unprotected

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This is a stand-alone story. You do not need to read any other ‘Cheating Wife’ story of mine to understand this one.



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I hated that Tom loved this game. Sure, the lovemaking was usually great afterward. That part I liked. And getting dressed up is always fun: I love the attention. It was the deception that I hated. I know what it is like to be led on and I didn’t like doing it to others. Still, you do crazy things for love. And so for Tom I played this game.



The game itself is pretty standard. The couple arrives to a bar separately, one partner (usually the woman) flirts with some of the patrons, and then the other partner (usually the husband) comes over and sweeps this ‘stranger’ off of her feet. Then the husband and wife leave together, both with hugely boosted egos.



Tom and I have played this game often over the last few years. Lately, though, I have been feeling like it is a little unfair to the guys I’ve flirted with. They don’t even know the role they play, or that the outcome is determined for them before the night even starts. I felt it was time to put an end to this.



I devised a plan that would leave no one hurt but would also make Tom a little less excited to play. To make sure no one was hurt, I’d arrive early and confess to a man that my husband liked to play this game, and that I wanted to put an end to it. That way the person would not feel led on. To make Tom less likely to want to play in the future, I’d pick a tall and athletic person to flirt with. Tom has insecurities, and I know his height bothers him. 





Preparing to go out has always been my favorite part of the game. Tom is a visual beast, and thrives on diversity, so I’ve developed a large wardrobe. Tonight had to be special.



++++++++++++++



“What should I wear?” I pondered, as I stood, naked, in front of the mirror. I considered, and dismissed, many outfits prior to deciding on a tight-fitting black jersey fabric dress. The dress hugged my body perfectly, and showed off all 5’6″ and 120 pounds of me. The horizontal halter-like strap crisscrossed around my shoulders and accentuated my 36C breasts, and the asymmetrical skirt showed off my long legs. In it, I felt beautiful.



After showering, shaving, and dressing, I applied my make-up. I decided to go with smoky black eye shadow and crimson lipstick. Looking one last time in the mirror, I recognized that my Louboutin pumps matched my dress, the sole matched my lipstick, and the 4″ heel matched my mood. Now all I needed was a compassionate stranger to bring my plan to completion. I grabbed my keys, my purse, and left the house.



I arrived at the bar, parked out back, and walked around to the front door. Tom had selected the bar from the yellow pages, and it was pretty unremarkable. As I walked in I noticed a lot of young men, so I guessed there must be a college near by. I missed college, so it was fun to be back in that environment.



And I loved walking in. I felt that every man’s eyes were on me. My scanning was subtle, but still it took me only about a minute to pick out the perfect man. And I mean perfect. After seeing him, Tom would never want to play this game again. My hopeful collaborator must have been 6’4″ or 6’5″ and about 250 lbs. He looked like a cartoon of what a football player should look like: tall, muscular, and very handsome. More than just that, he was black. I knew that would drive my husband nuts.



I walked directly up to him and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Janet.”



He smiled back, looked me deep in the eye, and with a stunningly deep voice asked, “What can I do for you, Janet?”



“You could do me a huge favor, if you’re up for it.”



“Come on, girl, do I look like a man that would have a hard time getting up for you?”



I laughed at his statement, placed my hand on his forearm, and explained my situation. He seemed disappointed at first, but agreed to flirt with me for about an hour until my husband arrived. He understood that this was a game, and that I didn’t want to lead him on. After a bit, we kind of laughed about it all and started to have a really nice time.



His name was John; he played football, and majored in English. His opening line aside, I found him to be intelligent, polite, and respectful. He was also very graceful on the dance floor, which I was most thankful for!



While we danced, I thanked him and told him that he’d be a great catch for a single girl. That made him laugh, and in return he thanked me. “Seriously”, he said, “having everyone here see me dancing with such a beautiful woman works in my favor.” He was a sweet man.



My plan was working perfectly, but Tom didn’t arrive on time. When he was about an hour late I went outside and checked my messages. There was one from him – he needed to work late and had swung by the bar but didn’t see my car. He apologized and said he’d be home by midnight. It was 10 now so I should have just left. But not to be rude I went in, told John what had happened, thanked him, and told him I was leaving.



