Part II of 'Breaking Out'

Part I can be read here: adultfriendfinder.com

Hercules

After her encounter with Samson, guilt dominated Andrea’s mind during the week that followed. She’d not only cheated on her husband once—but a second time as well. What had come over her? Having sex with two college kids. Boys, not men. But down deep, she knew exactly why she’d done it. Because it was the kinkiest, wildest sex of her life.

Her husband was due home on Sunday, putting an end to this dangerous folly. Still, she had one more pool cleaning to endure. She couldn’t let what happened during the first two happen again. Never! If she’d known how to contact whoever was sending her these pool boys, she’d have called and canceled that last scheduled cleaning. Diane would know. She could ask her. But she dared not. Talking to her friend about it would risk letting her find out that what happened with the first pool boy happened again with the second. That she’d sucked his cock and fucked him afterwards.

Back in her dating days she’d given more than her fair share of blow jobs. But fucking the guy afterwards was a new development. What caused this change of pattern? Had altered her persona? It was as if some lascivious doppelgänger had taken control of her mind and body, urging—no, demanding, that she commit unspeakable acts.

She stewed over the upcoming cleaning visit for the rest of the week, committing herself to putting an end to this outrageous folly. Saturday morning finally arrived. It was shit or get off the pot time. She checked the clock. It was 9:30. An hour and a half more and pool cleaner number three would be here. She best shower and get ready.

She was drying herself off afterwards when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t even 10:00 yet. Way too early for the pool boy to be here. Who was it?

Slipping into her robe, she went and answered the door to find another young man dressed in bathing suit and shirt standing before her. “Mrs. Jaimeson?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Heracles. I’m here to clean your pool.”

“You’re early.” Although rude, she couldn’t contain her laugh. “Heracles, huh? You guys aren’t all that creative with your pseudonyms, are you?”

He gave her a wan smile. “We are a Greek fraternity, after all.”

“Be it as it may, I’m afraid your trip here is wasted. The pool has just been cleaned. Twice now in two weeks. It hardly needs further cleansing.” Seeing the guy’s look of disappointment, she said. “Look. I know how broke college students are. Why don’t I give you the same tip I gave Atlas and Samson. Come inside,” she said, stepping out of the doorway. “Let me get my purse.”

She headed for the living room with him in tow, proud of herself for having the wherewithal to turn the young man away. Finding her purse, she dug out her wallet and pulled out a ten spot. Then, remembering how poor she’d been when she’d been in school, grabbed another five.

But as she spun around to hand him his money, she shrieked. His swim suit was bunched in a pile down around his ankles, his cock on full display. “Your pool may not need cleaning," he said, "but my pipes do. Instead of giving me money, why not do for me what you did for Atlas and Samson?”

Gawd! Both men had blabbed. Her gaze fell to the flaccid penis dangling in front of her, causing her chest to constrict, making breathing suddenly difficult. She looked up at him, albeit not quickly enough. Her lingering gaze had him smiling. “Put your suit back on and get the hell out of here!”

“What? Without as much as a kiss goodbye? No way,” he said, pulling her mouth to his. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong, his probing tongue too inviting. She ought to bite the thing, but getting kissed had always been her Achilles heel. Instead of fighting him off, a lassitude swept over her, weakening her legs—and her power to resist. It was happening again, and it was beyond her to stop it.

Their kiss lasted for what must have been a full minute before breaking it. She stepped back, her gaze dropping to his cock, which by now, was fully erect, throbbing its need—its desire for her. With great effort, she tore her eyes from it and stared up at his grinning face. One very smug grinning face.

“You’re a hell of a kisser, Mrs. Jaimeson,” he said, pulling her to him again. As his lips closed over hers, he brought one of her hands to his cock. Moaning into his ;mouth, her fingers encircled it. Gripped it. Squeezed and stroked it as their tongues began an erotic dual. The guy had been here less than five minutes, and he already had her lost in her zone of no resistance. Worse, he knew it, and so did she.

This kiss lasted longer than their first. Their lips parted, but her grip on his erection did not. She stared at her hand as it stroked his hardened dick. “I’m pretty sure you know the drill from here,” he said, pressing down on her shoulders. She dropped to her knees, his cock mere inches from her mouth. She locked eyes with him as she leaned forward, tongue extended, lapping his erection. After a bit she shifted her gaze to his cock, watching her hand pull his foreskin taut before releasing it. Over and over, she did it, her every stroke going faster than its predecessor.

