- Loving Wives
- A Tale of Immorality Ch. 01
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Click hereChapter One: A Pinch Of Infidelity.
I am Anne. I am married, and I let other men fuck me.
No, that's not true. I should be honest with you — I enjoy fucking men other than my husband. I enjoy it tremendously.
My husband doesn't know. And I hope he never will. But please don't get me wrong — I feel no guilt about what I do. I even think I am doing him a favor.
One day he will discover my infidelity, of course. Someone may see me. Someone will talk. I may slip. A detail may give me away.
I fear that day.
I fear it partly because it would hurt him. I love him too much to see him hurt and lose him. But let me remain honest, at least to myself — I mostly fear discovery because it would put an end to my adventures.
I'd have to choose, and I hate choosing.
I love my husband. I love how we make love. But I also very much love to fuck around. I can't live with the one and not have the other. It would render me incomplete. And highly frustrated. For him I would become impossible to live with. Assuming he'd still want me, of course.
Yes, you frown.
I can see how you need to dismiss this as totally immoral. You really feel you have to boo me, don't you? I understand. You have no alternative. You have to reassure the world that you at least are morally pure. I can see how you would want to dump your indignation on me.
If only to save yourself.
Don't worry, go ahead. I do understand you. In your position I might even do the same. But please, if only for a few minutes: jump over your shadow. Unplug your ears and listen.
Things aren't always as Sunday school taught you, you know. Maybe they ought to be. But they just aren't. There's always some small thing that prevents righteousness from happening.
It's called "reality."
***
As I said, my name is Anne. No further name is needed.
My husband's name is George. We met at college, eleven years ago. He was tall and blonde. The tall part is still true, the blonde is getting thinner. I fell for him the first moment we met. He needed more time. We weren't even dating exclusively for the first year.
I was. He wasn't. Isn't that ironic?
At a party into our second year he saw the light. And I guess after that he never felt the urge to retire into the shadows again.
The first time we had sex was right after that party. I was drinking, so was he. It was just enough to get us past embarrassment, but not nearly enough to hamper our performance.
I was no virgin to sex. But I discovered that I was a virgin to good sex. To be quite accurate, on the narrow bed in my shared apartment I had my first real orgasm with a man.
George was great. Correction — he is great. He has this body you want to crawl into for sheer comfort and safety. And his mind won't ever allow things to turn everyday-dull. I love his voice. His eyes. The hard muscles of his tight butt.
And his cock.
What I did not know then — but know now of course — is that he has an average-sized cock. What I also know now is that with it he can bring me pleasures many larger men can only dream of in their machoest fantasies.
Sneer if you have to. But being with other men a lot doesn't always have to diminish a wife's respect for her husband. It doesn't for me.
George's secret is patience.
Patience is the rarest commodity in lovemaking, you know. I might even say that it is the crucial difference between love and sex. Patience to put your lover's needs first. To train your own stamina so that your lover may enjoy all the pleasures there are to be found.
George loves me very much.
In fact, he worships me with his love., but he also shames me with it. For although my love for him is immense, there will always be the love I have for myself as well.
I guess by now you have to reach over to a new box of judgments. Let me help you. It is under the S for selfishness.
As I said, I'll be honest with you — if you're looking for a perfect person, look elsewhere.
***
George and I were married for two years when it happened for the first time.
We had both found good jobs. He was working with an insurance company. They obviously appreciated him — he received substantial raises twice a year.
I worked at a fast growing string of delicatessen and catering shops. I did their marketing and PR. It wasn't just for the money. I liked the job. I liked being surrounded by people with great taste and adventurous spirits.
One of those spirits belonged to Antoine.
He was French Canadian and had been schooled in Lyon, France, by the famous Paul Bocuse. He was great fun to be with. He also became very passionate when it came to food and cooking.
Antoine lived alone and I guess it was his accent and his flamboyant style that made many people think he might be gay. I suppose that was why I had no qualms to say "yes" when he invited me to have dinner at his place. He said I was a woman with taste and he wanted to try out a new recipe.