Being protective by nature, John walked me out back to my car and gave me a little hug.



“I’m sorry your plan didn’t work, but I liked spending time with you.”



“I liked it too, John. Thanks for being such a good sport.” And with that I gave him another little hug. He held on this time, just a bit longer than he should have and I pulled away – but just a little. 





“You know I’m married.” I reminded him as I kissed him gently on his cheek.



I heard him whisper, “I know.” But he held my head, moved his closer, and kissed me. I didn’t intend to cheat on my husband, but I enjoyed the kiss. As our embrace became more passionate, I felt his huge hand envelope my breast. My nipple, positioned perfectly between his thumb and finger, responded quickly.



I tried to stop him, but my effort was feeble. I was awash in unplanned excitement, and I simply reacted to his movements. I was pushed against the hood of my car by a passionate monster of a man. 





“Don’t leave me like this baby,” he whispered in my ear as he positioned my hand on his crotch. With my hand on the front of his pants, I could feel him straining to get out. “Don’t leave me like this.” This was clearly out of control, and it was wrong, but I pulled him out of his pants.



His penis was so hot in my hand! I stroked his long, fat shaft as he kissed me deeply. I felt incredibly sexy when I heard him moan. I was pretty sure, given his age, that I could make him cum with my hand. I loved doing that in high school, and the thought drove me wild now.



But this was his game, and he was in charge. He pulled his lips from mine. “I need that mouth, baby.” His intent was clear. The passion of the moment was sufficient – I would not turn him down – but he was also demanding something of me that I loved doing. I love the look of a glistening cock, the feel of the head pushing to the back of my throat, and the look of a man as he stares down into my eyes. I needed to make him cum in my mouth.



“Touch yourself, woman, make us cum at the same time.” That took no convincing at all. I was so excited I couldn’t wait to touch myself. I continued to stroke him as I wiggled out of my panties. Once free I began rubbing myself in unison with my stroking. The moment was impossibly erotic and dangerous, and I loved the feel of his hand on the back of m y head. I loved feeling him thrust in and out of my mouth. That alone may have been enough, but rubbing myself simultaneously was almost too much. 





He read my body perfectly, and just as I was almost there he pulled away. “I want your hand again. I need to kiss you.” He moved in quickly, and his mouth tasted perfect. My hand found his shaft, and I began to stroke him as we kissed.



“Pull it close, girl, use my dick to make yourself cum.” We continued kissing while I pulled his shaft along my swollen lips and ran his head around my clit. I was in heaven before my orgasm hit, and when it did I went to a new place – unnamed and uncharted in my previous experience.



While a second orgasm was mounting, he pulled me closer, kissed me deeper, and pushed his body into mine. I was completely under his power, he was much larger than me, and held my mouth quiet with his. He entered me quickly, and thrust in and out of me with shocking confidence. 





Between orgasms, I had a moment of clarity: I was being fucked by a stranger on the hood of my car. A large, passionate black man was fucking me like my husband only thinks he can, and I was doing nothing to stop it. Worse – I was thrusting my hips to meet his – my body was begging him now.



If I could speak I’d say, “Fuck me, fuck me like you own me.”
But 
I couldn’t speak. I communicated my desire only with moans and by wrapping my legs tightly around his body. His last thrust almost made me pass out. He held my face close to his, held eye contact, and came deeply into me.

It’s been three weeks now since I made my last diary entry and things had been pretty normal. Mr. Edwards went back to treating me as just another one of the hired help and I found myself doubting if he had ever raped me at all. My period came as usual a few days after he blackmailed me and raped me so at least I wasn’t pregnant. I made an effort to get out of the house to get on birth control pills, just in case, but I was always with the girls and how would I explain that to them?



This morning I had my mid-cramps as I call them. That’s when I ovulate. It’s painful enough for me to think of it as a mini-period, but it only ever lasts about an hour and then it’s over.