Grabbing her by the armpits, he pulled to her feet and carried her to the couch. Laying her on her back, he opened her robe, baring her body. Gawd, but it was sexy having her nakedness ogled like this. “You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?”

“That I am, Mrs. Jaimison. That I am,” he said, dropping to his knees and pushing his member up inside of her.

She gasped at the sheer pleasure of his penetration. “You didn’t even ask if you could,” she moaned.

“Since we both knew the answer, why ask?” he said, drawing back, before thrusting back in.

"Oh gawd! You're doing it!"

Her eyes fluttered shut, as rocking her tits from side to side, she surrendered her aroused body to this young man’s carnal assault. Despite all her self-talk about not letting this happen again, a third young stud was having his way with her. And man oh man, did it ever feel marvelous.

After a bit, he withdrew his cock and turned her over to take her from behind, alternating between her two holes. She didn’t know if sex in this position was better, or if she was simply getting into letting young studs having their way with her. Whichever, she lost count of how many times she orgasmed before Hercules finally spewed his hot cum into her pussy.

Real Men Instead of Boys

Andrea awoke the following morning. But save for a somewhat tender butt, she was no worse for the wear. Bill was due home this afternoon. She ought to feel guilty at having fucked three total strangers. But why should she, given he’d likely been doing the same thing to that secretary of his? The cute one with the big tits. Gawd, she hated that little slut.

She picked him up at the airport late that afternoon, surprised at how happy she was to see him. He might be a cheating asshole, but that still didn’t stop her from loving him. “How was your meeting?” she asked.

“It was terrific. I learned tons.”

She had to ask. “How about your secretary? Did she like it?”

“It was never the plan for her to attend. She only thought it was. But surprise, surprise. Jared, her boyfriend, paid her a surprise visit at the luggage claim area. Once we’d retrieved our bags, he escorted us up to a private room in the airport hotel he’d rented where his parents, her parents, and a whole slew of friends and relatives awaited us. They cheered when he dropped to one knee, offering her a ring. Screeching, she accepted. They even had a preacher there. Vows were spoken, and after a long celebration, the newlyweds departed on the honeymoon trip he’d planned for them. I haven’t seen her since.”

That meant they hadn’t fucked. Elated at learning he hadn’t cheated on her after all, she threw her arms around him and gave him a torrid kiss, praying to whatever gods were listening, that he’d never learn of her indiscretions, especially considering her revenge fucks had been without justification.

They drove home. Done unpacking, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “I’m thinking three weeks is a long time to go without. What say you to making a little whoopee?”

Reaching between them, she fondled his crotch. “I say, what are we still doing with all these close still on?”

Although tender, their lovemaking left her feeling unfulfilled. It wasn’t as if Bill wasn't a good lover. But sex with him wasn’t nearly as exciting as her escapades during his absence had been.

“I forgot to ask,” he said. “How was that cooking class you and Diane took?”

How best to answer without arousing suspicions? Half-truths were always better than lies, and far easier to remember. “It sucked at first but became far more fulfilling as things progressed.” There. An honest answer, say nothing of a marvelously conceived double entendre.

“Great.”

“Are you guys taking another class together this term?”

She’d yet to give it a thought. Should she? Would she? Attending another class was the perfect cover for being out of the house, alone, offering the opportunity to address this recent need of hers. To decide once and for all if getting a little on the side was worth the risk involved. “I signed up to audit the same class again,” she lied “I learned a lot, but forgot a lot, too. Diane has a conflict, so won’t be retaking it with me.”

The following Tuesday, dressed in her finest, she was driving back to the college, supposedly to attend her allegedly audited class. But instead of going to the campus, she cruised the surrounding area looking for some bar where college kids might hang out. Finding a likely candidate, she parked and went inside, surprised to find the place empty save for a guy dressed in western attire sitting alone at the bar. Thinking ‘what the hell,’ she went over beside him and looked him over. He had on a flannel shirt, cowboy boots, and a pair of delightfully tight jeans. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he answered with a smile.”

She sat. “I expected to find this place full of college kids, now cowboys.”

He laughed. “As did I. According to the bartender, this week is spring break.” He winked. “I guess that means it’s just you and me.” Raising his beer, he hollered, “Jake! Bring me another. And one of whatever the lady here wants,” he added, looking to her.