George was out of town; my alternative was staying home alone — and being bored.
So I dressed nicely.
I was sure Antoine would set an almost professional table and I did not want to spoil the atmosphere by turning up in a casual outfit.
He met me at the door wearing a very stylish Italian suit over a simple white t-shirt. It looked great on him, yet very relaxed. I was glad I had decided at the last minute to wear my little black number. We matched admirably.
One look into his eyes told me Antoine wasn't gay. One more look showed me I was in trouble.
He took my wrap-around shawl and the bottle of wine I had brought with me. He asked me to turn around for him. I giggled and made a slow pirouette on my sling-back pumps. He whistled. Then he immediately apologized for being so bold. He took my hand. He breathed a kiss on it that felt like the wings of a bird. It made me shiver and giggle some more.
His apartment looked stylish, yet warm. It had the casual feeling of a bachelor's lair, but all the furniture, rugs and decorations had been selected with good taste. The dinner table was set in his large, open kitchen. It had spotless white linen on it, crystal glasses and a lot of soft glowing candles.
Before we sat down to eat, he poured a white wine. We struck up a conversation and forgot the time. Antoine told me about his years in France. It was all very witty and great fun.
When the first silence fell I saw that the chilled bottle was almost empty.
I felt I could not stop giggling. It irritated me, but Antoine seemed not to mind. On the contrary. Before I knew it we were on his couch together. Very together. His fingers caressed my flushed cheek. He told me how beautiful I was.
I giggled. We kissed.
The kiss woke me up. I pushed him away with a frown and a smile. He never winced, but reminded us that dinner couldn't wait a minute longer.
I went to the bathroom. His kiss still made my lips tingle. My legs felt like gum; they almost caused me to stumble on my heels. I'm sure he must have seen me.
At last I met my burning face in the mirror. Oh, my God. I dashed cold water into it, before returning. I decided to be friendly but distant, warm but weary, flirty but resolute.
When I walked back over his tastefully tiled floor, I saw it was paved with good intentions.
***
Antoine fucked me that night between a lovely dish of innocent quail and a dessert of peppered strawberry cream. When his perfect cock slid into my dripping cunt I realized that there had not been one moment I had wanted him to stop.
It started when I sat down at the round, cozy table.
He pushed the chair under me and lightly touched my bare shoulder. He left his hand there for just a split second. I felt the warmth sink into my skin. He must have noticed that I trembled.
As an appetizer we had oysters.
I had never eaten raw oysters before and told him about my reservations. He made a big show of converting me. It involved him sliding over to me while he rattled on about the excellent qualities of the slimy creatures. He squeezed some lemon. Then he added a drop of vinegar and red onion dressing. He asked me to throw my head back and to open my mouth.
His breath touched my ear.
"Close your eyes," he whispered. I did. The raw oyster slithered down my tongue. It sent a hundred tiny spider feet up and down my spine. The salty taste and the slippery texture were fraught with erotic innuendo.
I moaned when his mouth closed on mine. I moaned some more when his tongue dashed in to follow the oyster.
I just gasped when his hand touched my tit.
There were six oysters. Three for me, three for him. It took us a while.
When the last one had slithered down my gullet, Antoine did something shocking. He stood back and pulled up the spaghetti strap of my dress. It had slipped off my shoulder, exposing most of my left tit.
"I should not take advantage of your weakness, Anne. You have been drinking. You are a married woman. We work together. And of course there are the quail to attend to."
He grinned and stepped back to pour me some wine. Then he looked after the main dish.
I felt dazed.
My body was on fire. So was my mind. My panties must have been soaked by then. All thoughts of loyalty to George — and to be honest all thoughts of George, period — had been wiped from my mind until Antoine reminded me of my marriage.
I moaned. It sounded frustrated. He looked up and grinned.
***
The quail were buttery soft and mildly spicy.
He had had the good sense to remove their little heads before serving. It seems the French insist on showing them, so you know you won't be cheated into eating mere chicken. I guess I prefer being cheated upon.
Antoine fed me little morsels.
