eagerness to access her flesh, and I would damn the consequences.
“I think we both need to think long and hard about whether we do this again,” she said, without looking at me.
I definitely was a mix of emotions now, my recently spent lust mixing with the guilt, which was, in turn, battling slight anxiety.
“I’m going to go downstairs now and go home with Bisola,” I said. “I am not going to give her any hint or suggestion about what has happened tonight. Once I have gone, you should get yourself sorted, and in turn, do not speak about exactly what happened between us to Nnamdi.”
She turned to me, her large exotic brown eyes and pretty features piercing me. “And then what?” she asked.
“If either you or I decides that it ends here,” I said, “We tell our spouses during the next 24 hours that we don’t want to continue. If I decide, I won’t be here tomorrow. If you decide, call Bisola and call it off. Otherwise, I will be back here tomorrow night.”
She considered this, then said, “OK.”
At this, I moved over and kissed her on the cheek before leaving the room to go and meet my loving and faithful wife.
As I walked into the downstairs front room to see Bisola, I wondered if she would be able to read my face immediately, read the guilt and conflict in my thoughts.
Would she look at me closely, size me up, then announce, “You fucking cheating bastard, you’ve just had mind-blowing sex with my best friend, and have destroyed my rules and my faith in you.”
Of course, my face was a carefully constructed mask, and indeed she did not instantly detect the truth of the situation or utter these slightly preposterous words. Instead, she looked at me, concern on her face, and said, “You OK, babe?”
“Yes, fine,” I replied in a quiet tone. Looking around the room, I could not see Nnamdi anywhere. The music playing from the stereo in the corner was very loud, and I was immediately comforted that it was very unlikely that they would have been able to hear any noises from upstairs. “What about you?”
“Oh, I feel slightly weird,” she said and laughed half-heartedly. She moved to turn the music down. “But, I’m fine too.”
“Where’s Nnamdi?” I asked, sudden concern filling me that Nnamdi had gone upstairs during me and Chioma’s sex and had been listening outside the door, listening with jealous, cuckolded rage while I pounded his wife into grunting moaning orgasm.
“I think he found this even harder than he was expecting,” Bisola replied, and she walked close to me and put her hand in mine, squeezing my hand. “Even harder than I did. He went outside to stand in the garden for a few minutes.”
This was a big relief for me because it meant that I would be able to escape from Nnamdi and Chioma’s house without having to encounter him. Christ, the last thing I wanted to deal with right now was if he insisted on shaking hands again before thanking me for my hard work.
However, I had not missed the point that Bisola had said, “even harder than I did,” making it clear that it had been difficult for her to sit downstairs listening to music while her husband and best friend fucked upstairs, even if she could not hear it. I wondered what she had been imagining.
“Can we go then?” I asked, and Bisola nodded before we headed out of their front door and started walking back to our house.
We walked in silence for a few seconds, Bisola’s hand clutching mine firmly. I truly could not think of anything appropriate to say in reference to the preceding hour, and I had no doubt that Bisola’s mind was awhirl with a mix of potential questions.
After a few seconds of walking, Bisola turned to me and, with a slightly anxious look on her face, said, “Are we still OK?”
The uncertainty in her usually strong and confident face immediately touched me and heightened my level of guilt, and I put my hand on her cheek as I faced her and whispered, “Yes, of course, we are. You are my wife, and I love you.” Unfaithful, two-faced, adulterous cheating bastard, the guilt-ridden part of my mind whispered to me while I said this.
She made a large happy grin as I said this and turned back to continue walking. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like?” The question was asked in almost a disinterested fashion, but I had no doubt at all that the casual tone was an attempt to mask the uncertainty and fear she had displayed just seconds earlier. And I also had no doubt that she needed an answer, something to reassure her.
“It was…” I started, my mind reaching for the proper adjective to sum up the most incredible sexual experience of my life, for words which could describe the feel of a silken cunt rippling around my cock as I shot my cum into her best friend. “It was slightly weird, very uncomfortable and awkward.” Lying cheat, that part of my brain cried out again.
“Did…IT…happen then,” Bisola asked as we came up to our front door.
“Yes. We had, erm, intercourse. I went on top, and we, you know, did IT.”
“And Chioma got your sperm inside her?” Bisola was perhaps understandably asking me a lot of questions with an apparent level of urgency, and in some ways, I was happy to get the discussion about these matters out of the way now.
“Yes,” I replied as Bisola stood by our front door without moving to open it. The babysitter would be inside, and she clearly wanted to get answers to these queries before entering the house.
“OK, that’s what we all wanted,” Bisola announced. “And what was Chioma doing? How did she make you..cum in her?” There was no feigned casualness in the question now, and my wife’s stare at me was intense while her hand still gripped mine.
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