“Chardonnay, please.”

“And a glass of chardonnay. We’ll be in a booth. Should we?” he asks, offering his hand.

“Let’s,” she answers, letting him lead her to a nearby booth. Before sitting, he gave her the once over, showing more than casual interest. She glanced at the wall clock. Her supposed cooking class went from six to nine p.m. That meant she’d need to be home by ten to not arouse suspicion.

“You got a name?” he asked.

Dare she share it? “I thought with clandestine meetings it was best that first names were kept secret.” He grinned at her veiled implication. “Tell you what, why don’t I call you ‘Cowboy’ and you call me ‘Mrs. Jaimison?’”

She’d just announced that she was married. If that was going to be a showstopper, it was best to find out right away. “Misses, eh? Out on the town without hubby, eh?” He smiled, looking her over. “I like the way you think—Mrs. Jaimison,” he said, with emphasis on the Misses.

Their drinks arrived and small talk ensued. She learned Cowboy was in town for a cattle convention. Staying at a nearby hotel, he’d taken a taxi to get here. Hoping to move things along, she pressed her thigh against his, and placing a hand on his knee, she asked, “How are you planning to get back to your hotel?”

“I guess I’ll order an Uber.”

Sliding her hand farther up his thigh, she cooed, “Why waste money? Why not let me give you a ride?”

He glanced at her hand and smiled. “That’d be great.”

“Then drink up,” she said, downing her drink and sliding out of the booth, “and let’s get the hell out of this dead place.”

Twenty minutes later they were inside his hotel, standing in front of his room. She watched him work the key into the slot and open the door. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her inside. Pressing her against the nearest wall, he brought his mouth to hers. She pressed her body against him as they kissed, rotating her pelvis on the rapidly growing bulge in his pants.

Stepping back, she looked down. “There’s a problem with your britches. They seem overly tight.” Unzipping him, she reached inside and curled her fingers around what by now was one fully turgid cock. “Ah-h, it’s as I suspected. There’s insufficient room in here for your junk. Never fear,” she said, stroking him. “Nurse Jaimison is here with just the solution.”

Kneeling, she pulled down his pants, shorts and all, exposing his cock in all its glory. Slipping them over his boots, she removed them. Looking up, she said, “Take of that shirt, Cowboy. I want to see you naked.”

It was on the floor in a flash.

“Mm-m, much better,” she said, rising to her knees. Taking hold of his penis, she licked it, whispering, “Does this feel good?”

“Hell yeah, it does.”

“What does?”

“Having you lick my cock.”

“Since I’m married, wouldn’t the proper way to say it be, ‘Having you lick my cock, Mrs. Jaimison?’” She looked up. “Now say it again, proper like.”

“I love having you lick my cock, Mrs. Jaimison,” he grunted.

Winking, she said, “You want it in my mouth, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You do what?”

“I want you take my cock into your mouth and suck it dry—Mrs. Jaimison”

“Don't say you 'want' it done, demand it of me. Come on—talk dirty to me.”

“Stick my cock in your mouth and suck it dry, slut!”

“Mm-m. How can a girl resist a command like that?” she cooed, closing her lips around its circumcised head. “Mm-m, mm-m, mm-m,” she hummed, bobbing back and forth on his pulsating cock.

Breaking away, still stroking his cock, she said, “I’m behaving very naughtily, aren’t I? I mean me, a married woman, sucking a total strangers’ cock. And to think you’re the lucky benefactor of my wanton ways,” she added, licking his cock again. Kissing it, she said, “Gawd I love cocks. They’re sexy as hell, especially when you get one excited enough to cum.” She locked eyes with him. “Would you like to do that, Cowboy? Would you like to cum in another man’s wife’s mouth?”

“Fuck, yeah, I would.”

“Tut, tut. It’s fuck, yeah, I would, Mrs. Jaimison.”

“Fuck, yeah, I would, Mrs. Jaimison.”

“Would what? Tell me what you want. Demand it of me! Talk dirty to me.”

Pulling her mouth back to his cock, being forceful, he said, “Suck my cock dry, you horny little married bitch.”

She sucked it; licked it; and sometimes even bit it. Before long she had him thrusting into her mouth with ever-increasing speed.