I complimented him on the excellent food. He smiled. His finger rested for just a while on my lower lip. I chewed on the succulent meat. I'd love to say it was accidental that I also sucked on his finger.
"You have such good taste," he whispered, smiling.
I smiled back and offered him a sliver of quail's breast in return. He grabbed my hand and took the food in with my fingers. He sucked.
"It is so easy to have good taste with you, Antoine," I said and smiled. We soon ended up kissing again.
I am afraid the poor little birds died in vain. They soon lay cold and abandoned on the beautiful table.
We were on the couch again, sharing tongues and undoing buttons. His mouth around my screaming nipples made me gasp.
His tongue on my exposed clit made me come.
Soon I knelt before him. His aroused cock throbbed against the palms of my caressing hands. My tongue licked the pearly drops from the shining head.
"Excellent taste," I murmured.
I knew I was hooked. Oh, not on Antoine. I was hooked on the difference. The new way he felt, sounded, tasted. The new and intense attention I received. I was hooked on the sudden rush of sheer youthfulness.
It was the firstness of it all, I guess. The never knowing what would be next. And there had not been one moment I had wanted him to stop. An unknown cock filled me. A man had spent days, maybe weeks in conquering me. He had gone out of his way to create these few moments.
It was exhilarating. Everything was. The way he touched me. The way he searched to find our rhythm. The way he made my body sing.
I came with him. It was one of the most special moments of my life.
Yes, yes. Go judge me. Call me insensitive. Call me any ugly name in the book. Make your impeccable righteousness known. But I'll stay stubbornly honest. Coming with Antoine that evening is one of my fondest memories.
Afterwards we just lay exhausted, panting, smiling.
Then I told him I had to leave.
He protested. The evening was young — there was still dessert, coffee, sweet chocolate bon-bons. But I knew it was over. I kissed him once more and thanked him. Then I collected my clothes.
The soaked panties went into my purse.
At the door he tried to kiss me once more, but I pressed my fingertips to his lips.
"Don't spoil it, Antoine."
I left.
***
I phoned George as soon as I was home.
I did it even before taking a shower. I feared it might be an awkward call, but it wasn't. I heard his voice and a warm feeling flushed my body.
It felt...new.
- COMMENTS
This is not about morality. It is about basic human dignity. She pledged to love her husband, but didn't. If she wanted to fuck around ( I don't condemn that) she should have asked her husband for a divorce.
The perspective of a person living their life in a moral vacuum is an intriguing concept to me.
I’d like find out if she can do so without consequence or if the premise is merely to pave the way for steamy encounters. I’ll stick around a while and see how her character develops. She certainly is unapologetic. Many of these comments are just as intriguing. Carry on.
Angiqueslutphy an aging harbor worker de nuit, dix Franc dans cul, offers another regurgitate tale of her grotesque manky experience.
Here, take another dix / to a penny. Do it t to yah self.
Captcha
Thoughts simply on the first 3 or 4 paragraphs of the introduction.
It's not necessarily some highly religious morality thing with most informed modern people that would judge you.
It's more of a judgement of this character as a person. If she is a person that is capable of lying and cheating and betraying the person she professes to love the most...and can do so in such an easy, casual and cold way? With all of those selfish justifications this character makes? "I need both the love and the sex, etc."
What else does that say about that character in other aspects of her life? At work? Is she above lying and cheating on the job? Is she above stealing from her work? "I mean those Jimmy Choos are on sale at the boutique? And that Coach bag is SO cute...I NEED them. My company won't miss 4 or 5 thousand dollars..."
Or how about volunteer work for the local charity? "I worked SO hard at putting together this fundraiser dinner for this charity I volunteer for. I'm entitled to a small cut of the take. I mean they wouldn't have made any money if not for me. 15 percent seems fair."
Yeah...I know ethics...the concept is so last century and all to the sophisticated crowd.
But as the character described in this introduction? In real life I'd find her repulsive.
To the point I would quit a job and work elsewhere as to not have to interact with someone this fucked up. I have done it before.