After I got dressed I got the girls out to music class and then started my chores followed by planting the order of flowers that came in from the nursery. I ended up getting pretty filthy and I was actually relieved when Mr. Edwards called to say that he had picked up the girls at the school and was dropping them at a friends house for the night. He added that he had a flight to catch and that I should take the rest of the day off. It was unusually generous of him, but I didn’t dare question my good fortune.



I spent the next two hours finishing my work in the flower beds and then I headed to my cottage for a well-earned hot shower. I left my dirty garden shoes at the door to my little mudroom and I dropped my clothes in a neat little pile just inside the door. My toes luxuriated in the plush carpet as I walked naked to my bathroom.



A few minutes later found me in utter rapture as the warm water soothed my sore body and washed the earth from my skin. I lathered up and then decided to go ahead and be a little feminine as I shaved my legs for the first time in a few weeks. I sat on the shower floor thoughtlessly wrapped up in watching the blade turn stubbly skin into smooth skin.



Satisfied with my legs I stood up and washed my hair and followed that up with a liberal dash of conditioner. At this point I shut off the water and popped open my baby oil to moisturize. “Clink!” went the bottle and I poured the soothing oil on my body. I massaged myself all over, even between my toes, until I was a glorious and sopping mess of conditioner and baby oil. It was wonderful!



I massaged my scalp a bit more and then figured that it was time to turn on the water and rinse off all this mess. The water came on and was soon set to just the right temperature. In a few minutes I would be a completely new woman with a fresh outlook on the evening. Maybe I’d head into town and see about a movie? Yes, that’s what I’d do, a movie would be great.



“Oh, yes.”



I screamed out of absolute fright as I heard Mr. Edwards behind me.



“Get the FUCK out of here now you goddamned bastard or I’ll…”



My head spun from what had to be the most solid slap I’d ever taken. I fell to the floor of the shower in a daze, my senses just blown by the sudden assault.



“Come on, get up you git, you’ll not pass out on me now.”



He stood me up and leaned me against the cold tile. The shock of the cold helped me get my bearings and the blackness began to fade from my sight.



“Clink!”



I couldn’t quite make sense of the sound when Mr. Edwards pulled me tight against him.



“Ohhh, I have been waiting for this! You didn’t think I forgot about you, now did you pet?”



His cock nestled between the globes of my ass and I felt him rut at me. A chill ran over me as I feared he was going to do what English men are notorious for.



“Mmmm, pet, I love goosebumps, did I ever tell you that?”



His hands ran over my slickened body, inadvertently massaging my baby oil into my skin. I stood there silent, fearing another slap, as his hands explored me. Our silent dance went on for several minutes as he continued his molestation. Finally, his hands met on my breasts and then followed down my sides until he firmly held my hips. I was just starting to wonder what the hell this was all about when I realized what he had done with my baby oil.



“Ohmigod!!” I gasped as his oiled cock slid up my pussy in one stroke. The sudden intrusion was more shocking than my first rape since this came without any warning at all. His left arm wrapped across my chest and his right arm came across my belly to clamp me to him as his cock plowed my depths. I was just stunned for a moment as he fucked me and then I realized what had happened today.



“No! You’ve gotta stop! I can’t, no WE can’t!”



I exploded in tears and began to struggle with him and was rewarded when his cock slipped from me and he turned me around to face him.



The world went completely black with the force of his second slap.



He had me pinned up against the tile when I came to, my breasts squeezed flat on the white ceramic. My feet weren’t touching the floor. His breathing was mixed with moans and then my awareness included his firm cock pistoning deep into me. He seized me round the belly and I started crying again as I felt his cock swell up inside of me.



I almost tried to fight him again but found it pointless as he caught his breath and hugged me tight. The bastard.



Time seemed to slow down for me and I swear I felt his cock ripple inside of me. The first wave began in the base of his cock and it swelled past my pussy lips and up into my body where the shot of cum splashed hard against my cervix. The futility of fighting overcame me and I stood there stupidly as Mr. Edwards’ pumped his cum into me. His vibrant, potent, sperm-laden cum. Into my fertile body.



And then he was gone.



The water was starting to get cold so I went into practical mode and washed out the conditioner, soaped off the baby oil and cum, and then dried off.



I sat up in bed for at least an hour wondering if maybe jail wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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