Cheating on Our Wives

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The moment my cock slipped inside his asshole I knew it was the real deal. We were going bareback. Neither of us gave a fuck, and we were both married anyway, so the risk was low. He was on his stomach on the bed where he fucked his wife a night earlier. Now it was my turn, and I wasn’t holding anything back. I was on top, pumping him. He wore his wife’s lacy, black bra. The matching panties were on the bed next to us, stripped off and cast aside. His entire body responded to my every thrust. Shudders of ecstasy rippled through his body and echoed through mine.

“I want you more than I want my wife,” I huffed.

“I want to be your new wife,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Make me be the girl, make me be the girl.”

“We are homosexuals,” I said.

He moaned.

I’d been trying to hold back, but it became too much to handle. As Led Zeppelin sang, the levee broke. I came with ferocious intensity. The connection between us in that moment was cosmic. Our bodies and minds melded together like two pieces of iron melting together at the core of the sun. For that moment, he got his wish, and I got mine. We were married in a union of ecstasy.

Both of us writhed and groaned until my balls were empty.

Then it was over. We both had the same overwhelming sensation: shame mixed with regret. I pulled out, put on my pants and headed for the door. He wasn’t offended. This was how we ended every secret gay cheating session.

Then I closed the bedroom door and made a beeline for my car, a Toyota Corolla parked in the driveway next to his wife’s rose bush. Once inside, I grabbed casino oyna my weed pipe out of the glove box, licked my Bic and put my flame to the doobage in the bowl. I took a long pull, blew my hit out the widow and drove the fuck off.

I’ve been married for more than 15 years, and I’ve cheated since the very beginning. Always with guys. I’ve tried fucking females, too, but I always chicken out before going through with it. I’ve had sex with probably 50 or 60 guys since I married Jennifer.

But Larry was special.

He lived just two miles from me, and his wife traveled often for work, which meant he frequently had the house to himself. We played a game that I like to call “husband and wife.” One of us played the husband, and one of us was the wife every time we hooked up. He usually preferred to be the wife, and I was cool with that. Being the wife meant putting on women’s clothes, sometimes in full drag with makeup, more often in just a bra and panties. Whoever played the wife was totally subservient to the husband. We got from each other the wild sex we couldn’t get from our wives.

Both of us lived our “real lives” as average, straight, married guys. Larry was a banker, a pillar of the community, and I owned a successful small business. Neither of us wanted a relationship. All we wanted was to fuck each other in the most animalistic way. We were both sluts, too. I usually fucked two or three married guys a month in addition to Larry, and I know he had at least that many guys he fucked and usually a female mistress or two sometimes thrown into the mix. The weird thing is, the more we slot oyna fucked around, the hotter we were to each other.

The next time he came over, Larry was in the mood to be the husband, and he wanted me to be the wife. I was happy to oblige. Larry brought his wife’s pink bra-and-panty set for me to wear. I went into the bathroom to change. His wife was a 34B bra and large panties. Perfect. I opened the cabinet under the sink and hauled out my wife’s makeup kit. I smeared on her red lipstick and did my best with her eyeliner and mascara. A spritz of her perfume punctuated the effect. I looked and felt like a total whore.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Larry nodded approvingly.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna make you my temporary wife.”

He lay naked on the bed, watching porn on the laptop. His hard cock pointed at the stucco ceiling. Our eyes locked. He had the most intense look on his face, yet seemed dead behind the eyes. I quickly averted my gaze and stared at the porn. He did the same. A blonde whore was laying on a table with her legs spread and her knees up. A fat guy was fucking her, while a crowd of dudes encircled them, jerking their cocks.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, while pinching my nipples. “Show me how you do it to your wife.”

Larry got up and slid off his boxer shorts, revealing his nine inches of hard salami. I pulled some KY Jelly out of the dresser drawer and handed the tube to Larry. Then I took off the panties and got in the doggy style position. Larry didn’t waste a moment. He knelt behind me and quickly lubed my bunghole, shoving his gel-covered canlı casino siteleri finger up my ass to the second knuckle. It felt so good to have him inside me.

“I am your wife,” I said. “What do you want to say to me?”

Truth-telling was part of our game as much as the cross-dressing was. Sometimes during sex, we told each other our darkest secrets.

“I hate you, bitch,” Larry said.

Then he slid his cock inside me. The familiar pain of anal sex filled my body. But as usual, I quickly adapted. My pain transmuted into pure pleasure as Larry pumped my ass.

“I’d rather fuck guys than fuck my wife,” Larry said. “I am a total fag.”

His balls were slapping off my ass. Precum dripped from my throbbing cock.

“How many guys have you fucked?” I asked.

“Seven this year,” he said breathlessly. “All married. Always bareback, no protection.”

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby,” I moaned. “I want you to cum inside me.”

He jizzed fast and hard. I stroked myself while he was cumming and shot my own load on the comforter.

When he pulled out, it was like popping a cork on a bottle of shame. It all came flowing out, and I immediately started hating myself. I could tell by the look on his face that Larry felt the same. He got dressed quickly and headed for the door. I walked him out. As soon as he was gone, I locked the door behind me.

I went into the bathroom to start cleaning up. When I looked in the mirror, I realized I was still wearing Larry’s wife’s bra. And her panties were still laying in a heap on the bed. I grabbed my phone to let Larry know he should come back for them. But he’d already messaged me.

“Keep the bra and panties,” he wrote. “I want my wife to notice they are missing and wonder what happened to them.”

“Let’s fuck again soon,” I replied.

“We will,” he wrote.

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