Life is too short and the world is too big and wide open to spend it with shallow, vapid, selfish sociopaths who are incapable of thinking about or feeling anything for anyone other than themselves.
And I'm sorry...no amount of love or physical beauty compensates for someone as ugly as the author has written above.
I'll be skipping to the last installment and won't be finishing this one even.
There seems to be a commonality to the female characters this author writes. In other words "you read one monstrous female character by this author and you read them all."
Awesome. A story about a selfish and unrepentant slut.
We should all glory in her "right" to fuck as many swinging dicks as she can fit into her diseased, swampy cunt.
I hope the story ends with violence...that she so much deserves.
...so hedonistic with classic libertine vibe... I can't wait to read the rest...
What's so special about a characterless whore that you write a story about? Whores are whores so what the heck?
People cheat because they can and feel entitled to cheat. They're selfish and narcissistic. The lack of empathy for others affected by their shit decisions and the value the ego stroking for the illicit sex more than they value your well-being. There is nothing they can say by way of explanation that is not self serving and self pitying.
Cheaters suck. A person who betrayed you and endangered your health and emotional well-being? They suck! A person who is so selfish as to eat cake and fuck around on the side? They suck! When you internalize that they suck, and realize you are pining for a flaming dog turd? Then you will heal.
This is what´s properly refered as guilty pleasure. This is the type of story that this site was created for.
This was a very sensuous story, a pleasure to read. A bit too defensive, but given hour audience, perhaps appropriately so. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip inside your mind, and the insights therein. Five stars, of course. -- JB
Interesting how this particular pig tries to shame the reader and convince everyone she isn't an abhorrent cunt.
Good writing.
and this (I couldn't put it better):
"First of all I'm giving you a five. That out of the way I have to say that no matter how you dress a swine, it is still a pig. This almost makes cheating palatable... almost. Every adulterer can justify their actions. It didn't really mean anything or it was only sex. She would be happy single and then In her old age she can reminisce of her sexual exploits to comfort her. Love is about giving and yes about denying yourself also."
I would add that your character glorified betrayal, indulged in cheating whilst living a cowardly, treacherous,duplicitous, dishonest and selfish life with no regard for the one she claimed to love.
But you are an author and you do not have to agree with your character, altho' I suspect you may well do, so I too must give you a 5* as it is very well written.
There is a moral end of sorts but at what cost...
First of all I'm giving you a five. That out of the way I have to say that no matter how you dress a swine, it is still a pig. This almost makes cheating palatable... almost. Every adulterer can justify their actions. It didn't really mean anything or it was only sex. She would be happy single and then In her old age she can reminisce of her sexual exploits to comfort her. Love is about giving and yes about denying yourself also.
Thanks for sharing, Very well written as always, so far this character has shown no particularly likeable traits, and has not advanced any kind of a intellectual defense of her position. It will be interesting to see how this goes.
BTW, for many of us, when faced with such situations in real life, we don't hate the person cheating at all. We just have negative, sometimes very negative, regards towards the behavior(s) in question
Stars are for the writing. I need not call Anne a lot of demeaning names. One will do. SLUT! Ciao!
Very good character development, plot is boiling, and people are engaged. I have always thought of men who have lots of sex partners as cocksmen. Here it's a woman, and many are conditioned to condemn her. More than they would men. Some folks like sexual variety, sad do it with eyes wide open. I am enjoying the read. 5 stars
Chilley
thought provoking and mostly well written. I gave this segment a 1 based on my perception of the protagonist, but I have no beef with the author,. I doubt you could really accuse AS of promoting such beliefs and behavior by putting this story out. The defenses presented by her for what she is doing are of a lesser magnitude than the ugliness of here character as portrayed by the rest of the story, Least that's how I see it. YMMV Thank you AS ! ps to some other commenter, just bc we read here doesn't mean we are not entitled to nor justified in our moral stances.
So am I. She is a cheating whore cunt skank wife. I will read on out of curiosity and excellent writing.
For the critics in here, you must admit that the story got a real rise out of you all. That reaction says a good deal about you and surprisingly little about the author if the truth be told.