He was close now. Once again, she had an overly excited cock stuffed halfway down her gullet, about to surrender its need to her oral machinations. Pinning her face to him, he stopped thrusting, and with a loud grunt, released his semen into her waiting mouth. Shot forth his jism. His spunk; filling her oral cavity with his seed. It was heavenly. So much so, it had her pussy gushing. Few things in life were better that relieving a man’s swollen dick of its need. Oh, how she loved sucking cocks. Few things in life were better. And to think that this was only the first week of her supposedly eight-week audited class.

She backed off, and not wanting to waste a single drop, licked his cock clean. Finally, she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Well? How was it, Cowboy? Did you like?”

“Since that’s undoubtedly the best blow job I’ve had in years, yes, I’m quite satisfied. Question is… are you?”

Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed. Plopping her down on its bedspread, he took off her pants. Once again, she had a man ogling her naked body, making her even wetter. He pushed apart her thighs, climbed on to the bed, and buried his face in her muff.

“Oh, my gawd!” she yelped, grabbing his head, pulling his face tight against her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her pussy eaten. Had forgotten how divine it felt. Given how turned on she’d gotten sucking his cock, it quickly became too much. Bucking her pelvis up at his face, she climaxed. Letting loose with a long, erotic wail that sounded like some infant in distress, she came. Unable to hold still, she gripped the back of his head as she came. And came. And came. It was glorious. Why hadn’t those college boys thought of doing this for her?

Only after her thrashing ended, did Cowboy lift away, and kneeling between her outstretched thighs, bring his cock to her opening. “Time to sample this sweet little cunt of yours, Mrs. Jaimison,” he said, slipping swollen manhood up and into her still sopping pussy.

She was absolute heaven, substantiating her decision to sample illicit sex one more time. It was most definitely different from sex with her husband. The fact that it was a forbidden act somehow made it more thrilling; more exciting. Hell, it made it outright better. She was hooked on it. Sort of like folks getting ‘hooked on phonics,’ except she was hooked on phalluses, not phonics. Especially those belonging to strangers. Could anything be better than to experience a brand now cock? Yes, she was most definitely hooked on strange phallus.

Later, done with their fuck, Andrea slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. To rid herself of any telltale evidence that might tip off hubby that she’d cuckolded him. Gathering her clothing, she dressed, checking her watch as she did so. It was late, and she still had a half hour’s drive ahead of her.

She was about to leave when Cowboy, still naked save for his boots, intercepted her at the door. Taking hold of her hands, he told her how wonderful the night had been and pulled her into a torrid kiss. Gawd, but the man could kiss. Did he ever know how to turn her on. Slipping her hand between them, she fondled his cock. He was hard again, triggering a longing between her legs. If she didn’t leave soon, that longing would have them back on his bed, screwing some more. As appealing as that thought was, with great effort, she broke the kiss.

“Will I see you again?” he asked.

Should she? Did she even want to? Kissing on the cheek, she said, “Sorry darling. I have a rule restricting one fuck per customer.” Winking, she headed for the parking lot.

Finding her car, she climbed inside. Instead of starting the engine, she sat there thinking about what she’d just done. Was tonight a one off, or dare she risk doing it again? She’d just had sex with a stranger again. She ought to feel guilty about it, but did not. Strangely, when Cowboy had asked to see her again, despite how hot and torrid their sex had been, she’d declined, telling him one fuck per customer. Why? It was then an epiphany struck. She’d turned him down because they’d already fucked, meaning they were no longer strangers. It wasn’t illicit sex she craved—it was illicit sex with a total stranger that got her motor running. That fulfilled her need. That’s what she needed, and that’s why she’d do this again.

Starting her engine, she headed home, pondering her next misadventure. Next Tuesday was Hubby’s Poker Night. He and his buddies typically played well into the night. She could stay out much later. But where, and with whom?

Her tryst with Cowboy had weaned her from schoolboys. He’d demonstrated that older, wiser, men better knew their way around a woman’s body, making them superior lovers. Yes! She’d pick an older man. Maybe some sophisticated guy with grey sideburns and a smooth, confident manner? One who only frequented the nicer bars? But a man such as this would be too worldly to fall for the seductive ploys she’d used on Cowboy. That sort of man would be the seducer, not the seduced.