The lesson on this board for other writers is clear. A polarizing character gets a reaction and attention. Does it not? That seems like a better motivation for the author here than the charge of being a man hater.
the moral standpoint but, if I was someone entitled to judge it I wouldn't be reading stories on Literotica.
The writing is excellent and the descriptions and dialogue are handled very well indeed. Add to that the fact that it's very erotic and you have exactly what this section is meant to be about. Only the small, or hurt, minds would condemn it.
It is natural for women to find a good provider and then have sneaky sex with a superior man. And, in her case, she was having fun too.
I am ever so glad to have stumbled upon this tale. I certainly look forward to reading all the more.
Written by a Mistress of tale spinning and superb command of language worthy of award Author. I for one certainly enjoyed reading it. Well written. Thank you. Mr Ross Smrek.
THERE MUST BE SOMEWAY FOR PAYBACK.....SHE WANTS SEX OUTSIDE OF MARRIAGE...TALK TO GEORGE...GIVE HIM OPPORTUNITY TO HAVE SEX WITH OTHERS ALSO...OR TO GET RID OF YOUR CHEATING ASS
Is the name of the game…You assert something silly, irradiating or nonsensical (preferably you try to hit more than one category in one submission). Then you moralize to the masses. If they don’t ‘Ooh’ and ‘Ahh’ in praise of your original creative outbursts, then you hit them with option B. You brazenly claim that by the very fact that the reader have not agreed with the premise of the story, she/he have automatically proven that they are: (you can choose one or more of the following labels or add any of your choosing) a typical male chauvinist; a backward illiterate; profoundly disconnected from reality and the truths of life as revealed by the writer; a professional hater. If none of the above appealed to you, try creationist or at least a Republican (In essence –every epithet makes equal sense when you are put under “you either agree with me or you are X” <P>
Why do we see this orgy of responses? Perhaps people like to be teased when they find that they have just been absurdly defined by the writer whose creation they are reading; perhaps they hate to be teased in that way. That’s exactly the kind of work an agent provocateur is so good at. Let me try to simulate it: If the writer can’t understand the manipulative function of an agent provocateur, it proves this writer’s ignorance and pretentiousness. <P>
As you can see from the example above, the technique is quite simple. Nevertheless, until it’s exposed (and many times even after) it works very well. You put the reader in a bind – usually between two forced alternatives. You either agree with one alternative – for example, that cheating is the reality that saves marriages in ‘real life’ OR you have to accept the other alternative: that you are an idiot. If you happen to like one (or both) of the options, you may not have any problem with the rest of the message/ story etc. But to the most part, you’d find yourself moved to choose between one option which on its face is HIGHLY unappealing, and another which you may also dislike. In the story it’s the choice between ‘the idiot option’ and the ‘unappealing option’ that cheating is an unavoidable if not necessary reality which can revive if not save marriages. Of course, the writer never proved that these are indeed two mutually exclusive options which reflect any “reality”, but the power of rhetoric and the surprise caused by the egregious ‘choice’, could cause people to try and disprove the ‘pro cheating reality’ option, if only to escape the idiot label of the alternative. Now this is of course the reason the writer had put this forced choice to begin with. So what if this is a cheap trick; does it get people’s attention? Yes it does. And for some that’s enough, no matter what’s the content of the reactions. The end justifies the means. <P>
In other words, if you feel annoyed and you are moved to respond, even to protest the cheap manipulative technique – the writer still got a lot of attention! <P>
Am I part of those manipulated to write – perhaps, I don’t really care as I address my message mostly for the consideration of other readers. Try shouting “Fire!” in a theatre and see what kind of attention you’ll get... It will definitely satisfy you if you are craving attention - no matter what kind and under what conditions... would that prove that you have contributed something – artistic or otherwise? I doubt it very much.
For the person who raves on so rapturously about how role reversal is so wonderful, I'd remark that I have no respect for men or women who cheat. I'm a little confused by someone who thinks that two wrongs make a right, but some people obviously have a hard time seeing the plain truth of what is right and what is wrong. More's the pity....