Liking that idea, she started fantasizing how such an evening might unfold. She’d play the role of some ingenue. Of an unsuspecting and innocent young housewife out on the town on her own for the first time in ages, in search of male company. She’d find some upscale bar and remove and stuff her bra inside her glove box prior to going into the bar. Hopefully, her protruding, bouncing nipples would catch some guy’s eye. That he’d hit on her. Woo her. Convince this guileless filly to go someplace private to ‘talk.’ Maybe his nearby office. Or perhaps his shiny expensive car? Yes, his car. It was the seedier choice of the two.

She’s so into her fantasy now, that in her mind, Andrea becomes that innocent young bride. The two leave in his car, parking out on some remote road where they’re soon kissing. Breaking their lip-lock, he looks down at her protruding nipples. “Do these things poking out your shirt mean you like being kissed,” he’d asks, tweaking a protruding nipple.

Grabbing his hand, she makes a faux objection. “You can’t do that! I’m a married woman.”

“Ah, yes. Aa married woman wearing no bra with swollen tits because she’s been kissing some other man?” Instead of removing his hand, he kisses her again, tweaking and pinching her excited nipples, breaking down her will to resist.

“We can’t” she whimpers as his hand slips up and under her shirt but does nothing to stop him. She tries to justify her inaction by telling herself she’s had too much to drink.

In no time he has her shirt up and off her head, and is suckling her titties, evoking nonstop moans from her. Hoping he’s driven this innocent young housewife beyond the point of further resistance, he places her hand on his erection, demanding that she, “Take it out.”

“I can’t. I told you; I’m married.” But despite her faux protest, her fingers enfold his manhood. She yelps when he bites her nipple. Her hand shifts to his zipper. Lowering it, she whispers, “This is so wrong,” as her hand slips inside, seeking and finding her objective. Looking down, she frees his erection from its confines. Pressing on the back of her head, he lowers her mouth to his swollen penis. Past the point of feigning any further objections, she eagerly takes his throbbing manhood into her mouth.

“That’s it, darling, suck my cock!”

His is the only the second cock to have graced her mouth. It reminded her how terribly exciting it had been the first few times she’d done this to her husband. But after a while it simply became foreplay. Something the two of them did prior to having sex. Tonight that excitement of those early days returned to her in spades as she bobbed her mouth up and down that gorgeous cock of… Gawd, I’m sucking his cock and I can’t even remember his name. So be it. All that mattered now was getting this confident man’s cock so excited that it was helpless for him to do anything but cum in her mouth. Blowing this handsome older man had her pussy absolutely dripping.

But what she’d anticipated was not to be. Lifting her off him, he rolls her onto her back. Grabbing hold of her pants, he jerks them down her legs and tosses them aside. Grabbing his cock, he parks himself between her legs.

“No!” she screeches. “I’m not that sort of girl!”

“Right. You’re the kind who drives off into the woods, sans a bra, with a guy she just met in a bar. The kind who’s sucking his cock minutes after they park. Give me a break, darling. This is exactly the kind of girl you are,” he says, pressing his dick into her dripping vagina. “It's time to fuck, sweetheart!”

“Oh! Oh!” you cry (by now, you and that innocent young housewife are one in the same). “You did it! You put your cock in me,” you moan, lifting your pelvis to meet his every stroke. “You’re fucking me even though I told you I was married.”

“That’s right, darling. Now get ready to cum a whole lot of times, because I plan to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours silly.”

He starts thrusting with a vengeance. “Oh gawd,” you screech, wrapping your legs around him, pinning him to you, lifting your pelvis, you meet his every thrust, doing your best to rub your clit against his thrusting cock.

Suddenly he stops.

“What?” you implore.

“If you want me to continue, you have to tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I… But…” you stammer, your mind too foggy to comprehend why he’d do such a thing.

“Say it!”

After a long, desperate pause, you relent. “Do it! Fuck me, you bastard. Don’t leave me here on the brink. I need to cum, really, really bad.”

Back in the real world, a horn honks, pulling you out of your reverie. You're so wrapped up in your fantasy, you’ve crossed over the center line. Swerving, you barely miss an oncoming car. Heart pounding, you pull off to the side of the road and shut off the engine. Despite your near disaster, your fantasy refuses to desert you. your passion-driven words comes roaring back to you. “Fuck me, you bastard. I need to cum really bad.”

And to that end, you open your pants and start fingering yourself. Yes, this is exactly what you want. Exactly what you need.

Later, with your orgasm done, you start your engine knowing what it is you'll do next week. Smiling, you resume your journey home.